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bnha-more-like-bnh-gay · 1 year

Note

Could we have headcannon for Izuku having a cat quirk?

I see you like dadzawa /hj

No, but dudeee, izuku is feral in his own right, add that with the chaos of a cat😭😭😭 doom. Doom to all that befall izuku’s wrath

Fuck those who befall izuku’s wrath though, because my son doesn’t even get mad easily, and when he does it’s justified

Get angry at kaachan, izuku. Do it. You know you wanna.

Okay though, so I wasn’t sure if you wanted where like,,, he can shape shift into a cat or he has like,, cat senses, but I’m going to go with cat shape shifting and when he’s in human form he still has some cat like reflexes? Like heightened hearing, always landing on his feet, and such!

I just think it’s kind of funny to imagine someone (we all know who) pushing izuku off a tall place and him just landing in his feet like nothing happened. Like, it’s horrible, but also just izuku being unbothered is so personal to me

Just, chaos going on around him and he’s just like, “oh, are you okay?”

Or even better, as a kid, he’s climbing a tree and falls out, scaring inko half to death, and he just lands perfectly on his feet or in place where he was about to land is a little cat, and both of them are like ?????

What type of cat do you think he’d be? Like, would he still have green fur/hair? Or would he be some type of regular house cat? I’m low key leaning towards green little cat because that’s adorable, but it’s up to you, really!

But I imagine izuku shifts into cat form a lot to get away from bullies and to sneak closer to villain/hero fights.

Is koda able to control izuku when he is in cat form????????

Shinsou “I’m not here to make friends” hitoshi

Izuku “I can shift into a cat and I think your quirk is incredible”Midoriya

Shinsou: ….

Shinsou: if anything happened to Midoriya, I’d kill everyone in this room and then myself.

Mic takes so many pictures. So many. So does Aizawa, but he won’t admit that. Bastard.

He 10000% uses his smaller form as a cat to sneak out of U.A. for his. Unadvised adventures.

One time when Aizawa was sleep deprived and checking in on class a in the middle of the night, he spots izuku sneaking out in his cat form and doesn’t connect that the cat is his problem child, so he takes the cat up to his and mic’s apartment

He doesn’t realize it’s izuku until the next morning when mic is like, “was Midoriya trying to sneak out again?” Aizawa is confused, and then he remembers. And then he realizes.

And then izuku gets scolded :(

I once read a fic where izuku got turned into a cat due to some quirk, and bakugou was being mean to Shouto and he just did the cat thing where they stare at you while pushing your glass/mug/something off the table, and it was so important to me

But like. Imagine him doing that 😭

Imagine he gets found roaming around by the league and they don’t know it’s izuku at first, but toga decides that he’s adorable and she wants to keep him. So he’s like, okay, I can gather information I guess??????

And then he just like,,, completely fucks with them??

Like, shiggy is gaming and he just sits on the controller or computer keyboard or whatever

And shiggy is considering designating this goddamn cat, but toga would probably kill him if he did that

He helps Eri calm down from her panic attacks/ptsd by shifting into his cat form and sitting with her! Sometimes she prefers if he helps her in his human form, but she also loves running after cat izuku

Mina 1000% sets up a social media page for the cat hero. Not his hero profile. Just a profile for him as a cat. No one knows it’s even a human with a quirk. They’re all just like, damn, U.A. Has a pet cat

Izuku is very affronted by this at first, but accepts that it’ll probably help his cover once he does go pro

He 10000% made a hairball for overhaul to find later on. He fits as many, “fuck you’s” to overhaul as he can

As he should

Likes to fuck with endeavor the same way.

Has 1000% chewed/scratched holes in endeavor’s clothes

Shouto was so proud.

I already say that he’s a vent gremlin, but imagine bent gremlin izuku with a cat quirk😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

U.A. Is not safe

Was it ever?

But nezu finds it rather fun to try and determine where izuku will pop up next

Nothing will be happening, and all of a sudden, there is a cat falling out of a vent and everyone is screaming

Nezu sips on his tea and smiles

Aizawa is totally not itching to pet the little cat whenever he sees him. Not at all. Nope. He would never.

He succumbs to petting the cat once he finds that it calms izuku down sometimes.

He’s not happy about it though!

If you pulled down his capture scarf you totally wouldn’t see him smiling!!!!

No matter what hizashi or nemuri tell you!!!

If stain had control over izuku while he was in cat form and was making him stay still, if koda was also there, would he be able to override stains blood control????

Monoma finds himself petting a cat one afternoon and is surprised that the cat is acting like he understands him. It isn’t until izuku shifts back into his human form and starts talking back to Monoma that he understands.

He also freaks the fuck out.

But izuku nerds out about Monoma’s quirk and he’s suddenly pulling a Shouto and a shinsou with the whole “I’ve only had Midoriya for ______, but if anything ever happened to him I’d kill everyone in this room and then myself”

Shouto, shinsou, and Monoma are the trio who, “didn’t come here to make friends/didn’t want to be friends with class a bastards-“ and then they talked with izuku and suddenly they’re best friends, and this is something I hold very dear

I HOPE YOU LIKED THISSSS!! I’m so sorry it took so long 😅😅😅 my mental health was absolute shit and I had a lot of homework💀 I know this wasn’t super long, so sorry about that too 😅😅 I still hope you like though!!!! Thank you for the ask!!

#cat quirk #bnha #mha #feral izuku #izuku problem child midoriya #izuku quirk au #dadzawa and his problem child #dadzawa #izuku midoriya #shinsou hitoshi #monoma neito #todoroki shoto #toga himiko #shigaraki tomura #league of villains #dadmic #hizashi yamada #Eri #nezu

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dramaticweathergirl · 1 year

Text

Well, fuck. I've been inspired. Not the best quality because fever.

Inspired by this post! By @/honhonbonjourbitch

-In which Yuu show's the horror that is FNAF VHS tapes

Yuu was surprised to say the least when they discovered a familiar small rectangular black object dropped Infront of the Ramshackle's deteriorating porch. It was a USB Yuu vaguely remember from their childhood; they remember it using for storing various things from their god-awful fanarts to things their young teen self found interesting enough to be preserve in a USB.

Although its questionable on how such a random thing from their childhood ended up here randomly in another world, Yuu just ignored it. Afterall, ignorance is bliss and they're too busy spending the last bit of their sanity between education and dealing with teens who handle their trauma the worst way imaginable. I mean seriously, their ass dealt with multiple overblots from the last few months!

"Eh? Henchman, what's that?" asked Grim. The cat-creature climbed on the couch as his curiosity grew at the small object at the Prefect's hand "Is it candy?"

"Is food the only thing your mind? you just ate breakfast an hour ago, don't tell me you're hungry again." Yuu playfully scoffed, stuffing the USB in the pocket of their blazer.

I should be the on one asking you that!" Grim protest "you just took a bite of toast and called it breakfast."

"I don't have any appetite in the morning."

ah, how clearly they remember their school days from back their world were. Going to school without a bite of breakfast or a sip of water after waking up from their 3-hour sleep. it's still a wonder how they managed to function through the morning period every time.

"that's stupid."

THUMP!

the Ramshackle door shook from the continuous banging of the door.

"Oi Yuu! You up yet?!" Yuu groaned in annoyance, opening the unstable door with delicate touch. They glared at the familiar sight of the stupid mischievous grin of their fellow first year.

"Are you trying to make us homeless? you asshole!"

"I'll take that as a yes."

Deuce harshly elbowed his side, indicating he should stop initiating the banter between him and the Prefect. "Good morning, Prefect"

"ARGH- that hurts y'know!?"

"Acekindlyshutthefuckup- A lovely morning to you too Deuce"

"oh wow, definitely not seeing the favoritism here. No sir"

The three began their walk as they chat away the time it took to get to their classes. the topic ranged from assignments, lunch, rumors, until the conversation led to the discovery of the Prefect's childhood USB in the asscrack of dawn.

"Man, I hadn't seen one of these for quite a while." Ace whistled, examining the small black object at the palm of his hand.

"How in the world did it end up here in Twisted Wonderland?" Deuce asked with skepticism.

"I dunno man, I think it's best for me to push the question at the back of my head for the sake of my sanity these days." Yuu just shrugged, ignoring the concerned look they got from Deuce.

"Eu-es-bee? what's that?" asked Grim who's laying atop of Yuu's head.

"Basically, a device used to store digital things. I remember downloading so much random shit years ago that I wouldn't be surprised if a good chunk of childhood is preserved in there." Yuu joked, putting the USB back again in their pocket. "If only I have access to a computer I could show you guys things from my world, well, at least the internet culture part."

Yuu paused hearing their own words, suddenly remembering how fucked-up things on the internet back in their own world is. damn, they got so much used to how peaceful the internet in this world can be compared the one in their world that is filled with toxicity and degenerates. Uploading a video of cutting a small wound here would be the equivalent of uploading someone in a basement getting decapitated! that's how peaceful it is here.

speaking of live leak content, did they put that type of stuff in their USB?

...

nah, they're pretty sure they only saved random content from the fandoms they're in at that time.

"That's a good idea, there's a computer in one of the rooms back at the dorm, right Deuce?"

Deuce nodded "if I recall what Trey-senpai said correctly, it's in the room that acts as a pseudo library for Heartslabyul students."

"Hey Yuu, you should drop by at Heartslabyyul before going home to Ramshackle after class. I'm no tech-addict but I'm pretty sure your world's USB model is the same as here so it should work out pretty fine."

"I don't know about this Ace; the Prefect's USB might contain private stuff and I don't want to inva-"

"Aw come on Deuce! Don't be such a spoilsport! Yuu's the one who suggested it. besides, aren't you curious about things from another world?" Ace taunted with a grin.

moments passed as the two had a stare-off until Deuce finally sighed, a sign of caving in"fine, as long as Yuu's okay with it."

"Well, Yuu?"

"Yeah, yeah. don't blame me if you see some horrifying shit there."

'Pshh, how bad can it be? I bet the scariest thing in there is a file of some cringe horror story you wrote back then.

"Don't underestimate me henchmen, the Great Grim fears nothing!"

"We're going to be late you guys. I don't want to get an earful from Professor Crewel for being late again." Deuce sighed, remembering the last time they came late because of Grim trying to ditch class.

----

How wrong Ace's prediction were.

"M̸I̶C̶H̸E̵A̶L̵!̴ ̶D̶O̵N̶T̴ ̸L̴E̸A̷V̸E̵ ̸M̷E̷ ̸H̸E̸R̵E̵,̴ ̸M̸I̵C̸H̴E̸A̷L̴!"

THUMP!

"M̷I̵C̵H̴E̷A̷L̵!"

Arriving at the Heartslabyul dorm, they were joined by Cater Diamond. Of course, the social media addict man himself would not pass the opportunity of seeing *ehem and recording*ehem materials from another world.

Cater might be regretting that decision now...

From the first episode, The 'fan series' (as Yuu called it) already rubbed Cater the wrong way. From the eerie robotic voice of the narrator, the constant glitch of the screen to the damn (thankfully) censored shot of the bloodied animatronic's chest, every element managed to send a chill down Cater's spine.

Especially the story the series of minutes-long video is trying to convey. Children murdered, stuffed into animatronics and left to rot

"Great sevens..." Cater could only mutter in horror and disbelief as he continues to watch the finale of something he could only imagine that came from the depths of hell itself.

Ace and Deuce tries to hide their discomfort by constantly shuffling in their seats while Grim is straight up hiding his face away from the screen in the Prefect's chest, although, that doesn't do much as he can still hear the spine crawling voice of the mad murderer on screen.

Yuu on the hand...

"ah, just like how i remember it"

"I̵ ̸g̸o̵t̴ ̸o̷u̸t̸!̶ ̵I̴ ̷g̸o̴t̴ ̷o̸u̶t̴!̷ ̶I̴ ̴d̷o̶n̶'̵t̵ ̶k̸n̸o̸w̸ ̵w̸h̸e̸r̴e̶ ̷t̷h̷e̸y̵ t̶o̸o̶k̷ ̴m̷e̷ ̷b̴u̵t̶ ̴i̵t̷'̴s̵ ̶s̴o̵m̴e̷w̷h̶e̵r̸e̷ ̴n̵e̷w̶ ̵"

His raspy voice croaked. It was barely a whisper but one can sense and imagine the lunatic insane smile from his voice alone.

"I̶ ̸r̸e̴m̴e̸m̸b̶e̸r̶ ̸e̸v̷e̷r̵y̵ ̶s̶i̴n̸g̸l̷e̶ ̶o̸n̶e̷ ̷o̴f̴ ̴t̴h̷e̶m̴.̸ ̴T̷h̷e̵y̸ ̷h̴a̸v̸e̵ ̵y̸o̴u̴r̷ ̵m̸a̷s̶k̷,̷ ̸M̷i̷c̶h̴e̶a̶l̴,̷ ̷t̵h̴e̶ ̴f̸o̴x̵.̶ ̵I̵ ̸h̴a̷t̷e̵ ̵l̸o̶o̴k̷i̸n̵g̶ ̷a̷t̷ ̶i̷t̷,̷ ̴i̴t̵ ̵m̶a̵k̷e̴s̴ ̵m̷e̶ ̸f̵e̴e̸l̶ ̶s̵o̴ A̴̧̡̭̹̫̺̞̤̫̼̠̯̯͕̞͖̮̔̾̈́̇̃̕͜͜͝ļ̶̡̡̪̻̖̲̞̼͖̠̰̜̺̠͗̐́̀̃͗̄͝į̶̨̛͓̤̟̭͖̼͕͉̺͍̝̹̦̝̹̥̞̩̖͈͍͐́̉͛͐v̵̨̡̢͖̥̭͉̖̘̜̘̼̟͉̙̤̭̜͉̤͉̗̝̭͙̮͈͓͈̲͌̾͊́͑̓̕̚͘ȩ̸̼̯̱̞̟̘̰̲̳̯̥̗̲̙͎̪̲̗̣̠̥̘̯̹̹͇͕̳̏̓̄̿̉̓͌͆̄͆̚̕͘͝͠ͅ ̷̧͍̯̩̜̣͈̣̰̜̈̃̂͊̍̍̓̉̿̌͛͠͝ "

"how-...Yuu, Is this what people considered 'kids content' in your world?" Deuce asked, eyes still staring at the screen in horror. He's still processing the first episode-

"i don't know about this series, but the game itself? Pretty much it is" Yuu shrugged "watching a man slowly lose his sanity trying to uncover the lore of the game plays a big part of it too" they added chuckling a bit .

"that... that doesn't make this a little bit okay, prefect"

"I̵̡̛̬̼͙̥̭̦͉̼̦̥̟̝̿̈́̈̐͑͗̒̐̒͐̔̎̏̄̏͜͠ͅ ̵͚̦̃͆̽͂̚̚s̵̡̡̱̯̖̗̫̗͓͔̥̱̖̪͚͕̱̝͛͌̀́̇͊̈́͋̆͗̚͘̕̚͝ę̸̢̢̺̗̼̭͖̳͇͖̭̙͙̑̆̔͂̆ẹ̵̡̛̛̬̬̫͎̜̹͂́̆̐̐̿̎̌̅͋̇̕ ̷̨̢͕̮̜̞̗̬̳̪̤͓̻̎̑͗̏͂́̑̑ͅÿ̴̠̙̩̻͈̙̤̹̹͎̙̝̺́̈́̐͜͜o̶̧̡̭͙̟̱̘̱̹͓͖̹̳͛u̶̧͍̖̹͙̪̟̘̓̋̈́̄̄̾̈̾̈̍̏̈͑͗̄ͅ'

The screen flashed, revealing a tattered animatronics head with bits of rotting flesh poking out here and there. It's cold wide-stricken eyes devoid of anything but evil and suffering.

"what the- this is just insane! Like 'insane' insane! Don't get me wrong, this alone could surpass any horror genre things we have here in Twisted Wonderland, it's that good but; WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK??" Ace continuously shook the Prefect's shoulders. He won't be getting sleep tonight that's for sure.

"Gah! Stop that, Grim's going to throw up!"

"You think Grim is the only one? All four of us Twisted Wonderlings are going to throw up at the end of this!"

"A̴̡̫̙̬͙͙̭̞̜̗̯̙͕̠͎̐͋͛͋̍̈̿͐̔͌̂̍̒̒͌̐́͑̄͌̐̀͛́̈̊́̐̕͘̕̕͝͝R̸̡̧̧̢̡̡̨̨̛͉̹͓̹̩̳͖̯͓͉̪͍̹̪͈̣̲̬̝̪̮͓͇̝͎͖̥̙̄̅̈́̋͋́͐̅͗̌̍̾̏̽̾̊͒͌͑̓̒̌̉̐̑̀͘͜͝͝͝͝ͅG̴̢̨̧͖͇̲̺͈͕͎̣̙̝͚͚͙̬̲̮̈́͆̂̋̌̿͘͠ͅḦ̶̢̨̨̛̛͚̣̝͚̘̻͔̝̩̜̹̻̤͍̤̻̩̪̻̳̜̱̼̫̥̙͕͚̫̞͚́̇̎̓͗̓̾̀̍̾͊̎̑̈́̽͒̿̓̓̔̽͑̑̆̄̄͛̕͘͘͝͝͝ͅͅH̸̝̖̦͕̬͒͌̑͑̅͌̀̈́̇̆͆͗̉͑́̈́͌̓̚͝H̵̢̧̨̧͕͕͎̼͉̺̱̱͎̱̪̹͇̩̦̖̥̺͐̑̀͑͛͋̅͐̏̏̇̀́͌͊͒͘͜͜H̸̢̡͉͚̥̰̫͙̻̠͓̰͓͍̗͔̼͚̳̹̙̼̾͐́͂̓̕͘Ḩ̷̢̡̢̧̡̢̧̨̧̱̻̩̦͇͇̝̙̮̟̖̺̩̭̗̦̳̤̙̞͚͔͈̭̩̭̞̱̟̩̟̪̯̳̳͎̉̓̕͜͝͝͝H̷̨̧̡̢̧̛̘͍̭̝͇͙͍̼̭̲̉̐͂̏̽̏̏́̄̎͌́̿̆͗̓̔̎̈́̇̉̾̈́̚͝͝͝͝H̸̨̛͚͈͍̹̩͈̹̑̒̂̔͌̊̽̀̂̑̽͗̄̓̋̕̕̚ͅH̶̡̛̝͕̯͕͎̞̬̞̤͓̬̦̱̼͌̍͛͐̊̃̽̏̃̿͆̄͋̄̊͆͑̌̈̎̓͗̒͒̄͋͑̔̕͘͠͝H̸̢̢̛͍̗̮̰̖͈̰̺̝͓͔͕͈̘̲͍̲̩͖̦͕̺̖̲͓̠̬̺͙̭̖͕̺͎̺̝̮̊̈̀̆́̒̀̈͗̉́͘͝ͅͅͅͅH̸̢̨̧̨̧̟̙͙̰̣̺̩̟̱̺̙̠͈̠̥̙̬͎͖̘̬̰͎͍̟̺̏̋̌̀̇͆̈́͆̏͛͑̓͛̚͜Ḩ̵̧̡̧̹̤̰͖͇̞̟̹̱͎̟̤͖̪̟̼̟̟̱͉̗̳͓̝̬̟͉͕͇͚͚̭̯͕̟͚̯̞͇̝͔̞̭̌͋͒͊̉̀̉̆͋͒̌̔̉̉̆̉̈̓́͒͊̃̒͐̔̔̀̑̃̔̿̌͑͐̽͐̆͗̐́͗̀̒̐̕͘͜͝͝

The screams of pure agony accompanied by the flashing distorted image of the criminal himself burning in hell would forever be ingrained in their minds for the rest of their lives

The screen turned white. Displaying the names of the innocent lives William forcibly took from his helpless victimss.

"this is making me homesick" Yuu sighed, reminiscing their childhood "damn, i miss watching let's play videos all of a sudden"

"Henchmen..." Grim tugged weakly the end's of Yuu's shirt "B-bathroom"

"I'm going with you..."

"me too, i can feel my lunch crawling up my throat"

Damn, it's really 'that' peaceful here, huh. 8 year olds back at Yuu's home are consuming this kind of content like there's no tomorrow that it actually worries Yuu about how the next generation would turn out (I mean their generation turned out okay. Well, I mean kinda..?)

Speaking of the said content...

"hey Cater"

"uh y-yeah?"

"you know how to upload video files online right?"

It wouldn't hurt to share some of their pop culture icon back home to Twisted Wonderland, right?

#rushed because i need sleep and want to get this idea off my head #twisted wonderland #twst yuu #twst au #twisted Wonderland x fnaf #??? does that count?#twst yuu au #yuu showing analog horror tho #would be interesting and funny af

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it-fits-i-ships · 2 years

Note

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

So I have 3 writing setups:

Most commonly I write lying on my tummy on my bed with one of my millions of black Bic pens in my notebook. I will lie down facing the foot of my bed so I have room in front of me to work and will usually bring my phone along for music (but I'm not allowed to look at it). This is right near the railing on the foot of the bed where my cat likes to climb onto my bed from and it is also right next to her kitty bed so she will sometimes come over and try to eat my pen or give me kisses on my forehead or loaf on her bed and purr at me.

2. If I'm writing a drabble, typing up something I wrote in my notebook, or editing something I wrote a while ago I will sit up against my pillows at the head of my bed where I can have my computer and lap desk on me for typing. I keep water right near by so I can use sipping my drink as a stim to help me think. I usually have Spotify up on my computer for music. If I am writing about a ship and I have art of that ship on my walls or ceiling (I'm a maximalist) I will stare at said art while I think about how I want a particular scenario to go down.

3. Sometimes I take my notebook and pen to a park just for a change of pace. I like to pick a table near something pretty like water or trees that I can stare at while I think. I usually have my phone for music.

Thanks for the ask!

#notshipping

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onyxoverride · 3 years

Text

Online Class - Armin Arlert x Reader

◙warnings: oral (male,) sub/dom undertones, voyeurism-esque cumplay(snowballing)

◙word count: 1.5k

◙summary: Armin is trying to pay attention to his online class but you are quite distracting with his cock down your throat.

◙note: like the new format? Personalized banner to the fic and everything?

Online school is torture. You swear it is. The online meetings, discussion posts, the awkward silences when the professor encourages people to speak and the following dreadful “Guess I’ll just pick someone.” The mental strain of having to just sit and try to pay attention to a screen is horrifying.

But… it must not be all that bad. Now instead of you and your boyfriend going to separate classes in a different building as it would be, you get to stay in the same room and spend time with each other as you two go through assignments or attend a class. Sometimes Armin will fix you a little snack while you are in class and whenever you wake up to him attending his early morning class you refill his coffee cup.

It’s a nice sense of domesticity.

When you wake up early on a Thursday morning, it’s to soft mumbles of voices through headphones and pencil scratching against paper. One of Armin’s biology professors on the screen with a PowerPoint you don’t even want to look at due to the risk of a headache. Your boyfriend though looks quite cute. Hair rustled from his hand carding through is, biting his lip as he looks between his paper and the PowerPoint, still in a pair of boxers with his muscular thighs on display and a hoodie because he’s in the comfort of his own apartment. Tasty, he looks good enough to bite into. So, why not?

When he hears you shuffle out of bed he gives you a sweet smile but it immediately drops when he sees the salacious look in your eyes. He looks between the computer screen showing a viewscreen of him in his room and sets his headphones around his neck. “Don’t even think about it, I have the keep my camera on for this class,” but he doesn’t attempt to shoo you away when you sink onto your knees, resting your head against his thigh. All you have to do is wait an hour and a half, that’s it, and he would be done with class. But that is what is making this so fun.

He loves the way you are looking at him, like a cat about to pounce but he’s on camera, he really shouldn’t be liking this, plus it’s being recorded and he doesn’t even know if his face is in the recording or not. But the adrenaline rushing through him is going straight to his cock, so you reach your hand out and stroke gently, pressing it against his leg.

“Don’t- we shouldn’t-”

“But you like it, don’t you? You wouldn’t even be half-hard if you didn’t.” You’re right, he knows you’re right, so he just bites his lips as he pulls up the hood of his hoodie over his head and a hand over his mouth to hide at least some of his expression.

Stroking his cock, pressing it against his thigh roughly, he keeps shifting around in mock thrusts into your hand. “Be still, Armin,” the dominance and raspiness of your voice make him listen, a little scared to find out what happens when he doesn’t. You press a thumb into his tip, feelings the drips of precum soak through his boxers, “Good boy.”

The praise makes him blush. Being good is what he enjoys, it sends his heart racing when you tell him that he is. He really needs to be paying attention, this is an important and rigorous class needed for his degree but he finds his mind coming up with excuses of “well…” as your hand distracts him.

He lifts his hips when you tug at his boxers, his ass bare in the chair as you stare at his cock. He keeps checking himself in the camera to see if he looks suspicious if he looks like anybody is playing with his dick just beneath the camera’s view. It’s cute to watch him struggle like this, to try to balance between pleasure and what he needs to express so he doesn’t get caught. You situate yourself properly in between his legs on the floor. He’s already far enough from the desk because his legs are so long so you don’t risk hitting your head.

A gentle lap as his flushed tip makes him gasp. He sees himself go red in the camera but you keep going, licking up all the precum that’s spilled out. You cut your eyes up to his that’s staring at you, “Focus on class, baby.” You get back to work, licking stripes up his cock leaving drool all on it to slick it up.

“A-as if-” his knee knocks into your shoulder as you take the tip fully into your mouth with a harsh suck, “As if I c-could with you-” He sounds frustrated but keeps looking at the PowerPoint on screen mindlessly, the professor speaking through his headphones sounds like white noise at this point.

Your nails dig into his thighs and hips for leverage as you sink your mouth down onto his cock, the droning of the professor is drowned out with small gags, sloppy moans around his cock that leave his thighs shaking. You really have no right being so good at this. Throat constricting his cock like a sleeve that was made for him, his thigh jumping with a mix of pleasure and anxiety. He looks so helpless sitting trapped in a chair, half-naked with just a hoodie on, his cute girlfriend decorating his thighs with scratches as she chokes on his dick, but your throat feels divine.

His balls are being wetted by your drool, a little puddle in the chair forming as you take him all the way back again with a small gag, and hum around him. It feels like it vibrates his whole body, he feels boneless, eyes rolling back at the feeling before he checks his camera again to see if he looks at least half decent.

He’s biting into his hoodie sleeve a bit and his face is red but that is it, which would relieve him but you pick up the pace on swallowing his cock and he can feel his thigh tense up. When you reach up to squeeze his balls he lets out a pitifully loud moan from behind his hand and becomes thankful that his microphone is turned off. His other hand makes its way from being balled up on the desk to claw at your shirt, for some type of grounding so he doesn’t completely lose himself in pleasure.

He wants to look at your pretty lips wrapped around his cock and fuzzy teary eyes that strain from taking him down your throat, he wants to put his hand on your throat to feel it bulge but he can’t, not with his class going on. But he does sit back into the chair a bit to see some of it and maybe that was a bad idea because it is a pornographic sight. Dick drenches in your spit and eyes teary just like he thought and when you look up at him with those glassy eyes he has to clench his balls tight to stop cumming right then and there.

“C-can I-” he glances at the camera again but doesn’t even process his appearance, “Can I cum down your throat, please?” You pull off his cock and give a rough giggle.

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” your voice is a little scratchy due to his dick digging into your throat and stretching it out. You look up to him and lap his tip, “You look cute like this.” Before he can even respond you dig your nails into his thighs and take him all the way down and stay there. He’s grasping your shoulder desperately to ground himself as he hears the professor ask “Any questions?”

You swallow around him as he clasps his hand to his mouth, eyes rolling back as his cum seeps into your mouth. It’s gross but you keep it there for a second to gather before pulling off his cock with a loud pop. He’s leaning forward to leaving the class and you wait to hear the call drop before climbing up onto him, mouth pressed to his to pass his cum into each other’s mouths. He cringes at the taste but the dirtiness of it all has him moaning into your mouth. Cum gathering on his tongue to push it back onto yours before he swallows some, and when you pull back he’s left dizzy, mouth damp with saliva and cum from the kiss and dick hard and wet against his thigh. He pulls you back on top of him to finish off the kiss with one pressed into your jaw and leans back panting in the chair as you sit atop him with a smile.

“This means revenge, you know,” he says breathlessly. You just lean forward and kiss the side of his mouth to clean up some leftover cum.

“That’s the point,” you swipe your thumb over his lips lovingly, “This seems like the best seat during an hour and fifteen-minute long lecture I have at one.”

Online school is torture but… this is a way to make it bearable.

𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰: @murmikaa @whorekneecafe @kenmachishi @sebbiebarneslikeplvms

𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔨 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔯𝔢𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤 !!

//: 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

#⚫.writing #⚫.filth #❖.armin arlert #◆.aot #armin smut #armin x reader #armin arlert smut #armin arlert x reader #aot smut #aot x reader smut #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #aot fanfiction

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pixie-cocaine · 4 years

Text

ATEEZ Reaction To: Catching them off-guard by being naked

Hii, I've noticed your requests are open. And i've been seeing your Ateez reactions recently, which are amazing. :D I just wondered, do you think you could do an Ateez reaction where their S.O. walks into the room naked while they are playing a game, working on music etc? (Kind of like that new Tik tok trend going around atm) x

Guuurl, sorry I waited so long to actually do something about this ask lol, but hopefully this will make you happy :)

Songs Listened To: X by CODE KUNST + LEE HI, FXXK It by BIGBANG, Dante’s Creek by THEY + DEAN, Baby Don’t Stop by NCT, Love Talk - Wayv, A Little Death by The Neighborhood

Hongjoong ♡:

• This man was straight vibing and your sneaky ass just HAD to do something

• “Joong.”

• “Yeah?” he didn’t look up from the small journal, with which he was jotting down lyrics for a future song he was to produce for

• He kept his eyes trained on the pages

• And uh-uh, that wouldn’t do 😤

• You rolled your eyes and waltzed over to the boy, putting a hand on the shoulder of the chair so you could swing him around to face you, an eyebrow raised

• “Look at me.”

• And he sure as hell did dafdsaffwq

• Face said :O

• Doesn’t matter how many times he sees your nude body, still looks like a kid in a candy store lol

• To say he was completely distracted would be a huge understatement

• Hanky panky in his mini studio? Yessir

Seonghwa ♡:

• Looking at this gif and listening to a slowed sexy song is gonna kill me istg

• Also, who let him act like a little hoe in their comeback? Keep your shirt down, mister, it’s not safe

• Gorl has nothing to do in his sparetime because he’s not too big of a gAMeR, but he does like to play phone games when he’s especially bored

• Would probably be playing like fuckin uhhhh candy crush or something when you said “lemme do sum a lil crazy 😌💅“

• You were kinda just curious to see what his reaction would be if you showed up witcha tiddies out

• So you got out the shower and half-assedly threw on a silk robe that Hwa got you for your birthday, not tying it or anything, but rather letting it slip off your damp shoulders while the front sat open and displayed your body for all to see

• His reaction when you leant against the doorframe and fake pouted?

• Immediate 📉

• Everday and night he’s gon chase you frfr

• “C’mere...,” He’d mumble, tossing his phone to the side

• Level thirty-seven could wait ;)

Yunho ♡:

• Playing pc games at home is one of his favorite things to do (He’s even said so)

• PC games are his go-to when he gets bored of console

• So he’s constantly in his lil gaming room so that if you’re ever sleeping, he doesn’t wake you up

• He was on a multiuplayer session of Valorant when you decided to ruin his gaymer grind

• F in the chat boys

• “Yunho?”

• “Yes?” He stops his hastily typed directions to his game buddies in favor of giving you a quick glance from his chair, and has to look over again to make sure he's seeing things right

• Yeah, he was definitely seeing the pretty rise of your breasts and smoothness of your thighs, revealed from the towel now on the floor, right. Especially the way both of those lovely attributes were becoming larger as you approached him

• "W-woah!" He rushes to shield his eyes, though you only giggle and swivel his chair around in order to straddle him, removing his hands from his face

• "What? Am I too repulsive to?"

• "No! No it's just...," Yunho trails off, letting out a shaky breath and trying his best to not stare so obviously. Literally just paying attention at anything but what you wanted him to

• You only grin, tilting his chin to you face you head-on, "It's ok to look, baby. Don't be so shy"

• a forgotten game and heated chair sex is what would lead to your surprise

• kiss kiss for baby 😘

Yeosang ♡:

• We need more Yeosang gifs, this is ridiculous y'all ;(. Also, we're just... Not gonna talk about San on the side 💀

• Oh oh! And Yeosang getting bolder on stage is my favorite thing

• soooo snowboarding

• Yeosang said he likes to do that in his free time

• He'd just got a new custom board, which the front had lovely baby blue dripping forest face and the meaning of his name painted in black for the back, "Sound Resonating From A High Point."

• He was waxing it in the kitchen with it sat atop the island for easier space when he felt your arms slide around his waist, to which he smiled at, still continuing his work

• "Hello there," he mused

• "Baby, what would you do if I told you I was naked?"

• bitch hUH??

• He really did not waste time with turning in your hold and IMMEDIATELY looking down to see what you're wearing

• He chuckles upon , giving a cat whistle before bending down to set you on top of the counter

• "What's this for?"

• "Bored," you purse your lips, allowing yourself to lean back on your forearms as you spread your legs, "And you seemed like a good time-passer"

• Yeosang hums, falling to his knees easily enough and pulling you towards the edge of the island, then presses an affectionate kiss to your inner thigh

• "Fair enough"

San ♡:

• San likes to spiffy up on his English, which is still pretty hard for him even if you assure him that he's doing just fine when he speaks it around your family

• That being said, you'll sometimes catch him at the table with a textbook in front of him and a language journal by the side that he uses to write small romanizations

• You were particularly bored today. And damn, was San looking good with his messy black hair and shirtless torso. He never really did wear shirts around the house.

• "Sannie," You sang from the doorframe, fresh out of the shower and a bit sexually frustrated considering San hadn't touched you for a couple weeks due to your busy schedule

• He hummed in acknowledgement, jotting something down in the journal as he alternated between both the book and notebook

• You knew he was busy but his English really wasn't bad, so it didn't need to be now. It could wait a bit longer

• Sighing, you drop the towel from your body and fling it at San, which makes him jump and pull it from off of his head, looking towards you immediately and gasping

• You put a hand on your hip, giggling at how he tries to calm himself down

• lol goofy boy

• "C'mon, I know you're tired, I can help you relax," you gesture with a finger in a beckoning motion, and like he was already planning on it, he hops up from his seat and follows you back to the bedroom

• sorry if this was kinda boring lol, let's just San could have literally any reaction and frankly, this is probably the most tame he would be

Mingi ♡:

• Like Yunho in a lot of ways

• He does like to play games (probably PC, too), so you already know he'd be mashing that controller in the living room lol

• "Aww man, are you kidding me!?"

• Mingi gets shy, especially when it comes to you, so when you decided it'd be a good idea to step in front of the screen while he was playing Zelda with the towel around your body held open, he was a visual representation of keyboard mashing

• "Woah—Ohmygod-" [insert Minnie baby accidentally throwing his controller in his haste to cover his eyes]

• "You don't want me?" You ask, pouting and tilting your head

• His response is spreading two of the fingers across his eyes to peek, nodding his head frantically but trying to find the right words so he doesn't make you sad, "You just scared me is all! I don't wanna be rude by looking when you don't want me to or anything..."

• He takes his fingers away to hold them out instead, making grabby hands until you smile and crawl into them, in turn, climbing on top of his lap and letting him press his face into the valley between your breasts so he could kiss the skin there while looking at you

• "I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong idea," he mumbles, nuzzling his head farther down

• "No baby, you're fine," You reassure him with a hand ruffling the strands of his hair

• sweet hanky panky alert 🚨 sweet hanky panky alert 🚨

Wooyoung ♡:

• it's the large ass gif of Woo and his ponytail for me

• Oh and yeah, I know this doesn't quite fit theme of YOU walking in on them to flash your boobies but you're gonna keep your mouth shut and pretend it does 😏

• Another gamer.. damn this is getting repetitive

• hmmm

• Dance practice it is! 😃

• Woo doesn't like repeatedly practicing the same moves over and over again, but he did like the progress he made with each re-do, so he supposes he'll bear with the exhaustion

• Well.. obviously not now, because he's just walking through the bedroom door when he finally registers that you're sitting on the bed, lying on your stomach and scrolling through your phone with a leg raising your body go the side

• You snap your head to look at him, "Ah, there you are," you grin, pushing yourself up to a sitting position, "Thought you were gonna come home late again"

• Wooyoung let's out a snort as he closes the door behind him and drops his dance bag to the side, already taking his inky black hair out of the ponytail it was previously in and shaking it loose

• "What a nice surprise"

Jongho ♡:

• No thoughts, only buff babie

• And how he sung "sex in the morning baby" with a scary amount of aggression

• lol it makes sense that sweetie likes to play racing games on his computer

• LITerally so precious ;(

• Same trope (yes I'm a disappointment); Jongie plopped onto his lil chair with a fluffy blanket around his shoulders and headphones on that cute little head of his

• He said "I love playing car games, vroom vroom y'all 😤"

• And you said "I love playing surprise games, yes yes 😈"

• Gorl, when I tell you he squeaked out of surprise at how you turned his chair around to face you ;(

• "Uhh... Am I- Am I supposed to be looking?" He stammers, eyebrows raised and eyes locked on your bare front

• "By all means, baby," you purr, shaking your head with a familiar fondness at the boy in awe before you

• Just like Joong, he never tires of seeing you naked. He loves looking at you when you're nude, because it's when he can appreciate all aspects of you

• "Hang on, let me pause the game, I'll meet you in the bedroom"

• Getting intimate with Jongho is quite easy. He'll pretty much always say yes to sex, and it's pretty casual when you hint at it

#kpop smut #ateez reactions #smut #ateez smut #kpop reactions #reactions #jongho smut #seonghwa smut #yeosang smut #hongjoong smut #mingi smut #yunho smut #requested #wooyoung smut

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flowesona · 4 years

Text

catnip - yandere! hybrid yoongi x reader

“Just stay here for me, okay Yoongi?” The hybrid nodded, even if he was still shivering slightly. He’d freaked out seeing where they were parked, crying about her adopting someone else.

His emotional reaction had tugged at (Y/N)’s heartstrings to no end. She was starting to second guess her decision, but it was the right thing to do.

“Be back soon.” Yoongi nodded, still sniffling slightly as he curled up in the car seat, letting her climb out and close the door gently behind her.

The shelter still smelt strongly of disinfectant. He’d complained about the smell one night to her, humming about how glad he was he would never have to spend another night there. The thought of him finding out how he was wrong was heartbreaking, yet (Y/N) pushed on, right up to the reception desk where the same kind faced volunteer was typing away.

“Hi?” She spoke up timidly. The young woman glanced up, beaming.

“Ah, Miss (L/N)! Just in time! I was going to call you to ask how you two were getting along. Is Yoongi settling in alright?”

“Well, that’s the thing. Yoongi doesn't seem to be very… comfortable.” (Y/N) posited, fidgeting slightly. “He got in a fight with one of the neighbour’s hybrids about a week ago. Left him quite injured. And I don’t want to risk such an incident recurring.”

That was the best way to describe the incident. She’d left Yoongi with her neighbour’s fellow cat hybrid whilst she had a cup of coffee and a catch up with him, only to hear a loud ruckus a few minutes later and discover the two in a serious scuffle, both ending up with serious scratches on their arms. When she’d taken Yoongi home, apologising to her neighbour profusely all the while, she interrogated him on why he did it, only to have her reprimands shrugged off as Yoongi chose instead to weep about how he felt so lonely whenever she wasn’t in the room.

That’s not to say that Yoongi was a demonic hybrid. Compared to the horror stories she’d heard from her friends about hybrids attacking their owners or destroying their homes, Yoongi was practically a saint. He provided pleasant company, always happy to curl up with her as she talked about her day or laying his head on her lap so that she would scratch behind his ears in a way that made him practically purr in delight. But the bad moments stood out more than the positive ones, and (Y/N) wasn’t sure she could cope with the irregularity of his moods.

All in all, he was nearly the perfect companion. But she didn’t want to give up her friendship with her neighbour, and the fear that she couldn’t provide enough emotional support was pushing her to help him find a new owner.

“Really? He never showed that kind of behaviour with his previous family. Are you sure it wasn’t just a simple disagreement that escalated on both sides?” The receptionist frowned, her hand resting on the computer mouse.

“There was another occasion. He attacked a human yesterday. My brother.”

Like the last time, she had no idea what happened. Her brother had just dropped by to greet her as he was in town, but when she’d gone to get him a glass of water, she heard them talking. All of a sudden she heard a yelp, as if someone was in pain, and when she returned her brother was halfway out the door.

“Get that mutt of yours put down. He’s no good.” Was all he said before slamming the door in her face. She’d tried to pry what happened out of Yoongi, but once again he cried to her about being unloved. Rather than feeling pity for his feelings, she felt irritated beyond all else that he was refusing to take the blame for wounding her brother.

Ultimately, to (Y/N) blood was thicker than water, which led her to the adoption center to see about relocating Yoongi.

“I see. We’ll have him assessed to see if he’s a threat to any other humans, and I’m very sorry that happened to your family. Did you bring him here with you?” The receptionist finally started to tap away at her computer, leaving (Y/N) with a bittersweet feeling.

“Yes. He’s in the car.”

“Okay. If you want to say goodbye and bring him in here? And if you ever miss him you can always call us and we’ll tell you how he’s doing.” The young woman gave (Y/N) a kind smile.

Each step felt like she was wading through glue. She was scared about what would happen, about how Yoongi would feel. No doubt, he wouldn’t react well to the news considering how just being in the area of his old accommodation was enough to trigger a meltdown.

“Yoongi? How are you feeling?” She slid into the driver's seat. He lifted his head briefly to meet her eyes.

“Who were you talking to?” He asked, cocking his head to one side. A seemingly innocent question sent shivers down her spine, though she wasn’t sure why. Yoongi was good, he just didn’t get along with the people around her right?

“There’s someone who wants to check up on you. You need to come inside the building with me, okay?” The little white lie hurt to say, as she held out her hand for him to take. Yoongi looked apprehensive, but when she gave him a nod of encouragement he reached out to take it.

She would miss the way his warm hand felt curled around hers. Especially when, late into the evenings when he thought she was asleep, he’d snuggle his cheek into her hand for comfort, falling asleep quickly in her hold.

Yoongi was becoming more tense as they entered, wincing at the strong smell and pressing his face into her shoulder, as he’d done a few times when there was strong thunder and lightning.

She made eye contact with the receptionist, to let her know she should get a keeper to help take him away.

“Yoongi, you’re a very good boy aren’t you?” She said softly, feeling him nod as he stayed clung to her back.

“The people here are going to take good care of you, aren’t they? I want you to stay strong for me.”

He froze.

“What do you mean? (Y/N), you’ll stay with me whilst they help me right?” Yoongi’s breathing was getting heavier, his eyes widening in terror.

(Y/N) didn’t reply, wanting nothing more than to keep lying but not having the guts to do so.

“I don’t want to stay here. Please, can’t we go home? I’m a good boy, I swear!” It was just as bad as she expected. Luckily, two of the keepers had arrived just in time.

The second Yoongi was separated from (Y/N) by another human, he became fully hysterical.

“Let go of me! No! Don’t you dare take me away from her!” He cried out, thrashing against the hold of the keepers.

“He’ll be absolutely fine, Miss. No need to worry.” One of the keepers panted, trying their best to keep the now feral Yoongi, who was hissing and scratching at them.

(Y/N) turned her back on the chaos, trying not to feel guilty as she heard the cries grow fainter and fainter.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

By the position of the moon in the night sky, Yoongi could tell it had hit midnight. He’d spent the afternoon and most of the evening pacing his room, with the same old white walls and tiny window. He’d tried to break the glass, but his hands were no match for the triple glazed glass.

But the heartache he felt from losing (Y/N) was worse than any pain some bruised knuckles could cause. He’d been scared that he was pushing it. The first few times that he played the victim after lashing out, she seemed to forgive him. But it was her brother that had been the straw that broke the camel’s back - all Yoongi had done was try to suggest that her brother shouldn’t return to their apartment as he clearly wasn’t needed, and (Y/N)’s sibling had been completely unreasonable in rejecting the idea. But when he’d tried gaining her sympathy after the matter, she evidently didn’t believe him, thus he was dumped.

Even if he’d initially been angry at (Y/N) for leaving him, that emotion didn’t stick around for long. The sick “love” he’d developed for her triumphed anything she could ever do. He had to be by her side, to protect her from any man that might try to corrupt her - that was his new purpose in life, and there was no way he could let the pound keep him from that.

With newfound will, he slammed his body into the door of his room. The lock rattled, but didn’t budge. He slammed into it again, and then a final time to see the bolt shattering.

Yoongi didn’t even wait to catch his breath, hurrying through the halls with nimble feet and light breath. Even in his tantrum earlier he’d been taking in the layout of the building, so he could find his way back.

Fortunately, this paid off as he was able to get to the reception, meaning he was so close he could practically feel the warmth of (Y/N)’s bed again. Unfortunately, he was not alone. There was a security guard at the reception desk, yawning and sipping a piping cup of coffee. When he saw the escaping hybrid he reached for something on his belt only for Yoongi to pounce first, knocking him to the ground. The frustration inside Yoongi built up, this man being the sole obstacle in his journey to find (Y/N), and before he knew quite what he was doing his sharp fingernails had tore the guard’s throat out, leaving him to choke on his own blood.

Seeing the pathetic human reaching for a phone, presumably to call the other security guard for help, Yoongi snatched it far out of reach and crushed the guard’s hand underneath his foot with a satisfying crunch. As a final gesture Yoongi spat on him, smirked, and snatched up the keys.

Once he was outside, locking the door behind him, Yoongi was elated. He just had to find a way back to his home, and even if his head was too messed up to think of the directions, his heart could guide the way. Navigating the dark city streets, ducking into corners when he saw people knowing that he could be busted at any second, all whilst racking his brains for the directions to the apartment. If only he’d left the comfort of home more often, he wouldn’t be in such a tough situation.

Finally, he started to recognise the area he was in. Even better, he was starting to pick up her scent, until finally he found himself outside of their apartment block.

He knew where he was now, and he couldn’t help but to dash up the stairs, not caring about the noise, until he found her apartment. There, after trying the doorknob only to find it locked, he rapped on the door continuously, until finally it opened for him.

He launched himself into (Y/N)’s arms upon seeing her, leading to her stumbling back in shock and ending up on the floor. Yoongi just laughed in delight.

“I’ve missed you so much, (Y/N). Never let them take me like that again, okay?”

#yandere bts #yandere kpop #yandere yoongi #yandere suga #yandere bts x reader #kpop yandere #yandere oneshot #yandere yoongi x reader #yandere suga x reader #bts suga #min yoongi #yoongi x reader

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

Text

Satisfied, Part 48

First

Don’t know if the next update will come out tomorrow. I’ll try but it may take a little longer

~~~

The day before the Gala was… an experience.

They’d all done what had been essentially a sparring tournament. Duke won, to everyone’s annoyance, and now everyone was saying that he had somehow cheated. Marinette had no clue how he could have done so, but she was glad for the excuse either way.

After that they’d been given some lessons on how to present themselves -- only Marinette, Damian, and Jason were required to go to lecture, but everyone else had been happy to attend to take pictures of their scowling faces.

And now they were doing some ‘relaxation time’ before the big day. No one was really relaxed, obviously. Bruce went down to his brooding cave; Duke was spotted messing with a Rubix cube; Cass and Dick were sparring again to let out some energy; Damian was hugging Marinette’s cat (who had been named Chaton despite what she’d promised him); Tim was clicking away at his computer; Jason was in the shooting range; Marinette was fussing with her outfit. Anxiety radiated off of every family member.

Then, night came… and Marinette and Tim… were forced to take care of themselves.

The horror.

Except it actually was kinda terrifying how committed the family was to getting them to partake in self care. Marinette had been jumped right outside her room and then literally thrown into a bubble bath, fully clothed. No amount of cursing had stopped them from dumping an entire bottle of soap over her head.

Then, when they were convinced she was clean, they threw a towel over her and ushered her along as a group. She tried to struggle away from them, but there were at least five people on her and she was left to just curse as hands pulled her through the halls. They pushed her through the door to her room and slammed it behind her. She ran over to try and muscle it open, only to hear the lock click.

She groaned and jiggled the doorknob. Her hands came up to her hair for her hairpins and she hissed a curse as she realized they’d taken them. “I’ll kill you guys!”

“Love you, too!” Said Jason.

She called him a lot of colorful names, but this only seemed to amuse everyone.

“Go to sleep! We have all your tech and coffee! You can’t do anything else!” Yelled Dick.

Her hand went to her purse, only to find that it was gone, too.

She kicked the door once to show her anger and then groaned in pain. There was a bit of laughter from outside and she peeked through the crack under the door.

Great. They weren’t leaving. She could see someone setting up a sleeping bag, actually…

An annoyed sigh escaped her lips. She started toweling herself off properly and then pulled on her Red Robin hoodie. Marinette pouted as she climbed under the covers with the plush she’d won at the arcade. Boredom raced through her and she closed her eyes.

She really did have nothing to do other than sleep, they’d been sure of that…

Her window clicked and she peeked an eye open to see Tim’s smiling face poking above the window sill.

He managed to pull himself over and flopped on the floor on the other side, panting and red-faced.

She grinned. “Bravo.”

“You could have helped,” he muttered.

“Could have,” she agreed. “But didn’t.”

He stuck his tongue out at her and, slowly but surely, pushed himself up. It seemed they had gotten him, too, if the damp hair and new pajamas were anything to go by. “So, looks like we were both caught.”

She giggled softly. “Mhmm. Do they do this every time?”

“Nope. Apparently this year is ‘worse than normal’ and they ‘don’t trust that I would sleep on my own this time’.” He sat down next to her and raised his eyebrows at the Red Robin plush she was hugging to her chest. He reached out and gently attempted to pry it from her hands.

She gave him a cheeky grin and held it closer. “Are you really jealous of --.” She stopped herself from saying ‘yourself’. “-- a superhero?”

His face reddened slightly and he tugged at the plush again. This time, she didn’t resist. She felt him lay down beside her and smiled, resting her arm over his stomach lazily. “They take all your tech, too?”

“Everything I had on me,” he said, a cheeky grin on his face. It was here that she noticed that he had a bag on him and she raised her eyebrows as he pulled it open to reveal two phones and a laptop. “They forget I always have spares in my room.”

She took a phone from him. “You’re my hero.”

“Oh? And what about Red Robin?” He teased, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her closer to his side.

She snickered. “You’re my everyday Red Robin,” she joked quietly, resting her head against his chest.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and started typing away.

She glanced up from her phone a while later and took in the way his eyebrows were creased with concern. She leaned over and gave him a tiny kiss, smiling when his face softened a little.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just… the Gala,” he said.

Her hands came up to cup his face. “There’s no changes you can make right now that will help anything.”

“I know, it’s just…” She felt his grip tighten on her waist. “I don’t like it. I want to do something. It feels wrong to just wait for something bad to happen.”

Marinette ran her thumb along his cheekbone. “I know… but there’s only so much security you can hire before the guests get anxious something will happen.”

“I still think we should tell them.”

She shook her head. “The guests wouldn’t come, so the Rogues wouldn’t come, and then we’d be even more in the dark about Joker’s plans. We just have to hope that the bats can fix it.”

“And if they can’t?”

“Well, then we probably wouldn’t have to worry about it, would we?” She mumbled, a somewhat bitter sound to her voice.

He nodded slightly and then leaned into her touch, closing his eyes. “You promised you wouldn’t die, remember?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, resting her forehead against his gently. “I intend to keep that promise as best I can.”

She saw the tiny smile that came to his face at her words and felt her heart flutter a little in her chest.

“You’d better.”

She pressed a short kiss to his lips. “Of course. Who else would scam you into giving them free coffee all the time?”

“It’s not a scam if I knew what you were doing,” he said.

“Mmmmm,” she hummed, not agreeing or disagreeing.

He set his laptop down and smiled as he turned into her fully, wrapping his arms around her waist. She smiled back, looking up at him.

She gently traced the bags under his eyes. “They have a point, you should sleep. Even my makeup skills couldn't cover up all that.”

He made a face and she laughed softly, rolling her eyes.

Then his expression softened and he gave her a quick kiss. “Fine, but you need to try and sleep, too.”

She swallowed thickly. “But…”

“I’ll be here to wake you up if you have a nightmare, but could you please try? For me?”

She looked at his pleading eyes and sighed quietly, resting her head against his chest. “Fine,” she mumbled, her hands sliding down to wrap around his torso. “For you.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and rested his chin atop her head. His arms pulled her ever closer and she smiled, listening to the dull thrum of his heart.

“Good night, sweetie.”

“Good night, bean.”

~~~

I’ve officially used too many commas. My comma key broke ;-;

Taglist

@comet-kun @thatonecroc @trippingovermyfeet @swiftie-miraculer13 @nickristus-dreamer @moongoddesskiana @i-am-ironic @indecisive-mess-named-me @thebooki3h @insane-fangirl-of-everything @deepestobservationwombat @theymakeupfairies @fatimaabbasrizvi @clumsy-owl-4178 @fanofalittletoomuch @iamablinkmarvelarmy @nathleigh @lilkymilky @silvergold-swirl @dino-lovingreen-angel @thestressmademedoit @kissa-chan @ladybug-182 @alysrose-starchild @t1dwarrior-of-earth @spyofthenightcourt @rowanrouge @nik-nak-3 @momothefemur @aestheticnpoetic @labschaos @our-preciousss @mochinek0 @eliza-bich @mythogaychic @severelyenchantedwonderland @sashakoi @smolplantmum @bluesimani @tropestropestropes @kitsunebell @keepingupwiththemalfoys @sassakitty @2confused-2doanything @too0bsessedformyowngood @all-mights-asscheeks @demonicbusiness @meg-an-ace @fantasiame @qualitypeacepainter @multplelifes @kokotaru @spicybelladonna @ultimatetornshipper

#timinette #timari #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #tim drake #red robin #maribat #satisfied

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 4 years

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C A L L M E C A T, chapter nine

January 2017

We had time off near the holidays, space for all of us was good. The rush of our record deal and newfound fame was suffocating in moments, exhilarating in others.

Niall journeyed back to Ireland and Miles back up north to Massachusetts. Jules’ parents were only in Connecticut, and Harry had already made the trip back to the UK to see his family.

By the time the New Year came, I was sick of being in Florida with no friends and minimal interaction from my parents. Our last night together as a band was the night of my drunken exit, something that we all knew was awkward and tense but didn’t dare to mention the next morning.

Being around my parents made me drink less just because I feared becoming them. Which was probably good for both my liver and my mind, but bad for my emotional state. It had been a few weeks since I’d spoken to Miles or Harry. Jules would check in just to make sure I hadn’t murdered my parents yet, Niall sent pictures of his nephew and the pints he was drinking back home.

I sat on the back patio a few days into 2017, sunglasses on to block the sun and hoping to get a bit of a glow on the unseasonably warm day. My phone buzzed beside me and pulled my attention back to the pool in front of me, my parents were both at work and I finally had a minute without them to gather my thoughts.

Nothing about the sunshine state made me want to stay, especially not the locked door down the hall that had been untouched since 2011. The bed was likely unmade and I was sure dust had collected on the trophies that lined his shelves.

I picked up my phone and read the message that had just come through, one that made me want to abandon my home state more than I already did.

Harry Styles (1:03pm): Random question, are you still in Florida?

I looked around the backyard, boats buzzed by on the water and the waves glimmered in the sun.

Cat Fonder (1:04pm): Unfortunately

Harry Styles (1:04pm): Me too.

I pulled up the phone and read it twice before I pressed the phone icon near his name. It rang once before he answered.

“Hi!”

“What are you doing in Florida?”

“Well--bit of an airline issue, so I ended up on a flight here instead of New York. I’m stuck here overnight.”

“That sucks,” I admitted, turning on my side on the pool lounge chair. “What are you going to do?”

“Well,” he took a pause, but I could tell he’d already decided. “You’re going to come get me at the airport.”

“What makes you think that?”

He laughed on the other end of the phone. “I mean, you wouldn’t let me sleep overnight in the Miami airport would you?” I let out a groan for him to hear, laughed a little when he threw in: “I know you have enough bedrooms at your parents house.”

Marta, our longtime housekeeper and an adopted member of our family, slid open the door to the living room. “Do you want lunch?”

“In a few!” I called back to her. “Harry--you can Uber here if you want.”

“Oh just come pick me up--how far do you live from the airport?”

“From Miami? Like an hour and a half!”

“Which is exactly why I’m not paying for an Uber, Catherine.”

I exhaled through my nose, licked at my lips, already regretting the decision to take one of my dad’s cars into a Miami afternoon. The air was sticky and the climb in my heartbeat made me feel stupid and childish. Harry’s chastising on the other end didn’t help.

“Did you hang up on me? Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“Cause I’m trying to think of a plan to be in a car with you and not kill you.”

He let out a belly laugh at this, noise from the busy airport terminal was seeping through the speaker and into my ears. “I’ll make sure we don’t lay any hands on each other.”

Goosebumps rose on my skin, his voice almost melodic when he said see you soon!

I grabbed the keys and took a sandwich for the road from Marta, prayed to some type of higher power that I didn’t rear end someone or fuck up my dad’s Mercedes. He drove the Tesla to work, which was good, honestly, because I wouldn’t even know how to turn that one on.

It took me only an hour and fifteen, which didn’t seem like a result of my timid driving but more the lack of traffic and time of day. When I rolled up to the baggage claim and saw him standing on the curb with sunglasses pushed up and a hood over his head, I rolled the window down.

“How’s the disguise working?”

He made a face at me, stuffed his suitcase in the backseat and climbed in front. “You joke, but there were girls who literally cried when they saw me. And a few photographers, I think--which is really weird.”

“Really?” I looked over my shoulder and put on my blinker, hoping to merge effortlessly over three lanes to get out of the hellhole that was Miami International.

“Yeah--don’t know why but people apparently like our band in Florida. Hometown pride, maybe.”

He had a point--apparently my name had been one of the most searched google phrases in the state at the end of 2016. But we weren’t really paparazzi level yet, once or twice in New York or LA when we’d do shows, but they’d yet to really follow us around.

“Okay, well you might have to be silent the rest of the ride if you want to get to Palm Beach in one piece.”

He turned towards me with an amused look. “Do you suck at driving?”

“No,” I said, looking over at him quickly, a car merged in front of me and made me swerve to the side a little bit when I took my eyes off the road.

“Jesus fuck!” He laughed, “oh god--you would be absolutely rubbish at driving. This is actually extremely on brand for you.”

“I’m not rubbish at driving,” I twisted my face. “I’m just out of practice.”

We made it four miles away from the airport before he demanded that I get out and let him drive, arguing that even if the steering wheel was on the other side and we drove on the wrong side of the road, he’d be a safer bet.

He got a coffee at a gas station and took a picture of me with the girl behind the register, more pleasant than I’d ever seen him be. He put the windows down and played me the songs he’d been listening to over the holidays and laughed when he pointed at my hands. “You got a manicure!”

I hid my face, embarrassed at the sellout I’d become. Thirteen whole days in town and my mother had convinced me to sit beside her, watch daytime talk shows while the spa ladies buffed and snipped our cuticles.

She made me, I laughed. You might end up with one too before you leave.

We rolled up to Island Drive right before my parents got home from work and Harry leaned towards the window to get a better view of the house. His mouth hung open when we turned into the shrub-lined driveway. “Jesus, Cat. What do your parents do again?”

“Work too much,” I told him. “Mom’s a dentist and my dad’s a financial advisor. They’re super obnoxious so please try to interact with them at a minimum like Marta and I do.”

“Marta?”

“Housekeeper, my old nanny--she’s part of the family.”

He nodded, still taking in the fountain and manicured lawn when I pulled his suitcase from the backseat. Harry had known that my parents were wealthy--mainly from the time that Miles made me sound like an obnoxious rich kid when we wrote at their apartment. But Harry was apparently surprised by the level of wealth that was held in Palm Beach. His lips parted when I brought him in the front door, views of the water over the crest of the lawn and the pool, eyes landing on mine after a few seconds.

“And you moved to New York, why?”

I kept my voice quiet, didn’t want Marta to hear my bluntness from the other room. “To get out of here.”

But soon she smiled and rushed over, eager to take Harry’s suitcase and bring it to the guest room. She offered him tea and coffee and all of the snacks that he joked he would have held out for if he knew she was here and waiting.

I brought him upstairs to show him the room he could sleep in, around the corner from mine, a view of the side yard and the gardens that a landscaping company tended to every Saturday morning. I laid the ground rules: no mentioning our partying, no mentioning times when I’ve been too drunk. If he wanted a free place to sleep with good food and a king-sized bed, he needed to keep his mouth shut about that stuff.

He saluted me and stifled a laugh. “Yes ma’am.”

“I’m serious,” I told him. “Just be quiet, don’t give them a reason to ask you any questions.”

“Alright--I mean, come on, they can’t be that bad.”

As if on cue--as if Harry showing up in Florida wasn’t enough bad karma for one day--the alarm beeped downstairs letting me know one of them was home. Lorna first, she came in with big sunglasses and greeted Harry with a smile, her hand outstretched for her afternoon glass of Chardonnay before Marta could even hang her keys up by the door.

Frank strolled in a little after six pm, dinner was almost ready when Harry excused himself to the bathroom and I took it as my opportunity to corner my mother before she was too drunk to remember it.

I knocked on her office door twice, waited for her to look up from her computer before I took a few steps inside. “Hi, dear,” she said, a small smile before she looked back to the papers on her desk.

“Hi--I just wanted to uh, ask you a favor, actually.” I approached her with my hands on my hips, unsure if I’d get her full attention or if I’d have to snap my fingers to get her eyes back on me. I sat down in the chair across from her, a formal chess move to let her know I was serious.

“What’s that?” She leaned back in her chair and waited for me to spit it out. Her direct eye contact made me nervous, I stammered over my words and tried to sway her by bringing my dad into it.

“I, uh, just asked dad the same thing--he said it was fine.”

“Just spit it out, Catherine.”

“Can we not talk about Cameron in front of Harry?”

She set down her glasses at this, watched me for a second before she tilted her head to the side. “Okay.”

“Like, at all. Okay? Not even once.”

She sighed, almost as if my request was painful for her to consider. “Okay, if that’s what you want.”

Maybe she’d tone it down with a stranger in the house. Maybe not talking about Cameron for someone else’s benefit would make her respect the limit more than she had in the past.

I had hoped for so long that one day it’d stop, one day she’d forget his name or leave it out of conversation even if just for my sake. But my mother was too selfish for that--always forgetting that while she was grieving a son, I was grieving my other half.

I should have known she couldn’t help herself--she had to relive the moment over and over, desperate to keep herself alive in the past as if it was safer than the present. His name slipped out of her mouth like she didn’t even realize it, I nearly choked on my asparagus at the dinner table when she said it.

Harry was busy making small talk about our upcoming album, the studio sessions we’d be heading into once we flew back to the city. “Our manager said it’ll be good timing to release an album, makes us eligible for award season the following year.”

She pretended to be interested, pretended to care for a second about our careers, but then she did it. “Reminds me of the time Cameron won that award--”

“Mom,” I said it quick, my hands falling to the table with a thud, fork and knife in my grasp when I cut her off. “Don’t.”

The noise startled Harry, but the genuine smile on his face only faltered a little. “No, I’d love to hear the story,” he didn’t even have a clue to the fire he was igniting.

“We talked about it mom,” I gave her a death glare--which I could tell threw her off. She was frozen, torn between pleasing her dinner guest and pissing off her daughter, two of her favorite past times.

She gestured at Harry. “Well I don’t want to be rude, Catherine.”

“Dad,” I looked over to see him on his phone, my voice pleading for him to intervene.

“Lorna, leave it alone,” he said, disinterested, phone screen still lit up like he was begging for a distraction.

“Oh,” she sighed, sarcasm threaded in her words. “Right--we don’t go there.”

Harry was across from me, mid-bite of his steak. He looked from me and to my mom, then back, while he chewed. He had no clue what was happening but he could tell he’d said the wrong thing.

My mom picked up her wine glass, brought it to her lips and offered a sweet smile in Harry’s direction. “Nevermind, dear--don’t want to upset Catherine.”

I rolled my eyes and stood from the table, “Harry, do you want to go for a walk?”

He was caught off guard, still uncomfortably in the middle when he nodded quickly, stood from the table and thanked both of my parents for letting him stay the night as I headed for the front door. He hurried out behind me, his voice barely a whisper in the hallway. “Did I do that? Did I fuck up?”

“No,” I said, calling to Marta over my shoulder. “Dinner was delicious, Marta! We’ll be back!”

“What even happened in there?” He asked, still a few steps behind me once we walked out onto the moonlit driveway.

I stopped short and turned around, the anger in my chest was threatening to spill out and onto the concrete. “Nothing--my mother is just fucking stupid and selfish.”

“So the intimidating level of rage coming off of you is not my fault?”

“What? No.”

I spun around again and headed for the street, a left turn towards the familiar route that I’d escape to when something like this happened. He walked beside me on the tree-line street, silent and steady until the neighborhood opened up. The same empty field at the end of the road that gave access to the lagoon, the same location I’d come to so many times after storming away from dinner as a kid. Doing it at 22 felt no different than at 15.

He shoved his hands in his pockets when we stepped onto the grass. “What is this place?”

“I don’t know--an empty field at the end of my street.”

“Is this your ponder spot?”

I looked over my shoulder, his face was lit up by the glow of the streetlights. “Ponder spot?”

He nodded and offered a shrug, “you know, the place you run off to when you need space.”

I bit back a laugh, embarrassed that his words couldn’t have been more accurate. He took my silence as confirmation, followed me over to a picnic table that sat close to the end of the water.

I threw a leg over the bench and let my head rest on top, a groan escaping my lips once I felt his weight shift the structure.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head but didn’t lift it, so he let me sit in silence for a little while. A breeze blew my hair around and after a few minutes, he sighed, like he already knew the answer but wanted to ask anyway. “Do you want to tell me who Cameron is?”

That got me to raise my head. “Definitely not.”

He smirked a little, a tiny nod as if to tell me he wouldn’t push it. He reached a hand over and patted my thigh, chin in his hand as he watched people cruise by on their boats.

For the first time I felt comfortable with him--not pressured or panicked. He brought his eyes over to me and then fished into the pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a small joint, a dimple appeared on his cheek when he said: “I found this in the guest room.”

“Shut up,” I laughed, pulling it from him and sniffing it to inspect. “Did you really?”

He nodded, “which one of your parents is the stoner?”

“Well my mom is too high strung, so--must be Frank.”

He pulled out a lighter and held it up, watched when I placed it between my lips and then inhaled. I passed it over to him, thankful for a buffer between us now aside from the moon and the breeze.

Smoke escaped my lips and floated towards the stars, he drummed his fingers on the table before I passed it to him. “Do you feel overwhelmed ever?”

“Ever?” He laughed at my question, licked his lips and then looked out over the water.

“I mean by the music stuff lately.”

He shrugged. “Excited mostly. Why? Do you?”

I nodded, unafraid to admit that being home brought a different layer of complexity to life. “My parents will just never get it.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re not successful.”

I looked down at the faded wood and the fresh coat of polish on my nails. “It kind of feels that way, though--you know, if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, did it really happen?”

He stared at me for a second, sure that I was joking. “You’re mental,” he said. “The tree is down on the ground, of course it fell. Who fucking cares if they were around to hear it or not?”

I nodded, took the joint back from him and took another inhale, reminded of the first time we did this type of thing.

He passed it to me, watched as I let smoke dance through the chilly air before he asked: “Why do you go by Cat?”

Another shrug, how I answered most questions these days. Do you have nightmares about it? Do you think about him all the time? Do you feel easily agitated?

“Just don’t like Catherine. Too formal.”

I didn’t want to get into it. My mother calls me that, my brother called me that, all good reasons to pack up and leave behind in the childhood bedroom that held bad memories.

“I like Catherine,” he admitted. “S’pretty.”

I let my eyes sweep over to him, the moon reflected in his eyes, curls of hair poked out from the beanie on his head. “Just--don’t call me that, please.”

He laughed, completely unaware of the way it made my chest heave in the shower or the way it sent a shiver down my spine when my mom had to cut herself off--Catherine and Cameron--no, just Catherine.

I had to correct her now too. Catherine felt like it needed to be followed by something, another name, the one that had been linked to mine since birth, born two minutes apart.

“I think you’re pretty fucking successful, you know.”

I glanced over at him. “Yeah?”

A single nod. His short hair was still something to get used to, it bent in the wind and blocked his eyes when he turned to look at me. “I will never admit I said this, but, we’d be nothing without you.”

“Well, we only got big once you came along.”

He smirked, “so you’re aware of that?”

I gave him a shove, shaking my head at his stupid ego. His eyes lingered on mine for a second, his knee knocked against mine when he flicked the joint and then he let out a sigh.

I wanted to lean in and kiss him, and I probably would have if it weren’t for Lila. As far as I knew she was home in New York, maybe in Jersey with her parents or siblings, but certainly an obstacle to whatever kind of intoxicated hook up could have happened between us.

I cleared my throat and looked up at the sky. “Do you want to go write a song?”

He smiled, a soft one, nodded a few times and patted me on the thigh again before he stood up and offered me a hand. “I’d love to.”

He followed me back to the house, up the stairs to my bedroom and stared at the ceiling while I plucked at the guitar.

I don’t know where I wanna go,

But it’s far away from here

Don’t know what I’m running from

If it’s you or me, my dear

He watched, listened, nodded along while it poured out of me, more of a witness than a participant.

It’s good, Cat, he said, keep going.

Everybody’s talking now

But no one seems to say a thing

I do my best to drown them out

I just wish that I could be

Somewhere far away from here

Back to myself, back where I could see clear

Somewhere far away from here

Won’t somebody take me far away from here?

Sleep was heavy on my eyelids, Harry down the hall and a rough version already sent off in an email to Niall before I realized he’d said it. Four and a half years of begging him to say it, call me Cat, hoping one day he’d just give in and go along with it. All this time I thought fighting him and pushing him away would make it happen.

It was fitting, I guess, that it was the exact opposite that finally got me what I wanted.

Niall was excited that Harry had accidentally landed himself in Miami, and he was even more excited when he learned that I told him he could stay with me an extra few days before I was due to return to Manhattan and the responsibilities of work.

He was eager to see my town, made me drive him by the high school and the parking lot where I learned--or failed, according to him--to parallel park. He swam in the pool and spit water in my face, completely deconstructing the wall I had managed to build over the last few years with a single glance in my direction.

He promised he stayed because he was having fun, not just because flying home with me meant a first class seat.

It was rare, these days, too, that I found myself on a boat. A few times since the accident, maybe three or four. But his excitement and delight was contagious when he learned my parents still had one--the same one--and it was down on a dock off the backyard.

I let the motor hum to life, pinks and purples splashed over the sky on our last night when he popped a bottle of champagne. I wondered if Lila knew he was here--he seemed undisturbed by his phone and altogether disconnected and unplugged.

I drove us out to the middle of the lagoon, dropped anchor and told him about the time I learned to swim off the back. I was three or four, always in a life vest and completely unaware of the irony that my life was accumulating.

Cam would jump off first, his floaties on his arms as he swam over to my dad who’d be in the water already. My mom would clap and snap pictures, throw us a noodle or two and then wrap us in towels back on board the boat.

Harry was treading water beside me, though, hair dripping wet after he’d pulled off his shirt and shorts.

I laughed when he dared me to jump in after him, said he hoped my swimming skills were better than they were back then. He splashed enough water at me on the boat before I gave in, promised he wouldn’t watch me undress and wouldn’t tell a soul that we’d been this cliché, swimming in our underwear and conversation laced with champagne giggles. So I tossed my shirt to the side and shimmied out of my shorts before I let myself sink under the surface.

When I came up, he was watching me.

“What?”

“Nothing--just--s’been nice to hang out with you.”

I twisted my face at his kindness, crinkled my nose at the friendship that had suddenly blossomed in the cool Florida weather.

The laughter from another boat floated over the waves, a big splash is what did it.

I looked over, searched for the person only a hundred yards away, desperate for their head to emerge from the water, unlike his. My heartbeat was in my ears, throat tight and shoulders tense.

“Where are they?” I asked, my head turning frantically. “Do you see them? Did they come up?”

“What?” Harry followed my gaze and the smile faded from his lips. “What are you talking about?”

A man popped back up, a group of people on the boat cheered for him and sang along the music that hummed from their speakers. Harry could tell something was wrong, I tried my best to slow my breathing when I realized what was happening.

I swam over to the boat, hands clutching the ladder as I pulled myself up. My breathing was sporadic, the images flashing through my head with no option to pause. Allie’s voice, Will’s voice, the feeling in my chest when I knew he was dead and we couldn’t do anything about it.

But I was acutely aware of the moment around me, Harry climbed up to the boat behind me and had a terrified look on his face, green eyes searching the floor for a towel before he draped it over my shoulders.

“You’re alright--Cat, you’re alright, it’s okay,” his arms were around me when a sob slipped out, eyes stung from a mix of salt water and tears. I couldn’t do this, it couldn’t happen here and now.

The waves from that day couldn’t show up, drag me under until I couldn’t breathe like he couldn’t. Not in front of Harry.

“Hey,” he said, moving my shoulders to force me to sit down, his knees across from mine when he looked me in the eyes. “You’re alright, nothing’s happening.”

I nodded, licked at my lips and wiped at my eyes with the towel when I blinked a few times. Feet on the boat, hands around the towel, I could see blue and white and the keys in the ignition. “Okay,” I said, more grounded. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated, hands on my knees now to keep them from shaking.

Silence for a minute when I looked back at the other boat. They were fine. No one was drowning. I wasn’t drowning. I was on the boat and Harry was on the boat.

The sun had sunk lower now, almost meeting the horizon when I met his eyes again.

“When did he die?”

“What?”

“Your brother.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He plucked at his lower lip, he dropped my gaze for a second and then sighed. “It’s okay, Cat.”

I felt the water in my eyes at that, let my head swivel side to side to argue his claim. “No,” I said. “It’s not okay. This is why I don’t talk about it.”

“Maybe that’s why this is happening, then. Maybe you get like this because you refuse to talk about it.”

I pulled away from him, angry at his accusation and the way he sounded like he knew me better than he did.

“Unless the two ten-year-olds in the frame above the guest bath are just random people,” he shrugged. “That’s Cameron, right?”

I was caught--unsure where to go and stuck on a boat with him. I didn’t look at him, kept my eyes on the floor and nodded slowly.

He repeated his original question. “When did he die?”

“The summer before senior year of high school. He drowned.”

A breath of air escaped from his lips, like he’d expected a different answer. Cancer, maybe. A terminal illness or something less violent and avoidable.

“Were you--with him when it happened?”

I wiped at my eyes, wishing the tears would stop and the memories would, too. “In the boat--we were drunk.”

He nodded, his focus solely on me when he leaned forward. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“You weren’t there,” I said quickly, defensively. “You have no clue what happened.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t. But I know it’s not your fault.”

I cried harder at that, vision blurred when I nodded. “It was, Harry--I didn’t realize how long he’d been underwater. I was too drunk.”

“It’s called an accident for a reason.”

“You’re not supposed to know any of this,” I reminded, eyeing him skeptically when I pulled the towel up to cover myself more. “Niall doesn’t know. Miles doesn’t know. No one knows.”

“Does Jules?”

I nodded. “Cause I’m a fucking moron and got too drunk one night.”

He laughed a little. “Why’ve you been hiding it?”

“Cause college was the first time I was just me. Not Catherine and Cameron, not one of two. I was just me for the first time and it was okay--it wasn’t sad or tragic that I was just me. I wanted it to be normal.”

He nodded in understanding, offered to drive us back to the dock if I showed him how. My parents were upstairs for the night, enough space for us to sit at the counter and heat up leftovers that Marta had made while we were out. He listened when I talked about the nightmares and the flashbacks, followed me up the stairs and nodded solemnly when I made him promise to not tell the others.

He echoed his sentiment on the boat: it’s not your fault. He brushed a piece of hair behind my ear before he leaned in and kissed me outside my bedroom door, softer than before, and most importantly, sober.

He followed me over to the bed, his touch gentle and warm when we slipped under the sheets. It was easy--slow and careful, not like the time before. He made me feel grounded, actually in the moment for the first time in a long time. He didn’t know it, but he made me feel seen.

Something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

It felt different to wake up beside him, knowing he knew and knowing he still thought I was a decent human. I looked over to see him, eyelids fluttered against his cheek when I stirred.

A buzzing on the nightstand grabbed my attention, though, his phone vibrating with an incoming call when the morning sun crept in. A stomach dropping worse than ever, a shiver down my spine when I saw her name, a picture of the two of them side by side.

Incoming call: Lila DiPretto

table of contents | join the tag list + talk to me | the playlist

author’s note: wowowowowowoooooww! A doozy of a chapter I hope none of you hate me too much for all of the emotion in this one! Things are heating up and now Harry knows Cat’s secret.....shit can only get weirder from here!

taglist: @mellamolayla @meganlikesfandoms @afterstylesmadeit @sing-me-a-song-harry @harryinsweatersandbandanas @stylesfics-xx @shawnsblue @avipshamitra @a-secretyoucankeep @groovybaybee @nearbyou @blueviiolence @kiwicherryharry @thurhomish @bopbopstyles @live-at-the-forum @ajayque @mleestiles @ashbabao @anssu-amry @odetostep @bemib @caritocp @ursogoldenshan @rainbowbutterflyboy @bubblegumstyles7 @1142590m @winter-soldier-007 @beingsolonely @sloanferg @ivanacats @mumplans @wastedsweetcreature @harryssugarhigh @wanderlustiing @sunflowers-styles @g0bl1nqueen @stepping-into-the-light @kara-246 @stilljosiegrossie @harrys-cherrry

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angelsunflowers-fanfics · 4 years

Text

Tadashi Hamada x Hacker!reader (A Hacker’s help)

Request: yeahhhhhh!!🎉 can i request a Tadashi Hamada x reader(gender neutral pls?) where the reader is a hacker and a bit younger than Tadashi(like 2 or 3 years)?THANK U SO MUCH!!😭

Fandom: Big hero 6

Genre: Fluff

Linktree

~~~~

Tadashi ran a hand over his face in frustration, staring at his parked moped, trying to piece together a plan to find his little brother, Hiro.

“Tadashi? Is everything alright?” He slowly picked his head up as he heard the voice of Honey Lemon behind him. Should he bother the chemist with his predicament?

“Hiro’s missing, he’s out bot fighting. I have no idea where he could be. What do I do?” Tadashi confessed.

The tall blonde slowly approached Tadashi, carefully placing a hand on one of his shoulders.

“I know someone that could help. In the computer tech department? Does that help at all?”

Tadashi slowly turned around and started toward the entrance, Honey Lemon led him to the said department.

“Who’s gonna help me? And how exactly?”

Honey Lemon smiled to herself, knowing full well of the huge crush that Tadashi had on her secret helper.

“(y/n), they’re a hacker. They should be able to help us. You know them, right? Honestly, I’m kinda surprised, them being a few years younger than you and all,” Honey Lemon explained.

The blood instantly rushed to Tadashi’s ears and cheeks. He thought he was being discreet with all that staring, nothing gets past Honey Lemon.

“Um, kinda?”

She opened the door to the lab, nobody was there except for (y/n), typing an endless code onto their computer. They acknowledged a presence as Honey Lemon stepped into the large lab, her heels gave away her position immediately.

“Hey, Honey Lemon. I’ll be with you in a minute, I’m just updating my program,” (y/n) spoke without looking up. Tadashi stepped in beside Honey Lemon, watching (y/n) type for another minute before spinning on their chair to face the two. “What did you need this time?”

Honey Lemon instantly got a huge smile onto her face before she pushed Tadashi closer to the hacker.

“Actually, Tadashi has a request for you,” Honey Lemon said.

(y/n) raised an eyebrow and stared at Tadashi, marveling at the amount of red on his face.

“I-I need to track my little brother’s phone because he went to another bot fight…” (y/n) nodded lightly, beckoning him closer.

“Don’t worry, that’s an easy one. Can you give me Hiro’s number?” (y/n) asked.

Tadashi sat next to (y/n), ready to recite the number.

“(Hiro’s number), will this take long? I don’t know what kind of trouble he could be in by now,” Tadashi worried.

(y/n) turned to the monitor, typing in the number they were given by Tadashi.

“Okay, got him. He’s in the south side of town, about 10 miles from here. Is that all you need, Tadashi?” The tech student swallowed nervously, Honey Lemon and (y/n) stared at him intensely. The way they said his name was--

“I-” Honey Lemon stepped forward, placing a hand on one of Tadashi’s shoulders.

“--Actually, Tadashi was wondering if you wanted to come with him. You’re all done here aren’t you?”

Tadashi stared at Honey Lemon in shock, wondering what she was doing. (y/n) took a small peak at her monitor before shutting it down.

“Sure, I’m done, it’s late, and I’m bored… So, why not?” (y/n) reassured.

Tadashi stood still for a few moments, not saying anything until Honey Lemon took a step backward.

“Okay, I have some things of my own to-do. You two have fun!” Honey Lemon yelled out.

Tadashi looked after his friend, not knowing that he was going to be left alone with his crush for an unknown amount of time. Honey Lemon quickly left the lab before Tadashi could call her back in or stop her.

(y/n) grabbed their bag and slung it over their shoulders before they looked at Tadashi expectantly.

“Okay, I’m ready. You coming, or should I just hot wire your bike myself?” His face flared up even more at the statement, if possible. He quickly shot himself out of his chair, keys in hand.

“Y-yeah. Come on,” He cleared his throat, not wanting to look so frazzled in front of someone he liked.

“Does this kind of thing happen often?” (y/n) asked, curious.

Tadashi groaned, climbing onto his moped before urging (y/n) to do the same.

“More than I would like,” Tadashi groaned.

Tadashi felt his heart flutter and flip as (y/n) hesitantly wrapped their arms around his middle, not quite sure how to hold on to him.

“Is this okay? I’ve never ridden something like this before,” (y/n) asked nervously.

Tadashi smiled slightly, noting the flustered tone in their voice. He slowly grabbed their hands, locking them into place with each other and tightening their loose grip around his torso.

“Are you okay? You need to be tight against me or else you might go flying off,” Tadashi asked.

Tadashi felt his heart melt as (y/n) slid themself closer to Tadashi to not fly off as he instructed. He started the moped and followed (y/n) directions on the road.

“So why did you ask me to come along? We don’t really talk outside of the school,” (y/n) asked.

The 18-year-old tried to come up with a plausible explanation, “I don’t know, I guess I’ve just been trying to come up with an excuse to talk to you. You’re really intelligent and pretty, and just amazing.”

The younger student didn’t know what to say, they glanced to the side at all the buildings passing by, all the lights and beautiful colors.

“Take another right, my phone says your brother should be here,” (y/n) instructed.

Tadashi glanced away from (y/N) to see Hiro running away from some shady looking people.

“Hiro!”

The younger Hamada jumped onto his brother’s moped, no questions asked. Tadashi rushed away from the scene of the crime, (y/n) gripped onto his waist and Hiro to (y/n)’s shoulders; neither wanting to fly off.

“Hey, (y/n). What are you two doing here?” Hiro directed to (y/n).

(y/n) gave him a small shrug, talking to Hiro instead of Tadashi.

“Your brother asked me to come. Hey, did you understand number 5 for the programming assignment?” (y/n) asked in reply.

“Oh, that one took me a while. I can--” Tadashi took a sharp left turn before appearing in front of the lucky cat café.

“Would you two zip it?! Okay, we’re here,” Tadashi yelled.

Hiro jumped off with ease, as did Tadashi. But (y/n) almost fell over, but the eldest Hamada caught them luckily.

“Sorry,” They mumbled. He smiled lightly and helped them steady their footing on the ground.

“Jelly legs?” Tadashi teased.

(y/n) only nodded before they took off the helmet, their hair going everywhere. Tadashi stifled a laugh before pulling off his own helmet. Hiro went inside, not wanting to get lectured by his older brother.

“Is it that bad?” They asked.

Tadashi set both helmets to the side before he placed his hands on their head, smoothing their hair back to normal.

“Just a bit,” Tadashi answered, laughing to himself.

(y/n) turned away from the Lucky cat café, knowing how late it was and that they should head home. Rain slowly started to fall from the sky, drenching (y/n) as they were outside the cover of the bakery.

“You wanna come in for a bit? Just until the rain stops? And maybe warm you up?” Tadashi offered.

(y/n) wiped the excess water from their skin and smiled up at Tadashi.

“I’d like that.”

#tadashi hamada x reader #Big Hero 6 x reader #Disney x reader #Tadashi Hamada imagine #Big Hero 6 imagine #Disney imagine #Tadashi Hamada fanfiction #Big hero 6 fanfiction #Disney fanfiction #fanfiction #x reader #self insert #Tadashi Hamada #Hiro Hamada #Honey Lemon

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the-delta-42 · 3 years

Text

Miracles

Follow up of Revealed

Miracles

Gabriel looked at the miraculouses in his hand, he could bring Emilie back. Gabriel suddenly shook his head, no, he already knew what he was going to do, and he wasn’t about to back out on it. The past is the past, and Ms. Dupain-Cheng deserved to have a life to live.

“Plagg, Tikki,” Said Gabriel, making the Kwami look up at him, “Unify.”

Both Kwami were sucked into their miraculouses, Gabriel felt the pure power coursing through him, he felt like a god.

“Gabriel Agreste.” Said an ancient voice, “You have combined creation and destruction into one, what is your wish?”

“There is a girl, a child, that had her life cut too short.” Said Gabriel, making the voice chuckle.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Creations chosen.” Said the voice, “Her life would’ve been long and prosperous.”

“I wish for you to bring her back.” Said Gabriel, eliciting another chuckle from the voice.

“This desire is borne of regret, compassion and humility.” Said the voice, “Had you wished for your wife, you’re world would’ve been destroyed. There is a consequence to this, the girl may live, but you will fall.”

“I maintain my stance.” Affirmed Gabriel, tensing himself.

“Gabriel Agreste,” Said the voice, “Your wish…is granted.”

Gabriel felt an intense burning in his hand and ears, before he tore the miraculouses off himself. He stood in the middle of his office, for a moment he was worried he’d taken them off too soon. Gabriel froze, he could smell burning toast, Adrien was still in his room and Nathalie and Adrien’s bodyguard weren’t the snacking type, so where was it coming from. Half of his face felt numb, he lifted his foot and came crashing down, knocking his computer off his desk as he fell. Where was he? Gabriel knew where he was but couldn’t recognise it. He attempted to stand up, only to find his arms and legs weren’t working together. Thing suddenly became blurry, where was he? How did he get here? Who was that screaming?

Arnold sighed at the sight of the girl on the slab, some days he really hated his job, children had so much to live for and for one to be taken by cancer was a great tragedy.

“Subject is a young female, approximately 15 to 16 years of age, Caucasian-Asian descent.” Said Arnold, after pressing record on the tape, “Doctor Arnold Halesworth performing autopsy.”

“I am making a y-incision in the subject’s abdominal region-” Arnold sword loudly, making a nurse outside the room knock on the door.

“Doctor, is everything alright?” Asked the Nurse, poking her head through.

“This ‘cadaver’,” Said Arnold, pressing down on the incision he made, “is still alive.”

The nurse froze, before running off to find some of her colleagues and a gurney.

Sabine woke up to her eyes itching, something that’d become common following Marinette’s death. The Bakery had been closed in the week following her death, the hospital, no doubt trying to cover itself, had decided to perform an autopsy on Marinette. Sabine jumped when the phone suddenly started ringing.

“Hello?” Asked Sabine, answering the phone, Tom standing in the doorway behind her.

“Hello, Mrs. Cheng?” Sabine recognised the voice of Dr. Bates, the Doctor who’s team had taken over the care of the cancer patients after the incident with the nurses came to light.

“Dr. Bates,” Said Sabine, her voice scratching, “can I ask why you’re calling?”

“It’s a bit difficult to explain,” Said Dr Bates, sounding nervous and confused, “Our mortician was performing the autopsy of your daughter, and, well, found that she was still alive.”

Sabine froze, the phone falling from her grip. Tom picked up the phone, listening to Dr Bates and, within an hour, Sabine found herself staring at Marinette’s prone body in an ICU bed.

“By all accounts, it doesn’t make sense,” Said Dr Bates, looking over the file, “Her heart and breathing ceased, and we were able to declare her brain dead.”

“Is that everything?” Asked Tom, making Dr Bates look at him.

“Actually, theres more,” Said Dr Bates, handing them a scan, “That is your daughter’s scan from two weeks ago,” She handed them another, “This is the scan from two hours ago.”

“But, the one from today doesn’t have anything on it.” Said Tom, as Dr Bates frowned.

“Precisely,” Confirmed Dr Bates, “It’s as if the cancer decided up and leave.”

“But she’s going to be okay?” Asked Sabine, taking her eyes of Marinette for the first time.

“As soon as we’re able to confirm her recovery, we’ll see that she’s discharged and placed in remission.” Said Dr Bates, just as a new patient was admitted.

“White male, mid-to-late forties, burns to his right hand and ears, suffered a stroke before an ambulance was called.” Said the EMT, as the gurney was rushed past Tom and Sabine.

The couple nearly blanched at the sight of Gabriel Agreste, looking as if he’d been tortured, was rushed past them. Tom spotted Adrien being guided to a waiting area by an orderly and went over to him.

“Can, can I go in and see her?” Asked Sabine, looking back at Marinette.

Dr Bates was silent for a second, “I don’t see why not.”

Dr Bates opened the door for Sabine, who went directly to her daughter’s bedside and grabbed her hand. Dr Bates watched Sabine sit in the chair, her eyes not leaving her daughter.

She was confused, where was she? What was she doing? Why is she in a coffin? Emilie climbed out of the tube, rubbing her eyes as she walked towards what she thought was the exit. Emilie froze, she’d been sick, Duusuu was broken. But she was awake. Emilie grinned, before running to her and Gabriel’s room, intent on finding out how he’d fixed the miraculous. She ran into Nathalie, almost knocking the woman over.

“Emilie?” Asked the woman, her jaw hanging open.

“Nathalie!” Grinned Emilie, looking behind her, “Where’s Gabriel and Adrien?”

“They, they’re at the hospital,” Said Nathalie, staring at Emilie, “H-how are you…?”

Emilie froze, “I thought Gabriel fixed the Miraculous.”

Nathalie nodded her head, “It wasn’t enough to bring you back, Gabriel was going after the Ladybug and Cat Miraculouses.”

Emilie’s smile dropped, “Did Gabriel sacrifice my son, Nathalie?”

Nathalie shook her head, “No, Adrien had the Cat Miraculous, the Ladybug holder’s Miraculous caused her death.”

“And how did she die?” Demanded Emilie, her mind already going to the worst.

“Leukaemia.” Said Nathalie, swallowing, “After her death, Gabriel was given both Miraculouses by Adrien, with the hope of bringing her back.”

“Nathalie,” Said Emilie, slowly, “who is receiving treatment at the hospital?”

“Gabriel.” Was the one-word answer.

“Get Simon and get the car ready.” Said Emilie, reaching for her coat, “Where’s my coat?”

“Amalie took them.” Said Nathalie, getting a scowl from Emilie.

“Typical.”

Sabine stroked Marinette’s knuckles with her thumb, the heart monitor steadily beeping. Sabine stiffened when Marinette’s grip tightened and then slacked.

“M-Marinette?” Asked Sabine, as she stood up.

Marinette’s face scrunched up, before she rolled over, pulled the tube out of mouth and threw up over the side of the bed. Marinette rolled and looked up at Sabine.

“Maman?” Asked Marinette, her voice weak.

Sabine let out a sob, before she pulled Marinette into her embrace. Tom stopped when he opened the door, Adrien standing behind him.

“Tom, Marinette’s awake!” Wept Sabine, the girl looking tired and confused.

“M-Maman, can you stop rocking me please, I’m gonna-” Marinette was cut off as she threw up, “Why does my stomach hurt?”

“They’d just started an autopsy when they realised you were alive.” Said Tom, as Marinette’s gaunt face looked up at him in horror.

“And if they didn’t do the autopsy?” Asked Marinette, as Dr Bates arrived.

“Then, there’s every chance you us accidentally burying you alive.” Said Tom, quietly.

“Oh.” Said Marinette, before she fainted.

“I’ll get the smelling salts.” Said an orderly, leaving the room.

Dr Bates looked at the puddle of vomit on the bed and the floor, “Well, at least we know the last thing she ate without cutting her open.”

Alya looked down at her phone screen. The class hadn’t hung out since Marinette died, now Adrien was calling her phone.

“Alright, Sunshine, this better be important.” Said Alya, before her eyes widened, and her phone fell from her hand.

Adrien looked at the doors as they swung open, expecting to see Alya and Nino, but instead saw his, presumed, dead mother stalking in, with Nathalie behind her.

“I’m looking for someone under the name Agreste.” Said His mother, not clocking Adrien.

The receptionist scowled, without looking up, and pointed towards Adrien, “Ask the kid with banana-shaped hair.”

His mother’s face went red, before Nathalie turned her head towards Adrien for her. Emilie froze when she saw her son. She slowly approached him, getting into arms reach of him. A second passed, before she grabbed him and practically smothered him.

“Maman?” Whispered Adrien, making Emilie look down at him.

“It’s me, sweetie.” Whispered Emilie, as Adrien seemingly broke in her arms.

Marinette looked up as Adrien entered the room, a blonde woman behind him. Marinette waved, not taking the straw in her mouth out of the drink. Adrien gave Marinette a small smile, before holding his hand out. Marinette reached out for it, only for Adrien to drop two small studs into her hand. Marinette froze, before putting her drink down and putting the studs in her ears. Tikki formed in front of her, the Kwami stared at her, before tears welled up in her eyes.

Tikki launched herself at Marinette’s face, gripping the girl’s cheek and she cried. Adrien had to admit, seeing Tikki hug Marinette’s face while the girl still had a straw in her mouth was kinda funny.

Marinette looked around her room, Dr Bates had given Marinette some antibiotics and some other medication to help her get her weight back up. Adrien had filled her in on what happened after her death. How Gabriel had united the Miraculouses and brought Marinette back, Tikki had explained that Emilie had been returned as a reward for Gabriel’s actions.

The resultant price, for Gabriel, however, was far more severe. After the Miraculouses had irreparably damaged his right hand and his hearing, then he had a stroke that took his legs and his ability to design from him. Gabriel had said that the Voice, Tikki called them Null, said that uniting the Miraculouses would cause Gabriel to fall.

Today was her first day back at school. Her first day at restarting her life.

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #gabriel agreste #nathalie sancoeur #tom dupain #sabine cheng #alya cesaire #emilie agreste #Tikki #dr bates #delta writes #revealed #gabriel agreste redemption

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ieattaperecorders · 3 years

Text

Notes on Causality - Chapter 2: Georgie and Elias

An addendum to Something's Different About You Lately. Small scenes of Jon attempting to change the future that I didn't want to put in the larger fanfic.

The events of this chapter take place around the end of Chapter 8, Stranger.

(Incidentally, the main fic will be updated very soon. I'm mainly just holding off till the finale drops, in case whatever happens makes me want to tweak anything mood-wise in what I have planned.)

Read on Ao3

- - -

One ring. Another. Then another. Maybe she wouldn't pick up, Jon thought, drumming his fingers on the desk. Maybe it would go to voicemail . . . he could hang up, try again later. Take a little time to mentally rehearse what he would say.

A click, and her voice asked, "hello?"

"Georgie . . . it's Jon Sims, from Oxford?"

"Jon? Hey, been a while! How've you been?"

"Ah – good? I've been good," he lied. "Yourself?"

"Oh, not bad. Got a new roommate since you last saw me . . . he lays around the apartment all day and won't share the rent, but he's cute so I let it slide."

"Good to hear that your landlord is cat-friendly."

"You should hear him, he has the loudest little meow. Hang on, I'll if he'll say hello . . . ."

For a moment and he heard some vague coaxing noises, distant as if she was holding her phone away from herself. They were followed by a close-up, disinterested sniff, then Georgie's voice returned.

"Ah, never mind. Not in the mood, I guess."

"I've heard the Admiral's color commentary before," he smiled. "He's in all your mailbag episodes."

"Didn't know you were a listener."

"Well, I need something for the commute . . . it might as well be the UK's most onomatopoeic source of paranormal research."

"Ha. Knew you'd hate the sound effects."

"I don't hate them. Anyway, they're . . . distinctive," he leaned back in his office chair, the nerves he'd built up slowly dissipating as they fell into the rhythm of conversation. "They're very you."

"Classic Barker." There was movement in the background, and a few soft thuds. Likely the Admiral jumping to the floor. "Well from what I hear, we're in the same field. Aren't you working for the Magnus Institute now? You must hear plenty of ghost stories there."

"That's actually sort of why I called. I think we might have a mutual colleague . . . Melanie King?"

"Yeah, she's the one who told me you were there," she said knowingly. "Sounded like you left a hell of an impression on her."

". . . Not a good one, I imagine."

Georgie made a non-committal sound, being decent enough not to rub it in by overtly agreeing with him.

"I was trying to be helpful, but I think I just came off as dismissive. Ended up arguing with her over nothing," he sighed. ". . . Classic Sims."

"Accept no substitutes," Georgie said fondly. "So, what's the call about? If you want me to try smoothing things over with her –"

"It isn't that. Did she tell you about her experience?"

"Not really. Asked a lot about Sarah – she's a sound tech I recommended to her? Got the impression she'd been unreliable. She was nice about it, Melanie that is, but really evasive. I just assumed she's caught onto something interesting and wants to be the first to report on it. The risks of being friends with competition, I suppose."

"Ah. . . ."

"Not that she has anything to worry about. Climbing fences and squatting in abandoned churches is her thing. I'm all about doing research from my computer desk with a cup of tea, personally," she paused, and he heard a distant clink of ceramic. "Hey, are we even allowed to talk about this? Isn't there some sort of confidentially thing?"

"As it turns out, privacy isn't really something this place values," he muttered, "I don't suppose she's talked to you recently?"

"No . . . not for a couple of months."

"I'm concerned. Her experience left a powerful impact on her. Now she's chasing after anything that might bring her closer to what she encountered, and I'm afraid she doesn't care about the cost. She's going into some dangerous territory. And, well . . . it's not my place to judge her emotional state. But I am worried."

"Yeah . . . I saw the memes," he heard a frown enter Georgie's voice.

"I've tried to talk to her about it, a bit. But she and I always seem to push each other's buttons somehow. I'd be grateful if you looked in on her. I think that she could use a friend right now, and –" he smirked. "I happen to know you're good with obsessive types too stubborn for their own well-being."

"Ha. You trying to set me up or something?"

"Wh–" he started, taken aback. "I mean, well, that's really your business, not mine."

". . . Wait. I was joking, but are you really?" There was utter incredulity in her voice. "Jonathan Sims, did you call me out of the blue to set me up with someone I knew before you did?"

"Of – Georgie I don't even know if you're single, don't be ridiculous," he sputtered, feeling blood rise to his face. She laughed, and the uncomfortable heat spread.

"Okay, okay," she said. "I'm just giving you a hard time."

"I just . . . " he spoke slowly, trying to be precise. "I think that Melanie needs someone else around her right now. Someone grounding. If you're not looking to take that on, I understand, of course. But for whatever it might be worth, I would be grateful if you checked in."

"I'll give her a ring," something in Georgie's voice was familiar, and profoundly comforting. "See if she wants to get coffee and talk spooky-shop."

"I think that might do her a world of good," he said with relief

"Also? We should get coffee sometime too, catch up! I want to hear all the creepy stories you're apparently so free to talk about."

"Really, it's mostly drug experiences and conspiracy theories . . . ."

"Even better, I'll get to hear you complain. Then I'll be entitled gripe to you about all the weird emails I get. It'll be perfect."

Jon wanted to say yes. He really, really did. The thought of sitting down for a few hours with Georgie and talking about nothing particularly dire was a nice one. But he could only bring trouble to her door.

"I'd . . . like that," he said, "But I don't have much time to myself right now . . . maybe after everything calms down."

". . . Sure," she sounded a little disappointed. Georgie could always tell when he was brushing her off. "Some other time. Hope you can get some rest, then."

"I'll do my best."

"And thanks for the heads-up about Melanie. Really," the smile in her voice was back. "Don't be a stranger, huh?"

"Right," he smiled back, hoping she could hear it. "Ah. Goodbye, then."

"Bye."

He stared at the screen of his phone, not sure what to name the feeling in his chest. In his mind's eye, he saw her form vanishing down a long white corridor, and he knew she would have made this choice herself, eventually. He was just respecting that. Speeding things along.

"Trying to set her up . . . honestly," he muttered.

What he'd said about Melanie needing someone to talk to had been true. He was hoping Georgie's influence could nudge her away from the path she was on, one that had its natural end in blood and pain and the drumming of war. It was hardly his fault if he knew that particular matchmaking arrangement had already worked out once.

The call had barely ended for a minute before his phone vibrated with an email notification. He opened it, frowning when he saw who it was from.

Jon,

See me in my office at your earliest convenience.

Also, in the future please remember not to make personal calls during work hours.

- Elias

It was the most direct contact he'd had with Elias in months. Aside from a few institute-wide emails, there had been nothing since their conversation about the recordings. Jon hadn't even run into him in the hall. At least on the surface, he'd stuck to his promise to involve himself less directly. Not that Jon imagined Elias was truly keeping his distance, but he had begun to get comfortable with not having to see or talk to him. He dreaded the idea of going up there and actually breaking the silence.

That comment about personal calls irked him, too. He was taunting him. Going right up to the edge of admitting he'd been watching while giving himself just a little deniability.

He could ignore it, of course. Why should he do anything Elias asked him to, however small? Why should he make any part of his life easier? But that wasn't a smart attitude, he knew. Elias was keeping his distance for now, but if he saw Jon as too troublesome things would escalate. It would be foolish to bring that moment any closer by antagonizing him over nothing.

Jon still remembered the comment he'd made when they last spoke – I'm sure one of your assistants would be up to the task. If it came down to it, Elias knew exactly whose throats to hold the knife against.

With a distinct lack of pleasure, he climbed the stairs out of the archive.

Despite his mood he smiled at Rosie, tried to seem friendly as he greeted her. The words insecure and aggressive had a tendency to turn over in his mind when he saw her lately. He was earnestly hoping to be easier to talk to, but fairly sure he just came off as awkward. At least she was friendly with him. But then, she'd always been.

She said he was expected and should go right inside.

Elias was at his desk, writing on something hidden inside a folder. He glanced up and nodded as he entered.

"Ah, Jon. Sit down, I'll just be a moment."

As he took a seat and waited, Jon couldn't quite banish the idea that the folder was just a prop. A way to make whoever he'd called in wait, to make it absolutely clear how much more valuable his time was than theirs. Or perhaps to give them time to stew, to sit in anxiety and worry. Then again, maybe Elias really did have paperwork that needed doing, and the fact that it was absolutely, positively maddening to sit there in silence and watch him was only a bonus to it all. Eventually, he finished.

"It's been a while since we've checked in, hasn't it?" he paused just long enough for Jon to wonder if he was supposed to respond, then continued. "I'd like to hear your version of how the last few months have gone. What sort of progress you feel you've made, etcetera."

Oh, God. Was he actually expecting Jon to keep up the pretense of doing actual archival work? He hadn't been prepared for that at all, and felt preemptively exhausted at the thought of coming up with some nonsense progress report.

"Well. . . as you know, Gertrude left the archives in a state of serious disorganization, so progress has been hindered by that," he tried to remember what projects he'd put the others on to keep them all going with a token show of work. "I've set aside a section for discredited statements, which has been steadily growing. I imagine . . . it will make things more efficient for researchers in the future? And, uh . . . ."

"Let me stop you there," Elias said, holding up a hand.

Please do, Jon thought, relieved he wouldn't be subjecting them both to several minutes of this. Elias leaned forward and looked at him seriously.

"Have I done something to offend you, Jon?"

The question took him by surprise, to the point where he had to bite back a sarcastic laugh. What hadn't he done? "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Really. Because it seems to me that I've be extremely generous to you," that familiar tone of disapproval, of bland impatience. "I've given you a unique opportunity, allowed you free reign in setting your own priorities, and you still seem determined to resent me."

Fleetingly, Jon wondered if the elaborately decorated letter opener on the desk between them was sturdy enough to sink into Elias's chest without snapping. Not worth it, either way. Not with what it would cost.

"I . . . apologize if I've created that impression," he said evenly. "I've been told that I can be standoffish in my manner."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Elias smirked. "Though ‘standoffish' is a great deal more polite than the words people actually favor. Isn't it?"

Jon tried not to look away, tried and failed to meet Elias's eyes. Perhaps his inability to maintain eye contact with a conduit of the Beholding spoke well for his remaining humanity, but it still twisted in him. Made him feel weak.

"Are we done here?" he asked, voice tight.

Elias sighed, as if all of this was such a burden to him, as if he wasn't basking in the anxiety that Jon knew must be radiating off of him like heat.

"What was it you said to Martin . . . about discarding the facade once it stopped being useful?" That startled Jon enough to look back, to see the condescending smile on Elias's face as he continued. "Maybe you ought to do the same."

He stared, suddenly voiceless, heart pounding. This was it . . . should he be relieved or terrified?

"I've been where you are now, Jon." Elias continued. His voice was stern, with only the barest concession to false sympathy. "Trapped in a world that no longer makes sense, surrounded by malevolent forces, seeing enemies everywhere. And I can tell you that the only way to survive in this world is to recognize what resources you have."

". . . Resources."

"Yes, if you could just get past this irrational distrust you seem to have of me. I can't hold your hand through everything. But if you have questions . . . I might be able to give you some answers."

Answers? That would make a change from before, Jon thought bitterly. The Elias he remembered used misdirection, contempt and sometimes flat refusal to avoid giving Jon any information he could hope to use. Unfortunately there was only one question Jon really had for him anymore, and it was one he couldn't ask: how much do you know?

. . . Did Elias have that same question for him? It would explain why he was directly inviting him to ask about his situation.

Jon paused. He had to be smart about this. If Elias had sat him down like this before, he'd have wanted to know everything. If he didn't seem curious, it might point to how much he already knew, and that would be disastrous. But he also couldn't look too naive . . . he'd made his suspicion clear, already warned the others, he couldn't pretend to know nothing about the Institute's nature.

He tried to think back to when he was only just getting a sense of the way things truly were. What would he have most wanted to understand then?

". . . What happens to me," he asked quietly. "When I read statements? The real ones. You know what I mean. I can feel something happening, I know it's not just reading."

"The answer to that is rather complicated . . . ."

"Are you going to give it to me?"

"It would help if I understood what you already knew. How much did Gertrude tell you about the nature of this place? The Institute?"

"Enough to know I can't trust it," he glared across the desk. "And maybe the reason I don't trust you is because you're constantly peering over my shoulder."

"You must have some sense by now of the dangers the Institute attracts," Elias raised his eyebrows. "Can you really blame me for wanting to keep tabs on everything?"

"Because you ‘keeping tabs' was so helpful when I was pulled into those hallways for weeks."

"You opened the door of your own free will. I do what I can but I can hardly be expected to protect you from yourself."

"You're the reason I'm here in the first place! You've been--"

Jon cut himself off, he could feel himself beginning to shout, losing control of himself and it was stupid, so stupid. What was the point in arguing with him? Jonah Magnus knew exactly what he was doing, he wasn't going to be shamed about it.

"It doesn't matter," he said, trying to gather himself back to a neutral tone. "Can't change the past."

". . . For what it's worth, Jon, I do sympathize," Elias said, folding his hands. "Someone has to be the Archivist. You were just the best option available."

Why had he thought he could play along with this? As if he'd really be able to sit there, feign ignorance and draw information out of a man who'd been doing that exact thing to others for centuries. He wasn't going to beat him at his own game . . . far more likely he'd let something slip out of anger that would get somebody killed.

He pushed his chair back and stood, turning towards the door.

"I'll find my own answers," he said.

* * *

The door slammed shut, loud enough to echo. Jonah supposed he was going to have to get used to outbursts like these.

"I expect that you will," he muttered to the closed door.

Blind spots. He didn't like blind spots. Sometimes they were unavoidable, but having one so near to him was profoundly irritating. It was like knowing he'd forgotten something important, but being unable to dredge up any details.

He could watch Jon as easily as anyone else. Though there were moments his gaze would unfocus, and he suspected Gertrude might have taught him a few of her tricks, overall it wasn't hard to keep an eye on him. But lately, that was all he could do. No matter how he tried, he couldn't Know anything deeper than what appeared on the surface. He might as well have been following the Archivist around with a camera crew rather than channeling the overwhelming power of an Eternal and Unblinking Gaze From Which No Secrets Can Be Kept, for all the good it was doing him.

It was as if the knowledge was all there, but had been shifted somehow. Nudged just outside his field of vision.

A part of him was tempted to start over with another Archivist, one he could See more clearly. But the Web mark was hard to find, and he couldn't even be sure this anomaly was unique to Jon – that it would go away with his death instead of attaching itself to his successor. Despite its frustrating obscurity, something about it that felt like an aspect of the Beholding, though he couldn't say why.

So he'd tolerate the blind spot for now. At least Jon was easy enough to read without the Eye's assistance – the man wore his heart on his sleeve, was helpless in that way. Jonah liked that about him.

What he needed was encouragement. Something to get him out of his comfort zone – four marks was progress, but not fast enough, not with the Unknowing looming closer every day. Jonah wrote a quick note on a post-it and stuck it to the folder in front of him, then pressed a button on his intercom.

"Rosie?" he said, "I need you to run something down to the archive for me. Just drop it on Tim's desk, he'll know what it's for."

#tma fanfic #tma time travel au #sdayl

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animemangasoul · 4 years

Text

I Need to Do Something

Summery: Tim Drake doesn't smile anymore. Damian doesn't like it

Characters: Damian & Tim

Damian didn’t like Drake.

Truth be told, Damian was sure no one liked Drake. Father probably pitied him and Grayson liked strays. That is probably why Drake was still around.

Damian didn’t like him.

Drake was inadequate, useless, annoying and thought himself smart when all he ever contributed to conversations were pitiful retorts to protect his damaged pride.

No, Damian did not like him at all.

Still, pulling Alfred closer to his chest, Damian frowned at the older teen where he sat in the living room talking to Richard. Drake was smiling and nodding to something the other was saying, and after a momentary pause in speech; Grayson watching the younger expectedly, Drake laughs. It’s a short burst of amusement and Richard seem to thrive on it, for he grins widely and leans closer to try and continue whatever meaningless conversation they’d been engaged in.

But something about the situation didn’t sit right with Damian. Grayson was fine. He was acting like he always did, perhaps a bit more exuberant now that he had Drake’s attention all to himself, but nothing unusual about that behaviour. No, what had Damian on edge was not the older man but the younger of the pair.

Taking a hesitant step forward; still ensuring he was well hidden behind the door frame, Damian narrowed his eyes, gaze fixed on the sibling he liked the least.

No, what was wrong with this scenario was Drake himself.

Drake no longer smiled.

Sure he pretended to, and by Grayson’s reaction it was faked perfectly enough for his brother to fall for it, but Damian knew.... he’d grown up with deception wrapped around him like a second skin. He knew a fake smile when he saw it and there was no mistaking it. Drake did not smile anymore. Not around the manor. Not around Grayson. Not around father.

He was not sincere.

Something inside Drake had faded away and while no one seemed to notice this fact, Damian had. He’d noticed and for an absurd reason he couldn’t quiet put his finger on, it bothered him.

Drake no longer smiling, bothered him.

Reaching up to pat Alfred, Damian continued to observe the interactions between the two older vigilantes. Watched as Drake tensed when Grayson ruffled his hair. Watched as for a split second, Drake’s mask of happiness fell and utter blankness took over. Watched as Grayson was nothing but oblivious to the charade. Watched and felt a sense of pain; dull but present, bloom in his chest.

He didn’t like it.

This would have to stop.

Drake was unhappy with his current circumstances and it was only a matter of time before Richard caught on and if he did----

Damian found himself shoving away the image of the heartbroken man and blinking away the sudden feeling of desperation clawing at his chest.

Something needed to be done. Damian needed to do something. If Drake could no longer smile with Grayson, perhaps Damian could teach him how to smile again, and then maybe-----

--------

How to Make Someone Smile

Scanning over the suggestions, Damian grimaced at the romantic notion behind some of them. That wasn’t what he was looking for. Scrolling down, he filters through the list until he had separated those that were plausible from those he wouldn’t do in a hundred years.

Satisfied, he picked up his notebook and walked out of his room.

A couple of suggestions had appealed to him. They were simple enough to execute and if he succeeded, he was sure Drake would be happy again and Richard wouldn’t be disappointed.

Simple enough.

First order of business, he looked around and there—Leaning down Damian scooped up Alfred. Bringing the purring feline close to his chest and making his way down the stairs.

Whenever someone needed cheering up, animals were supposed to do the trick. Animals.... Alfred was of course far superior to rest of the feline population around the world, so Damian was certain that a bit of time spent with him would make Drake smile again.

“I’m aware I’m asking a great deal of you,” he muttered to his friend, fingers coming up to run over its fur. “But this is important to father and Richard and I need you to do your best to accomplish this mission.”

Peeking into the living room, he spots Drake once more. Figures..... Drake had been forcing himself to stay put in public areas of the manor. Why? Damian hadn’t quiet figured it out yet, but if ever in need of finding the former allusive vigilante, now on only needed to visit the common rooms of the manor and he would be there. Either working on urgent matters or entertaining the rest of the family's attention; specifically Grayson.

He was never happy while doing it.... in fact, Drake looked pained every time he somehow found himself stuck in a conversation with Richard, but despite his trepidation and his general lies of faked happiness, Drake never walked away.

Perhaps he too was trying to reconnect to the family the same way Grayson was trying to bridge the gap between them? Perhaps Drake was just tired of fighting..... Perhaps Drake didn’t care anymore--

Gritting his teeth, Damian swallowed down the sudden tightness climbing up his throat; fingers shaking slightly where they curled around Alfred. “This is for Grayson, Alfred. For Richard.”

With that he places the cat on the floor and gently shoves him towards Drake. “Go on.”

Alfred does not require much prompting and with a soft whine, he takes off and springs up to Drake’s surprised figure. Jumping on top of him with no care in the world; loud meows escape past his mouth.

Drake does not know what to do at first, laptop held gingerly above his head where he’d managed to save it out of reflexes alone when Alfred made himself at home in his lap without warning. Blinking in stunned silence, Drake expression goes momentarily blank, eyes fixated on the feline on his lap.

Finally after an agonizing moment of pure silence, Drake carefully puts his computer on the table before he slowly; ever so slowly reaches out to run a hesitant finger over Alfred’s head and---

Damian holds his breath.

It takes eleven minutes and thirty-two seconds but--- Drake’s expression..... his blank, empty, hallow expression falls apart. It’s an amazing thing to witness.

Slowly, painfully slowly, Drake lets his guard down. He stops looking so..... dead and with every affectionate purr that comes out of Alfred, the more the vigilante's eyes light up, shoulders relaxing and finally.... finally, his lips quirk up the tiniest bit. Not by much and not anything like he used to be from the pictures Damian had gotten his hands on, but----

This smile, this tiny inch of something; was more genuine than anything Drake had shown for the past couple of months. Maybe it was this easy. Maybe Damian had fixed things---

“Timmy! Tim! You in here buddy!”

And just like that the faint trace of happiness that Alfred somehow had brought to the surface of Drake was gone. Blankness descended once more like a shutter across Drake’s expression and his lips pulled up at the corners. Wide, friendly, happy.

“Hey Dick. Yeah, I’m in the living room!”

“Timmers! I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Drake laughs. It’s high, broken, filtered..... hallow.

Damian feels sick.

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

“Showing concern can make someone feel appreciated and cared for. A phone call to ask them about their well-being is a good first step.”

Phone in hand, Damian frowns down at his notebook. This advice while easy enough sounded.... unfounded?

Still, Alfred had managed to incite some form of reaction out of Drake, so perhaps calling him to check on his work would also yield a positive result.

Mind made up, Damian quickly typed in Drake’s number, trying to ignore the sudden difficultly he was experiencing with his breathing.

“Hello?”

Tensing, Damian’s fist clenched at his side; knuckles white where they gripped the phone for dare life. What was he even doing?

“Hello?”

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and focused on the end results. It was only a matter of time before Richard and father figured out Drake’s unhappiness and the fallout from that revelation would be devastating. If his brother and father could not handle Drake’s ridiculous need for emotional support, it was up to Damian to figure out a way to make his lies into reality, so--

“Drake.”

A pause.

Drake had obviously not expected him to be on the other side for his stunned silence was all too apparent. Damian could still hear his hitched breathing on the other side of the phone.

“Greetings Drake.”

“Damian?”

The utter surprise in the other’s voice made him frown in displeasure. He didn’t know why Drake’s reaction bothered him, but it did and....... He couldn’t focus on that now. He had a mission to accomplish.

“I decided to check on you and your work.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” Damian continued. Feeling a tiny bit of relief to have initiated the checkup phone call. Hopefully Drake would feel appreciated at the concern Damian Wayne was displaying towards him. “Your latest project is behind schedule and your productivity has decreased significantly. Perhaps you ought to go back home and rest.”

“What?”

Sighing, Damian shook his head. “Your exhaustion most be affecting your ears as well Drake because my words are quiet simple and yet you’re incapable of understanding them. Get some rest Drake. It will be good for you.”

“.......”

“Drake?”

“Can’t you for once in your life!” Comes the sudden outburst from the other side. “.... you know what, I don’t have time for this. Goodbye Damian.”

Staring at the phone in his hand, Damian blinked once, then twice. What had happened?

Did Drake just hang up on him? What in the....

Slamming the phone back down, ignoring Pennyworth’s indignant huff, he marches out of the kitchen and shoulders past a surprised Grayson.

“Dami?”

How dare Drake dismiss him. He had gone out of his way to communicate with him to.... to show Drake that he was wanted by father and Richard and what did that insolent, useless....

For some reason his chest hurts and he can’t quiet pinpoint why.

--------

“A compliment will make anyone’s day brighter. Put a smile on someone’s face with a simple, well timed compliment!”

A compliment....

What kind of utter nonsense.

This website was proving to be even more of a useless tool than that stupid game Grayson had bought him the other day.

Still, it was his best bet and the memory of that smile; no matter how fleeting made him believe in this site just enough to decide to try their suggestion one last time.

Drake had not been around for the past week and Damian had thus not been able to implement his plan into action. The lack of the other vigilante presence had at first not concerned him much, but as days passed, Damian had slowly felt a sense of panic stirring in his chest.

What if Drake had already moved on? What if he’d somehow deciphered something from his phone call and come to the conclusion he no longer wanted to be associated with their family?

What would Richard think? Knowing that he had driven Drake away for a second time?

What would father think?

This was..... this was bad. He....

Swallowing thickly, Damian ran a hand through his hair and tried to center himself.

This was easily fixable. He just had to make sure Grayson called Drake and invited him over. If Grayson was insistent enough, he was sure Drake wouldn’t be able to refuse.

And then..... yeah, he could work with that.

Another week pass and Drake comes up with all kinds of excuses to avoid coming over. And slowly the number of rejections seem to get to Richard. His downtrodden frame and sad eyes becoming his default expression around the manor. And father becoming more and more stoic the longer Drake wills himself away from them.

For a second..... for the smallest fraction of a moment, Damian feels a sense of vindication. ‘Now you understand,’ he thinks. ‘Now you notice how little Drake cares for either of your presence after everything you’ve done. Now you notice when he’s long since accepted your negligence.’

But as soon as those thoughts come, they go away just as quickly.

How could he even think such thoughts of his own father and Richard? They loved Drake. It was Drake’s own fault for not recognizing that care and for not.....

No.

It didn’t matter what any of the others thought. The point was that Drake wanted to be accepted and Damian could make that happen. He could turn Drake’s lies into realities and maybe then things would work themselves out.

He was robin and this is what robins did.

So when father finally manages to coax Drake to come visit, Damian is waiting at the entrance to his room, standing by the closed door and keeping his eyes squarely on the elder's face.

Drake who’d been looking at his phone the whole way down the hall, startles as he sees him. Face shuttering close and body tensing up as he expected Damian to suddenly lash out at him.

Damian tries not to take offense in that. Taking a deep breath; arms folded behind his back, he steels himself. “Your work on the construction project down by the docks have been admirable.”

Each word feel as if they are dragging like burning coal up his throat, but when the sentence is out, he feels a sense of relief descend over his body. There, he’d said it. Now Drake could smile and thank him.

“What do you want Damian?”

What?

Taken back, Damian mouth falls open at the sheer hostility in Drake’s voice.

“If you’re here to mock me again, I’m frankly not up for it. So go bother someone else and for once in your life, just leave me the hell alone!”

Damian doesn’t even have time to formulate an appropriate response before Drake has shoved his way past him and slammed the door shut behind him.

Left standing by the door; mind still reeling from the scathing remark, Damian wonders if any of this is even worth it anymore.

Drake was done with them. Perhaps it was time to accept the truth and inform father and Richard that there was nothing to be done.

But just the thought of them looking heartbroken and then.... Just the thought of them then.... just accepting it and moving on as if nothing happened.... forgetting about Drake and giving him “space” to sort himself out which he never would because..... of course he never would and.... Damian felt sick just thinking about it.

No,

He could fix this. He just needed a better plan.

Yes, a better plan.

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

Buying Drake lunch and visiting him at the company to give it to him goes as badly as his previous attempts.... in fact, it goes even worst.

“Are you trying to poison me!” Slapping the vegetarian meal out of his hands, Drake practically snarls at him; eyes wild and stricken with emotions Damian had a hard time deciphering. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why--- Why can’t you just leave me alone! Fuck Damian. I haven’t done anything to you. I’ve..... just,” he looks exhausted. Dark circles painted like ink under his eyes. Drake’s bottom lip is quivering, fingers practically vibrating against the desk and---

Sitting back down, Drake sighs, Damian had yet to move from his frozen position, arms still stretched outward; hands empty now that his well-prepared meal had been knocked off.

“Just go!” It’s a hissed dismissal, a hate filled wish for Damian to just go away and never come back.

So he does.

Without a word he turns on his heels and flees. The surprised shout from Drake falling on deaf ears as he takes the steps two at a time.

He should have known better.

Drake and him..... there were no fixing things.

Drake would never smile again and there was nothing he could do to change that.

It was over.

His brother had made that very clear when he interpreted any kind of gesture from his as a threat to his life. How could he possibly come back from that? Too much history, too much blood had been spilt between them. Damian had been a fool to think he could be the one to make Drake feel accepted again.

Robin.....

Drake did not require a robin. He required a non-Damain. He required Richard or father to step up and clear the air. Damian had been silly to assume... to think...

Blinking furiously, he tries to stop the itch in his eyes from tearing him apart.

He would not cry.

This was not his fault.

He had tried.

Grayson had said.... sometimes good intentions mattered just as much as good results, and Damian had tried. He had.

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

He goes to avoid Drake after that.

Each time the other vigilante shows up at the manor, Damian makes himself scarce. Doing his utmost best to ensure that Drake would not experience a similar break down in his presence ever again.

Still, he does keep an eye on the other.

Of course he does it from relative obscurity where Drake wouldn’t be aware of his presence, but...... try as he might, he can’t help but to follow him around, to note how little Drake seems to have changed from the first day he noticed his lies.

Drake is still living a lie and no one is the wiser.

No one but Damian.

Too bad Drake did not appreciate his gestures of good faith.

“Why are you following me around?”

He stiffens. “I do not know what you’re implying Drake, but I suggest you keep your imbecilic assumptions to yourself.”

Damian should have been more careful.

When Drake finds him, Damian had been hiding behind a shelf in the library on the second floor, where his eyes had been tracing after the hunched over form of one Timothy Drake Wayne, until he of course dozed off in the most untimely moment ever and now here he was, Drake standing in front of him arms crossed and eyebrows tilted up in suspicion.

“You’ve been acting weird the last few weeks and I’m tired of looking over my shoulder all the time, so spill! What the fuck do you want with me?”

Damian wants a lot of things.

He wants a life that makes sense.

He wants to go to school and not feel like an outsider.

He wants Richard and father to be happy again.

He wants Todd to stop acting as if he isn’t wanted and come home.

He wants.......

“I wish you could smile again.”

He wants Timothy not to be sad anymore.

“I want you to be happy again.”

Drake eyes widen and his mouth falls open. The clear surprise evident in his eyes.

And it hits Damian then. How little this was about Richard or father. How little it was about tying the family together and how much it was about trying to fix something he’d been a part of breaking.

He’d forgotten how easily Drake used to smile. He’d forgotten because he only saw it once.

Once, when Drake had reached out to him, smiled and welcomed him into the family.

Damian had spat at his gesture then. Tried to kill him..... and.... But Drake used to smile. In all those photos. In those albums hidden at the very depth of father’s closet. There were pictures and.... Drake used to smile and laugh and..... Drake had a dimple. At the very center of his left cheek and it didn’t appear often but whenever he was laughing it would show up and.... that was genuine. It was warm, it was honest.

Drake didn’t used to have to lie to others and fake something he no longer felt but now....

Maybe Damian couldn’t fix things, but.... maybe he could be honest. With himself, with his brother.

“I was trying to--

“Make me smile,,” the words are nothing but a whisper. But the sheer wonderment in Timothy’s voice makes Damian’s eyes burn.

“Yes.”

“Oh”

“And of course I have failed in my endeavor.” He doesn’t know why he’s still talking. “And I should have known as I’m the least likely person you would ever trust to be sincere towards you. But...” Why does his chest hurt? “I wished to help you regain---- you used to be happier before I arrived and---” Perhaps his attempts no matter how well intentioned could never make up for the horrors he’d inflected.

Perhaps he was destined to never build the bridges he’d burned down with his own hands.

“The phone call and compliment and fo--- you were trying to...” Drake’s eyes are in danger of falling out of their sockets from how wide they are now.

Damian nods: lips thin and chest heaving painfully.

“Oh”

The words are nothing but a whisper and Damian finds himself burning up with shame at Timothy’s realization.

How pathetic he most look.

But then.... just a moment before Damian decides to flee the scene all together, Timothy’s eyes light up. A sudden sense of brightness bleeding through his wide-eyed gaze and..... his lips pull at the corners, a giant, blossoming smile practically drowning out his cheeks and---

There—the dimple.

Right at the center.

“Oh wow.... thanks Damian. I--- Thanks.”

It’s so unexpected. The genuineness of it all. How easily Timothy had managed to smile again, just from.... He’d put two and two together, figured out what Damian’s disastrous attempts had been about and..... somehow that had made him smile when nothing else had.

And----

Damian bursts into tears. Loud, startling sobs wrecking his body.

And it’s all he can do not to throw himself at his brother. All he can do to keep himself from falling apart then and there, because..... it was as if finally.... finally a weight of insurmountable proportions had fallen of his shoulders.

Timothy steps closer than, not privy to his own despairing thoughts of what he does and does not deserve and engulfs him in one of the warmest hugs Damian had ever experienced.

“Thank you kid.”

“I.... of course---Drake.... I... I apologize for... I’m so....rry I... Thank you.” The words come out chocked up, incoherent and in fact, highly embarrassing of a mess, but Timothy’s warm laughter makes it all worth it and Damian finds himself burying his face even further into his older brother’s chest and clutches even tighter to the back of his shirt.

Because Timothy was happy at this very moment and Damian did that. He did that.

The End

#Damian Wayne #Tim Drake #robin #red robin #batfamily #Batfamily Fanfic #batfamily fiction #dick grayson #nightwing #bruce wayne #batman #batsiblings fic #batbros fanfic #batfamily oneshot #fanfic #Fic

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