#< nobody said but my brain still did it and now i fill notebooks with stupid notes about pixels on my phone 😭

[torgawl]

heart of naberius (which lead rhinedottir to disappear and tell albedo to uncover the truth and meaning of this world, leaving behind one of the last extant manuscripts of the opus magnum) being similar to the chinese name for gnoses, 神之心 "heart of god" cannot be a coincidence, right? skirk also called the gnoses "remains of the third descender", objects of misfortune and referred to their smell as similar to a god's "curse". could the heart of naberius be connected to or be an actual part of the third descender?

[depravity-n-savagery]

Imagine being someone who writes smut stories, and you're dating Eddie.

He'd definitely read them to you. 😏

‎♡‧₊˚ Eddie Munson x (fem)Reader - 18+ smut blurb

⊹ ੈ♡ — — — — — — — — — — — ₊˚ ‧₊ ๑ ˎˊ˗

You try to hide the hobby from him at first. Embarrassed because you think he'd be freaked out. Especially if he finds the stories you've written about him, filled with sexual fantasies and scenes of things you wish he'd do to you in reality.

Then one day he's looking through your bookbag while you use the bathroom. Just to copy some of your notes for class. Instead he finds THE notebook. Dog-eared right at the end of the most recent short story you wrote about him. It was absolute filth. All the rough treatment that you were too shy to ask for. The dirty words you longed to hear him say to you. The positions. The passion. It surprised him how much it all turned him on. Knowing his seemingly innocent girl was a lot hornier than she let on.

So he has an idea.

By the time you came back into the bedroom, he was standing at the foot of the bed with your notebook open in his hands. It felt like all the blood drained from your body, and your heart sunk into the pit of your stomach. Oh my god. He probably thinks I'm so fucking gross now.

Until he starts to read. Out loud.

"He stood there, looking sexy as ever. Like the new-age sculpture of a Greek deity. Soft skin over hard muscle, like carved marble. To others, he was plain and even repulsive. To me? He was an adonis."

He read your words like they were highly respected literature. The way one would perform Shakespeare (minus the old type of accent). That part didn't surprise you. You were used the dramatic ways he told stories during his Hellfire campaigns. Still, there was something about the way he bled seduction into the delivery. It kept you nailed to your spot by the door. Frozen as he continued with a grin.

"I really like this part here." He said, guiding his eyes to the proper paragraph with his index finger on the page. "Nobody felt pleasure in giving pleasure the way Eddie did. He could give it to you softly as a gift, or wield it roughly as a weapon. Attacking your clit and holding it hostage until you surrendered. Taking you out with a deep whisper of encouragement." His voiced dropped in tone, dripping with sex. "There you go. That's my good girl." Ghh

It made your heart race, throbbing in your chest, ears and another area that was beginning to feel very neglected. "I- Eddie, I can explain. I never meant for you to-"

"To find this?" Eddie held the book up, closing it but keeping his thumb in place so he wouldn't lose the page. He closed the distance between you, and softly kissed your lips. So chaste it felt out of place, given the words he just said to you barely a minute ago. "Sweetheart, I'm not upset or weirded out. Is this-" He gestured with the book again. "-the kind of stuff you really want from me?"

It was impossible to lie straight to his face. You've never been able to do it, even before you became a couple. So you bit the bullet and nodded your head slowly.

"Why didn't you say so? All this time I was taking it slow because I thought you wanted it that way. You never seemed fully satisfied. But from what I've read so far... I could've been fucking your brains out for months now."

He reached behind you and closed the bedroom door, locking it so his uncle wouldn't open it whenever he got in from work. The book was opened again, and flipped right to the start of the first smut scene. "Get on the bed, baby. We've got a lot to catch up on."

♡ A/N: Couldn't get this thought out of my head 🤣 So here we are. It ALMOST became a full smut fic, but I just didn't have it in me. If anyone else decides to use the idea for a fic though, tag me. I'd LOVE to read it! ~

Masterlist, Ao3

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

32. Reasons to not be in love with draco malfoy by harry

Prompt used- caressing the other's back | ANGST/FLUFF | UNREQUITED LOVE | HURT/COMFORT | Eighth year harry finds it hard to admit that he infact loves draco ..

" is it so bad harry that you like him ? " Hermione asked as a sad look dawned upon her tanned face

" what-no- yes- i mean- I don't like him. It's just he has changed so much and it seems unrealistic " harry covered up his tinted face by entailed more into his book

" sure harry, we believe you " Ron sarcastically responded.

" Ron- harry, you know it, you're lying to yourself and what if Draco have actually changed so much. I mean he apologized to me for everything he ever did. That has to be something and it was a genuine apology-"

" apologies doesn't change what he's done. And I don't like Malfoy " harry persisted almost agressively.

Hermione sighed looking at Ron, an indication for him to take the lead.

" mate, I hate him just as much as you do but she's right you know. You can ignore your feelings for how long! One day you would have to face them-"

" so what you want me to just go upto him and ask him out on a date? How blinded can you be ? I will prove that he hasn't changed. I will prove it " with that harry stormed out of the common room to the court yard to be under the sun and complete the rest of his work.

The problem was harry was immensely crushing on draco but it was so hard for him to believe that he'd much rather look for his flaws, it was easier as harry would like to put it. But it was so hard for him to actually look for a single flaw in draco after the war because he had changed completely. Long gone were the days when he used slurs like mudblood, in fact he himself was sending letters to the ministry over and over for stop discriminating against werewolves, muggle borns, squibs, and half bloods. It seemed too good to be true but harry knew he was genuinely doing it but his fainting heart didn't wanted to wake up one day and know that draco had not changed at all, so he chose to still finding his flaws.

2 weeks later upon constant teasing by Ron and Hermione about his research to find something suspicious or something flawed about draco, he realised he was standing in front of a lake which was completely dry. There wasn't even a single flaw and his heart could only take so much.

But he didn't wanted to give up, so during one of his charms lessons, harry took his quill and paper and started writing.

" Reasons not to be in love with draco malfoy "

" ugh.. scratch that " harry mumbled to himself unimpressed

" reasons not to be in love with draco malfoy"

" reasons to hate draco malfoy "

" reasons not to like draco malfoy "

Harry frowned to himself watching the paper, then dipping his quill in ink again and continued writing, only he couldn't. Stuck for minutes, harry looked across the room to see Draco smiling Kindly to a broken handed Neville and writing his notes for him. Harry groaned to himself, " bloody perfect git "

And then he wrote,

" draco malfoy - an absolute prat "

Impressed by himself harry closed his eyes and let himself ponder over every flaw he could muster and desperately failing but he needed something. One damn thing.

But found none.

He placed his hand over the paper once again and started

" 1. The prat have the most fucking Adorable smile. And he doesn't deserve it . It's illegal to have such an adorable smile "

Harry almost smiled at what he wrote but considering his circumstances he refused to. He looked up at Draco once again and continued again.

" 2. The idiot have the most beautiful fingers, bet it's stolen. They're the most fucking annoying thing ever and I can't bloody stop staring at it "

And with that Harry's motive unknowingly changed. He started writing about things about draco that annoyed him.

As week went on harry had listed almost 10 things he found annoying about draco.

" they're not flaws harry " Hermione pressed her lips in thin line to keep herself from laughing.

Blushing in embarrassment harry took the paper away " you wouldn't get it "

And as he started leaving he heard Ron laugh.

And he went back to the courtyard and going through the list once again.

" 3. The git have perfect annoying stormy eyes which makes you dream but also take you somewhere only both us could be "

" 4. He's unbelievably kind to everyone, even filch, how could anyone be this damn kind. Stupid "

" 5. He's got brain. Like actual great brain. He's intellectual, he's fucking smart. Like nobody asked you Smarty pants to be this damn smart "

" 6. He Knows exactly what he's doing. Like the other day in the great hall when he left the tea bag for far too long in his cup of tea, he poured a little of his tea into another cup, added ginger and lemon to his own cup and then some water again. Annoying as fuck "

" 7. He sits by the tree in the courtyard just staring at the damn sky and sometimes even draw it in his little doodle pad covered in leather, with a little blue stone right in the centre. Also half filled. God knows what he draws. Would be pretty fantastic though, considering how much time he spend drawing them and painting it. Hilarious to see him being focused. Idiot "

"8. He visits the professor Dumbledore's grave and just sit there crying. Don't know why I wrote it, just needed to. I understand him.

" 9. He talks with madam pomfrey about potions and their Ill effects. Again trying to be smart. He did help Seamus though after he fell from his broom sometime ago, guess he's got brain afterall "

" 10. He's bloody perfect. His damn face, beautiful as fuck, his nose looks like Micheal Angelo himself carved it on his face, his jawline, fuck, his skin is pale though but the way his skin glows when he's sitting in the courtyard doing something and the way he have a perfect blush. Who's blushing can be perfect ? But damn it, his blush is damn perfect as if something had put on natural flower colour upon his face and the way he have a specific smile for each occassion. The nervous smile, the grin, the quizzical smile, everything just super perfect. Stupid beautiful perfect prat "

Harry sighed understanding Hermione's point but he knew what he had written. This was everything he didn't like about him. Every single one of them, well not everything maybe but most of them.

Harry looked up, keeping the paper in one of his notebooks, to see Draco sitting on one of the pillars seat and reading something.

" prat even looks perfect reading " harry mumbled to him rolling his eyes yet couldn't help his curiosity for what he was reading because he wore probably the most perfect smile harry had seen. He hated to admit but maybe, draco was flawless, at least to him but he didn't wanted to admit. He was determined to find at least one flaw so he could prove them wrong, more him than anyone else. He just needed something flawed in him to convince himself that he wasn't desperately falling for him as his friends liked to say. One flaw, that's all he needed.

Harry kept all of his books inside his rag and decided to just walk around the halls before he'd depart to the common room but just as he had been exiting the courtyard, one thing he didn't wanted it to happen, happened.

" hey, po- harry "

Harry closed his eyes, breathing in before turning around to draco with a warming smile.

" what do you want Malfoy?"

" uh- draco- but nevermind. I wanted to actually ask you something, I mean I shouldn't, considering you still hate me but it's purely theoretical " Draco rambled giving harry a rather nervous smile. Fucking perfect again, harry thought.

" I- I don't hate you Malfoy, old habits die hard kinda thing you know " harry assured himself more than draco.

Draco pressed his lips in a thin line pondering on about what harry had just said.

" you wanted to ask ?" Harry impatiently said

" right- I- I've heard you taught defense in 5th year, including the patronus charm, i- since you've taught a few people I was wondering if you could tell me if people like me can- you know can cast one " draco scratched the back of his neck nervously, the same blush returning to his face again which harry always thought was probably the same shade as that of a cherry blossom..

" what do you mean by people like you ?" Just as the sentence had left his mouth, he realised how wrong had it sounded. Of course he knew what draco had meant but why did he had to ask him and embarrass draco ?

Draco inhaled the air surrounding them, closing his eyes as if he was gaining confidence for what he said next " I meant death eaters "

Harry suddenly felt like his tongue was in knots. He knew the answer but he couldn't reply and while draco looked at harry hopefully, his hope started to die out little by little as he watched harry standing quietly. His eyes suddenly turned from normal grey to something that was clouding him within himself, as if he was now concealing himself, like he was upbraiding himself.

" never mind- think I got my answer. Thank you po- harry. It was great help " draco voice sounded more harsh than it had sounded lately at and harry at once knew had broken draco's heart but before he could've undid his fault, he had scrambled away quickly and harry remained there waiting to get his voice back.

And when it finally did, it had started to rain, harry too scrambled away. Strange how the weather has been perfectly fine when he had first sat down in the courtyard and now it pouring down heavily after the misconception with draco.

Draco's smile was slightly dying out a little bit, and harry knew why but everytime harry ran after draco to correct his mistakes, he was tongue tied. Why was it so hard for harry to simply tell the truth ? Why couldn't he ?

In the mean time After harry had told Hermione and Ron about his faulty interaction with draco, they had stopped teasing and encouraged him to fix it as soon as possible.

It wasn't until during one of the defense classes, things took a better turn.

" now, you all have already learnt about how boggart works. It easily takes shape of what you fear the most but here what we have is pieret, it's a twin of a boggart but it is unusually different. A pieret not only senses your fear but induces in you the pain you'd feel when you're faced with your worst fear. Taking an example, if someone fears death, they would feel nothing Because death feels numb. If someone is afraid of lets say lizards, they'd feel irrational. You must be wondering then if you are faced with a boggart, then Also you'd feel the same thing, the answer is no, we predict what we'd feel, not actually feel while upon being faced with a pieret, it would heavily cast on you the feeling to the point where it may get hard to make sense of anything. However the defense against it is just as simple as that of a boggart,infact it is the same. Riddikulus. Now I would want each of you to clear your head and try not to think of your worst fears and then upon your turn with a blink of an eyes, say the spell and then sit down " the professor explained, not even stopping momentarily for asking students anything, as if he wanted to get done with the lesson. Frankly, everyone wanted the same.

The pieret however turned out to be more stronger than the boggart. Few students had to sit down to relax after their turn. When it finally came down to harry, he cleared his head and tried not to think of his worst fear . He saw the shape twisting and turning into someone very familiar, a scene very familiar. Before harry could cast the spell, the feelings had started to run frantically inside of him. He thought he mumbled something but nothing happened, voldemort was still standing, in his victory. Harry had lost the fight, resulting in huge massacre, everyone disappointed and then suddenly it had gone, now there stood a beautiful pink lily.

Harry immediately collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily.

" drink this " the professor commanded and he obliged, feeling the sensation dying out immediately.

" I need to go " harry hoarsely said and ran out of the room to the washrooms. He reached the same washroom moaning myrtle still resides in but somehow absent currently and he was glad.

Not for long. He soon heard the door open and close and someone walking inside. Harry was about to hex whoever had Walked in until he saw draco had appeared, looked devastating.

" it's only me. We don't want Same things to happen twice" draco announced. Harry immediately lowered his wand, still breathing heavily and becoming very aware of what Draco had said.

" I'd never used that spell again. I wouldn't ever "

" i know " draco gave him a small smile. Harry looked at Draco for a few moments before he sat down against one of the toilet doors, draco cautiously making his steps towards harry and sitting down next to him.

" why are you here ?" Harry finally asked, his knees pressed against his chest, looking up at the ceiling.

" wish I knew " draco responsed aligning himself in the same position as harry and staring up.

Harry hummed, not knowing what he should've answered.

" it's weird " draco suddenly said, a small laugh escaping his lips

" what is ?" Harry asked looking at Draco slightly turning his head to him, watching him staring far ahead.

" how both of our fears are the same "

And he finally turned to harry, with a deep pained expression painted in his dream filled eyes.

Harry quizzically stared at Draco " him gaining victory ?"

" yes and always letting people down. Disappointing them. Having no hope "

Harry was rendered speechless. Until he knew he needed to throw up. He immediately bashed through the door in front of him and puking into the toilet, emptying whatever was inside his body. He suddenly felt a hand on his back caressing him and faint encouragements reaching his ears. When harry was finally done, he leant back pressing his head against the door sighing. Draco's hand has left his back but harry still wanted them there, he didn't know why, but he just wanted that.

" any better ?" He asked. Harry nodded.

" here " draco passed him a bottle of water. Harry rinsed off the smell off his mouth, then drank some of it before flushing the waste away and going back to sitting in the middle alley with draco facing him.

" who do you feel you let down ?" Harry asked frowning at Draco.

Draco looked taken a back by Harry's sudden enquiry but soon comforted himself and began speaking " everyone. I just feel like that even after everything I'm trying to do, after trying so hard to be nice, helping everyone, trying to become a better person, I would still let people down. There will always be Someone who would want to look at my flaws and throw them in my face that no matter what I do, I'd still be draco malfoy the death Eater. I'm always afraid of letting them down, my parents, teachers, the ministry, my friends, classmates, you "

Harry stared at Draco long enough, understanding exactly how he must be feeling but feeling guilty at the same time for doing exactly what draco is fearing but once he had spoken it loud, harry wanting to seek his flaws was thrown out of the window, he just to hug draco right now and tell him that he's doing great.

" I don't hate you draco- I never did. I know you think I do, but I see you. You're trying really hard to become the better person and I can see It happening. If I were you I don't think I'd be able to do that but you, you're brave and confident and courageous to do this everyday. I could never "

" you'd never need to do all that. You already are everything you just said. You don't even need to try " draco gave him a little shrug. Harry's lip immediately turned into a sly smile, realising draco see's him that way, even if it was partially true.

" but you're different. Everyone already praise me, they've always done that. You, you're rising.. that's something much more braver than anything I'd ever done in life"

" are we going to sit here and actually assure each other how we're both doing great " draco joked. Harry immediately broke in a small laughter with draco. Being there with Draco right now was the most perfect thing harry could've ever dreamt of. How could he had possibly thought of wanting to hate draco ? It seemed irrational. Harry was driven by his hatred to find something in draco that didn't even exist and it's not because draco was perfect but because he was working on his flaws. Perfection had never been about being flawless, it has always been in redeeming your flaws. Harry laughed for as Long as he wanted with draco, never wanting this to end. It was a therapy and harry was glad to be a part of it.

When finally the laughter died out harry smiled at draco, picking up his wand and casting the patronus charm.

" my mom's patronus was a doe, mine's a stag. Snape's patronus was a doe too " harry told a pained looking draco until he finally reiterated Harry's words in his head and then it hit him

" he was a death Eater "

" he was " harry replied giving him small smile " a patronus isn't based on discrimination. It doesn't segregate between death eaters and wizard or the bad and the good or the rich and the poor. Patronus is based on a happy memory. I suppose why you'd think death Eaters can't cast a patronus is because they've never known true happiness. If you've ever felt true happiness in your life, you can cast one. There's both light and dark inside of us, it is what we chose to act upon, that's who we are. You're not a bad person draco, you never were and i know one day you'll be as to cast it. I'd liked to help if I can in anyways "

Draco stared at harry In surprise, his expressions changing to one filled with hope and turning into a smile.

" I'd like that " draco responded nodding.

" then we'll practice the spells whenever you'd like" harry smiled before he started putting things in his rag, after hearing the bell to finally get up to leave.

" draco "

" yeah"

" thank you . I- this was different- and just thank you " harry smiled hanging his rag on his shoulder.

Draco smiled nodding at him, getting up himself.

With a deep breath harry finally turned around to leave, smiling to himself, thinking of how he could just burn the list now.

" harry- you dropped something "

Harry turned around to see Draco holding a piece of paper.

Fuck.

Draco furrowed his eyebrows as his eyes fell upon the words inked on it. Harry immediately hustled in his bag to look for that one specific sheet. No, no, no,no ...

Draco looked up at harry quizzically " reasons to .... "

PART 2 | Requests open

Day 31 - would you come back to me ? | Day 33- tasting their smile

[wicked-mind]

Remember Me: Chapter Seven

Summary: Y/N and Bucky were the unlikely match when it came to love, but they were inseparable since they met. After a fight, Y/N left to be a trauma surgeon in the military and returns without her memories. How will Bucky remind Y/N how she is the fire in his bones?

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Swearing (I like swearing. Adds character and sounds pretty to me lol), mentions of surgical procedures, car crash, miscarriage, John Walker, slight bit of PTSD.

Series Masterlist

All Writings Masterlist

As always, any likes, reblog, or comments are appreciated (:

*gifs not mine

Previously

Y/N removed her eyes from his face, listening to the story. Her forehead creased a moment as she thought about all that was said before meeting his gaze once again. A small smile curved on her lips and she leaned towards him, kissing his lips softly before pulling away slightly to look at him, “I forgive you, Bucky."

Bucky felt relief flood through him at her words, smiling down to her. He couldn’t find any words to say to her so instead he returned his arms around her body and pulled her closer, kissing her deeply. Those were words Bucky had waited to hear for so long and for a while he didn’t know if he would ever hear them from Y/N. Everything seemed right in the world for now, and even though he was worried about what was written in those journals John had given her due to what Steve had said, he hoped that whatever else it was would be forgiven also.

Truth was, Y/N always had forgiven Bucky for what was said the moment she left. She knew it was from his own fears. But what had broken her heart was hidden in the pages of those journals.

Chapter seven - The truth in the writing

Y/N wasn’t supposed to be back to work until noon, but she got called in early due to an apartment fire that would lead to multiple traumas coming in meaning it was all hands on deck. Bucky watched her pack the yellow folder John had given to her last night into her backpack before taking her to the hospital. He came back to Steve’s to find him and Peggy having some coffee. Bucky grabbed himself a mug of the dark liquid before leaning against the counter, “She took the journals with her.” He said over to Steve.

Peggy narrowed her eyes as they flickered between the two, “What journals?”

Steve sighed, sitting at the dining table next to Peggy, “Y/N’s friend, that blonde guy named John, brought some of her journals that were left behind at her base camp. Says there’s everything in there.” He informed.

“Yeah, including something we don’t know about.” Bucky grumbled out, “Something that made our break-up worse than just the words that were said.” He would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried. He replayed that night so many times in his head that every moment was burned into his brain and he couldn’t think of anything other than what was said before she left, “We gotta figure this out. So I can at least try to make it better after she reads whatever is in there.”

Peggy set her glass mug on the table, “Okay, then let’s walk through it.” She said helpfully, “Y/N came here that night after her shift and showed us the deployment papers with the date for her to leave set in a month, June 7th. She was so excited to tell you that she left immediately after. What happened at your house, James?”

Bucky sighs, setting his mug down on the counter to run a hand through his dark hair, “She came in all excited and jumped into my arms. Everything was fine and then she showed me the papers. We argued about it because I didn’t want her to go. I told her if she walked out those doors I wouldn’t be here waiting for her and not to come back. And then she left.” He flinched at his own words. He hated that he had said that to Y/N.

Steve leans back in his chair, “Then she came back here in tears and frantic. We tried to get her to talk to us about what happened but she just packed her bags, got in her car, and left.” He sighs, “I called her everyday for about four days until she finally picked up and told me she was fine, just needed some space, and she would be back soon. After that, I didn’t hear from her until she was deployed.”

Bucky cocks his head to the side at Steve, narrowing his eyes, “You never told me that.”

Steve scoffs slightly, “Yeah, well, you made my sister run away, we weren’t exactly on the best speaking terms, Buck.”

“So we have no idea where she was or what she was doing for a month before she was deployed?” Peggy interrupted, watching Bucky and Steve shake their heads to say no. She bit her bottom lip for a moment, “Maybe something happened in that month.”

Bucky looked over from Peggy to Steve, “What did she say while she was deployed?” He asks curiously, folding his arms as he leaned against the counter.

Steve looked from Peggy to Bucky, picking up his mug and bringing it to his lips for a drink before setting it back down, “Y/N called me when she got to the base, told me she made it safe and she was sorry she didn’t come back before she left, that she couldn’t come back. I asked her what happened between you two and she told me what was said. I told her you didn’t mean it and to at least give you a call.” He watched Bucky’s features soften for a moment, “There were a few more phone calls. She told me what you said hurt, but that she was okay and there was another reason she couldn’t come home or talk to you. We didn’t really talk about you two after that.”

Bucky groaned slightly. What had happened? The more he thought about it the more the timeline didn’t make sense. Everything had been fine between them the days, even weeks leading up to when she ran away were fine. He sighs looking back to Steve, “I don’t know, man.” He said, “Everything was great. We made cookies together, went on rides, had a Star Wars marathon. Everything was perfect… So perfect in fact I bought a damn engagement ring.”

Steve looked at Bucky with almost fully wide eyes before looking at Peggy who was sipping her coffee avoiding eye contact, “You knew about this, Peggy?”

Peggy put her coffee down, pursing her lips a little before speaking, “Of course I knew! Who do you think had to help him pick out the damn thing?”

Steve nodded and turned his attention back to Bucky, “Wow.” He said still nodding, “Well, now I really wish things would’ve gone differently. She would’ve been so excited.” He said with a small smile towards Bucky. Steve had always trusted Bucky with Y/N. The way he treated her was like a queen.

Bucky’s lips twitched into a small smile for a moment at Steve’s approval before it faded back into a stern line. He was going to ask Steve for help with the proposal when Bucky eventually figured out how to ask, but hadn’t gotten around to it before it all went to shit, “So nobody knows what the reason is…”

Steve nodded slowly, “Well… none of us know. But there is one person who does.”

Bucky groaned a little again and rubs his hand along his face, “God, I really hate John Walker.”

—

Y/N dealt with the wave of incoming traumas from the apartment building fire, running point on sorting patients by the degree of their injuries to create a steady flow in the operating room and emergency room. Once everything had died down, Y/N sat in the attending’s lounge eating a sandwich and starting to go through yellow folder from her backpack. There were photos of Y/N with Bucky and some of her with Steve and Peggy as well of her with John. There were also photos of her while she was deployed mostly doing silly poses in the middle of nowhere. She placed the photos back into the folder and pulled out the two notebooks next. They were leather-bound full sized journals. She opened the first one that looked just a bit more well used, figuring it was the first one. Her brow furrowed when she turned to the first page. It was dated at the top, May 15, 2019 but the rest of the page looked like the words had been gone over with permanent marker. Y/N turned to the next page and the next but for about ten pages over the next ten days from May 15th, all the words had been scribbled over with permanent marker, “Well, that’s just great.” She mutters out to herself softly, “Thanks me. Super helpful.”

Y/N finally found a page with actual words instead of just a page of black marker, the date read May 25th, 2019. It was filled with the words repeating ‘I am not my trauma.’ over and over again until the last line that read:

I’ll forget the piece that was taken away from me.

She frowned a little. What trauma did this refer to? What had happened? She turns the page quickly to read the next page.

May 26th, 2019

I leave in eleven days.

I want more than anything to call him. I don’t know what I would say. How do I explain what happened. Where do I begin?

He told me if I leave to never come back. That he won’t be waiting for me.

A part of me knows that’s a lie. I know he’d be there with open arms if he knew what happened.

I found that ring after all…

Y/N had to read the line over again a few times. Ring? There was a ring?

But how would he feel if he knew how ruined I was?

His sun swallowed into a dark pit.

He loves me. And I don’t think I’m me anymore.

Nobody wants broken things.

May 28th, 2019

I want to feel safe again.

They say writing down what I feel is going to ground me to reality. They also said I should call somebody. I can’t do that. I can’t let them know how much I hurt. I just want to run as far away as possible and that’s what I’ll do. I need to get out of here. It feels like I can’t breathe and everywhere I look I’m met with eyes filled with pity. It makes everything worse the way they look at me and stare. I get released tomorrow, I’m signing out AMA. Then it’s just nine more days. Maybe it’ll replace my trauma with a different trauma. Anything would be better than this.

I miss Bucky. I miss running my fingers through his hair and the way his stubble would brush against my skin. I miss being in his arms the most. They were so safe like nothing could ever hurt me. I wish I would’ve stayed then none of this would’ve happened. We could’ve just fought about it then go to bed and sort it out until I left. At least then I would’ve felt save and would’ve been safe.

I think the worst part about our fight was that I knew about the ring. I found it in his boxer drawer when putting away his laundry. You’d figure he would’ve picked a better hiding spot, but nope. He’s never been good at hiding things from me. I was halfway expecting him to propose when I showed him my deployment papers so we both had something to look forward to when I came back. I would’ve said yes in a heartbeat if he did. After all, James Buchanan Barnes is the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. But that’s not what happened. And here I am stuck in pain and guilt.

Y/N shut the book when she heard someone come in, wiping away some tears she hadn’t noticed falling from her cheeks. She looks over and put on her best smile for Chief Miller, “Afternoon, Chief.”

Miller had his hands tucked in his pockets, “Everything okay, Y/N?” He asks gently, nothing the tear brimmed eyes.

Y/N nodded, keeping the same smile on her face, “Yeah, everything’s good. A friend brought me some journals to see if they’ll help me remember. It’s just confusing and a lot to read.” She said softly, “Were you looking for me?”

Miller nodded at her words, “I’m sorry, that must be hard.” He said with a reassuring smile, “I was just getting all your medical records transferred over and one was locked from a hospital in Queens. I just wanted to ask if you wanted to unlock it so we have that information on file in case it’s needed in the future.”

Y/N tilted her head at him, her brow pulling together in confusion, “I don’t remember what the nature of that visit would be… Did it have a date? I can call the doctor from the hospital to get it unlocked if I know the date.”

“May 14th, 2019.” Miller replied, “The doctors name I think was Wanda Maximoff.”

Y/N nodded slowly at the date. It was the day before her journal started with the scribbled out pages. She pushed the journal into her backpack, “Thanks, Chief. I’ll give them a call.” She said with a small smile before standing and leaving the room. She found an empty office with a computer, googling the hospital in Queens and asking for Dr. Maximoff.

“This is Dr. Maximoff.” A woman with an accent said over the phone when Y/N was connected.

“Hi, this is Dr. Rogers from Brooklyn Mercy. I was calling about a locked file in my health records.”

“Oh, Y/N! How have you been? Are you back from deployment?”

“Been better… And yes, I am. I was calling because a medical report of mine from May 14, 2019 is sealed and I don’t remember the nature of the visit. I lost a lot of my memories due to an incident overseas and I’m trying to put pieces together.”

“I see.. I’m so sorry to hear that. Our hospital isn’t too far from Brooklyn Mercy, I think we should talk about this in person given the situation. I’ll drive down and meet you in about forty-five minutes, would that work?”

“That’d be perfect, thank you Dr. Maximoff.” Y/N said before enhancing goodbyes and hanging up. It felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest with how fast it was racing and she felt sick to her stomach as she tried to remember what happened. Whatever happened, it was bad enough that Dr. Maximoff was coming to tell her in person.

Y/N asked Chief Miller if he would be there when she went over the information with Maximoff, wanting some sort of support in case whatever happened was really bad. She kept adjusting herself in the chair in front of Chief Miller, nervous for whatever information was about to come out. She put on a small smile when Dr. Maximoff came into the office holding a medical file, shaking her hand and watching her take a seat in the chair next to her, “Nice to meet you again, Dr. Maximoff.”

“Oh call me Wanda. And again, I’m very sorry about your memory loss. I want to start by saying that we have support groups I can recommend after we talk about this information. Given that you don’t remember, it is possible you’ll go through all the emotions and grief again.” Wanda said before placing the file on Chief Miller’s desk and opening it slowly, “The night of May 14th, 2019 paramedics responded to an accident involving two vehicles. You were in one of them. It was determined the other driver was driving under the influence and had a large amount of alcohol in his system.”

Y/N nodded slowly, watching Wanda instead of looking at the file. Her eyes were full of kindness, even maybe a little pity, “What happened to the drunk driver?”

“He died in surgery. With the amount of alcohol in his system, the bleeding couldn’t be controlled and the damage was too severe.” Wanda said before continuing, “It was later determined that he was going forty miles per hour over the speed limit and from your statement, he was driving down the wrong side of the road with his headlights off. You didn’t see him coming until it was too late.”

“How bad was it?” Y/N asks softly, picking at her fingers nervously as she listened.

Wanda sighs, flipping through pages of the file on Chief Miller’s desk, “You sustained abdominal bleeding, two fractured ribs, and superficial lacerations that our head of plastic surgery took care of which is why there is no scarring. You made me promise not to call your emergency contacts.” Wanda paused, observing Y/N’s reaction but she was just sitting there nodding, “We took blood samples to cross match your blood so we couldn’t have to keep giving you O-negative blood. Those blood tests showed trace amounts of the hCG hormone. After we took care of the abdominal bleeding, you miscarried from stress. You didn’t know you were pregnant. You asked me to seal the records of the accident and you signed yourself out against medical advice.”

Y/N took a deep ragged breath, looking down at the floor in shock. The writings in the journal were making sense. She could hear Chief Miller and Wanda asking if she was okay but they sounded distant and like they were underwater. Flashes started coming back in her mind of that night. She was driving down the road back to her hotel she was staying at, crying and listening to sad songs on the radio when the crash happened. Y/N put her hand on her chest as her breathing became more erratic, it was like she couldn’t get enough air. She could see Wanda and Miller trying to ask if she was okay and calm her down but their voices were so different and everything around her was swaying. She remembered sitting in a hospital bed and crying over the news and the guilt she felt for leaving the safety of Bucky, “Can’t breathe…” She whispers out, trying to stand slowly from the chair. Y/N remembered the day after it happened, Wanda brought the journals to her hoping it would help to write what she was feeling since she wouldn’t contact anybody. She remembered the grief she felt as well as the shock and pain. This was the reason she didn’t come back to Bucky and avoided him, she didn’t know what to tell him. The world was swaying like she was on a boat and it felt like she was underwater, unable to get air in her lungs or hear the muffled sounds coming from Chief Miller and Wanda. She stumbled around at the room spinning, blinking rapidly before the world around her started fading to black and she fell onto the floor.

——

Steve, Peggy, and Bucky were still all trying to figure out events that lead up to Y/N running away a month before her deployment, trying to think of any clues that would help put the puzzle pieces together.

Steve’s phone starting ringing and he excused himself from the conversation to take the call, “Hello?”

“Hi, this is Doctor Miller, Chief of Surgery over at Brooklyn Mercy. Is this Steve Rogers, Y/N’s brother?”

“This is Steve. Is everything alright?” “Yes, everything is alright. I’m just giving you a call to ask you to come in. Your sister had a pretty serious panic attack and lost consciousness. I think it would be good if you came in.”

“What? Yeah, I’m on my way.” Steve said, walking back into the kitchen, “We have to go, Y/N’s been admitted to the hospital for a panic attack.”

Bucky frowns, “Probably read those damn journals.” He growled out, turning immediately and walking out the front door to his motorcycle and speeding down the road towards the hospital with Peggy and Steve right behind him in their car.

When they arrived at the hospital, Chief Miller was waiting for them at the front doors. He lead them up to the room Y/N was in where she was talking to Wanda with the door closed and crying, pulling an oxygen mask up to her mouth every so often. Bucky looked through the window to the room before noticing that none other than John Walker was standing a little bit away from the room leaning against the wall with a frown. Bucky immediately felt rage consume him, stomping over to John and pushing him against the wall, “What were in those journals?!” He yelled before landing a punch to John’s cheek.

John winced at the hit and pushed Bucky away from him, “She knew about the ring, asshole! She thought you were going to propose that night but instead you broke up with her!”

Chief Miller and Steve quickly pulled the two apart, Miller holding John back while Steve held Bucky back, “That’s not what it was about! Now knock if off before I call security.” Chief Miller said, moving to stand between the men, “Due to her privacy, I can’t tell you what it was but it wasn’t about a ring.”

“She knew about the ring?” Bucky said, wide eyed as he processed the words. No wonder she had been so mad at him and what he had said. She thought she was coming home to a potential proposal and instead he told her if she left to never come back.

Peggy had separated herself from all the testosterone and walked into the room Y/N was in, shutting the door behind her, “I’m Peggy, her sister-in-law.” She told Wanda before she took a seat on the edge of Y/N’s bed, gently taking her head, “Are you okay, honey?”

Y/N shook her head rapidly, keeping the oxygen mask pressed to her mouth and nose as she cried into it. She remembered the pain when Wanda had told her she miscarried and feeling alone due to the fight she had with Bucky. It was the reason she had ran- she didn’t feel like she had a home to go back to and she wouldn’t know what Bucky would think if she told him she had lost their child. All Bucky had wanted was to grow up and have a family with her and she ruined that. Her gaze set on Bucky through the window and she pulled the blanket on her legs up over her head, sobbing loudly underneath the blanket. How could she even look at him knowing what she knew now?

Wanda got up to close the blinds in the window before returning the chair placed next to the bed, “Y/N,” Wanda asks gently, reaching out a hand to rest reassuringly on Y/N’s leg over the blanket, “You’ve dealt with this pain alone for a long time and you’re going through it again like it’s fresh. You should talk to someone about it, you need support.”

Y/N pulled the blanket off her head at the sound of the blinds shutting, looking at Wanda through her blurry tear filled eyes, “I can’t…You… You tell Peggy… I can’t… I can’t.” She sobbed out, dropping the oxygen mask to her lap and putting her face in her hands.

Wanda looks over to Peggy who was eyeing her curiously, “The night of May 14th, 2019 Y/N was brought in after her car was hit by a drunk driver. We took care of all the injuries… But we found out she was about six weeks pregnant. Due to the stress of her injuries and the stress she was already under, she miscarried.”

Peggy’s jaw dropped at the news, slowly looking over to Y/N. She quickly adjusted herself on the bed to scoot closer to Y/N, pulling her into a secure hug and stroking her hair softly, “Shh… It’s okay… I’m so sorry, honey…I’m here…” She soothed gently. It all made sense of why Y/N didn’t come back before she was deployed and why she never talked to Bucky.

Eventually Wanda offered a light sedation for Y/N since she couldn’t stop crying and keep her breathing under control. Y/N drifted off to sleep from the sedative, her mind finally calming but the ache in her body didn’t fade. When she opened her eyes, it was nighttime. She looked over to the window to see Peggy and Steve talking to Wanda and Chief Miller outside of the room. Her attention was take when she felt a soft squeeze of her hand, looking over and seeing Bucky sitting in the chair staring at her with a small smile. The sight of him almost made her break again, pulling her hand out of his grasp and pulling the blanket up over her head to hide from his face.

“Hey, Y/N,” Bucky said with a small frown when she hid away from him under the blanket, “Baby, come on look at me. Talk to me.” He pleaded, trying to pull the blanket away from her face, “What happened, doll?”

Y.N eventually quit fighting the tug of war with the blanket, letting him pull it away from her face. She didn’t meet his gaze though, staring into her lap as tears started to roll down her face. She was amazed she still had any water left in her body to cry, “I can’t… You should go…”

“Fuck that, darlin. I’m not going anywhere when you’re crying.” Bucky told her, moving himself from the chair to sit by her bedside. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, leaning close and kissing her temple softly, “Talk to me, please.”

“I can’t.” Y/N replied, still not meeting his gaze as she shook her head, “I was finally feeling like everything was right in the world… Like I was back where I belonged with you… Safe.” She took in a sharp breath, releasing it slowly, “Now, it’s just all going to be ruined again. We’ll be ruined. You’ll leave.”

Bucky’s frown deepened at her words as scenarios ran through his mind of what Y/N could be talking about, studying her features intently, “No we won’t. I told you that you are the love of my life, Y/N. Nothing is going to change that.” He told her, moving his position to take her face in his hand and forcing her to look at him, “Now talk to me.”

Y/N stared at Bucky for what felt like forever, studying his face. She wondered what would reflect back to her in his eyes when she told him. Right now his eyes were pooled with concern for her but once she would tell him, they knew that concern would leave, “The night we fought… May seventh right?” She watched him nod, “On May fourteenth I was driving and I was hit by a drunk driver. I was taken to a hospital in Queens where I was treated.” She watched the concern grow in his eyes at her words, “I didn’t know I was six weeks pregnant and I lost the baby… Our baby… I would’ve came back if I knew, never left… But after I couldn’t come back to you.”

Bucky’s mouth parted slightly at the words, his eyes moving across the features of her face watching the tears leak down her face. He hadn’t even noticed his own tears starting to fall at the news. Guilt raked through his body at the words he had said that made her leave, put her in that position to get hurt. It would have never happened if he would’ve swallowed his own fear and anger at her deployment. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug, “I’m so sorry, doll.” He said through his own shaky breathes, trying to control his breathing as he cried, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I did this, it’s my fault… I’m so sorry.”

_____________________________________________________________Taglist: @vicmc624 @buckypops @shawnie--jo @ahahafudge @intothesoul @austynparksandpizza @stcrryslibrary

Shout out to @shawnie--jo for having a big brain and guessing correct (:

If I missed anybody on the taglist or you would like to be added, send me a quick message, comment, or ask. Thank you for the support (:

[ironlime]

60 Years After

So somebody in the tumblrverse posted about their headcannon in which Ned Coats was Sam Vimes' kid having traveled through time. I am a fan of this. It explains a lot. So when I read it back in... April? I then sat down and wrote up this little fanfic thing. And assumed that I could not only get it posted today, but also edit it so that it's not filled with so many of my own headcannons. And is closer to the original material. But L-Space is my job, and it really does do crazy things to time (and space.) On top of that I was really hoping I could post this to that original headcannon post but... I can't find it. So, OP, if you come across this... Well, I'm sorry. I'm more sorry to Sir Terry (GNU), though.

Quick note: my friends and I have found it easier to call Vimes' kid "Wee Sam" than "Young Sam" because "Young Sam" is one of the names (along with Vimesy and Lance Constable Vimes) that Vimes calls his younger self and... yeah. We find it confusing when nerding out about a single series with two different characters called 'Young Sam'. So we Feegle it up. Even though I wouldn't be surprised if 'Wee Sam' is actually a bit taller than his dad.

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

“What happened just then, Sarge? You blurred.” Wee Sam said, while he thought Oh so that’s what that looks like.

“You only get one question, Ned,” The man who would be his father looked a little seasick, and Wee Sam knew exactly how he felt. “Now, let’s show Snapcase where the line’s drawn, shall we? Let’s finish it--”

To the majority of people there that day, Sergeant-At-Arms John Keel stood, turned towards the enemy, and charged. To two people, Commander Sam Vimes ran towards Carcer, ready to drag him kicking and screaming into the past. Or the future. Depending on who you asked.

That was what gave Wee Sam his frame of reference, actually. He remembered hearing stories about Carcer, about how his dad had arrested the bastard the day Wee Sam was born. But was this actually May 25th for his dad? Was this weeks before the arrest? Hours? He couldn’t ask. Not yet.

“Glad to see you’ve joined us and are getting along with the Sarge, Coats.” Fred Colon said, touching him on the shoulder as they ran towards the fight.

“Yeah, Fred.” Oh, Fred. Fred Colon had died a few years ago, happy and surrounded by great-grandchildren. But here and now he was young and actually capable of running. And he was running towards the fray.

Sweeper had told Wee Sam to stay away from the center of the fight, and to try not to actually kill anybody, so he stayed on the edge near the unconscious Lance-Constable Sam Vimes who had been hidden by his older, more cynical self. Three men in a battle with the same name, and two of them were the same person. Good thing Wee Sam was the only one who had to really keep track of which of them was where. He certainly didn’t trust anybody else to.

So he fought, in a very curbed way, knocking his adversaries unconscious when he could and doing his best not to step on Nobby Nobbs, who was doing his best to very slowly inch away from the battle while simultaneously pretending to be a corpse. Over by the Watch House, Reg Shoe was doing a much better impersonation of a corpse, seeing as how he was one, but in a couple of hours he’d discover that it just didn’t work for him.

“You’re nicked, my ol’ chum.” It was probably because he had been listening for it, but his father’s whisper carried. Nobody else seemed to hear it, and nobody but Wee Sam turned in time to see the two men vanish. In the same instant, a single body appeared on the ground near where they had been. So, now that he had seen that through, there was one more…

A dark grey-green shadow passed by his shoulder, and his mind registered Uncle Havelock before adding the word Young.

Havelock Vetinari ran into the fight, cutting down Carcer’s men much more brazenly than the Assassin's Guild would like, a lilac bud between his teeth. Even in Wee Sam’s time, when Vetinari’s wardrobe consisted entirely of black and everything he did was in moderation, the Patrician indulged in a little drama on a regular basis.

He chose to have Commander Sam Vimes in his life, after all.

There was a sound to Wee Sam’s left, which he recognized though his mind didn’t associate any words with it. It was a sound any human would recognize, even those who first approached the Delta where the Ankh River met the Circle sea thousands of years ago. If Wee Sam had to find Morporkain words for it, and as a Vimes he did like to use his vocabulary, they were Confused, followed by Hurt followed by… wait for it… there it was. Anger.

Wee Sam could make that noise, though he rarely did. His father’s upbringing, on the other hand, had been considerably less balanced. The kid who was the source of the sound ran into the center of the fight, and Wee Sam deftly stepped out of his way while pushing an adversary in his way. The boy chopped down the Unmentionable with one graceful movement, and Wee Sam felt that he could safely say that he hadn’t been the one to kill the bastard. And nobody had been so foolish as to tell him to prevent his father from killing anybody.

Vetinari didn’t pause, but he did turn to look at this vengeful newcomer. Vetinari hadn’t been there when young Sam Vimes participated in the first part of the battle, and Wee Sam recognized the young assassin’s look of interest.

Tell me, Uncle Havelock, will you recognize him in 15 years? Or will you need to get him well and truly angry to realize you’ve found him?

Wee Sam knew this wasn’t the first time Havelock Vetinari saw Sam Vimes, but this was probably the first time he saw the potential. That he was more than just That Kid Who Follows Keel Everywhere. I bet you didn’t actually expect him to be so damned smart. His father still didn’t think of himself as intelligent. It was infuriating, especially when he and his father were having a disagreement. A drawn out, decade-long, disagreement.

Young Sam Vimes sent a lot of the Unmentionables running, and Wee Sam cut down any of them which could be seen as ‘coming towards him with a drawn weapon’. Since they were escaping a fight, that was anyone who came within reach not wearing a lilac.

Time travel really can get to a man. He thought, feeling a little cold. There would be no arrests here, just death and fleeing and at the end of the day Sam Vimes, Havelock Vetinari, Fred Colon, Gaskin, and, less literally, Nobby Nobbs and Reg Shoe would all be left standing. That was all that mattered.

He saw Vetinari turn away from young Sam Vimes, who then spun, and for the briefest moment they had their backs to each other, and Wee Sam wished he had his paints. It was a gods awful place to paint, there was a reason battles were always ‘immortalized’ after the fact, but the color and everything was just perfect--

And then the color faded.

“You should have fallen by now.” Sweeper observed from behind him.

“I wanted to see them fight together.” Wee Sam admitted, not turning. He had a notebook on him, and a pencil, but he knew that even with Time paused he didn’t really have it. Not to sit down and do a proper preliminary sketch. He was just going to have to remember.

Vetinari had a stiletto, an assassin’s weapon used to kill up-close. Young Sam Vimes hadn’t learned to dual-wield yet, but he had good instincts for the sword. Wait until you discover the axe.

Sweeper sighed. “Fine, and now you’ve seen it. I’m going to put the time back on and you had better be prepared to drop.”

“Yes yes alright.” Wee Sam shifted slightly, so he could seriously inconvenience the man who he was blocking before he dropped.

“Oh and stop killing people.”

“I’m a Vimes. You knew that when you hired me.”

“Indeed.” Sweeper said, and it took Wee Sam a moment to realize it was an attempt at a Vetinari impression. Before Wee Sam could reply, the color came back, and his adversary frowned in confusion.

“Oi, you blurred!” The man cried.

“This just isn’t your day.” Wee Sam gave the man a wound which might heal, if somebody tended to it within the next 10 minutes, and then fell over in a needlessly complicated way, specifically so he wouldn’t hit Nobby Nobbs.

And when he landed, the boy was looking right at him, frowning. Damn, Nobby was always the brains of Colon & Nobbs.

“You ain’t injured.” The boy hissed at him.

“Try to pick my pockets and you’ll regret it.” Wee Sam whispered back. Of course he wouldn’t dream of hurting Nobby, but the kid didn’t know that. Besides, picking the contents of his pockets back would be a relaxing way to end the day.

Nobby was still frowning at him. “You got eyes like the Sarge...”

“Nobby, get out of here before you get stepped on.” Wee Sam growled in his best imitation of his father, the Sergeant, within the past three days. The kid’s eyes went wide, and he took off running. Wee Sam glanced over to where Vimes and Vetinari were taking care of the last of Carcer’s men, and the color faded once more.

“I hope you are pleased with yourself.” Sweeper said, which Wee Sam took to mean he could stand up and dust himself off.

“Young Vimes and Vetinari live to grow up and become two of the most powerful men in Ankh-Morpork history, Carcer went back to his time more or less accompanied by my my dad so the one can be arrested by the other, your rogue ‘Time Vigilantes’ have been sorted out, oh and I don’t cease to exist either. My work here is d--” He stopped, and watched as Q and some other Technical Monks lay down a man about the same age, size and coloring as Wee Sam. “Wait, so there really was a Ned Coats?”

Sweeper had walked off without him, and Wee Sam jogged to catch up. The old monk didn’t turn to look at him when they were side-by-side, but he did start talking. “Of course there was. He was also from Psudopolis and knew the real Keel.”

“How’d he die?”

“The Agony Aunts, on his first day here. He was the real reason the real Keel accepted a job in Ankh-Morpork. The real Ned Coats was not a good man.”

“Keel... left his home to track down a criminal…” Wee Sam slowed. “That’s what my dad did! As Keel! Only, it was Carcer he had to catch.”

“Time likes continuity.” Sweeper nodded, and thanked Wee Sam quietly for holding the door open as they entered the monastery. Once in the building, color returned, with motion and sounds and smells. They were back in the Present.

The walk through the building was in relative silence, the rumbling of the procrastinators keeping it from ever becoming truly quiet here. Wee Sam could sleep almost anywhere, but the rumbling reminded him of the steam engines back home and Susan’s offer to help him find a job in Sto Lat ‘if he really couldn’t stay in Ankh-Morpork’.

Not long after his parents first met his dad had gotten fired for a couple of days, and his mom had offered to get him a job working for Susan’s parents. Susan had been young then, and sometimes he wondered what kind of person she would have grown up to be with his dad as part of her household staff.

Of course, with his parents living in two different cities, he would have never been born.

His mother would have never left Ankh-Morpork.

Then again, his father had chosen not to leave. He had stayed on the case. He… sorted it out, more or less. He kept Vetinari from getting killed. Had he done that during the battle? Young Sam and Vetinari had been facing opposite directions, had Vimesy blocked any blows aimed at the future patrician?

There was the crunch of stones under his feet, and Wee Sam consciously acknowledged they had arrived at the Garden of Inner-City Tranquility. His eyes swept the space, falling on and acknowledging the Cigarette Pack of Air, the Cat Doings of Disharmony, the Sonkie of Organic Harmony, the Cabbage Stalks of Dim Comprehension, the Discarded Fish-And-Chip Wrapper of Infinity, the Beer Bottle of Pissing Off Sweeper, and….

“The Cigar of Capriciousness is still here.” Wee Sam said, stopping between the door and the bench Sweeper always went to. He tilted his head slightly. “Or… Another cigar. Same brand, same style, smoked the same amount, probably by the same man, at the same angle... but it’s wrapped just a little differently.”

“Is it? I’ve stopped noticing.”

“You haven’t noticed the cigar that’s been smouldering here for the past month?” Wee Sam turned to Sweeper in disbelief. “I understand not paying attention to the condoms and cat doings, but time passes in here!”

Sweeper shrugged. “There is always a cigar. Even if we get rid of it, a new one shows up. If the new one lands closer to the wall, the garden always pushes it to the center.”

“Always? Since, what, the dawn of time?”

“Oh no. Since the day you were born. Or thirty years before. It’s hard to say.” Sweeper was looking at him evenly, and Wee Sam suddenly realized his reaction was being gauged.

“My dad. But…” Wee Sam looked at the cigar. “He doesn’t smoke them anymore.”

“He does. On special occasions.”

“Like what?”

“Your birthday. And when he pays certain visits.”

“He talked you into not keeping me on?” His gaze moved swiftly from the old man to the cigar, and with purpose he stalked into the middle of the garden and brought his foot back, prepared to give the thing a swift kick.

“You did that just fine without his help.” Sweeper’s voice was quiet, but it froze Wee Sam where he stood. “Corporal, we both know you don’t want to do this.”

“The mission is over. Coats is dead. I’m not a corporal anymore.” His foot fell heavily, not coming into contact with the cigar but still sending a spray of stones ahead of them. He scowled as they came sliding back towards him, settling where they had been around his foot. “This job is the closest I’ve ever gotten to what I was made to do.”

“I realize that. I’m sorry.”

There was some silence as the last of the stones slid into place. The procrastinators here were small, used only for the bathrooms in the far right corner, even though the city’s sewer pipe system now meant that they were just inconveniencing themselves in exchange for saving very little money. Wee Sam had done the math.

“Did you tell Susan?” Wee Sam didn’t want to be the one to tell her, but he also didn’t want anybody else to explain that he had squandered this opportunity.

“No. That is your problem, my boy.”

“Good.” Wee Sam squatted down, getting a closer look at his father’s cigar. The smell brought him back to his childhood, and it was comforting if not at all healthy. His mother had never allowed them in the house, but his father smoked them all the time outside and in his office, so the scent clung to his uniform like… Well like Wee Sam had back then. “Please don’t hold… me... against her. She was just looking out for me. She does that. Wish I knew why.”

“She is aware of your potential.” Sweeper said, and Wee Sam was so surprised he looked over his shoulder at the old man. “You’re good at investigating and putting the pieces together. And, some day, you will once again make a very good cop.”

“Someplace other than Ankh-Morpork.” Wee Sam grunted, but the old man shrugged, and he asked, hopefully “In Ankh-Morpork but in the future?”

“That is not for me to say.”

“No, it’s for my father to say.” He glared at the cigar, and then pushed himself to a standing position.

“You know, I didn’t just take you on because Susan asked and there happened to be another Vimes-shaped opening.” Sweeper said as Wee Sam turned towards the door.

“No?”

“I wanted to get to know the man the Theives Guild deemed ‘too dangerous’ for membership.” Sweeper sounded amused, and Wee Sam turned to look at him.

“I keep killing people. Assassin's school graduate, and all.” Wee Sam reminded him, but Sweeper waved the comment away.

“We both know neither of those things are relevant to today’s theive’s guild.” Sweeper shook his head. “Your father is afraid of you becoming him; and, well, so is everyone else. Vimeses walk in and take control. Especially under Vetinari’s influence.”

“And how do you know what my father is afraid of?” Wee Sam asked, narrowing his eyes. He was choosing to ignore the comment about Vetinari’s influence because it was true. After 300 years of cops and / or drunks it took Havelock Vetinari telling his father ‘not’ to investigate three deaths to bring his family name back to the list of the city’s gentry.

“You should ask him.” Sweeper did not ignore the narrowed eyes, but he did meet them evenly. “What he’s afraid of.”

Wee Sam turned towards the door, intending to stalk out, then thought better of it and spun so he was completely facing the old man. “You know what? I think I will.”

Then he ran, took a leap to place one foot on the bench beside Sweeper and jumped so his hands easily grasped the top of the wall. His own momentum brought him sideways, and he hurtled over the top. There was an alley on the other side, and he landed lightly. He was exactly where he expected to be, of course, and took off at a run towards the Cemetery of Small Gods.

And slowed to a walk before he reached the gates. It would not do for him to be out of breath when he arrived at the graves.

Twilight was falling, so his dad would be there, but so would Uncle Havelock and maybe Reg Shoe. Wee Sam was less concerned about how Reg saw him, especially now that he had seen Reg alive, but as far as his family was concerned he wanted to take steps towards appearing dignified. Even though they had known him his whole life, and knew better.

Sure enough, he passed Reg first. The Zombie was carrying a long-handled shovel over his left shoulder, and nodded in acknowledgement. Wee Sam managed to nod back before they passed each other.

He had expected Reg to recognize him. Reg had never noticed him behind the barricade, his father never noticed him behind the barricade, but Wee Sam had been playing Ned Coats for a full month before Sam Vimes had shown up as John Keel. Maybe Reg had never noticed that his father was Keel? How did Zombie memories work, anyway? Their brains certainly weren’t making new pathways… Did vampyre brains make new pathways?

This train of thought kept him pretty well occupied, along with the question of how he could politely go about getting some answers, when he noticed Uncle Havelock and his ‘cane’ striding silently towards him. A simple nod wouldn’t do.

“Good evening, Uncle Havelock.” Wee Sam called, since his mother had drummed into his head that you always greeted your superiors first. Admittedly, this sometimes meant that he approached his uncle with a question about what he would call the color of the sunset above a specific building at that exact moment, or if there was a poison which exploded in a particularly satisfactory fashion, but the patrician never complained. Nor did he complain if Wee Sam wandered in his office and started talking about alternative methods for coding clax messages or an unusual bird he had noticed riding the thermals above the University. And, thank gods, Havelock Vetinari knew that a formal greeting from Wee Sam Vimes meant that he didn’t want to talk.

“Happy Birthday, Wee Sam.” His uncle replied, “I trust you’ll be on time for dinner?”

Oh. That was a reminder. And a warning. “Thank you. Yes, we won’t be long.”

“Good. See you then.” The Patrician nodded, and then passed him.

“Yes.” Wee Sam muttered, and then reached for his pocket watch. When he pulled it out, he saw the time was all wrong and swore quietly. Well, from the graves he would be able to see the Tower of Art, and set his watch to the present. The battle of the lilac boys had been in the mid-morning, and it was most definitely not a quarter to noon.

John Keel’s grave marker was wood, and though it had been replaced often it had never been strong enough to support the weight of an average-sized man. Reg’s, on the other hand, was granite, and he apparently didn’t mind that Commander Sam Vimes leaned against it more and more every year.

Wee Sam didn’t make any noise, he never made any noise, but he could never sneak around his father. Commander Sam Vimes turned his head ever so slightly, and Wee Sam tooka good look at him.

Oh gods, he was so old. When had that happened? True, the last time he had seen his father he must have been about 50, but before that Wee Sam had spent three decades watching his father age and yet… It had never struck him so hard. He never could quite reconcile his memories of young Sam Vimes, that kid who had joined The Watch for three square meals a day and a little extra cash for his family. But he hadn’t thought his father had changed so much.

The old man looked him up and down. “How’d the battle go? After I left?”

Wee Sam stopped abruptly, and looked down at his outfit. He had forgotten to change into the clothes he had left at the monastery. This outfit was a uniform the Monks had given him, so he wouldn’t have the problems ‘accidental’ time travelers experienced with their clothes and meals and things staying in the time they came from. He even still had his lilac, somehow, even though that had come from the past.

“Don’t you remember?” You kicked ass.

His father shook his head. “I remember the original timeline, when Keel died at the barricade. I was pretty sure Coats wasn’t there.”

“Yeah, I don’t think he was, either.”

“I guess Vetinari showed up?” His father smirked. “Had a lilac in his teeth and everything?”

“I thought you didn’t remember it.” Wee Sam frowned.

“I don’t, but he tells me about it sometimes. I think he’s waiting for me to remember, or maybe now he’s wondering why I don’t.”

“Because time travel is a mess.” Wee Sam turned away from his father and looked across the city. He could see his family’s house from here.

“So Sweeper explained it to you?” The interest in his voice was practically tactile.

“No, but I had to run around for a month foiling somebody who had been sent to kill Havelock Vetinari. And it gave me time to wonder.”

“Why it was different the first time around?”

Wee Sam shook his head. “Would I have survived being born if you didn’t go back and meet Lawn?”

There was absolute silence between them, until Commander Sam Vimes quietly swore.

“Sweeper told me you have to think of things as one event in front of another, which is fine, except if you hadn’t gone back in time you wouldn’t have known Lawn was competent. You had heard of him, sure, but he would have never crossed your mind.”

“So we owe your existence to the damn time monks?” There was an angry edge to his father’s voice, but Wee Sam already knew his father was protective as hell. That was how he had gotten into this mess. Sort of.

“No. As far as I can tell, we owe it to some modern young idiots who thought they could go back and kill Vetinari. Time tries to fix things, and so you were sent back in time, to meet Lawn and Carcer went with you and killed Keel so there was a place for you to be and when you were done my life got saved and the monks were able to send me back to save Vetinari’s life and… Time is what it should be. Go us.” There was something about owing his life to terrorists that made him feel sarcastic.

“For all we know Vetinari or Rosie Palm might have recommended Lawn.” His father pointed out, which wasn’t a bad alternative. But it wasn’t what had happened, and there wasn’t really anybody they could ask. At least, nobody who they could ask who would give them a meaningful answer. They both knew Vetinari was a capable doctor, but apparently neither of them could imagine Vetinari getting involved in a problematic birth when there were other competent people around to do it.

More silence. Wee Sam noticed the time on the Tower of Art, and pulled his watch back out. If they were going to avoid talking about the massive argument they had that morning, he may as well take the time to re-set his watch.

“There was the sound of dice.” His father said so quietly that it didn’t initially register.

“Hm?” Wee Sam pushed the pin in, and watched with satisfaction as his watch and the tower struck the time at the exact same minute.

“Before the Library got struck by lightning. There was the sound of dice. Were the people who wanted to kill Havelock associated with a specific god?”

“I… Don’t know. They didn’t say anything about one.” He shut the watch, and shoved it in his pocket. ‘Havelock’ meant his dad was worried. “But there was a thunderstorm, right? Was the sound of dice rolling at the exact moment as the thunder?’

“Yes.”

“Io!” They both said it at the same moment, and Wee Sam felt his heart fall to his stomach. The self-proclaimed King of the Gods had been trying to subjugate their family for a long time. The only reason he had eased up lately was because Wee Sam had trained with the witches in Lancre. And so, to a lesser extent, had his father. It made them harder targets. But Io was still The Thunder God because he had murdered all the others. And then there was the question of who he would be forced to answer to. And how. Neither of the Vimes men had an axe sharp enough for that.

“Damn, why didn’t I realize that?” His father asked the night at large.

“The gods are always playing games. And besides, you had no reason to think Io was responsible for… Well he’s probably not responsible for the Dragon Incident, at least. Or the Goblin Incident.”

“Yeah, but we’ve been operating under the assumption that he was involved in that Dam Slam.” He was rubbing his thumb thoughtfully over the inside of his left wrist, where the Mark of the Summoning Dark had been. When Wee Sam was 8 it had changed, to a symbol generally called the Guarding Dark by anyone who cared to reference it. His father never talked about either Mark, but Wee Sam didn’t blame him. The Marks were indicative of 7 year period which did a number on his view of magic, and his identity.

Speaking of.

“I haven’t told Susan yet, but the monks kicked me out.” He tapped his toe against the grass, bringing it down as softly as he could so it wouldn’t damage the grass. Leggy would be so mad if he damaged his precious ‘terf’.

“Do you want to be a Monk?” His father asked quietly.

“No, I want to be a Watchman.” He whispered. Today was his 30th birthday, though technically he was a month older than that. He felt so much older than that. “But you’re apparently so terrified of me getting myself hurt that you’ve been doing Every Damned Thing you can think of to get between me and that and so I went ahead and tried to join almost any guild in the city and quite a few refused me and I’ve been kicked out of Each. And. Every. One. which would take me and now the only thing I can think of is taking Susan up on her offer to put in a good word for me with the Sto Lat Watch unless you’re going to step in and mess that up too and I wish you would knock it the hells off because as much as I love mum and her dragons I cannot spend the rest of my life working at the damn dragon sanctuary so--”

“Corporal.” His father’s voice was conversational, and somebody who had spent less time listening for the Commander’s voice probably wouldn’t have heard it.

“I’m not finished! Will you--” Wee Sam stopped abruptly. “Is that why you made me a Corporal? You couldn’t have recognized me. I hadn’t been born yet!”

“I recognized potential. And I was right, though you didn’t have as much control as I originally thought. Was all that sparring really necessary?”

“You’ve been standing between me and what I’ve been made to do!”

“And how would 50 year old me have known that?”

“It was easier to fight… him… than you.” Wee Sam grumbled, then realized he was starting to dig up the sod with his toe. Feeling bad about the grass, he brought his toe down in the other direction, to flatten it back down.

“Easier? I kicked your ass. I’d probably have a harder time of it now.”

“I never wondered if I should hold back.” Wee Sam admitted.

“Ah.” The 80 year old nodded. “I know that feeling. I’ve often wondered what it would be like if Vetinari and I had a proper fight when we were young.”

“You could sell tickets and solve all the city’s financial problems.” Wee Sam shifted his gaze to his father. “Actually you probably still could--”

“No. Your mother would have a conniption.”

“Oh right. Yeah, she would. Shame.”

“Do I want to know who you think would win?”

“No.”

“Your faith in me is staggering.”

“Well I figure either it would be a draw or he’d kick your--”

“Yes I understood your answer to my question, thank you.” But he was smiling ever so slightly.

And then the city’s clocks started chiming 9 in the evening. His father pushed himself slowly to his feet, and Wee Sam offered his arm. Cheery had offered to get his father an axe to use as a cane, but Commander Vimes would not hear of it. He did touch Wee Sam’s arm briefly, but once he was standing straight he let go, and the pair of them headed towards the exit.

They didn’t bother to try talking until the clocks had stopped, about five minutes after Wee Sam’s watch struck the hour.

“Did those people who tried to kill young Vetinari have any friends who stayed in our time?”

“I believe so.” They were walking slowly, and Wee Sam waited a full block before he added. “You want me to turn all my information over to anyone in particular?”

“I’m not afraid of you getting hurt.” It didn’t seem like a related response, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t. “I mean, of course I am, but that’s not why I’ve been saying no.”

“Really?”

“I don't want people treating you like a target for their hate for me. If you could join the way Carrot or Angua or Cheery did, that would be fine. But it’s gotten so big since they joined up.”

“Ah.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“I don’t think it would be any better if you joined anywhere else within the Clacks network.”

“Which is pretty much the whole world at this point.”

“And there’s all this scrying now.”

“Which doesn’t need towers.”

His father glared at him, but didn’t tell him to knock it off. “So I suspect your joining a Watch anywhere would ultimately be just as risky.”

“Which is your reasoning for why I shouldn’t bother with Sto Lat.”

“No, my reasoning for why you shouldn’t bother with Sto Lat is that we pay better and have the best medical benefits on the Sto Plains.”

Wee Sam stopped abruptly. “What.”

“You survived the Watch I started out in. As far as I’m concerned, you can handle today’s watch.” The old man stopped and looked back at him. “You’re going to be the oldest cadet though. Because I’m not going to let you jump straight to Corporal. We’re not at war.”

“Right. Yeah. That’s fine.”

“We’re going to be late if you don’t get moving.”

“Right.” Wee Sam managed to keep himself from skipping, so the pent up energy became a jog to his father’s side. They walked in silence, Wee Sam’s mind racing as he wondered if there was some way for him to accidentally mess this up.

“You should give your mother two week’s notice though. It’s only fair.”

“You didn’t run this by her first?” Wee Sam turned to him, shocked.

“Oh we’ve been talking about this for years.” The unspoken word ‘decades’ hung in the air between them. “Her, Vetinari, Carrot, Angua, Cheery--”

“Cheery?”

“She and Igor think you should be in forensics. I mean, it’s your choice of course-- after you pass the tests.”

“Forensics would be great.” He agreed, and thought about how fun it could be to put his Medical and Alchemical and Assassin training to something useful for once. Which reminded him “You know, there is a smouldering cigar in the center of The Garden of Inner City Tranquility at the Monastery.”

“Yeah, it hit me after you left. I had called you ‘sunshine’ during our fight, and Vetinari basically asked how you were handling turning 30, and seeing him standing there with the lilac pinned to his shirt it hit me.” He paused for a moment. “He wore it in the original timeline too, you know. I wish I had asked, but we didn’t get along as well then.”

Wee Sam felt his mouth tug into a half-smile. For his father and the patrician, ‘getting along as well’ involved an increased number of arguments. Also, he remembered ‘Keel’ using that ironic term of endearment during their spar. “You realized I was Ned Coats.”

“So I… walked as fast as I could… to the Monastery and… knocked on the damned door… And threatened to make one hell of a scene if Sweeper didn’t let me in.”

“So of course he did.”

“Of course.”

“And he took you to the garden. And… you told him what you worked out?”

“Actually I just told him that if anything happened to you I was holding him personally responsible. I knew Ned Coats died. I just didn’t know if he died the way John Keel died. I hadn’t stayed long enough to find out.”

“And what did he say?”

“He asked if my holding him responsible was more or less lethal than Susan Sto Helit holding him responsible.”

Wee Sam laughed. “Sweeper hasn’t met mum.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” His father chuckled quietly. “Anyway, Susan will be at dinner so you can tell her all about how the monks kicked you out with an audience. Your mother will find it interesting, I’m sure.”

“Does mum know about you going back...”

“Oh yes. Vetinari can’t keep a secret from her.” And neither could her husband.

“Will there be anybody at the dinner who doesn’t know?”

“Hm, no. I don’t think so. You were the only one who wasn’t in a position to make conversation then, and while Susan wasn’t involved in my adventure as far as I can tell…”

“But with Susan who knows. In any case, I think I’ll wait until we can get some privacy.”

“Suit yourself, but be warned. Everyone knows I told you I was ok with you joining the Watch. They’ll make a big deal about it. You know how they are.”

Wee Sam looked up at the big, brightly-lit, house as they waited for his dad to fully get his breath back. “I’ll try to be strong.”

Commander Sam Vimes snorted. Wee Sam opened the door, held it while his father entered the house, and followed right behind him.

[cordria]

Science

“What… the hell… are you doing?” Sam asked, pausing next to the boys at the park.

“Science,” Danny answered seriously. He had a notebook in his lap open to a page filled with some sort of data table, a pencil behind his ear, ectoplasm stains on his shirt, and surrounded by dozens of little blob ghosts. They crawled across his lap, played in the grass, and climbed his shirt. From far away, it almost looked like he was playing with kittens. Glowing, headless kittens.

Sam looked around. Nobody seemed to be paying attention to what was going on. The boys had chosen a spot near the trees where they were surrounded by small hills, making them hard to spot from far away. But still. “Science?” she asked.

“For sure,” Tucker said. He was lounging a half-dozen feet away from the ghost pile, holding the Fenton Thermos in his hands and blinking up at her with a confused look on his face. “Don’t you have a science project to do?”

“Yes,” Sam said, dragging the word out, still trying to figure out what was going on. “But…” She looked around again. How was nobody noticing this?

“But what?” Danny grinned at her, snatching up one of the blob ghosts that was trying to chew on his ear and holding it out to her. “Want one?”

Sam set down her backpack on the grass and knelt down, a cautious distance away from the ghosts, ready to get up and run at a moment’s notice. “No.”

“That’s too bad. It’s a cute one,” Danny said, tickling the little ghost. The blob curled up into a tighter ball at the touch, then started sending out little tentacles to curl around his finger.

After a few seconds of silence, Sam shook her head. “I still don’t get it. What are you doing?”

“I told you,” Danny said, “science. Our project.”

Sam turned to Tucker with a blank look. Danny often made odd mental leaps of logic when it came to ghosts that he couldn’t explain - likely something to do with his partly-ghost status - and perhaps this was one of those times.

“Oh, come on Sam, your class got the project too,” Tucker said. “We all have to run an experiment, right? Collect and analyze data?” He gestured towards Danny. “That’s what we’re doing.”

“You’re in the park, with ghosts, running a science experiment?”

“Yes,” Danny said. “That’s what I said.”

Sam was quiet. “How did you guys end up partners anyway? We got assigned partners.”

“Chocolate,” Danny said, leaning forwards with a grin that had a little too much ghostly sharpness to it. No doubt his eyes would be glowing green if they weren’t in such bright sunlight. “Two extra-large bars. And an explanation that we wanted to do this, of course, and why it couldn’t be someone else.”

“I still don’t know what this is!” Sam said.

“It’s our science experiment!” Danny shot back. “We’ve said that now, like, three times.”

Sam sighed and let it drop, pretty convinced she wasn’t going to get an answer. Tucker cocked his head at her, and she just waved her hand. “You do your… whatever. I’ll watch.”

“Trial four,” Danny said, pulling his pencil out from behind his ear and writing in his notebook. “Ready?”

Tucker hoisted the Thermos. “Ready.” The end of the Thermos glowed an eerie green. 

With a movement that was a bit too quick for a human, Danny snatched one of the blob ghosts and tossed it into the air. “One.” Tucker activated the Thermos when the ghost was at the top of the arc, pulling it in. Danny marked on his paper. “Two,” he said, throwing another blob ghost. Again it was pulled in, the paper was marked, and the process was repeated over and over.

Sam slowly sat down, crossing her legs and allowing herself to relax. It was hard with all the ghosts around. Now and then she glanced around, but nobody seemed to be aware of what they were doing.

“Eleven,” Danny called, hiking the ghost into the air. Tucker pulled it into the Thermos, and the device let out a beep. “And… it’s full.” Danny wrote on his paper, still covered in several dozen ghosts. He frowned. “I really thought this thing would hold more.”

“I thought you knew how much the Thermos held,” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I have a rough guess,” Danny said with a shrug. “But does it hold the same amount each time? And how does the power level of the ghost affect it? And,” he dug around in a backpack, shooing little ghosts away, “then we have this.” He pulled out a new Thermos. This one was quite a bit smaller and had a black and white color scheme, instead of the normal grey and green.

“What’s that?” Sam held out her hand.

Danny tossed it to her. “My parents built it. Fenton Thermos version… something. Four, I think. I want to see if it holds more.”

Sam turned it around in her hands. It was several inches shorter, and the radius was nearly half what the original was. “It’s cute,” she said. “Does it work?”

“Of course it works,” Danny said, wiggling his fingers in a request for it back. Sam tossed it to him. “My parents built it.”

“How much does the original one hold?” 

“Eleven level one ghosts this time,” Danny said. “147 GEUs.”

Sam wasn’t going to ask. She didn’t want to go back down the black hole path of her first question. But it came out anyways. “GEUs?”

“Ghost energy units,” Danny said. “I made it up. Sounds scientific, doesn’t it?”

Sam nodded. “Why…?”

“See,” Danny said, “the first time we ran this experiment, it held twelve ghosts. The second time it held only eight. I couldn’t figure out why there was such a difference. So obviously we needed a unit of measurement that was smaller than ‘ghosts’.”

“Obviously,” Tucker added, “like we didn’t have to email the teacher and ask what to do.”

Danny grinned at him. “And obviously there’s no existing unit for something smaller than ‘ghost’-”

“Obviously,” Tucker inserted, “like we didn’t call your parents and ask.”

Danny waved the other boy off, “So I made one up. I went through all the ghosts, and gave them numbers based on how much power they have. See,” he snatched up two ghosts. “These are both level one ghosts - technically - but this one,” he shook the ghost in his right hand, “is twice as powerful as this one,” he gestured towards his left hand. “So I decided that this one,” he held up the right ghost again, “will have 6 GEUs and the other will have 12.”

“He’s condensing hours and hours and hours of trial and error here,” Tucker added. “We started this a week ago. We’re on the sixth run-through of this.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “And all without my knowledge.”

Danny nodded. “Yes, Ms Save The Earth Club. All without your knowledge.”

“You digging on my club?” Sam asked with a scowl.

“Of course not,” Danny said quickly. “But you’re missing the cute ghosts, trying to clean up a creek nobody seems to care about.”

“Cute,” Tucker muttered, “is an opinion.”

Danny frowned at him. “And that is why they don’t like you.”

“Yes, it’s got nothing to do with the fact that I’m sucking them into a Thermos.”

“And people care about the creek,” Sam said as Tucker reversed the Thermos and dumped the blobs back into Danny’s lab. “I had seven people show up today; we got another hundred feet clean. The creek’s important, and the word is getting out.” She sighed. “It would help if you two would show up.”

“Science project,” the two chimed at the same time. 

Sam shook her head and leaned back. “Maybe next time.”

“Maybe,” Tucker said. He turned to Danny. “Are we getting consistent data this time?”

“Pretty close,” Danny said, sticking the end of his pencil in his mouth and pushing a few of the blob ghosts off his notebook. “This was 147 GEUs. The last time was 148. Time before that was 146.” He frowned down at the paper. “According to my mom, theoretically, the Thermos should hold exactly the same amount each time. So either her theory is wrong-”

“Well that never happens,” Tucker inserted sarcastically.

“-or we don’t have small enough units.” Danny’s mouth twisted. “Maybe we should reorganize the unit measurement and start over. Maybe...” He wrote something in his notebook.

“We’ve been doing this for a week,” Tucker said. “I vote against starting over. We’re getting good enough data for this project.”

Danny hesitated. 

Sam smirked. “You’re too like your mom. Got a thought in your brain and don’t want to give it up until it’s perfect.”

Danny scowled at her, pulling a ghost blob off his shoulder. “Am not. I just think if we did it… one more… time…” he trailed off, realizing his mother had said something similar a hundred times in his life - usually as an answer to the question of why supper wasn’t ready yet. The scowl turned into a dark frown. “Fine. You win that one.”

“So let’s wrap this up,” Tucker said, “and go catch a movie. We can do all the data analysis in class.”

It took Danny a few more seconds of staring down at his paper to say, “Okay. But let’s do the other thermos before we get going. If I followed my mom’s explanation about compression ratios and programming, this new Thermos should hold the same number of ghosts, even though it’s smaller.”

“Ghost energy units,” Tucker corrected.

“Well, yeah.” Danny said. “Catch.” He threw the new black and white Thermos at Tucker. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Tucker said. He positioned the new Thermos in his hands and thumbed the switch. The end glowed.

Danny hefted the first blob into the air. “One,” he called as it was sucked in.

“Why’d your parents change the colors on the Thermos, anyways?” Sam asked, leaning back on her hand and watching, mostly wondering how Danny had managed to smuggle several dozen ghosts to the park without being noticed.

“Maybe they think it looks cooler,” Danny said. “Two!” he called, lobbing another blob in the air.

Sam arched an eyebrow. “Your dad thinks Phantom’s color scheme is cooler than the Fenton color scheme? Really?”

Tucker glanced down at the Thermos. It was mostly black, with white highlights here and there. Then he glanced at Danny. “She’s got a point.”

Danny picked up a third ghost, but hesitated. “Maybe… they realized Phantom was just going to steal it and they didn’t want Phantom carrying around their tech.”

“So now you’re going with your dad doesn’t want the word ‘Fenton’ on everything, and all the free advertising Phantom gives them,” Sam said, watching Danny stroke the little ghost like it was a puppy. “That sounds like him too.”

“Look, I don’t know what goes through my parents’ minds,” Danny scowled. “Can we finish this and go watch our movie?” 

Sam hummed and watched Danny toss ghost after ghost into the air. 

Eleven. Then fifteen. Then twenty-one.

Danny hesitated. “Um… we’re way above the capacity of the old one.”

“I thought you said it’d hold about the same,” Tucker said.

“I thought that’s what she said.” Danny frowned. “Give me the new Thermos for a moment.”

Tucker handed it over. 

Danny studied it for a few minutes, twisting and turning it in his hands. Then he floated into the air and pointed the Thermos at the ground. It sucked up all the remaining blob ghosts at once.

“You still have one on your back,” Sam pointed out.

Twisting around, Danny snagged it, then held it in his hand and sucked it in. “What do you know, it holds all the little ghosts. Neat.” His feet settled back on the ground. “I suppose that makes ghost hunting easier.”

“Movie?” Tucker said, walking over and grabbing the notebook and stuffing it into his backpack.

“That’s my notebook,” Danny said, reaching for it.

Tucker pulled the bag out of Danny’s reach. “Like I’d trust you with a week’s worth of my data. You’d let a ghost eat it.”

“I wouldn’t let it,” Danny muttered, “but you may have a point.”

Sam got to her feet and snatched the new Thermos out of Danny’s hands. It was warm. “So we’re just going to ignore the color change to the tech your parents gave you.”

Danny shrugged. “For now.”

Tucker nodded and added, “We’ll figure it out later. Right now, it’s movie time.”

The two boys set off across the park and Sam trailed behind, studying the Thermos. Then she sighed and slung the strap over her shoulder, jogging to catch up with her friends. There was a new movie she’d been wanting to see - she just had to con the two boys into going with her.

[spicedcinnamoncake]

Clouds  Pairing: George Weasley x Hufflepuff Reader!  Summary: You always found clouds to be peaceful, big puffy balls of fluff just drifting across the sky. George often saw you sketching them from the Quidditch bleachers when the Gryffindor team practiced. Who is the mysterious person with a sketchbook? TW: fluffy 💕  3.6k words

  ‘Dang it!’ You stormed into your dorm and tossed a roll of parchment paper onto your bed. You followed it and buried your face into a pillow. How could you have failed Flitwick’s test? Again? 

  You had spent so many endless nights studying for that test only to fail it. You pressed your face into the pillow and screamed. Life is so unfair. 

  You needed to cool off, let out some steam before you burst. You grabbed the leather notebook from under your pillow and a quill and went outside. The quidditch pitch in particular. 

  The clouds were large and puffy, with faint purple outlines that showed against the china blue sky. You grinned when you saw that the bleachers were empty. You climbed up the stairs to the top and plopped yourself down in a seat in the middle of the row and flipped to a blank page and began to sketch the outlines of the clouds. You immediately felt calmer, watching the clouds drift and feeling the slow motions of your hands as they sketched out the clouds in small delicate strokes made you feel at ease.

After about half an hour of sketching, you heard some noises coming from the Quidditch pitch. The Gryffindor team was setting out for practice. You were slightly annoyed that the silence had faded, but other then that you didn’t mind. You had sketched many times while while they teams practiced, and as long as you didn’t get hit in the face with a ball you didn’t mind. 

  The sun was starting to go down, casting beautiful golden rays of light that bounced off the clouds. You pulled out a small pack of colored pencils and began to add some color to the picture. Reds, yellows, oranges, slight shades of purple... 

  “WATCH OUT!’ 

  You whipped your head up and screamed as a bludger was coming right at you. You closed your eyes and prepared for impact, when you heard a bang. 

  ‘You alright?’ 

  Your eyes peeked open. A boy with flaming red hair was hovering on a broom in front of you. The name ‘Weasley’ was plastered on the back of his jersey. 

  You recognized the beater as George Weasley, he had a slightly rounder face then his twin Fred, and was a bit taller too. His brown eyes gazed into yours and you blinked away shyly. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. You had had an attraction to the younger Weasley twin for some time now, and the fact that he just saved you like a knight and shining armor made you think that you were dreaming.  

  ‘I-I’m ok I guess. thanks’. You said it all in a rush. George just smiled and held out his hand. ‘George Weasley. You are?’ 

  ‘Y/N Y/L/N.’ you replied, shaking his gloved hand. He held your hand tightly, and your fingers just seemed to click together. 

  ‘I always see you up here. What do you do up here anyways?’ 

‘Just draw.’ you said, showing him the sketch you were working on. 

  ‘Wow, that’s really good! I-’ 

  ‘Ay George! Come back down mate!’ 

  George turned his head back down to the field. Wood was waving him down. He turned back to you and smiled. ‘I got to go, see you around’

  And with that he flew back down. You blinked. What had just happened? Why do you kind of want to throw up? What the heck brain? 

  You began packing up your stuff and put it in your bag. Looking at the finished picture in your sketchbook, you thought of how messed up your face would be if George hadn’t come to your rescue. 

  You smiled at the thought of his smiling eyes and comforting voice. You quickly brushed it off when you realized the sudden blush that was slowly filling up your face. The thought of George occupied your thoughts all throughout the evening, more then usual, like your feelings towards him had just gotten stronger. That is, until your best friend Cedric called your bluff. 

  ‘Y/N, what’s up with you? Your awfully quiet today. Anything wrong?’ Cedric nudged your shoulder, pulling you away from your thoughts. ‘What? oh, I’m fine Cedric. Anyways how was that game against Slytherin?’ You blurted this out all at once trying to change the subject. Besides, you were being silly. You just caught George’s attention, talked to him for about fifteen seconds, and you were already getting butterflies for the boy. Why was this happening? It makes absolutely no sense. 

  ‘Come on Y/N, I know somethings up. Spill.’ You sighed. Cedric looked at you with pleading eyes and you couldn’t say no to him. You drew a deep breath and told him all about your near-death experience and how George had saved you. You ranted about how you have had caught the feels for him in third year but you wanted yo ignore it. Cedric nodded, and chuckled at how red in the face you were. You elbowed him in the chest and proceeded to pick at your food. ‘Come on Y/N, that’s perfectly normal. Don’t stress about it, do something to take your mind off it.’ 

   You sighed and considered his words. ‘Thanks Ced, i needed to here that.’      But the feeling didn’t leave you. You wanted to disappear into the sky and turn into stardust, just floating amongst the stars and planets. 

----------------------------------------------time skip-----------------------------------------------   You clutched the folded paper in your hand, peeking at the drawing you finished yesterday. You had scrawled George’s name across the bottom with a ‘From Y/N’ on the top. You drew a breath and walked over to him in the hall. You two had potions together and you wanted to see if you could catch him before class. You gingerly walked over to him and tapped his shoulder. He was much taller then you, and when he turned around you instantly felt your knees weaken. 

  He smiled at you and brushed his red hair out of his eyes. Your heart fluttered. ‘Hey, your Y/N right? good to see you again.’ He grinned at you. You noticed the significant amount of freckles around his nose and splattering on his cheeks. You snapped out of your daze and cleared your throat. ‘Yeah, that’s me. I uh, just wanted to give you this.’ You shoved the paper into his chest and dashed off. What the heck was that! Rude... You mentally scolded yourself as you entered the potions classroom. 

  George opened the paper and grinned. He ran his fingers over the outline of the beautifully drawn clouds and traced the colored lines. The contrasts of blues yellows and purples all blended beautifully together. He smiled at the name scribbled on top and smirked. 

  ‘Ay Georgie! What have you got there?’ Fred came up from behind George and slapped him on the shoulder. George quickly stuffed the paper into his robe and turned around. ‘Nothing Fred, what’s up with you?’ 

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

  You couldn’t stop stealing peeks at George during potions. At once point you caught his gaze and held it. His brown eyes staring into your Y/E/C eyes. 

  The weeks had gotten longer and more frustrating as your crush on George Weasley grew stronger. Every single wave or “Hello” in the hallways made your heart flutter. Cedric has been telling you and telling you over and over to just ask him out or something, or else your feelings will just keep eating at you until something bad happens. 

  ‘Fine, if you won’t do something about it then i will.’ Cedric concluded, taking another sip of his pumpkin juice. Your face turned red and you shoved him. ‘Ced, please don’t do anything.’ Your nose scrunched up with embarrassment. ‘There’s nothing you can do to stop me Y/N, i can and i will talk to him for you.’ 

  Merlin. If Cedric did do anything about the matter, you would give him the biggest hug ever after chasing him around Hogwarts with a hippogriff. 

  You needed to cool off and get your mind off of things for a while. Curfew wasn’t for another hour, so you still had time. You grabbed your sketchbook and went back to the quidditch pitch. Nobody had practice around this time, so you decided to lay right in the middle of the sand. 

  You sighed as you opened your book to a blank page. You tried sketching a hippogriff from memory, you had seen them in many books about magical creatures and always found them fascinating.

  You heard footsteps crunching in the sand behind you. Tensing as you turned around, your shoulders went weak as you saw the tall figure hover above you. ‘Mind if i sit here?’ George asked, pointing at the space next to you. 

  ‘S-sure, go ahead’. George grinned and sat down next to you in the sand, causing a small cloud to rise from the ground. He smelled like evergreen, with a hint of cinnamon. His brown eyes shined in the late sun. He peered at your sketch book and you blushed furiously as he looked up to you. ‘wow, that’s really good. Hippogriff right?’ 

  You brushed a lock of hair out of your face and swallowed. ‘y-yeah. They are really amazing creatures.’ 

  ‘i bet,.’ You racked your brain for something clever to say, but all you could come up with was , ‘so what are you doing out here?’ George turned to you and looked down, making eye contact. ‘i was taking a walk. Plus, a little birdie told me you would be out here.’

  Cedric. Dang it Ced. 

  You felt your chest tighten. George started to talk more and you found yourself talking back. You quickly felt comfortable around him, and he seemed to notice. You two talked for what seemed like forever. You showed him how you sketched, and he seemed really interested. 

  ‘I really liked that picture you gave me, your brilliant at art Y/N.’ You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as you smiled. ‘Just a little thank-you gift for saving my face the other day.’  George smiled as you giggled. The bell for curfew rang and you sighed. ‘dang it, time to go already?’ 

  ‘aw, miss me already?’ George poked a finger at your shoulder and smirked. You rolled your eyes and smiled. His cheeks were slightly pinker then before, but you brushed it off. ‘Maybe’. You leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek before gathering up your stuff and skipping out of the quidditch pitch. you looked calm, but your mind was buzzing and your heart was racing like a machine that was given too much horsepower. 

  Had you really just done that? Did you just kiss George Weasley? Well, it wasnt exactly a proper kiss but it was still a KISS. 

  You ran into the hufflepuff common room and pulled Cedric into the hallway and threw your arms around his shoulders. ‘Thankyou thankyou thankyou!!’ 

  Cedric hugged you in return and laughed at how red your cheeks were. ‘Mind if you could set me up with Cho?’ 

  ‘with what you did for me, i’d convince her to date you for all i care. Thanks Ced.’ 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  You and George had been seeing each other a lot more since that day on the Quidditch pitch. He even bothered to walk with you to a few of your classes. It made you feel special. You liked the way he teased you in the halls, not in the annoying way, but in the sweet way. You noticed how sometimes he got flustered when you slid your hand into his or when you playfully punched his shoulder. His cheeks got considerably redder when you were around, and you noticed it. 

  You guys became friends, but Cedric kept calling it “Friends with benefits”.   You always blushed hard when he said that, but you still liked hearing it. You thanked him nearly everyday since he told George about you in the quidditch pitch. You managed to return the favor and got Cedric a date with Cho to Hogsmeade. 

  ‘Speaking of which, she asked me if i wanted to go with her again next weekend’ Cedric said, beaming. You two were by the fire in the Hufflepuff common room trying to get through some herbology homework. Your ears perked up at this news. ‘Dang Diggory, you scored her.’ Cedric laughed and suddenly got flustered. ‘I uh, may have told her that you and George would come with us...’

  You stopped writing, quill hovering above the parchment as you turned your head slowly to Cedric, like a dog looking at it’s prey. 

  Cedric laughed nervously, running a hand through his hair. ‘i may have told her it was going to be like a double date...’ You huffed out of your nose and threw a pillow from the sofa at his head. Everyone looked at you before going back to their own things. 

  ‘Ced what the heck! why would you tell her that!? Oh merlin i’m going to have to ask George myself now aren’t i? What if he says no or i screw up or-’ 

  Cedric pushed a pillow in your face to shut you up. You huffed and resumed writing your parchment. ‘I’ll ask him tomorrow. Hope your happy Diggory. 

  ‘Never better Y/L/N.’ 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------      You took a deep breath as you went up to George. He smiled when he saw you. ‘Hey Y/N, ready to go?’ He was walking you you to potions like he did every morning. You made conversation before dropping the question. 

  ‘Hey, um, George? Would, would you like to go with me to Hogsmeade?  Cedric is going with Cho and he invited us to go with them... if you want to obviously.’ You stammered this out as quickly as possible, blush creeping up onto your cheeks as the redhead looked down at you. He simply grinned and slid his hand into yours, intertwining your fingers in his own. His hands were soft, and held onto yours firmly. You felt safe in his grasp. ‘Of course i’d love to go with you, Y/N.’ 

  Your heart fluttered and you felt relieved. You had been so worried that he would say no or think that you were some sort of weirdo. It’s like a weight had been lifted off your chest. Wait, are you overreacting? Maybe- 

  The day for the Hogsmeade trip finally rolled around, and you woke up with butterflies. You had planned your outfit the night before and got dressed after waking up. You wore a gray T-shirt with your favorite muggle-band name plastered on the front. You slid into your jeans and laced up your boots before grabbing a sweater off your bedpost and going down to the common room to meet Cedric. He looked good in casual clothes, you were so used to either seeing him in his robes or in his quidditch jersey. 

  ‘Dang Ced, you look different’ you smirked, eyeing the nervous look in his eye. ‘so do you Y/N. come on, our dates are waiting.’ he winked and you rolled your eyes, but smiled nonetheless. 

  Cho looked amazing in her cream sweater and pleated skirt. She linked arms with Cedric and they began talking. George looked amazing- all chilled and casual. He had on loose jeans and a T-shirt that had the gryffindor symbol on it. 

  He blushed as you walked over to him. ‘wow. you look amazing’ he took your hand in his own, and you giggled and blushed. Maybe Ced was right about being friends with benefits. 

  The four of you walked behind the rest of the group, laughing and talking about school and lessons. After practically emptying your pockets at Honeydukes, you went to the three broomsticks for butterbeer. You loved how the warm beverage tasted in the crisp autumn air. It Felt so cozy in the three broomsticks, warm drinks, friends, resting your head on Georges shoulder....

  wait what

  You snapped your head up and turned red. ‘Y/N, you alright?’ Cho asked, taking another sip from her mug. you looked up and nodded your head vigorously before looking down at your boots. George squeezed your hand before leaning over and whispering; ‘it’s alright, i don’t mind it.’ 

  You looked up and smiled, resting your head in the crook of his neck. The afternoon wore on and before you knew it it was already time to start heading back to school. You were sad that the day was ending, but you had had such a wonderful time you didn’t dwell on it. 

  Cedric went to go walk Cho to her dorm, and George walked you up to yours. You invited him up into your dorm but he politely declined, saying that he had to go to a meeting for quidditch that Wood was holding in the Gryffindor common room. You didn’t mind, you understood perfectly. 

  ‘well, it was nice spending the day with you, George.’ you said before slipping into the hufflepuff common room. George grabbed your arm before you went all the way in a pulled you back outside, running his hand through his hair nervously. ‘something wrong?’ you asked, eyes widening as he gulped. 

  ‘i was just wondering if you would  meet me in the garden tomorrow before dinner. like, like a date maybe? just you and i?’ he asked, nervously chuckling at the end. he looked down at his boots before you cupped his face and pulled him in for a quick kiss. Just a small, sweet kiss on the lips. Georges eyes widened and kissed you back. You pulled away. ‘sure, its a date.’ you winked and then disappeared into the common room. 

  George was stunned. He stood there for a moment, rubbing his jawline were your delicate hand was moments earlier. He grinned and walked back to his own common room, blushing and smiling. Fred sure was going to have a laugh about this. 

  You dashed up to your room screamed into a pillow. You had no idea what came over you. You just, had the urge to do it. And the fact he kissed you back? You felt like you were on a rollercoaster. up, down, sideways, kiss a boy, up again, a long emotional train. 

  You couldn’t wait until tomorrow afternoon. as soon as your last lesson finished, you’d be at the gardens with George Weasley. Whee! 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The next morning at breakfast you were practically bouncing in your seat. Cedric noticed, but didn’t poke any fun at you. He himself had been awfully quiet as well, maybe something happened with Cho? Probably, he was awfully red. 

  You stole a quick glance at George, who was eating by his brothers, Harry and Hermione. George looked up and caught your eye. He winked at you and smiled. Fred followed his eyeline and began to laugh. George elbowed him and you giggled. Couldn’t time go faster? 

  Potions, charms, care of magical creatures, herbology, DADA, 

  Finally; the last lesson ended. You hurriedly packed up your quills and parchment and rushed to your dorm to drop them off. Once you caught sight of yourself in the mirror you stopped dead in your tracks. Sheesh, talk about bad hair. 

  After yanking on your hair for a bit, you dashed down to the stairs and outside. George was sitting on a bench near the shrubs. Once he saw you, he stood up and clutched your hand. ‘Didn’t think you would come’. you grinned and squeezed his hand. ‘wouldn’t miss it.’ You went to sit back down on the bench but George shook his head. ‘this is just the meet up place, not the actual location. That’s a surprise.’ 

  You grinned and let George lead you out of the castle and near the black lake. He put his hands over your eyes and walked behind you, leading you to this mysterious area. It was grassy for one thing, you felt it scratch against your ankles as you walked. ‘You aren’t planning on murdering me are you?’ You asked playfully. He just laughed.

  ‘Almost there, don’t worry.’ George said as he loosed his grip on your eyes. He pulled away, allowing your vision to adjust. you blinked rapidly, adjusting to the soft sunlight. There was a checked picnic blanket spread out in the grass near the black lake. It was simple, sweet, you loved it. You turned around to see George nervously running his fingers through his hair again, which made him look cuter. You smirked and ran over, hooking your arms around his neck, kissing his cheek. You felt his arms wrap around your waist and you buried your face in the crook of his neck. You felt his hands slide under your knees and he picked you up. 

  You laughed and pulled away, looking down at him. George was smiling from ear to ear. He put you down and you guys walked over to the blanket and sat down. ‘I was thinking about how much you told me about clouds, so i found this spot so we could watch them together.’ he said, slipping his hand into yours and squeezing it. You grinned and lay down next to him. The clouds were beautiful. 

  George propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at you. You smiled as he stared into your eyes and brushed a strand of hair out of your face. ‘Y/N, i need to confess something... i really, REALLY like you, and i have wanted to tell you that for so long. would you- would you perhaps want to be my girlfriend?’ 

  George looked so nervous it was cute. You put a hand on his shoulder and kissed his cheek. ‘of course i would, you dummy. i like you too.’ 

  He smiled widely, and leaned in to kiss you, while the clouds drifted above your heads. This, was the most perfect setting you could ever imagine. 

[soulwillower]

if you’re too shy • richie tozier

(richie tozier x cam girl!reader smut)

[based off the song if you’re too shy (let me know) by the 1975.]

requested: i can't find it lol BUT 🤍anon (i think) requested a fic based off of the 1975′s new song, if you’re too shy let me know !!

warnings: swearing, alcohol use, switch!richie kinda, smut, unprotected sex, a tiny bit of cumplay i guess, mentions of phone sex, oral sex (female receiving), face sitting, a bit of dirty talking, UNEDITED as always

also i wrote this in a different style than usual and idk if i like it much but u can let me know what u guys think,, if its weird i can go in and change the povs since its 3rd person richie

[losers + reader are 21+ in this.]

7.4k words lol

♡

i see her online all the time i'm trying not to stare down there while she talks about her tough time

"h-hey, man, who's that?" the voice from right next to richie makes him damn near leap out of his seat. it makes beverly chuckle a bit as she takes a bite of her apple, shaking her head. "it’s nobody." richie says quickly as he tilts his phone towards his chest and shoots a toothy grin to bill. his friend raises his full eyebrows, "wh-what, so n-nobody was sending you n-nudes?"

"something like that." richie mutters, stomach fluttering as the image flashes in his mind’s eye - the curves, the dark red lace, the plush skin painting a perfect scene in richie’s vivid imagination.

richie looks back down at the photo. his his thumbs hover over the profile picture; he'd found her originally on his instagram explore page, the photos teasing and immediately he had to know more. y/n.

and then a few days later, he'd subscribed to her only fans, which he never quite thought he'd do with anyone, but he couldn't help it. she was so enticing, so perfect and so alluring. it was the playfulness that pulled him in; and he swears he's never lusted after somebody like he has with her. it was kind of starting to freak him out.

"is that o-onlyfans?" bill says and richie shoves bill's nosy face off his shoulder with a panicked grunt. "fuck off, mushmouth."

bill laughs and stan and bev perk up from across the table, staring at the two, interests suddenly piqued. "did you subscribe to a girl's onlyfans, rich?" stan says with a grin, setting his pen down on his notebook. 

richie just smirks and wiggles his brows a bit, enough to confirm his question. bill chuckles from next to richie.

"let me see." bev says, wiggling her manicured nails in a "gimme" motion. richie hands his phone over with red cheeks. normally he wouldn't care about his friends discovering he's paid money just to see a hot chick's bod, but this was different. for some reason, he felt connected to her. god, that thought made him want to slam his head against a brick wall. she doesn't even know him,  for all he knows she could live in the middle of.... montana, or like, ohio.

bev whistles and stan nods, "if i looked like that," bev mumbles as she tosses richie's phone back towards him, "i'd do that too. mad props."

noises of agreement fill the table but richie's just looking at the small smirk that peeks from the corner of one of the photos and he can't help but wonder what her eyes are like in real life. he wishes he could meet her.

girl of your dreams, you know what i mean there's something 'bout her stare that makes you nervous and you say things that you don't mean

it's a cold day when bill and richie find themselves stumbling in to the coffee shop for a drink. bill's muttering about some girl in his creative writing class that gave him head when richie's eyes catch a figure so familiar yet foreign that he stops dead in his tracks. bill turns to him, face confused. "r-richie, what's wrong w-with you?"

richie shakes his head, stammering in disbelief, "that-that's her, bill. the girl, from onlyfans. y/n." he whispers, gesturing with his eyes towards the girl working the register.

bill’s jaw goes slack, green eyes raking over her form and igniting richie’s stomach with boiling rage. as if bill’s doing something that only richie is allowed to do – as if they're not both being total creeps.

“h-holy sh-shit. she’s b-beautiful.” bill mumbles. richie elbows him in the ribs, shooting him a glare that prompts an eye-roll from his auburn haired friend.

richie swallows and watches, his throat feeling like sandpaper as she laughs at something the customer in front of them said. bill nudges richie, "i-i'm gonna get a s-seat. t-talk to her."

he winks and grins as he walks away, leaving richie with his reckless self. he thinks he's sweating through his sweater as he walks up, finding himself face-to-face with her. "hi, how can i help you?" she asks, giving him a smile

holyshitholyshitholyshit.

he might've just came right then and there. okay, he's gotta say something cool, something smooth. don't be a dumbass, tozier. 

"howdy, sugar. i'll have my coffee like i like my women." his mouth blurts as his brain sirens go off, PUT ON THE BRAKES, RICH – "a hot shock to the lap.”

she glares at him, cheeks light pink and eyebrows pulled together in annoyance and yep, richie's probably going to get hard because of that look but he's also probably going to toss his body off a bridge because what the fuck, tozier?

he can hear bill laughing quietly from a ways away and he quickly shakes his head, muttering quietly, "jail. jail, richard."

"funny." she deadpans, clearly not amused. because of course she isn't.

"sorry, i'll have a black coffee, y/n." he mutters, eyes widening to himself when he realizes she was not wearing a goddamn name tag and he just said her name.

this is a disaster. she gives him a bewildered, slightly creeped out look and if richie wasn't panicking, he'd gape at how she still managed to be effortlessly gorgeous even now.

he sighs, shaking his head, the door of the cafe opening and blowing a gust of frigid air through the warm room. fitting - douche chill. 

"look, toots, i don't want this to be weird. i- um, i recognize you." he says, cheeks aflame. she raises a brow, face straight for a few moments, unsure what he means.

it's not long after when recognition flashes over her own face - must have ruled out coffee shop, university and her local gym - and she nods with a tight, almost uncomfortable smile. 

he tries not to think of the livestream he watched last night where she showed all her new gifts and modeled lingerie, and how he’d spent his time to himself with his left hand immediately after watching. his cheeks are red with shame. 

"okay." is all she says, writing down a scribbled order on the coffee cup. her eyes shoot back up and give richie a once-over that really makes his fingers itch - god, why did he have to be this way? 

he almost runs his fingers through his curls but decides against it, eyes opting to focus on her own gorgeous eyes as they meet him. "i'm impressed i have a fan who looks like you, i must say. even if you are a complete jack ass." she purrs and his jaw nearly smacks the floor at its velocity as it flies open.

"what's that supposed to mean?" he asks then with a small grin, flattered at the tiniest of compliments that just barely, in his mind, eclipsed the insult that he so very much deserved.

"i'm saying you're kind of a dick. it's too bad, because you're real cute." she says casually, handing him his change. his stomach flips and butterflies release in his chest, a feeling that he's not felt in almost five years.

but damn, of course he messed up - he got the chance to talk to the hottest girl on earth and he started it by saying an awful joke that wasn't funny at all. of course she though he was a dick, he is one.

he's shocked, though, as he waits for his coffee with bill, who is still snickering into his hand every few moments, to find his coffee cup with extra sharpie scribbled on the white paper. a name.

y/n. and below it is a phone number with a small heart scribbled, and richie can't tell if it's a seven or a one but he figures he'd try every phone number in the damn state if it meant he could fucking text her. holy fuck.

"maybe i would like you better if you took off your clothes i'm not playing with you, baby i think that you should give it a go" she said, "maybe i would like you better if you took off your clothes i wanna see, and stop thinking if you're too shy, then let me too shy, then let me know"

he didn't text her for two days and three hours. yes, he counted it. no, he won't think about why he was obsessing over the numbers - but since the time he'd finally had found the courage to text her today, things have escalated proficiently. 

she'd just mentioned how hot it was in her apartment since her heater had gone haywire - even though the winter winds were cold, she'd claimed she was burning up in what she was wearing.

and the mere mention of her clothing had sent richie into somewhat of a spiral, spending at least seven minutes glued to his phone and scrolling through the saved album he had of those photos of her that she'd posted; his sweatpants getting increasingly tight and his palm suddenly aching to slip through the fabric and find some release.

but, in true trashmouth fashion, he apparently needed that sweet, sweet rejection from a hot cam girl he'd somehow weaseled into getting the number of in order to wank off properly, so he types out a text and hits send immediately.

what are you wearing?

and then he almost vomits in embarrassment – what was she going to think? did he just royally fuck up? oh god, he’s going to have to shave his head and move to canada.

his phone buzzes and he nearly passes out when he lays his eyes upon the image attached – there her body is again, curvy and full and beautiful, her skin glowing in the fading light of what he assumes is her bedroom. and with it:

this. what are you wearing, rich?

and then he pulls his gaze from his phone and stands, breathing heavily because holy shit.

he's gotten nudes before, but.... none from someone like her. holy shit.

he walks to his bathroom, splashing water on his beet-red cheeks. he swallows, staring at himself in the mirror. fuck.

he slaps his cheek once, then winking at himself in attempt to muster any sliver of confidence. and then he snaps a picture, only in his boxers.

and then he has to physically refrain from making a joke about wearing the same lingerie set as her, instead sending a flirty text that he knows any other woman would blush at. he just doesn’t know with y/n, and maybe that’s why he loves it so much. she's keeping him on his toes.

you like what you see?

he sends that one afterwards, shaking his head because oh my god, she's going to respond with "no" and then bill him $40 for the nude she sent him. not that he wouldn't pay, but...

his phone dings and he nearly breaks an ankle running to his desk. 

yeah, i do. but maybe i'd like you better without any clothes on.

he almost yells out loud at this, but he has a feeling that waking up stan in the middle of the night would not be optimal after their 'roommate agreement' they'd made that explicitly states richie cannot scream between 1am - 9am. so instead he smirks to himself, face turning red.

he's getting harder by the moment, and as he stares at that picture she'd sent earlier, he lets out a breathy groan. the lace....

we could face time yk

or we don't have to.

he reads her words in live time, watching the thought bubble appear again and watching it like a hawk. he can just imagine her sitting there with a small smirk as another text comes in and he almost groans as his dick twitches.

like, if you're too shy or something ;)

he stares at the screen for two seconds at that sinful photo she'd sent just before those texts and then sighs, shaking his head and pressing the green face-time call button.

i've been wearing nothing every time i call you and i'm starting to feel weird about it sometimes it's better if you think about it this time, i think i'm gonna drink through it

three days later, richie was undeniably and unequivocally drunk. but, as he's just explained about three times to mike, he knows that it is just easier to not think right, especially about her, right now - and the best way to do that is by getting so piss drunk that even if he tried to "hit her line," as he so eloquently put it, his dick would be too whiskey'd out to make a full appearance.

it's for the best. mike had fake gagged at richie’s cadence with a laugh, but richie was dead serious because he was starting to think he had a real issue.

it was obviously just a fun thing to do between two near-strangers, but he'd found that he was starting to almost pavlov-style condition himself into getting turned on every time the name y/n came across his recent texts or face times, and it was getting to be too much.

especially when her post notification popped up and he cracked a fatty in the middle of his econ lecture. christ, the point of elasticity of markers in the u.s. was not something he pictured when he usually had to quell a pitch in his tent. so yeah, it's too much.

because yes, he loves her fucking body and wants nothing more than her, but in truth he longs for the feeling of her skin against his; to touch her, to kiss her, to make her his. all the time.

but yet, it was just a good way to get off without all the strings and ribbons and yarn and whatever the fuck her soft-looking knit bra is made from attached.

so much for not thinking about her.

but i see her online (and don't think that i should be calling) all the time (i just wanted a happy ending) and i'm pretending i don't care about her stare while she's giving me a tough time

it’s noon the next day and he's laying in (for some reason) stan's bed instead of his own with a blinding, mind-splitting headache and an insatiable craving for a cheeseburger, eyes squinting in lust and something akin to shame as he watches the livestream y/n had just started. she’s in a slip – a very thin, silk and see through slip and it makes him more frustrated than he’s willing to admit.

as he stares at her smooth skin and wonders how it'd be to touch it all, her eyes catch something in the chat and she smiles coyly. "hi, rich." she purrs and richie almost chokes - holy shit, she saw him join.

"do you like my gift i just got?" she asks coyly, snapping the straps of her bra with a small smile and he stiffens almost instantly, thinking of how many times he'd seen her skin in videos and photos that were just for him.

how she'd moaned his name two nights ago on face time, her fingers buried inside herself slightly off-camera. and oh, how he wishes he could see all of her, but they'd not crossed that line yet - anything they'd done hadn't been yet proven visually, only from facial expressions, noises, and the brutal honestly of being together through face time.

he wants her so fucking bad, he needs her like he needs water to drink and air to breathe and it's murdering him as he watches her react to the chat of her livestream, playing with the hem of her black lace panties.

god, he needs a cold shower or something if he's going to get anything done today.

and then he's calling her an a few hours after her stream ends because he just can't wait - he feels his stomach twist with shame as he realizes he should not be doing such a certainly a terrible idea. but she answers after three rings. "richie." her siren voice purrs and he literally feels himself fall deeper into the pit.

"hi there, toots. got any coffee in the pot for me?" he asks, sounding surprisingly eloquent compared to how she normally makes him feel. 

she hums in fake thought, and it makes richie grin. she's fucking adorable. "come to the shop, i have my break in ten." and then she hangs up. he sighs, rubbing his face with his hand as he shakes his head. he's utterly fucked.

he's there in record time, a smirk plastered on his face as he walks in and sees her sitting at a table, lookin' all pretty. just for him.

"what made you think of calling?" she says in loo of a greeting. he sits across from her and wills his eyes to meet hers. "nothin' toots." he says with a half shrug, taking a sip of the coffee placed in front of him that has the the name 'dick' written on it in her handwriting. he rolls his eyes affectionately.

"oh, so it wasn't anything to do with my livestream this morning?" she asks with a look, eyeing him. her eyes are swimmable, they hold so many stories and secrets and maybe richie's just hungover, but he's feeling very flustered.

"we-w, uh, no. what... what are you talking about?" he rolls his eyes at himself inwardly, cursing stuttering bill and his contagious speech patterns. "-i don't know what you're talking about, sugar." he recovers fairly smoothly, if he may toot his own horn. and honestly, he can pretend not to care as long as he doesn't look into that goddamn stare of hers.

he chuckles awkwardly, cheeks aflame as she stares at him with a bored look and a small hum. she still looks perfect and he's even more nervous now, because oh god, oh fuck, he's gonna get slapped in the face by y/n.

it was pretty unspoken since they'd started doing... stuff... that richie probably still watched her content online, but she'd never fully addressed it until today during the livestream in front of a thousand others. 

he's choking on his spit in shame but then a smile splits her face and richie's sure he's suffocated on his own saliva and gone to a sinner's heaven. or maybe hell.

"oh, richie, i'm just teasing you. look at your face!" she says with an airy laugh, pinching his cheeks and making him want to shrivel up as he turns even redder. what the fuck? "-so cute. alright, i've got to get back to work. i'll see you around, rich." she says with a wink, taking her coffee and tossing it into the trash bin as she stalks towards the employee back room.

he gapes as he watches her leave and then gets up and makes his way to the exit, clutching the coffee like it was trying to jump out of his grasp and make a run for it. god, she's too much.

"maybe i would like you better if you took off your clothes i'm not playing with you, baby i think that you should give it a go" she said, "maybe i would like you better if you took off your clothes i wanna see, and stop thinking If you're too shy, then let me too shy, then let me know"

"-babe, you'll have to try harder than that." richie says with a chuckle, watching his phone screen as the beautiful girl on face time gives him a sly, challenging look. she's in a green lace bra, one richie's not seen yet and he can feel himself stiffen as she absently trails her fingers over her chest.

they'd been much closer over the last week since he last saw her in person, enough so that in the three-is weeks of knowing her, he's positive he's head over ass for her in a way that he shouldn't be. and yet, she still comes back every time, still texts him and answers those face time calls. he's baffled, honestly.

"i know you hate me because i'm right." he adds, not even totally remembering what point he's trying to prove as y/n shifts back a bit and more of her body is revealed, her hair glowing dimly in the soft lighting of her room. his eyes run over her curves, her full thighs and stomach and hips that fill over her panties and he almost groans.

"whatever, maybe i'd like you better if you took off your clothes." she says coyly. and richie's half flattered, as usual, but the more he thinks of it the more deflated he feels. he kind of thought they were growing something more than just getting each other off over face time like horny fifteen year olds. he grins nonetheless.

"you say that a lot, you know." richie says breathlessly as he stares at her. she tilts her head ever so slightly and grins, biting her lip as her eyes move around her screen with a conflicted look. "-why?" he adds.

she hums again.

"well. okay, so there's the visual world - like, the internet, onlyfans, instagram- it tells us that everything is amazing. and we should want everything. and it makes us yearn for everything that we don’t have and everything that’s unobtainable. you know, love, a relationship beyond physical. and even physical, it's different when it's online."

her words confuse him much more than they aid him. "you think... that because of the internet, love is unattainable?" he asks with furrowed brows, unsure how somebody so perfect and, quite frankly, lovable, would think that.

"it is for me." she says it with a small sense of forlorning but mostly it's whispered. enough that richie's heart skips a beat and he's, for the first time, not having a hard time keeping his eyes on her face instead of her body.

"what?" he asks dumbly. she just laughs, shaking her head and he stares at her on his tiny phone screen in the dark.

"that’s something that, you know. in real life, person to person, it has a lot of connotations of... trust and vulnerability and connection. doing what i do- and what we're doing… on the internet - it has the opposite of those connotations. like, before you, i didn't- i didn't really do this, i just was selling stuff. because guys don't want to fuck the girl who sells her body online. and you know now, i want to..." she trails off and richie doesn't dare interrupt her because he thinks she's about to say something he's wanted to tell her for a while now.

"i don't know, i guess. exploring someone's body in physical presence isn't seen at all as voyeuristic, or anything apart from...like, an intimate exchange." she says it casually, brushing hair from her face and shit, richie's swooning. he's in fucking love, he knows it, because y/n is so smart and intelligent and he's so fucking trashed for her. as she speaks, her hands move and distract him slightly from her body, doused in blue light from the screen and splayed out for him and only him on her phone camera.

the soft lace on her hips and chest make his body stiffen and it causes him to suppress a groan as she sighs, but richie knows he can’t screenshot this heavenly sight because she’ll definitely notice and she can probably already tell he’s having a hard time not staring at her alluring figure as she talks.

"-whereas, you know. as soon as it happens on the internet, it becomes kinky and cam-girly. and, you know, that's fine. i love doing it. it's just, i'm not sure where the authentic communication even is now. or if i get to have a happy ending." she says and he finally sees her blush for the first time.

he wishes he was there with her, he wishes that he could touch the redness on her cheeks and caress her curvy body and taste her skin on his tongue. he wants to feel himself inside her, he wants to be with her and kiss her lips and yet he can't, so he sighs and shifts in his position, moving to turn up the brightness of his phone so he can see better.

"shouldn't you get to be the one to decide that, doll?" is all he adds. because he feels kind of lost and just as confused as y/n is with this.

he's starting to feel weird about it, because... is this authentic? what makes things like hookups or whatever the hell they've been doing authentic? shouldn't this be easy? it's just phone sex, phone sex with a really hot girl.

a girl who is complex and alive and full of sincerity and richie is definitely falling harder than he should.

she just sighs but makes no other comment. and then they just stare at each other, richie's face illuminated in his dark room by the phone's reflection.

well, i found a motel it looked like the bins i think there'd been a murder so we couldn't get in i need to get back i've gotta see the girl on the screen

"come over and watch a movie with me." he says into the phone, biting his lip. the silence from the other end of the line is deafening as she makes her decision, because they both know she's not about to come over just to watch the shining or psycho. 

they've never done that before, and richie knows if she does come over, then whatever they have will crash down in a fiery mess. and he hates how excited that makes him as he waits in silence for her to drop the ball. so to speak.

"okay." she says, sounding shocked herself, and richie can't contain the excited grin from eclipsing his face. "yeah?" he asks breathlessly, and she's quiet for a little longer. "yeah. text me your address." 

she hangs up after that, and richie's thumbs shake as he types his address and sprints out to where stan, mike, ben, and bill are playing video games in he and stan's living room, wheezing at all of them to get out because someone fucking unbelievable is about to walk through that door.

she's there about an hour later, cheeks flushed when richie opens his door, looking just as nervous and flustered. "hi, chee." she says breathlessly, staring up at him with those goddamn eyes, the eyes that pulled him in the first time. his stomach flips in affection at her nickname and he offers her a drink as she takes in his shitty apartment. he wonders briefly if stan ended up buying that rosé that he'd given him shit for considering, and then prays that stan will stay the night elsewhere.

she's already pouring out glasses of wine when he snaps back to reality, and he grins at her, mumbling in thanks as she passes him a glass that's certainly poured almost to the brim.

"what are we watching, then?" she asks coyly, lifting a brow at him. his cheeks are red, but he tugs her arm down the hall towards his room with a grin, their wine sloshing from their glasses as they move erratically.

"we're watching psycho, y/n/n." he says as he pulls her into his room, glancing back to see she's already swallowed down almost half her glass, a lipstick stain on the side of it. faintly he knows stan will be frustrated if richie doesn't clean that off, but he's more distracted by her lips.

"i like psycho." she says with a nod and a cheeky grin, "the whole 'voyeuristic gaze' thing with hitchcock." she mumbles, and richie recalls faintly learning about that in one of his film classes freshman year and he grins as he takes a hefty gulp of his rosé, figuring he's already given himself away and if she's going to do that, he can too.

he hums, setting down his glass and grabbing hers to set it besides his on the bedside table. he turns around, intending on grabbing his laptop so they could watch the film, but she's so much closer that he'd expected and her hands fall onto his shoulders and he almost shits himself.

unpleasant, but honest. just richie's style.

"can i try something?" she asks with a grin, and richie nods, knowing that she could do anything to him and he'd gladly let it happen and most likely pay out of pocket for the damages afterwards.

and then she's pulling him from her grip on his shoulders, her lips sliding against his and making him grip her hips. his mind almost explodes at with y/n-sensory-overload because he feels her everywhere - on his lips, against his hands, on his shoulders, and pressing against his front.

her lips taste like chamomile and rosé.

she thinks his lips taste like vanilla and cigarette smoke, just as she'd always imagined. he feels so real, pressed against her lips and his body against hers, and she sighs as her tongue slips into his mouth because god, she's needed him for so long. and now she has him.

his hands move, touching every inch of her as their tongues fight for dominance. she pulls back, smirking as she gently pushes him onto his mattress, sliding onto his lap smoothly afterwards, grinding her hips against his slowly.

the moan he emits is heavenly and she could cry because she finally gets to hear it in person and not through the crackling static frequency of the phone.

so she grinds down on him again, eager to feel all of him. he's hardening against her core and she whimpers into his mouth in need as his fingers slip under her top, rubbing circles on her bare skin and making her shiver. she's noticed to this gentleness; it was rare when she did get to enjoy the comfort of another body with her own, and when she did they were hardly half as loving or caring as him.

she's desperate now, she needs to feel him inside her after all these weeks of teasing and waiting, so her hand snakes down to palm him through his sweats. he lets out a small groan into her mouth, biting her lip as he pulls back slightly. their eyes meet and his are hooded with lust, lips parted as she pumps him slowly from outside his sweats. his hips buck up lightly into her palm and she smiles gently, kissing him slowly.

"let me make you feel good, y/n." he mutters, eyes pleading as he stares up at her. her stomach flutters with butterflies and she nods, shocked that he wants to pleasure her.

he gently pulls her off his lap until she's laying on his mattress and he stares down at her, biting his lip as he takes her in. he can't fucking believe she's really here. she slowly pulls off her top, leaving her in her bra and jeans as she stares up at him with a wry, seductive smile. then she unzips her jeans and slides them off, leaving her in his favorite set of hers - black, lacy, and revealing. she looks utterly stunning and he groans, his hands falling to run over the skin, tracing the lace on her breasts. her cheeks are red as she gazes up at him.

"touch me, richie." she orders and he almost groans as he drags his lips over the valley of her breasts, sucking on the soft flesh and admiring the splashes of budding purple and pink that he's created. her heartbeat is quick under his fingertips and he moves to unclip her bra, kissing her skin as the fabric falls away.

she's slightly cold in his room, and goosebumps appear over her flesh as richie leans to catch a nipple in her mouth, flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud. she lets out a quiet whine that has richie rutting into the mattress next to her, his fingers trailing down to dance at the waistline of her underwear.

and then he's pulling aside her panties, his fingers running up and down her slick folds and making her jump in lust. he can't wait, just like her, and he's rubbing her clit teasingly as she pleads, "chee, please."  her eyes are eyes closed in bliss as his finger slips inside her, crooking slightly as he moves it. he presses his lips to the skin of her breast, pumping his finger and then soon adding another, crooking them both in a way that makes her let out guttural moans of pleasure. he marks her breasts with littered pink and red marks, smiling to himself at her figure.

she can't help but swoon as she watches him, his hair in his face slightly until she brushes it back, his fingers curling inside her and making her gasp, pleasure coursing through her body. his thumb softly comes up to rub her neglected clit and she grabs his shoulders to steady herself, the pleasure almost too much.

she's honestly slightly shocked - knowing richie as little as she really does outside of the literal booty calls at two in the morning and the accumulative forty five minutes they'd spent in person, she'd expected him to be... well, good. just good. because there's no way someone so funny, caring, and smart could also be that good in the sheets.

but right now, he's making her see goddamn stars.

"i've been wanting to touch you for so long, sugar." he mutters, eyes raking over her figure as her breath comes in stuttering gasps. she watches him with blown-wide eyes as his demeanor changes right before her, making her fall apart at his fingertips.

"that feel good, honey?" he asks, smirking as she whimpers, clenching around his fingers. "yes, god you feel so good." she utters, making him groan in approval from where he's sat back, watching her face contort in pleasure. she lets out another moan and richie stares at her body, watching his fingers as they fuck into her. he can't take it, then.

"will you sit on my face, doll?" he blurts, and she nearly yelps out as his fingers leave her. it's abrupt, but she's started to notice that this is how he operates - impulsivity is his second nature. and she loves it.

her face burns as she nods, the thought of richie under her making her whimper with anticipation. "yes, richie, please." she moans out again and he's grinning, laying back on the mattress with a wink. "c'mere, need to taste that pretty little pussy." he mutters and she feels herself clench around nothing, desperate for him as she swings a leg around to straddle his head.

immediately, his hands wrap around her thighs, thumbs smoothing over her stretch marks as he stares up at her, eyes glinting with desire. slowly, his finger pulls the seat of her lace panties to the side and his breath hits her bare, throbbing pussy, making her breath hitch. she cards her fingers through his hair and lowers herself slightly, gasping in shock as his tongue darts out to lick a bold stripe up from her entrance to her clit.

"chee," she moans out, tightening her grip in his hair and sending a groan through his body that reverberates and makes her shiver. his lips attach to her clit and fiery pleasure snakes through her body making her legs shake, a moan escaping her lips immediately. he sucks lightly before releasing to swirl his tongue, her moans making richie impossibly harder through his sweats.

"so good, rich." she mutters and he groans, tongue spreading her wet folds and slowly prodding at her entrance, dipping in slowly before pulling out, teasing her.

she can't help but grind down slightly, making richie grip her tightly, tongue sliding into her again and making her yelp. "you taste so good, baby." he mutters lowly before slowly reattaching himself to her heat, her eyes rolling slightly at the sensation as he fucks his tongue into her. one of his hands snakes up to her ass, gripping it tightly and then slapping it, the stinging pleasure making her buck her hips against him, emitting a hiss from her.

"rich, i-" she cuts herself off with a sharp gasp, the pleasure from richie's mouth making it increasingly harder to speak. her toes curl and her head tilts back as his tongue flicks over her clit, teeth grazing it slightly and making her buck.

she's embarrassingly close already, and judging by the way richie's smirking under her, he can tell. "please, please." she mutters, hips rocking on him as his tongue swirls, nipping softly at her clit and making her cry out. "please, make me cum, 'chee." she mutters and his tongue moves quicker, hand slapping her ass again.

and then she's clenching her thighs on either side of him and grinding down as she hits her peak, moaning quietly as she shakes in pleasure on top of him. he rides through her high, lapping at her and pulling away with a grin as she moans his name dejectedly. she's worn out from the best orgasm she's ever had and he gently nudges her so he slides in between her thighs, her back now on the mattress. he kisses her cheek and she keens quietly.

"fuck me, richie." she mutters, eyes still closed. his eyes snap to hers, surprised at the dominance in her voice after how she was two seconds ago.

he moans quietly, kissing her deeply as he ruts against her and relishes in the feeling. he's pulling off his sweats and boxers in record time and then he's pumping himself as he grips her hips, turning her so she's on her stomach, ass propped up slightly. his hand runs over the smooth skin of her ass, snapping the elastic of her panties and making her moan quietly.

then he's lining up her hips with his, pulling aside the lacy seat of her underwear to press against her entrance. he waits a moment as he leans to press a soft kiss to her spine, slowly easing into her. she moans loudly as he eases in, her face pressing against the pillows. she smiles as she smells the scent she'd just recently come to know as his, his cock stretching her and filling her up fully as he buries himself to the hilt inside her.

"so tight, sugar." he mutters and she whimpers, getting antsy as she adjusts to his size. "richie, please, need it so bad." she mutters, bucking her hips back against him in need.

"say that again." he mutters, sounding strangled, and she grins into the sheets. "please fuck me, richie. need it so bad, need to feel you ruin me." she whimpers, chest fluttering in anticipation. his hands grip her hips as he pulls out of her slowly, almost as slowly as he entered, before stopping almost all the way out. she moans loudly in pleasure as he pushes back in, snapping his hips against hers and filling her completely.

she briefly thanks god that his roommate seemed to be out for the night as she moans his name loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

he sets a brutal pace, his cock thick as it fills her up and makes her toes curl. he pushes her hair away from her neck and presses kisses to it as he hits a spot inside her that makes her scream his name. his fingers move to pinch her nipples, rolling them as he fucks into her.

she's completely blissed out at the feeling of him inside her, so glad that he invited her over and that they finally get to touch each other. "rich, oh my god." she emits, eyes squinted shut in complete pleasure.

"fuck, toots, takin' me so well, aren't you?" he asks, hands kneading her ass before slapping her right ass cheek harshly, making her arch her back. at the new angle they both let out a groan and richie knows he'll fucking cum too soon if they stay like this, so without warning he pulls out completely.

y/n whines, breathing heavily as his hands come to flip her around. now on her back, they make eye contact and she bites her lip, pulling him in for a searing kiss that knocks the wind out of both of them. images of richie in his room alone, snaps and late-night face times play through her mind as he grips her and slides her hips down towards him on the mattress and lines himself to her again, pulling her legs up so they're against his chest before pushing in.

he gives no time to adjust to this angle and it makes her moan loudly as he hits a spot deep inside her that pulls her closer and closer to her second orgasm.

his name leaves her cherry lips like a mantra and he can't stop staring at her as he fucks her into the mattress - the way her tits bounce with his brutal pace, the way her face is twisted in pleasure, the way she clenches and spasms around his cock.

one hand grips her breast, rubbing her nipple with his thumb and forefinger as he kisses her again, addicted to her taste as he feels himself coming closer and closer to the edge.

"chee, fuck, right there." she moans out and he groans in pleasure, the feeling of her walls clenching around him making his hips stutter. he keeps his thrusts up, though, as her fingernails rake down his back leaving small trails of burning pleasure in their wake.

her skin is covered with a sheen line of sweat as she looks up at him, hair wild and lips kiss-bruised. "god, don't stop, 'm gonna cum." she mutters and he snaps his hips harder, eager to make her cum so hard all she can think of is his name.

he moves a hand down to rub at her clit and he moans into her neck as she clenches hard around him, her hips bucking spastically. he can tell she's about to cum, and after a hard thrust, she does for the second time, spasming around him and sending waves of pleasure up his body. she's moaning his name, pulling him closer in bliss as she becomes sensitive and god damn it, she's so fucking beautiful.

"please cum, richie." she whispers against his lips, "please."  and then at her will, he's spilling into her, hips stuttering as he pushes as deep into her as he can, loving how she clenches in sensitivity around him. he stays inside her for a moment as they breathe, coming down from their highs and eyes closed as they take in what just happened.

"holy shit." he says because yeah, that's like all he can say right now because he just got to fuck y/n and she's kissing his fucking collarbones right now and its making him blush and his heart flutter.

"that was...incredible." she whispers against his skin and he can feel her smile against his skin. it makes him feel all soft inside as he pulls out of her and flops next to her, kissing her forehead.

his fingers flutter over her sensitive core, smiling as he sees how wrecked she is, some cum dripping down her leg. he then soothes over the lace panties, patting her lightly and kissing her red cheek.

"rich?" she asks, making him look up at her. he hums in question, pushing some of her hair back. "can we still watch the movie?"

his heart swells and he grins, kissing her softly. "of course, doll. you're too cute." he says with a wink, making her roll her eyes. he hands her his shirt and then pulls sweats on himself, mumbling "stay here" and padding out to the kitchen to get her water and snacks,  then returning minutes later to see her holding his phone in her clutch with a smirk.

"what're you doing?" he asks with a smile, but she shakes her head, making grabby hands for him and the snacks. so he laughs, cuddling up with the girl of his dreams and watching a flick, falling sleep with tangled limbs and a lipstick-stained neck.

and after she leaves the next morning with a kiss and a wink, he checks his phone and smirks to himself as he notices the lock screen she'd apparently made last night while he was making snacks.

a photo of her in his bed, wearing his shirt, a soft smirk on her face, neck littered in budding hickeys and a hand between her thighs next to her black lace panties.

god, she's going to be the absolute death of him.

//tag list:  @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @simplesammyx @dickology64 @clownsloveyou @emnotm @moon-shine-baby @toziershmozier @daughter-of-the-stars11 @lets-vibe-bro @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @beauregard-s@finnskindofwoman  @kait-tozier @upamongthestarss \\

[hoe-doroki]

Illiterate

pairing: Shouto x American fem!Reader (pre-relationship)

wc: 2.1K

genre: comfort, fluff

summary: You did well in the midterms despite missing the first month and a half of school, not to mention all of the previous year at U.A. But being unable to read Japanese makes you feel so stupid. And who comes into the common room after midnight just as you’re about to cry? The boy who hasn’t spoken to you in three weeks. That’ll make you feel better.

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

Textbook out on your left. Notebook out on your right. Laptop in front. Phone put to the side. You were taking up a whole olive green couch and coffee table in the common room with your materials. But it didn’t much matter, because everyone else had gone to sleep—or if not to sleep, then to their rooms—hours earlier. It was well past midnight on a Monday and, despite the destructive habits that some of the members of class 2-A had, most tried to get a good night’s sleep. It was vital for rebuilding the muscles everyone abused in class every day, not to mention everything else Recovery Girl had mentioned in the mandatory “Health and Wellness” seminar they’d all had to take. You’d missed it, since it had been in the first week of classes, but you had still received the handy dandy pamphlet in your welcome folder a month earlier.

But you were willing to sacrifice a little sleep in order to catch up to your classmates. You might have had an extra two years of high school over them, based on the U.S.’s school system, since you’d just finished junior year when you’d transferred. Technically you hadn’t finished out the year but you’d done all the standardized testing and gotten your final grades. But still, U.A. was much more rigorous than your old school and, in some areas, you had big gaps. You would only be able to fake it in class for so long like that.

You startled when the hallway light went on behind you. There wasn’t a curfew by which you had to be in your room, but you were still half expecting to find Iida behind you, chastising you for being up so late. But it wasn’t Iida—it was Todoroki.

You turned back to your work, hoping that he wouldn’t say anything if you minded your business and didn’t speak to him. Based on your few experiences with the boy so far, it seemed he could be relied on to be quiet. And your strategy seemed to work; you heard him padding in his slippers over to the kitchen and running some water.

Your focus was now broken, though. You looked at the pages you had out in front of you and all the characters started to blur in your head. It felt like the studying you’d just done had left you and that all the hours since dinner had been pointless. The frustration began to bloom again and you felt your face growing hot with it. You were so behind. So not meant to go to school in Japan.

“You should go back to your room.”

Your body stiffened at the quiet voice behind you. If you looked down, you could see Todoroki’s gray slippers. You hadn’t heard him grow so close.

“If I do, I’ll fall asleep.”

“That’s what I mean,” Todoroki said. “You should be in bed.”

“Shouldn’t you be in bed too then?” you shot back.

“I woke up and decided to make some tea. The water’s boiling now.”

It was late enough that Todoroki had already gone to sleep and woken up in the middle of the night. And you had nothing to show for your time but a few haphazard notes and a failing short term memory.

“I just have to stay up a little longer,” you whisper, you throat constricting a little around the simple words.

Todoroki took another step closer and looked at your setup. It was obvious that you were doing work, not messing around or staying up just for the heck of it. Todoroki was one of the brightest kids in the class, in addition to one of the most powerful. Hopefully he would see your efforts and just leave you be.

“Sleep is necessary for processing information by transferring things from one section of the brain to another and strengthening connections,” he said instead. “You’ll learn more if you sleep.”

“I know that, and I will, but just…not yet.”

“Y/N, you placed seventh on the midterm. That’s impressive for a new student.”

You shook your head, wishing he hadn’t said that as hot tears started to wet your lashes. “They let me take the test in English,” you rasped, the words coming out completely pitchless. “I’ve been here over a month and I’m still almost entirely illiterate.”

Everything in front of you was in kanji. You had a stack of grammar books that were meant for toddlers that you wished weren’t in Todoroki’s line of sight. They were only half filled out as it was, since you didn’t even know all the answers for those, much less how to read what everyone else had seen on the midterm.

“Oh,” Todoroki intoned in that simple way of his. “You didn’t know Japanese before you came here?”

You shook your head. “Coming here was pretty sudden, so I only had a couple months to try and learn before I transferred. And so I focused more on spoken language just so that I wouldn’t be a complete idiot. Even though I still sound so American.”

“It’s not so bad,” Todoroki offered.

You give a chuckled weakly. “The first thing you said to me was that my Japanese was bad. Terrible. Actually, you didn’t even say it to me, you said it…around me.”

“Oh, I guess I did,” he said. If you looked at him, you probably could have seen the memory appearing on his face. “Well, I’ve changed my mind. It’s not terrible.”

Even sugarcoating it that much must have been a reach for him, so you could appreciate the effort. You blinked the last of the tears away, grateful that none of them had actually fallen and that Todoroki hadn’t seemed to notice them. “I’m sure your water is boiling by now. You can go. I promise that I’ll go to sleep soon.”

If it had been Shinsou, or Yaoyorozu, who you were beginning to grow close to, or someone like Midoriya, they would have stayed. Maybe even closed your books for you and ushered you up to your room, telling you that you could start again tomorrow. But at your words, Todoroki’s slippers disappeared from view and he went back to the kitchen. It wasn’t especially surprising. He’d barely ever spoken to you, especially since you’d used your quirk on him the first time a few weeks back. And you could understand why. Nobody liked the effects of being hit by your quirk. Or losing a match in less than two minutes. So when just a minute later you were greeted with a cup of steaming tea in front of you, on one of the small spots of table between all your materials, you were forced to look up at him for the first time.

“Would you like to speak in English?” he asked, the words coming out with certainty and only a hint of a Japanese accent over a British one. And they nearly made you fall to pieces.

“Yes,” you breathed.

He sat down on the sofa kitty-corner to yours and you noticed that his mug, like yours, was only half full. You didn’t love tea—you’d never drunk it much in America, but it was ubiquitous here. Yaoyorozu was all but forcing you to acquire a taste for it. Still, the gesture moved you and you lifted up the too-hot cup, blowing on it as you let the light herbal scent waft over to you. Todoroki was holding his mug with his left hand and you wondered if it even felt hot to him.

“I apologize if I’ve been cold to you,” Todoroki said. “The truth is that it surprised me, how you’d used your quirk on me. And that you’d seen it as a weak point after only observing me for a couple weeks. I keep on thinking that my past is behind me, but then it never is. It’s why I’m awake right now.”

“No, I’m sorry,” you said quickly. “I felt really bad using my quirk on you like that. The look on your face—it felt like such an invasion to use sadness against you. I wouldn’t want to do that just to win.”

“Well,” Todoroki said, the ghost of a smile on his face, “you were playing a villain.”

You groaned. “Ugh, I hope I never have to again.”

“Unlikely,” Todoroki said. “All Might creates many exercises like that.”

Your tea was finally cool enough to sip without burning your tongue. The taste of herbal tea was strange, not particularly food or beverage-like to your brain, but you thought you could understand the comfort of it. The hot liquid felt nice on your throat and you realized that you hadn’t had any water for hours. You took another sip.

“You said before that your past is why you’re awake right now,” you started hesitantly. “Can I ask why that is?”

“Just a dream,” he said simply. A bad one if his grimace was anything to go by.

“I’m sorry,” you said, although you weren’t sure if you were sorry about the dream or asking about it. Probably a bit of both.

“No, I actually…” Todoroki looked at you and you were struck by how captivating his gaze was. His blue eye was piercing, one of the brightest you’d ever seen while his gray eye was dark, almost brown, and mysterious. “I wanted to know how you knew. That exercise was meant to show us how we’ve exposed our weak spots to someone new and it would be a missed opportunity for me not to ask you about it.”

“How I knew…that you were sad?” you asked.

He nodded once, eyes still stuck on yours.

“You just…your friends seem like really happy people,” you explained. “Uraraka, Midoriya, even Iida in his way. Or even when they’re not happy, they’re wearing their emotions on their sleeves. But you, even when you’re joining in with them, there’s usually a cloud over you. Like you’re hiding your emotions. And from there I guessed that that came from somewhere. Probably someplace difficult. And when I strategized with Aizawa-sensei and he agreed that it was worth a try.”

“I see.”

“Like now,” you said, looking at his face. “Do you feel anything about what I said? If so, you’re totally hiding it on your face. Blank eyes, relaxed mouth. And, you know, that’s fine, but if you’re doing that on the outside, then, for a teenage boy, I assume you’re doing it on the inside too.”

That brought some expression to his face. Twin creases between his eyebrows, making his relaxed mouth look more like a frown without moving it.

“But I don’t want you to worry about that or what I think about you,” you said quickly. “For my quirk, I have to be really good at intuiting emotions, especially since I so rarely get to practice with people. I have to be super observant and understand something about psychology. Most villains aren’t that sensitive.”

“But some are.”

“Yes, certainly some are,” you said. “But if you want to start working on whatever underlying things you have, you should be doing it because you want to. Not because you want to be a stronger hero but because you want to love yourself more.”

Todoroki gave a little huff that could have been a chuckle. “How American of you.”

“Hey!” Your exclamation is quiet. “You’re the one who offered to speak in English.”

“You seemed homesick,” he said with a shrug.

“I was,” you admitted. “I am.”

“Okay,” Todoroki said, standing up. You saw that his mug was empty while yours was still a quarter full and now tepid at best. He took it along with his own. “You’re going to sleep now and tomorrow you’re going to ask Yaoyorozu for tutoring. She’s excellent and the two of you seem to be getting along. Our class is full of all good, mostly helpful people. You should say something when you need help.”

You shut your laptop, the screen having gone black long ago and began dog-earing and closing your books. Before Todoroki went to the kitchen you grabbed his arm, only to release it a moment later when you remembered people weren’t quite so tactile in Japan as they were in America, Todoroki especially so. Still, you had his attention as he turned back to look at you. “The same to you. You should say something when you need help.”

Todoroki’s lips pursed together, not quite in a smile, not quite a frown, but in acknowledgment. He probably wasn’t fond of you turning your words back on him.

“I’ll…try.”

[ellana-ravenwood]

“What it means to be a big brother” - by Damian Wayne (Batfam x Fem!Reader)

I wanted to write a story with Damian as an older brother, and how he came to learn what it meant to…well, basically the title haha. And since quite a few of you lately asked for more Thomas, here we are. I hope you will like it :

My master list : @ella-ravenwood-archives . Links to stories where Thomas appears (for those who do not know who he is) in the author’s notes at the end of the story.

__________________________________________________

Right there, with his new little brother in his arms, standing in front of his family...Damian didn't dare to move an inch.

There wasn't a muscle in his body that wasn't tense.

In this exact position, things were going well, so he wasn't about to move. Staying like this forever sounded more and more like a good plan.

Because if he did move…There was a chance he’d drop him.

"You don't have to be so stiff you know ?"

Tim said, amused.

He was the one that was holding the baby just a few minutes ago, and was clearly not as stressed as Damian about it. He was also the one that laid little Thomas in his brother’s arms, and therefor was the cause of the “full body lockdown” Damian was going through.

Slowly, Damian turned his head towards Tim (he couldn't move too fast, because there was a risk he'd drop the baby !) and said through gritted teeth :

"Yes I do. If I don't, I might drop him !"

The word “drop” was resonating in Damian’s head, and it was the only thing he could think about.

Drop. Drop. Drop drop drop drop.

It was starting to lose it’s meaning, and only the fact that it would be terrible if he “dropped” something stayed in the boy’s head.

But then the baby moved, and Damian looked down instinctively.

His eyes fell upon his new little brother’s face and...He felt his heart drop.

What was this feeling ? Why, all of a sudden, did he feel overwhelmed and full of...something ? An emotion he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

It kinda made him want to cry.

His eyes glued to the little body in his arms, trying to understand this intense surge of emotions, he finally raised his head after a few seconds and said, a hint of disbelief in his voice :

“I’m-I’m a big brother.”

And boom. There it was.  

Up until now, you had managed to keep your cool, looking at your sons and daughter holding Thomas in turn, and beaming at him happily.

But here, that bewildered look on Damian’s face, and that smile he probably didn’t even notice he had on, was a little too much for your heart.

Damian was the one you were most worried about, when it came to meet baby Thomas. You weren’t sure how he’d react.

All along your pregnancy he was doing fine, and seemed excited about the prospect to have a new brother. But at times, when nobody was looking at him, you noticed the worried look in his eyes, and it frustrated you to no end to not be able to know for sure what your son was thinking.

You’ve always been good at deciphering the Waynes’ emotions, sometimes even better than them themselves. But in that case...You couldn’t quite put your finger on what kind of worries were assaulting your boy.

Was he afraid you’d love his little brother more ? Or that he wouldn’t be the “baby” anymore ? Maybe afraid not to be a good enough role model ? Or to simply to not find a way to bond with him ?

So many questions, and no answers. 

Maybe it was a mix of all of that. But you just couldn’t decide. And it was an immense source of stress for you.

But here, right now, as you witnessed Damian smiling widely and whispering “Im a big brother”, your own worries suddenly vanished.

You turned to your husband who was right next to you, and put your head against his chest, muffling a "awwwww" sound that you feared might put Damian on the defensive. Instinctively, Bruce wrapped his arms around you (this called for some “I know, I know they’re cute” support).

God forbid anyone would catch your little buddy being so sweet. Haha. He hated when you called him that.

Sweet.

But he truly was ? He just didn't know it yet.

You were sure no one ever told him he was "sweet".

But he had all this little attentions for you, his father or siblings. 

He might think of it as nothing, but you all noticed. You noticed all the drawings he’d left in strategic points for all of you. Or how meticulous he was in preparing pop corn or hot chocolate for movie nights. Little things, that when added, became grand. 

You noticed everything. All of you.

Most importantly, you noticed the big changes in him.

Damian was 12 now.

He came into your life two years ago and, after quite a while of him refusing this little family his father made for himself, and making life difficult for everyone…He came around. He understood.

And you never blamed him for being difficult at first, on the contrary. You were the most understanding of them all, scolding your kids or Bruce himself, when they were too unforgiving or frustrated too fast !

It was a team work, to make Damian feel like he was finally home. 

Feel like he was amongst his family. 

Like Dick, Jason, Tim and Cass were his siblings, and although you weren’t his biological mother, you saw him as your own son too.

It was a learning experience for everyone. 

Bruce did a great job at being patient, and teaching him about his own values and such. Forgiving him when he took the wrong decision, all the while still being strict. It was a balance of understanding, softness, forgiveness, and yet still putting important boundaries. Damian never really experienced any of this... 

Your kids had some practice at being older brothers, and only Tim needed an acclimating moments...But he was a fast learner. After the first initial bad meeting, they became close. Although of course, they still bickered from times to times. After all, they were little/big brothers. Everything couldn’t always be perfect. Life wasn’t like that. 

As you looked at Damian and Thomas, you wondered...Would Damian, just like his siblings, find his own way to become a big brother ? How would he proceed ? He had, after all, a lot of role model for this. But would he decide to take the same approach ?  

The future was more unknown than ever, but as you looked at your family surrounding you, and this new beaming little life that entered yours, you had quite the high hopes. 

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

"July 15th 20?? (I’m not putting an exact year cause ya know, it wouldn’t stay accurate). Thomas : three days old.

          I am starting this logbook to understand. I got the idea from Grayson, whom I think got the idea from mom ? I always see him write in that journal of his. I think when he was younger, after he lost his parents and just started to live with father and mom, she suggested to him to write his feelings down. And so he started journaling. He has a bunch of filled notebooks in his room. I saw them a few times, but I never looked. Mom says it’s his thoughts, I would never intrude (okay maybe I “intruded” once. Or twice.). 

         That’s not the point of this anyway. According to both him and mom, writing down their feelings help a lot. So I asked Grayson if he could give me a blank notebooks, since he always has some in advance. He gave me a stupid bright pink one that sparkles and light up in the dark...But oh whatever, at least like that, nobody will know it’s mine, and will open it.

         Now, what is the point of this exactly. Laying it out is suppose to help so, here goes nothing : in this logbook, I am planing to “write down my feelings” so I can understand. I’ve never felt that way before. Love is very new to me, people actually caring about me is very new, having a sort of freedom is new, being happy is new. I’ve come a long way in two years, and I still find it difficult to put words on all the things I feel. Hence, this book. 

          More precisely though, I will record in this “logbook” (not to confuse with a journal or something), my journey as a new big brother. I think it will help me, to write things down. The idea doesn’t sound as stupid as when I first heard it two years ago. On the contrary, I already feel like my brain is getting more organized about my feelings, just by writing this down. Like now, I understand that what I felt as I held Thomas for the first time was love. And a need to protect him. But it was so instant, as soon as I truly saw him, that it made me wonder...Why ? And How ? Is this what it is to be a big brother ? A sudden instinct coming out of nowhere ?

          I will implement my studies of becoming the best big brother (notes for self : competition = hard, have to work very hard), and understanding what it actually means to be one, as it’s a first for me. 

          My life now is full of “firsts”. But in this logbook, I will mostly talk about being a big brother to Thomas, because that’s the newest and most intriguing thing yet. After two years, I think I know what love is, and what it isn’t. It isn’t praising me for being the best, but encouraging me to always do my best. It isn’t training me and being proud of me when I’m perfect, but accepting my flaws unconditionally. Yes. I think I got love down. It’s in little gestures, like when father goes to the other side of town to get my favorite take away. It is in small (and sometimes big) affectionate things like calling me pet names, ruffling my hair, or making sure I am alright. Love englobes a lot of things (my feelings for Thomas being in it). It took me a while to understand it, and I think if I had a logbook to write my findings down, it would’ve been easier. 

          So here I am. Starting a new journey of discovery. But with the knowledge I already have. How my brothers and sister are with me. How my parents are with me. How my friends, are with me. What love truly is. I’m not starting this new canvas blank, but with already a large array of color. What I need now, is to make this painting my own.

*There is here a drawing of himself standing at the front of a large pirate boat, ready to start this “new journey of discovery”, with the annotation “I think Grayson would enjoy this analogy of being captain of my own boat, as in of my own destiny. He always enjoyed pirates”*

         A plan : 1. Get books on babies.                        2. Hanging out with Thomas.                       3. Observing how the others are interacting with him.                       4. There is no 4 yet. But there will be as I come along, I suppose.”

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

It all happened so fast. 

Bruce and the kids were about to go on patrol, when you started to scream at him that it was time. In a panic, you rushed to the hospital, leaving behind your children who anxiously waited for some news. 

Hours went by, and no news were given. 

Everyone slowly started to freak out, but Damian was the one who was touched the most. 

When Jason dared to tell him : “Hey buddy, no news mean good news, right ?” in an attempt to comfort him, Damian went on a rant about how this expression was idiotic and made no sense. 

No news meant a lot of things ! Like, maybe their father RECKLESS driving got them into an accident, or maybe there was complications with the babies, or they ran in any kind of troubles that prevented them to give news ! 

No news meant “no news” ! And was in no way, in Damian’s eyes, a positive thing ! 

It’s as Damian was going on and on about what could’ve gone wrong that could explain the lack of news, and starting to freak everyone out, that the phone finally rang. 

“Ah, see ? No news did mean good news.” 

Jason said ruffling his little brother’s hair. Although his apparent confidence was only a facade, because Damian’s list of “what could’ve gone wrong” really got to him too (he’d never admit it but Jason was quite the worry wart). 

But everything was fine now. He could joke, and tease his brother again. Because...

It was official, there was a new member in the family. 

Thomas Clark Wayne was born, on a sunny July day. 

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

Damian didn’t know how to feel. Or rather, didn’t know what he felt.

He knew that day was going to happen, he saw his mother’s belly grow. He touched it, and couldn’t help but share his parents happiness...but it all seemed so surreal at the time ?

Like the baby would come in a very long time ?

He wasn’t an idiot. Plus, he was already 12 now. He most definitely knew where babies came from (ew) and how they came to life (double ew). 

But even with this knowledge, he just hadn’t been able to visualize having a baby brother ? 

So when he found himself in the hospital corridors, following after his older siblings, running a little to keep up with their hurried pace, he wasn’t really sure what to feel.

What would he find in that room ?

Probably his mom and father, smiling at him, and holding a baby in their arms...

It was weird. Because Damian had always been the “baby” of the family. Was this spot now his brother’s ? How did that make him feel ?  What was his place now, then ?

He didn’t know. He didn’t know !

Did he still have a place ? How was he suppose to know what it was ? 

So many thoughts were rushing through his head, he didn’t have time to process any of them that they already were in the room. 

The first thing Damian saw wasn’t the newborn, as his brothers gathered quickly around his mom and father while he stayed a bit behind with Cass (who rolled her eyes a lot, whispering : “boys” every two seconds). 

No. The first thing Damian saw was his father. His smiling father. 

Given the looks his older brothers gave in his direction, Damian gathered that Thomas was in their fathers’ arms. And Bruce was smiling so widely. 

It was pretty rare, to see him smile. It only happened when he was with his family. You made him smile a lot, even more so when you both thought nobody was looking at you. 

Damian thought that it was the first time he saw this specific smile of his father. 

Thomas’ existence had created a new awe induced smile... 

Bruce was looking down at his tiny son in his arms, and was just smiling widely and...sort of like a child ? 

Like even when he smiled to his wife, or to his kids. Those actual genuine smile he gave them, not the fake "Brucie Wayne" persona ones. They were always very him ? They always had his past in it. When he smiled at them, they could see they meant a lot, because he was able to smile even through all his pain. And they were the one that brought his happiness forth. 

Bruce’s smiles to his family were grateful, full of pure joy, and recognition. With a hint of sadness, however. Of traumas he could never forget. 

But here, as he held Thomas, it was like he forgot everything, and was carefree for the first time since he was eight. 

Of course, it only appeared like that to Damian because he wasn’t quite sure yet about how he should feel. Happy, or jealous ? He never noticed the many times his father gave him that exact pure child like happiness and awe too. 

Bruce wasn’t always the best at showing his feelings, a lot of time, he would smile softly, full of love, in the way he was right now, only when he was sure no one was looking. 

He most definitely smiled that way to all his children, they just never had the chance to witness it due to Bruce’s own self-consciousness, and not being sure  how to handle his own feelings at times.

In that way, Damian and his father were very much alike. You often said so. They sometimes had great trouble expressing themselves. 

Which could cause great misunderstanding, like right now. 

As Damian witnessed his father smile this way for the first time ever, and wondered...

Wondered if..If Talia gave him to Bruce as a baby, would he have smiled the same way ? 

…Probably not.

It made Damian feel all sort of things, to realize that. 

Strangely, the emotions he felt weren’t negative. On the contrary, he was glad that his little brother was lucky enough to be born into this family he thought amazing, and would grow up immediately loved and never alone. 

Sure, Damian wished it would’ve been the case for him too. But you told him once that the past was the past, and it did no good to dwell on it (he was pretty sure you misquoted Dumbledore from Harry Potter but never said anything), and it really stuck with him. 

He would never be a baby anymore, hurting himself and his feelings thinking about what could’ve been was useless. It would only bring him misery. While thinking...Thinking about his new brother having this chance...Well, it made him very happy. 

He was glad, times were changing. 

“Do you want to hold him ?” 

You asked him, taking him out of his reveries about how he realized he only had positive feelings about this new life coming into his. 

Good feelings yet, but not enough to dare hold him. Panicked, he took a few steps back and said : 

“No ! No no, I’m good !” 

You tried to hide your disappointment, and instead gave the boy to your oldest son, Dick. You kinda wished Damian would’ve accepted to take Thomas into his arms. After all, his reaction was the one that worried you the most... 

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

It’s only as he witnessed all his sibling holding their new brother, and beaming brightly at him, that he felt like he wanted to do that too. 

He felt like he was missing out, because they all seemed to thoroughly enjoy holding Thomas ! And he felt like he was building unnecessary boundaries between him and his new baby brother. 

What if Thomas thought he didn’t want to be his brother ? 

Of course, right now, being only a few hours old, Thomas couldn’t think about that yet. But Damian read somewhere that infants could feel this sort of things. And so he turned to Tim, who was the one holding the baby boy at the moment, and said : 

“Can I-...Can I ?” 

Of course, Tim understood, and did not hesitate to put his little brother in his other little brother’s arms. He explained quickly to Damian how to hold him, making sure Thomas’ head was all good, and let go (later, he’d admit that he watched YouTube video to know the proper way to hold a baby). 

And the rest was history. 

“I’m-I’m a big brother.” 

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

“Friday, October 16th 20??,  Thomas : 4 months old. 

       I found books about babies. Many of them. 36 to be exact. They were in the library, I suspect father bought them to read up on how to take care of a baby. After all, he never had one, since we all arrived around 8/10. 

       I put in practice what I got from them, and was very successful doing so. Thanks to them, I was able to refine my studies on what it truly means to be a big brother. 

(...)” 

“Damian ?” 

Bruce was looking for you, and guessed you were in your office, which, just like the bedroom you shared with him, was right next to the nursery. Of course. 

He knew you must’ve been there at this time of the day because it was your “writing time”, but also Thomas’ “nap time”. In your office, you could make sure to be there for him quickly. 

Bruce had just come home and as usual, looked for you immediately. He had a tough day at Wayne Enterprise, and you always were his respite. 

But as he walked in front of Thomas’ room (where he was planning on going after seeing you), he was stopped in his track by the door being open, and quite an odd vision. 

Damian was standing next to his brother’s crib, an arm reaching out in it. As Bruce, intrigued, approached them, he noticed that one of Thomas’ tiny hand was wrapped around one of Damian’s finger. 

Before he could ask what was happening, his boy whispered, as to not wake his little brother up : 

“I read somewhere that babies need physical contact so their brain can develop well. A baby that nobody ever touches just doesn’t speak much, and isn’t as advanced as one who received affection. So I’m holding his hand.” 

Bruce’s brain went blank, as he looked at the extremely cute scene of his youngest son sleeping peacefully, holding his older brother’s hand. It was too much for his heart, trying to not sound choked up, he asked : 

“How long have you been here ?” 

Damian looked up, thinking, before he answered : 

“A couple of hours ?” 

“A couple of-That long ?!” 

“Ssssshhh. Father !” 

Damian whispered scolding his dad for his loudness. He gave a worried look to Thomas, afraid he woke up, and then turned to his father again saying : 

“I heard him cry, and recognized it as being his lonely cry. So I came. Mother fell asleep on her desk, I think she was just too tired to even realize he was crying. I know neither of you have been sleeping very well lately, so no one can blame her. You two work tough jobs, then do the vigilante thing, and have to take care of a baby who doesn’t sleep through the night yet. It’s understandable, to feel very sleepy. So I came.” 

Bruce felt it through his entire body. This warm, fuzzy feeling. The same one that he forgot for so many years, until you and Dick came into his life. 

“How did you hear him ?” 

“I rigged his baby phone to my phone, so it would give me alerts if he cries. Tim helped me develop a sort of app for that.” 

This specific feeling he only felt when looking at you or his children. A sort of serenity filling his entire body. Peace.

“I rocked him a little bit. He smiled at me a lot, and cooed too. And then he felt back asleep, but as soon as I put him in the crib he cried again. I figured he didn’t wanna be alone, so I stayed and held his hand, and he eventually fell back asleep. Now I’m too afraid to wake him up if I leave, so I’m here.” 

“So you’re here...” 

Pride was in Bruce’s heart now. A beaming, strong, huge pride. Pride of having such a sweet little boy. Ah. Who would’ve thought, over two years ago, that Damian Wayne would stay two hours near a baby in fear that if he left, he would wake him up ? 

Feeling inspired, Bruce bend down and kissed Damian’s forehead affectionately. This took the boy by surprised, and he literally gasped ! 

It made Bruce feel a little guilty. His sometimes odd way of loving made it so that he reserved those forehead kisses only when his kids felt bad, or when he through they were asleep (though they never were). Moments of distress; or moment he was sure they wouldn’t notice. 

Sometimes, Bruce just wasn’t too sure how to react with his children. Except on definite moments, like them needing him, or them being too cute for him to resist a forehead kiss (they were always adorable, sleeping). 

Or, in this instance, his boy doing something so sweet he felt the urge to kiss him with all the love and affection he had. 

Now though, a little embarrassed, he took a step back, and ruffled his son’s hair again, saying : 

“You’re a good brother.” 

And then he left awkwardly, going to your office so he could pick you up and go take a nap with you in your room. Yes. This surge of emotion he felt, as he saw his two youngest children together, definitely called for a nap in your arms. You always had a knack, to calm him, even unconsciously... 

Damian stayed in Thomas’ room, a huge smile plastered on his face. 

His father just said he was a good brother !

“(...) Continuation of the previous entry (October 16th).      I put in practice what I got from them, and was very successful doing so. Thanks to them, I was able to refine my studies on what it truly means to be a big brother.

      Now, after four months of studying Thomas’ behavior and such, I came to realize that he has different kind of cry. They are as proceeded :  1. High pitch continuous noise = he’s hungry.  2. When he makes a series of loud “heh” = he’s too cold, or hot, or wet. It’s his sign to express a discomfort. Usually means dirty diaper, if no dirty diaper, means something else and then you have to look for what is bothering him. Example : Yesterday, the bird outside his window chirping was annoying him and keeping him from sleeping soundly. 3. Loud screams punctuated by pauses = He’s lonely. The pauses are him listening in to see if someone is coming to get him.  4. Almost silent cries, when it’s so loud it becomes quiet = he didn’t burp properly after eating and desperately need too. A few light tap on his back will make him feel better very quickly.  5. When he whimpers, it’s usually because he has gaz. Putting him a little straighter helps him...evacuate.

        I put this directly in practice today, when I realized he was doing his “lonely cry”. I went to his rescue, and I didn’t mind staying hours with him even though he’s still a little baby and doesn’t do much. He smiled at me a lot, I think he recognized my voice. And my singing (note for self : make sure no one is around when such occurrence happen, almost got caught by father today). Then it felt like he didn’t want to let me go, so I stayed. 

      Is that what it is, to be a big brother ? Being needed ? If it is, it actually feels nice. It would certainly explain all the time Dick, Jason, Tim and Cass came to my own rescue. Wether help for my homework or to comfort me. But, I do that too, as a little brother ? I comforted them too many times. And I witnessed Jason, Tim or Cass comforting Dick and vice versa and in all ways. So, this means it’s a sibling thing, not quite a big brother thing. Need to keep studying to know what “big brother” is exactly.” 

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

"Saturday, December 9th 20??. Thomas’ first Christmas/6 month old.

     I started to build his gift. I think he will like it. I-” 

“What are you doing, Damian ?” 

You asked him, walking towards him as he busied himself at the gadget station in the Batcave. You saw him jump in the air slightly, and put away a bright pink notebook quickly. 

And then he saw you had Thomas in your arms, and when Damian saw him, he hid whatever he was doing as fast as he could. 

“Mom, you’re gonna spoil the surprise !! Get Thomas away !” 

Surprised, and without thinking about it, you went to your husband who was typing away on the computer and put the baby in his arms. 

Bruce was about to grumble that he was busy and brush the both of you away (he could be a jerk sometimes), but you didn’t gave him a chance, shoving your son in his arms. And when he looked, annoyed, at his baby and how the little one seemed the happiest of them all as he just recognized his father. Bruce’s mood lifted all of a sudden. 

He smiled softly, realized he was being an asshole and was going to apologize to you but you were already gone back to Damian. Your husband and baby son exchanged a curious look, before Thomas got very interested in his father “Bat” logo and started to try to grab it, while Bruce smiled softly again and, holding his son in one arm, continued his work. 

Balancing family and night activities had been hard for him to get and do, but he had it covered, nowadays. Well. Almost. 

Meanwhile, you were back next to Damian, and with a sigh of relief, your son uncovered his project. 

It did all kind of things to your heart... 

“Damian, is that-” 

You couldn’t finish your sentence, too touched. Your son, proudly, said : 

“It’s a mobile to go above his bed ! I think he doesn’t like the one he currently has. So I’m making him one with things he’ll like ! See mom, that’s you. Do you recognize yourself ?”

Damian seemed worried about this, and you nodded. It definitely looked like you. So. Your son wasn’t just good at drawing, but also at sculpting... 

“It’s for Christmas.” 

He said, smile wide. And as you grabbed him and crushed him against your chest, he got a little confused... 

"Saturday, December 25th 20??. Thomas’ first Christmas/6 month old.

*There’s here a drawing of Thomas beaming at his mobile above his bed that Damian build for him*

       I knew my present would be Thomas’ favorite. After all, it represents everything he likes. I put everyone from our family (Father, mom, Alfred, Dick, Tim, Cass, Jason, and of course, me), and a few of his favorite animals (I used Ace and Titus for the dogs, Tommy is very fond of them). And it makes music, which he seems to enjoy a lot. Especially when our mom, dad or anyone from the family sings to him. I recorded all of them secretly when they sang to him, and made it so he just has to push a button on the side of his crib to turn the mobile on.

       I wasn’t even worried that he wouldn’t understand how to make it work. He’s only six months old, but he’s already very smart and curious (I think the physical contact  we all gave him is a lot to “blame” for). So when I put the mobile above his bed, and pushed the button to start the voice of our mother, he moved his little arms and legs excitedly and smiled at the mobile widely ! I only had to push the button a few times more, and for our father, Dick, and Jason’s voice to be on for him to notice the button, and to push it himself. Or rather, to kick it or throw himself on it as best he could. He is still not that coordinate when it comes to movements. But he’s smart. He understood that, to have the music, he had to push the button.

         He didn’t pay attention to all his other gifts, but mine he loved. It’s because I made it with everything he likes. So of course, he loves it. Is that what it is, to be a big brother ? To know your little sibling and be the best at giving him a gift ? No. That doesn’t sound right. Tim, or Jason, already gave me absolutely useless terrible gift, and yet it still made me happy to receive them, and that they thought about me. Mmm. The researches are still on.”

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

“Thursday, March 7th 20??. Thomas : One year and a half.

      Father and mom entrusted me with babysitting Thomas today, as everyone was busy. I was very happy to be trusted with such responsibilities. I thought it would be easy, at that age, they're easily manipulated. Well...I was wrong"

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

“NO NO NO NO NO NO NOOOOOOOOO.” 

Thomas was screaming, while Damian was trying to be heard : 

“Thomas, listen, you need to put your pants on or-”

“NOOOOO !! NO DAMDAM NOOOOO !!”

“No”, was one of the first word Thomas pronounced. Right after “mama” and “dada” (the jury was still out on which words he said first, and was source of endless bickering between you and your husband). 

Then he started to try and pronounce his siblings’ name, although he wasn’t quite there yet. Damian being the youngest and still at home (Dick and Jason had their own apartment by now, and Cass and Tim were starting to be very busy with college), he was able to sort of say his name first. 

“Damdam”. Close enough. 

But right now, Damdam really wasn’t having a good time. 

It started rather smoothly. Thomas was a pretty calm child, so Damian (wrongly) thought it would be all good all day.

Only, it was the first time he was taking care of his brothers for so long. A couple of hours there and there. He made sure to be with him at least once a day, for at least two hours. Most of the time, it was more. 

They really started to be very close, sometimes, Thomas would choose Damian over you or Bruce...it vexed the both of you, but you had to put yourself in the shoes of your young son. 

Damian only had the good times with him. Playtime, and bed time stories, and such. While you and Bruce had to be strict with him sometimes, and give him boundaries (like no jumping on his bed, or no pulling the dogs’ tails). 

Bruce once mentioned that Thomas most certainly inherited your petty side, given the fact he always went to Damian when you scolded him. But when you smacked him on the head, vexed, he said he was joking (although we all know he wasn’t). 

In any way, Damian, in that year and a half, only had the good times with his brother. And today, as he had to take care of him all day long, he realized that...it wasn’t always that easy. 

Proof : the morning had gone well, but now, it was over, and it was time to put some close on. Problem : Thomas didn’t seem very keen on putting pants, today. 

It started slowly, as if it was a game. 

Thomas ran around the room, laughing, repeating : “no ‘an’ !” (which probably meant “no pants”). Up until Damian tried to take his father’s strict tone and said : 

“Ok Thomas, enough now, you need to put your pants on.” 

Well. That didn’t play well in Thomas’ book. Frowning, he said : 

“No.” 

“Yes, Tommy. It’s day time, you need to put pants on.” 

“No.” 

“Yes. Come on, I’ll help you.” 

“NO !” 

Thomas ran away from Damian’s grasp, and your son was so surprised that he wasn’t able to catch him right away. He caught up to him though as Thomas was climbing a couch, sure that he’d be out of reach at its top (probably not understanding that Damian wasn’t as small as him...). 

Once on the top of it, he sad down and put his hands in front of his eyes, clearly thinking he was hidden, now. 

“I can see you Thomas.”

“No.” 

“Stop saying no, I can see you.” 

“No.” 

“Come on Thomas, I’m not playing anymore, I can see you, and you need to put some pants on.” 

“Noooooooooooooooo.” 

“Tho-” 

“NooOOooOOoOOoOOoOoo noooooooo.” 

“Thoma-”

“NoooOOoOOoo no no no no no no no !!!!” 

Damian realized trying to talk it out wouldn’t work. His brother was probably too young to be reasoned with. Quickly,he scratched his head to find a solution. 

Maybe making him laugh again ? Like Dick did with him at first. 

It felt like such a long time ago, but there was a time when Damian was a really big brat. He still was, sometimes, he wasn’t perfect of course. But he improved a lot. 

Regardless, one of the way Dick would make him stop being bratty, was making absolutely awful jokes and trying to make him laugh by doing stupid things. Ok. Here we go then : 

“Hey hey Thomas look, look !” 

“No no no no...No ?” 

Ok. Good point. Thomas was now watching Damian doing backflips and running around. Beaming, the little boy smiled widely and clapped his hands. 

YES ! Damian most definitely won. He stopped doing his acrobatics and turned to his little brother, saying : 

“Ok, time for pants now.” 

But Thomas frowned again, as if vexed he fell for the show, and gave Damian a definitive : 

“No.” 

Well. That was a fail. What did Jason do again, to stop one of Damian’s own tantrum ? Oh. Right. Um. That probably wouldn’t be a good method with such a young kid. Skipping that one. 

Tim ? Tim would talk to him about his favorite things. Video games, or whatever. And blackmailing him a lot (as a good big brother). Damian wasn’t too into blackmailing, but he was kinda running out of ideas. 

This was the first time Thomas was being difficult with him, it was too new, he needed more data to know exactly how to react ! 

So, blackmail it would be. 

“If you put your pants on, we’ll watch your favorite movie !” 

This seemed to peak Thomas’ interest. He looked at the Tv, then at his pants. Then at the TV again and...oh...Ooooh...Damn it ! Damian could see he almost got him. But it didn’t work, his brother shook his head “no” so strongly he almost fell of the couch. 

Ok. What were the options left ? What did Cass do ? Mmm. She would hug him and tell him things would be alright. Which worked for him, given his past, but Thomas was a little over one and had a normal happy childhood so far ! 

They couldn’t relate to their past, like Cass and him did. 

Ok. What would his mom do ? Well, with his mom, Damian had the intimate feeling that Thomas would’ve put on his pants without a word. He knew she wasn’t joking around. He’d never pull this sort of things with her. 

He would though, pull that with his father. And what would Bruce do ? Either let it go, or, if he was in a bad mood, be very strict and force him to put his pants on. Nobody said his father was perfect...His mother, neither. She could be implacable in her way of educating her son. 

Thomas was a calm boy, and was of course allowed to have tantrums. Their mother was mostly understanding. But if she was tired, she’d be less patient...It wasn’t always easy, raising kids. And the gods knew the Waynes had a LOT on their plates, at times.

MMm. Damian didn’t want to force him to do anything, or to lose his patience. 

And then it hit him. The solution was right in front of his eyes. Of course. It was so simple ! 

"(...) Continuation of last entry (March 7th) 

         New observation after today’s babysitting : toddlers sometimes focus on one thing so much they don't know how to react, and therefor, explodes with feelings 

        I found that my siblings tricks to calm me down would not work on Thomas, because he isn’t me. We don’t have the same personality, or background. I never even noticed before, how Dick, for example, used different methods to comfort all of us. Adaptability is key. Like how father gives us all different trainings, according to our own needs. Little brothers are the same. When mad, they need to be calmed in different ways. Thomas is such a calm kid and has so few tantrum, I feel comfortable doing what I did. 

       Which brings me to my next point. Being an older brother sometimes mean being the bigger person. Giving up, and letting them do what they want. I never realized how many things Tim, Dick, Jason or Cass gave up for me. But it now becomes very apparent to me. They switched things around in their lives to be convenient for me. Like, Tim used to love playing video games on his own, yet he let me come and play with him even as he doesn’t like multiplayer modes. Jason is afraid of snakes yet took me to Gotham terrarium where there’s one of the largest concentration of snakes in the US when I asked him. Dick gave up on ever taking many hoodies I stole from him back. Etc etc. 

         Being a big brother means being the bigger person sometimes, and letting the small one have their ways. Dick, Jason, Cass and Tim did it all the time with me, and it’s my turn to do it with Thomas. Unlike our parents, I don’t need to be the “police officer” of the house. I can have only the good times, and when appropriate, just let go. 

       Today was the first tantrum I witnessed Thomas having, and I decided to let it go. After than, it went all smooth. And honestly, he’s just a bit over one. It’s ok, if he doesn’t wear pants...” 

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

Their parents found them both asleep in front of Thomas’ favorite movie. 

They were still both in their pyjamas. 

“No pants” day became a thing, for the two brothers. 

**********

“Wednesday, April 19th 20??. Thomas : 3 years old.

        Today, I learned a new lesson. I kind of already knew it before, by observing Dick, Jason, Tim and Cass. But it only became obvious to me today :  A big brother is here to help his little sibling walk his own path. And discover the world.” 

Damian was looking at his baby brother toughtfully. Mmm. Seemed like the kid liked animals too. Maybe they could bond further over this ?

Your boy remembered that that's how his own siblings handled him. They found common ground on which they could understand each others.

With Dick, Damian learned how to perfect his flips and other acrobatics. They enjoyed the creativity and yet physical training of this “game”. 

With Jason, he used to spew all his frustration at him, and Jason would nod and say things like : “that’s right little bird, you tell ‘em !” and just agree with him on everything, even when he was wrong. They could particularly agree on how sometimes, Bruce could be a jerk...And yet wouldn’t wish for any other father. 

With Cass, they’d do artistic things. Drawing, or dancing. Sometimes sitting in silence for hours, back to back, while they painted. It was nice. Relaxing. 

With Tim...Well, Tim was a big advocate of this definition of sibling, that he made up himself : “The only people who will pick on you for their own entertainment, and beat up anyone else who tries.” So they’d bicker a lot, but then if anyone else was trying to rile Damian up, Tim would appear out of nowhere to give them a piece of his mind.

Yes. Yes. As Damian was observing little Thomas hug and smile at his stuffed animals, and thought that this could be quite the approach. 

After all, he really loved animals too.

"'Ook Damdam, ook ! SIMBA !"

Damian had become an expert in his brother's baby talk, and knew this meant : "Look Damian, Look ! A lion"

"No Thomas, not a Simba, a lion. Not all lions are called Simba, just like in the film."

Patience was key. Damian was pretty sure he already told Thomas that exact same thing a hundred time, but for some reasons, the boy stayed stuck on his Disney knowledge. 

But today, something different happened. Things clicked in the boy’s head.

Thomas looked at his stuffed animal for a while, and then asked : 

"…Nala ? Girl ?"

"…Wether it's a boy or a girl, their names aren't simba or nala, they're lions. And lionness. Simba and Nala are characters in a movie."

The boy looked at his  brother, confused, then looked back at his plushy lion and asked, to make sure :

"…Not Simba ?"

"Lion."

"…'ion ?"

"Yes."

"That, not Nemo ?"

OH ! They were making progress ! So far, Thomas didn’t really listen to Damian when he tried to teach him animal names, and just gave them names of Disney characters ! 

Now, he was pointing at his stuffed clown fish, asking wether he was a “Nemo” or not ! PROGRESS ! 

Damian smiled internally. Thinking it was cute, you and Bruce never did much to correct your son, which Damian found frustrating. But here they were, him finally gaining grounds !

“Right, not Nemo. Clown fish.” 

“On fish.”

“Clown. CL-OWN”.

“O-N.” 

“K-K. LL. AON. Repeat after me Thomas, Clown.” 

“...Cl...cl...clnown ?” 

“Clown.” 

“CLOWN !” 

“YES !”

“CLOWN FISH !” 

Thomas said proudly, showing his plushy. And Damian felt a rush of pride.Yes. That was it. Clown fish. He learned a new thing. And...And he probably wouldn’t have learned it yet if it wasn’t for him ? 

Oh. So a big brother also kinda had the role of a teacher. Interesting. 

And as Thomas ran to his father and screamed “CLOWN FISH” at him, Damian couldn’t help but being proud of him. Even though their father was clearly confused, as the little boy now was running to Alfred to show him he knew what a clown fish was, and didn't give further explanations to Bruce. 

“Clown fish ?”

The big scary bat repeated, utterly confused. By a three years old. What was it again ? Best detective in the world ?

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

“GWAYSON !” 

“No Thomas, no, I’m Dick, not Grayson !” 

“...Dick ?” 

“Yes ! Damian, stop teaching him that my name is Grayson ! Ugh. I swear, he hangs out wayyyyy too much with you. I need to spend more time here...” 

Damian grinned slyly, and Dick rolled his eyes. Thomas was growing up fast, and it made sense that he sometimes seemed closer to Damian, whom he saw the most. 

Dick and Jason had their own place, and both Cass and Tim were busy with college. Damian was still in high school, and a lot home. 

Although they weren’t seeing each others as much as he wished, the youngest Wayne and the oldest one still were extremely close. 

In fact, Thomas was very close to all his siblings. They almost were all like second (or third, or fourth) father, and mother. They were so much older than him, of course they’d have this sort of status at time. 

Their parents would take a lot care of him, and he was also very much a “daddy’s and momma’s boy” (like all his siblings really, though they’d never admit it). 

But Thomas did spend a lot of time with Damian, and wether it was on purpose or not, he took a lot after his mannerism and such...just like Damian used to copy his older sibling mannerism, and so on and so forth. 

“Gwayson” though, he could avoid. 

Dick rolled his eyes again, and smirked at Damian, before returning to play with Thomas. 

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

“Thursday, July 23rd 20??, Thomas : 4 years old. 

       Today, father and mom told me I was to take a night off and not to go on patrol. And that was a very big inconvenience. I had things planned, to prove my valor. I was about to sneak out anyway when (...)” 

Damian, his costume on, made sure his parents were busy before starting to come in action. 

First, he had to wait for his father to go on patrol, and join his other siblings out. And for his mom to get in front of the Batcomputer to monitor everything. 

Then, he had to wait for Alfred to put Thomas to bed, and to go himself sleep, the baby phone near him, just in case, even though Thomas was already 4 now and had full nights. The butler would never just leave him like that, even if his room wasn’t too far. 

Finally, he'd just have to sneak out by...

“DAMDAM !” 

Damian jumped in the air, surprised, and turned around. 

His little brother was right there, in front of him, smiling widely. 

“Thomas ? How did you get here ?” 

“I jumped out of bed, and walked.” 

Thomas said the most natural way ever, as if it was obvious how he got there, while it was almost 1 am and was supposed to be in bed. 

“It’s way past your bed time buddy.” 

“I can’t sleep. Mama and daddy awe not hewe. Cassie and Tim either. Alfwed is sleeping !” 

“Well you should be sleeping too !”

“But I can’t ! I just told you !” 

There was a short silence between the two, and...Oh. Oh he dared. 

Thomas was giving his older brother his world famous “puppy eyes” (a method he directly stole from Damian, of course). And as usual, it worked. 

Damian took his mask off, sighed and said : 

“You want a bed time story ?”

“YES !” 

And without invitation, the boy jumped on his brother’s bed, slipped under the covers, and waited patiently for Damian to go fetch the book they were currently reading. 

“(...) Continuing last entry, (July 23rd)

       And then Thomas fell asleep in my lap, and I realized something. I guess it was good, to have a night off. If I went out, I would’ve never made this important discovery : Tonight, I have learned that to be with the ones I love is enough. And that I do not need to chase after anything else to be happy. 

     It’s a discovery I thought I made long ago, but as I felt more big brother than ever after reading him a story, it truly hit me. Being me, and being with them...It’s enough. I don’t need to have more. And maybe, maybe being a big brother means to simply be there when you feel lonely ? Like Thomas, tonight, as our parents were away, and none of our other siblings were there. Like me too, when I had nightmares and went to hide in Cass, Dick, Jason, or Tim’s bed...whoever was available when mom and dad weren’t. 

       Mom and dad. They do their best. And their best makes them the best parents anyone could wish for. But they have a lot to do, wether in the day or at night. So sometimes, it comes to me. Or to my older siblings, to take care of each others. To take care of Thomas. We have to be there for each others, always. Being a big brother means taking the time to be there. Simple.”

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

“Look Damian, it’s a freakin’ elephant !!”

“Um, what did you say ?”

“It’s a freakin’ elephant !!”

Damian looked around at the disapproving looks he got, and couldn’t care less. Of course, he wasn’t particularly thrilled about his little brother using “freaking” but oh well. It was to be expected, when everyone around him used it (and in some cased *cough* Jason and you *cough* used even worst). 

But as Damian came towards his little brother, he realized something. Something that made him burst out laughing. 

Thomas was starting to read on his own now. 

It was exciting, to witness Thomas’ progress as he slowly but surely learned how to read. And it felt so nice, to participate in said progress. To be there every steps of the way. 

Damian shared the pride Thomas felt whenever he showed his parents how well he’d gotten at reading.

And it was so nice, to see his mom and dad congratulates both of them…Thom because he really started to read well, and Damian for helping him out.

Far were the frustrating days when Thomas was a stubborn toddler that refused to call animals by their “actual names”. 

Damian spend many hours trying to explain to his younger brother that no, mice weren’t called “Mickey” and elephants “Dumbo” ! 

Nowadays, the little boy knew what the animals’ name actually were. Which didn’t mean no incident ever happened…Like today.

It was Thomas’ sixth birthday and he asked to go to the zoo (Damian definitely had an impact on that boy).

“Look Damdam, it’s a freakin’ elephant !!”

The boy said excitedly, pulling his brother’s sleeve and pointing at the elephant’s massive enclosure. Damian shook his head, slightly shocked. 

Not because his brother just called him “Damdam” (it was the nickname Thomas gave him long ago, when he couldn’t pronounce things quite right, and it just stuck), but because Thomas’ words were very much unlike him. 

Their parents were a bit further, being disgustingly cute together, holding hands and all, and trusting Damian to keep an eye on Thomas (they knew he’d never let that kid out of his sight, plus Damian was almost an adult, now, he was responsible…sometimes).

“What did you say, Thomas ?”

“It’s a freakin’ elephant !”

The boy seemed so proud of himself. Damian knew elephants were some of his brother’s favorite animal, but he just couldn’t get over the fact that his precious little brother just used the word “freaking”, even if it really wasn’t a bad one. 

That’s when Damian noticed it. The plaque giving informations about which kind of elephant it was. …His laughter resonated in the entire zoo. Both you and Bruce went to see what happened, and were face by a son shaking with laughter, and another little one that seemed very confused. When you asked what happened, Damian barely manage to say, pointing at the enclosure next to you :

“It’s a freakin’ elephant !”

And there, there came the laughter. 

Yes. Yes it was an “freakin’ elephant”…Or, for those who weren’t as new at reading as Thomas was, an “African elephant. 

Damian later shared what just happened with his older siblings, and they in turn gave him many occurrences of him being naive or such sometimes. 

Like that time Jason made him believe that the hays in fields covered with white plastics were marshmallows’ fields...But instead of being vexed, Damian laughed with them. 

Because that was what being a little sibling meant. And being the older one meant to see the evolution the small one went through, witness it all, and help out. Be there. 

Finally. Finally Damian felt like he truly understood, what it was to be a big brother ? 

**********

“Saturday, July 12th 20??, Thomas : 6 years old. 

          It took me six years, but I think I know now. After countless study and experiment. After spending hours and hours with Thomas. I think I know what it means to be a big brother. 

         First I had to understand what being a sibling meant. And that was easy. I had good model. Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass. They’re the best older siblings you can wish for (after me, of course). They helped me understand so much...Thanks to them, I finally got what it was, to be a sibling. And here it is : 

        Being siblings means our bond is stronger than any outside force, and we always have someone to lean on. It means late night pillow talks, awkward phone conversations, and insane laughter. It means calling each others over for no reason other than to sit in silence or talk for hours about nothing. One minute I'll be talking to one of my brother about Harry Potter, and the next I'll be talking to my sister about the newest music we're listening to. 

        But being an older brother...Being an older brother goes beyond just that. When you’re the youngest, sure you’re there for them, and you help out. But most of the time, you’re the one being helped, and having the most support. While still having fun ? 

        Being an older brother, it's keeping that balance between letting out my inner child (which I didn’t even know I had for the longest time, and was let out thanks to my older siblings at first) but still looking out for my little brother.

       Basically, it means having a free therapist and the greatest confidante you could ask for. I went to my older brothers and sister many times, in time of need. And Thomas comes to me often, too. When it’s things we can’t tell our parents, you know ? 

        Being an older brother means being there for your little one through thick and thin. There were many times I had to stand up for Thomas even when it was difficult, whether it was to our parents or someone else. And there were even more times when Dick, Jason, Tim or Cass stood up for me. 

        But it also means being a little strict at times. I came to realize that when Dick told me to do something, or Tim, or any of them...It came more from the fact they wanted me to not get into trouble than anything else, and that...That I realized with Thomas. Sometimes, you have to tell your little sibling what to do. But some other times, it’s totally ok to let go. 

        Being a big brother means loving and supporting your little sibling no matter who or what they choose to be or do. That’s what my brothers and sister showed me, and my parents too. And that’s what I discovered with my own little brother. So what if we didn’t have all the same interest ?

        Being a big brother means celebrating individuality and being proud of the fact that your little brother/sister is a part of your family. I’m glad we’re all different, with my siblings. And I’ll never make Thomas feel bad for that. It’s good, that he’s the calmest out of all of us, and had a different kind of life.

        Maybe being an older brother means that occasionally, I take advantage of the fact I can tell Thomas what to do (and how easily he listens to me), but...I am his biggest fan. If he falls, I will always pick him back up (right after finishing laughing, like Jason would say). 

        Yes. It took me six years, but I think I finally know what being a big brother means. I’m glad, because this is the last page of this logbook. 

        One day, I think I’ll give it to you, Thomas. Just in case. If you’re going through a tough time, or you’re not sure of who you really are. To remind yourself I went through the same thing. 

        To remind yourself I had to write, for six years, certain important interactions I had with you so I would understand a simple concept such as “being a big brother”.

        And that Dick did too. It wasn’t easy for him to go from a circus life with his parents to Wayne Manor with mom and dad, who were both rather young at the time, and inexperienced. 

         Jason came from the street, rejected by everyone. Do you think it was easy for him to acclimate to a life where he could finally be at peace ? Nope. And then, when he died and came back ? Ask him, and you’ll know. 

         Cass came a long way. Now, she speaks a lot, especially to you. But she used to be “mute”. And had a hard life. You should ask her, sometimes. 

         Tim struggled with being ignored all his life, and then he came in and suddenly had siblings, and “real” parents. Then I came along and fucked things up a bit (don’t swear)...but he came through, understanding what a big brother was supposed to be. 

         We all came through. Mainly because we had each others. So please Thomas, if you ever feel down, just come to me. Or to them. To us. We’re your older siblings, and that what it means. 

          I’m here for you. We’re here for you. Forever.”

The end 

__________________________________________________

So, y’all know I was very nervous about posting this. I hope it wasn’t a total fail and you enjoyed reading it ? Thank you for reading, and as usual, if you liked it and all, comments and reblogs are always more than welcomed :). Here we go. See you next time with another story. Now, I’m going to go hide in a whole out of fear that you guys will hate this and how different it might be from other stories (as it’s mainly Damian/Thomas centric). 

For those who do not know who Thomas is and are curious, here are the stories from my main Batmom timeline in which he appears : The Great Mall adventure, Master of Diaper, Shaky steps and bad teaching, Polichinelle, “Go away, you’re confusing my baby”, How do you make babies ?, Wild Child 2, “We want them back” and After Batmom’s death

CLICK HERE FOR ALTERNATE ENDING 

[pagankingfinn]

Izuku Midoriya was in a bitter mood. Not only had Katsuki destroyed his personal effects, the nasty angry pomeranian had to throw them out the window into the polluted and neglected koi pond below their classroom window. The burning words he added on still stuck with the broccoli haired boy, haunting him as they endlessly echoed through his skull.

“If you want to be a hero so badly there might be a faster way to do it, take a swan dive off the roof of the building and pray for a quirk in your next life,” Katsuki had spat at him, laughing with his cronies about how they bullied him. Izuku had glared at him, but any courage he had was gone with an explosion from the school’s king bee.

By the time Izuku had gotten his book from the koi pond, it was burned, tinged an ugly color from the water, chewed on by the fish, and utterly destroyed. He couldn’t even read his notes, having bled into the paper and through the pages. With a tears in his eyes he clutched the ruined journal to his chest and began his trek home.

“You can’t just go around telling people to kill themselves. What if I really jumped, what would he do then?” Izuku bitterly mumbled to himself as he walked. He wasn’t paying attention as he did so, getting jumped by a slime like being as he walked through an underpass. The book fell to the ground as he struggled to remove the vile substance penetrating his nose and mouth, not only did it smell awful, it tasted even worse.

It was saying something to him, but he couldn’t process what it was. His brain too focused on survival to even bother listening to whatever the invasive criminal had to say. Suddenly there was a flash of light as he and the sludge went flying, he hit a concrete wall in his flight. His head banging against it as he lost consciousness.

He woke up an uncertain amount of time later when someone was desperately patting his face. Slowly he looked up, only to jump back in surprise when he saw who it was. It was his idol, All Might, standing over him in a tee-shirt and olive green cargo pants. Quickly he scrambled for his notebook, only to see it was already signed by the hero.

“Wait, Mr. All Might, I have a question to ask you. Can I still be a hero, even without a quirk?” He blurted out when he turned to see the hero about to jump away. What he said next utterly crushed Izuku.

“Some villains just can’t be beat without powers, so no, I honestly don’t think you can become a hero.” And with that the blonde man jumped away, only for the bottles in his cargo pants to fall out and burst open. Izuku let out a screech of alarm as the sludge started forming together and woke up.

Izuku turned tail and ran as fast as he could. He could hear his attacker behind him, jeering as he chased Izuku, telling him to stop running and that he just wanted to talk. Izuku didn’t listen, holding his hands over his nose and mouth as he ran. His lungs began wheezing and his legs screamed at him, but he couldn’t allow himself to stop running for even a moment.

The hot breath of the person behind him was ever present. Izuku wasn’t paying much attention to where he was going, desperately weaving through streets and alleys. Nobody even stopped to help him, just watching in silence as they moved out of the way. He had no idea why this guy was so fixated on him, perhaps because he was an easy target. Quirkless, unathletic, and small.

He didn’t notice when he sprinted past his classmates, barely acknowledging when he heard explosions. It was only when he tossed a look over his shoulder that he saw what was going on. Katsuki and his cronies were now following Izuku when they discovered that their quirks had no impact on the perpetrator.

They got to the end of an alley near the main street, when Izuku heard his tormentor trip. He turned around to help him back up, only to stumble back when the sludge enveloped his friend. Explosions from Katsuki’s palms sent flaming bits of sludge everywhere, fires starting wherever they landed.

Only now did people actually stop, yelling for someone to call the pros as Izuku sat there frozen on the ground, his brain struggling to process what was going on. Why couldn’t he move? Why wasn’t anyone helping?

Then Izuku noticed the only solid part of the villain, his eyeball. Grabbing his backpack he stood up and ran at the person. Only to flinch back before throwing his backpack directly at the villain. It struck him in the eyeball, causing him to momentarily lose his form as Izuku grabbed Katsuki by the arm and pushed him to the end of the alley.

He followed, only to be tripped and land face first on the concrete. He saw the shadow above him and could only scream before he was being dragged away. His throat and nose were filled once again, the being holding him up in the air as he struggled. Tears began to stream down his face as he got weaker. The pros had arrived but weren’t doing anything, only watching while the bystanders congratulated Katsuki for his bravery.

This was it, Izuku was going to die here. He had already been light headed from running, and now his brain only screamed even more for oxygen. It was getting harder to move, he was only distantly aware of the cameras filming this for the news. He knew that his mother would probably see this, he became more desperate when he realized that. Flailing in the air as he kicked wildly once again, thrashing until he felt his foot connect with something solid and he was suddenly dropped.

He scrambled to safety without thinking before coughing up what was left of the sewage in his throat. His sinuses burned as he shuddered in disgust. He didn’t seem to notice when the very same person who had saved him came flying in and made it rain the disgusting green goop with a punch.

Afterwards Izuku grabbed his stuff, and sat there bitterly while he was laughed at. The pros were lecturing him, while his bully was praised for his bravery in sacrificing a quirkless boy to ensure his flashy quirk would still be around. Eventually Izuku stood up while being lectured, he was so tired of everything, so sick of being thought of as anything but human because he didn’t have a quirk.

He walked away silently, not listening as the pro hero called after him. Not that they would chase him anyways, that would just be a waste of their precious time. And yet they had the time to stand around as a kid was nearly murdered in front of them. He was almost home when he was stopped by Katsuki, who grabbed him by the shoulder and threw him to the ground.

“Who do you think you are? A weakling like you, saving me! Get back in your place Deku, you’re nothing but a waste of air anyways! You’re lucky my home is in the other direction, or I’d kill you right here and now,” Katsuki growled out as he stepped on Izuku’s wrist until it snapped, he stormed off afterwards and left him there with a broken wrist.

Despite being in agony, he could only think about how he should get back to giving up on his dreams. He stumbled home, holding his wrist the entire way. It was dark out by the time he finally got home, slipping through the front door. His mother was upon him immediately, sobbing as she pulled him into a tight embrace.

Izuku felt tears spilling out of his eyes as he hugged her back. He was sobbing, snot running down his face while his eyes became red and puffy. He barely managed to say that his wrist was broken before his mother was grabbing her things and rushing him off to the hospital. They had an older car, but it still ran. Inko, Izuku’s mother, didn’t use it all too often.

Despite the horrendous condition of traffic, they made it to the hospital fairly quickly. Izuku was signed in to the E.R., where he was finally able to explain what happened when the doctor asked how he broke his wrist.

“A classmate of mine and I got caught up in the sludge incident today, and he was angry that a quirkless kid managed to get him out while the pro heroes just stood and watched. He approached me later on my way home, and threw me to the ground before stepping on my wrist until he heard it snap,” Izuku explained quietly. He didn’t include the part where he had threatened to kill him tomorrow. His mother sat in silence, clutching her skirt in her fists. He was only able to speak because he had been given some painkillers.

“I see, we’ll have to do an x-ray to determine the damage,” The doctor explained. Izuku nodded before he was led out of the room. The rest of the hospital visit was as to be expected. He was given a cast for his hand, and after they left his mother called him out of school for the rest of the week.

The car ride home was in silence, finally Izuku spoke only after they had gotten to their apartment.

“Mom, I need to talk to you,” he spoke once the door behind them was closed. His mother gave him a worried look as she responded.

“Sure, why don’t we go sit down?” She suggested, getting a nod in response from her son. The two of them sat down on the light blue living room couch, Izuku took a moment to gather his thoughts. His adams apple bulging when he swallowed.

“Today… There’s more to it than Katsuki breaking my wrist. Today he… He told me to take a swan dive off the roof, and hope I get a quirk… in my next life. He utterly destroyed my Hero Analysis journal, and even though he says he stopped bullying me whenever you talk to Mitsuki, he doesn’t stop,” he spoke as he fidgeted with his pant leg. He could practically hear his mother’s look of horror, pausing for a second before he continued.

“And… The sludge “villain”, he didn’t attack me just once. I was walking through an underpass when he attacked me. All Might saved me, but I’m lucky I didn’t get a concussion when he blasted me into the wall with his punch. He went through my things… he signed my notebook… and I asked him if I could become a hero,” Izuku explained, swallowing once again so that he wouldn’t choke on his own spit. He spoke in a dismal tone the entire time, voice cracking as he forced back tears.

“He told me that I couldn’t become a hero because I didn’t have any power… He jumped away, the same guy who attacked me both times was stored in a pair of soda bottles, and the bottles fell out of his pocket. They… they burst open when they hit the ground, so I ran. He chased me the entire time, not a single person bothered to stop and help me. It wasn’t until Katsuki got involved that they stopped to get help, but the pros didn’t do anything after he was safe,” he spoke, sobbing at this point as his voice trembled. His mother hugged him tightly as he trembled, the fear he felt finally hitting him full force.

He pulled away a couple moments later, determined to keep going even if he could barely think about the entire event without freezing up.

“And… you saw the news, how Katsuki was congratulated for… for sacrificing... me to save his own quirk,” he whispered in distress. Inko quietly hushed him as she pulled him closer, crying as well. Neither of them knew how much time had passed before Izuku spoke up again.

“Would you be upset if I got a second chance at life?” He asked, moving away to pick at his cast. His mother looked mortified at the suggestion that she’d even blame him for wanting to start over. She knew about what her son went through, even if he didn’t tell her, because a mother always knows.

“Izuku, why would I be upset? You’ve struggled all your life, and if starting over means that you’re happy then I won’t stop you. Just tell me if you want to start over and I’ll see what I can do,” Inko responded, Izuku gave her a crooked smile before hugging her once again and thanking her profusely.

That night after they ate, Izuku hopped into his computer and began scouring the internet for a way to entirely forget his past. It wasn't until the early hours of the next day when the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon that he found what he was looking for.

Hastily he scribbled down the address before he finally let exhaustion take over and he crawled into bed. He slept well past noon, waking up around the time he would be leaving school.

[ghost-ghost-baby]

Like or like like // yan!Izuku x reader //

patreon // masterlist

warnings: uhhh yandere themes,,, stalking,,, izuku is a disaster,,,, swearing.

request;  Hi!!! This is my first request ever so sorry if I don't explain the request well, Would you be able to write a Yan! Izuku and his darling themed after 'Like or like like' by Miniature tigers? Where the darling is his friend and he stalks them all the time, The darling being oblivious to all the little ways he tries to make his feelings known.

Izuku was waiting for you after class, hands in his pockets and nervously looking around for you. A blush crept onto your face when you saw he was still wearing the sweatshirt you’d given him when he’d come over to study last night. It was green, maybe you’d gotten it because it reminded you of him, but you’d never admit that, with little four leaf clovers around the edges of the sleeves.

“Sorry I took so long, Shinso wanted to borrow my notes.” You linked your arm through his when you were close enough, and the contact was all that stopped Izuku storming off to find a certain general studies student. He could only nod as the two of you started walking, you were touching him! How could he speak when you were so close? It was already taking everything he had not to pull you into his room and never let you go.

“How was class?” Izuku finally got the words out, he didn’t want you to think he was weird, he still couldn’t believe someone as perfect as you talked to him.

“Eh, pretty standard, we have a test coming up and I’ll probably flunk it.” You shrugged, peeking up slightly as you continued, “Although Shinso said he could help me study-“

“No!” The words tore out of Izuku before he could stop himself, whole face going red when you looked at him with your eyebrows raised.

“I mean uh, I-I could help you instead?” He hoped that was enough to cover his slip, the thought of you and anyone else huddled over notes late at night had his blood boiling.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t wanna be a bother.” Your heart was pounding against your ribs, and you could feel the blush on your face.

“You wouldn’t be a bother at all, i-it’s my pleasure.”

What was he doing? He’s dropped you off at your dorm, he should have gone right back to his. Yet here he was, lurking under a tree with the perfect view into your room. Izuku knew this was wrong, it was all wrong, but you always kept your window open, he needed to make sure nobody else saw what was his! You were completely oblivious to Izuku, yawning as you started stripping. You needed to study, as much as you wanted to just sleep, but you couldn’t do that until you were changed. Izuku got a darker shade of red with each button that came undone, and he couldn’t stop his quirk activating in his hands when your shirt fell to the ground and you were just in your skirt and a bra. Green eyes were fixed to your chest, even as you shimmied off your skirt, he just couldn’t look away! And then you were just in your underwear! Oh god, this was so wrong, If anyone found out what he was doing he’d be dead. Still, red faced and sweaty, he didn’t look away, eyes drinking in your entire form. There was so much skin! You looked so soft, he just wanted to run his hands over every inch of you. Another yawn left you as your stretched, arms above your head and back arched. Oh god Izuku was going to die, right here, looking like a freckled tomato. You grabbed a shirt off of the back of your desk chair, slipping it over your form without a second thought. Disappointment ran through Izuku, but only for a second because that was his shirt you were wearing. He’d do anything to be with you, be able to touch you and hold you and kiss you and fuck you, but you weren’t getting any hints he was dropping.

“Uraraka! Iida! Wait up!” You had to run to catch the hero students, luckily they stopped and waited for you, Uraraka offering you a friendly wave once you got to them.

“Have you seen Izuku, he was meant to help me study but I’ve been waiting thirty minutes and it’s not like him.”

Iida and Uraraka exchanged a look before the brunette spoke, her tone light.

“Oh yeah, sorry! His phone died and him and Bakugo had to stay back, Aizawa wanted to speak to them.”

“Oh, that makes sense!” You had to push down the hurt, you knew he liked Bakugo, who were you kidding? “I’ll just text Shinso and tell him we’re back on!” You were turning away and grabbing your phone before you’d finished your sentence, texting your friend and trying to distract yourself from the awful pit in your stomach.

“Well what did you expect, Deku? They need to study and for some reason- I don’t even want to know- you saw them, went bright red, started blubbering nonsense and then ran off?” Uraraka popped a strawberry into her mouth, completely ignoring the green haired boy in front of her, despite his quirk crackling around him.

“I-I can’t face Y/n! But they need me… what if Shinso tries something? He’s just the type to try and steal them away… maybe I should text them? Ask if I can come over… that should work.” Izuku was already grabbing his phone, sending a text quicker than his heart was beating in his chest. Oh god, how was he going to face you? Just seeing you earlier had him thinking about how you’d looked the other night, and that alone had his quirk acting up and his blood running south. How was he meant to talk to you? Or be close to you without going crazy? You were just so perfect. He’d just have to deal with it, or Shinso would steal you away, surely it couldn’t be that hard?

The wind was cold as you waited outside your dorm, chewing on your bottom lip as you looked for Izuku. He’d said he was coming over ten minutes ago, and he was normally early. You were worried, had you done something wrong? Izuku was hiding behind a tree, of all things, muttering to himself and trying to get the courage to go out and face you. Every time he’d see you there he’d just remember how beautiful you were and he couldn’t even think. You already thought he was weird, he couldn’t see you and start bumbling around like an idiot.

“Hey, you still waiting?” A new voice made the blood drain from his face, and tears built in Izuku's eyes as he peeked out from behind the tree.

“Yeah, it’s getting cold, Huh?” You turned to Shinso with a smile, although it didn’t do anything to mask the hurt in your eyes. Your friend sighed, draping his own jacket over you before he spoke again, scratching the back of his neck.

“Take that if you insist on waiting, at least.” Was all he said before he turned to go back inside. Doubts had been trying to wiggle into your brain since you’d gotten here and Izuku wasn’t, and as the seconds ticked by, they found cracks in your resolve, wiggling into your brain like worms to fester and rot and make you doubt. He was probably busy… something, probably Bakugo, must’ve come up and- and Izuku wasn’t coming, was he? Your shoulders sunk at the realisation, all the hope and life you’ clutched onto disappearing in an instant. It wasn’t lost on Izuku, of course, he knew every one of your moods, he had notebooks open notebooks about you, of course he did!! And he always, always knew when you were upset. Right, he turned around, taking a deep breath and trying to give himself a pep talk, he needed to comfort you. Anxiety would be his downfall, however, he’d taken too long, you’d finally given up. Turning back to the dorms, you shoved your hands into the pocket of Shinso’s jacket, glancing back one last time, the tears blurring your vision hiding a flash of green.

Where were you? Izuku had gone to your room as soon as you’d vanished inside, but you weren’t here yet. It had been three minutes! Where on earth were you? Reality hit him like a truck, Shinso was probably comforting you now, that thought alone had Izuku fuming. What lies was Shinso telling you? Filling your head with nonsense when you should be here in your room with him. He was walking to your door when it swung open, your tear stained eyes meeting his furious ones, although Izuku's anger left him the second you were there. It was okay, Shinso hadn’t stolen you away!

“What’s wrong?” He reached out, tears pooling in his own eyes when you flinched away from his touch.

“It’s nothing, what are you doing here? I thought something came up.” You wanted to sound angry, but the hurt somehow made it’s way into your tone despite your best efforts.

“I-I just couldn't-couldn't face you.”

“Why? Because you’re in love with Bakugo, and I’ll always be second to him? It’s fine. I get it.” You all but spat the words out like they burned your tongue, you just wanted to get this over with. Izuku was speechless, how on earth did you come to that conclusion? You were the only thing that mattered to him! He reached out again, grabbing hold of your wrist and pulling you towards him despite your struggles. Having you so close like this was driving him crazy, he had to do something, now! Before he lost you for good! It was your turn to be confused now, Izuku spun you to face him, with a look you’d never seen before. Just as you opened your mouth to ask what was happening, Izuku was grabbing your face and kissing you. The fight went out of you faster than you’d like to admit, your eyes closing as you wrapped your arms around Izukus neck. It just felt so right. You had to come up for air, eventually, much to Izuku's dismay. The pair of you were a mess, all flushed skin and messy hair and swollen lips, Izuku was so flustered and overwhelmed he had tears pooling in his eyes.

“Bakugo means nothing in comparison to you. I love you, Y/n.”

[raysofcrosby]

LITTLE DO YOU KNOW PT. 9

"𝘐 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘺 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘸��𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦." ━ 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫

gif credit (x)

series masterlist

requested: yes | no

warnings: cussing and angst, but nothing else tbh.

word count: 5,294 [of un-proofread material lol sorry]

authors note: HI EVERYONE!!! First off, I just want to wish you all a Happy Holiday season! I honestly didn’t think i was going to get anything out, but work has been extremely stressful and i needed to write and voila, part 9 lmfao. there’s only three more parts of the series left and i can’t believe it’s almost over! thank you to anyone who’s reblogged, liked, sent in a message, written in their tags or even took the time to read any part of this series– i love you all. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you all! I hope you all have an amazing day and enjoy part 9!

Avoiding Jamie and Tyler after the shitshow that took place in Tyler's house Friday night, was your number one priority. Thankfully, the Stars were out of town in Nashville and weren't due to come back to Dallas until early Sunday morning. You weren't sure if Tyler still wanted you to watch the dogs, so the next morning after everything happened, you took an uber to his place. When you walked inside to feed the dogs and take them on their walk, they were nowhere to be found. You walked around the house, whistling and even going as far as to squeaking Gerry's favorite toy– but no sound of paws against the floor or the jingling of their collars. When you went to leave, the front door opened and John walked in, holding onto the three dogs' leashes. He looked surprised to see you and the moment the two of you made eye contact, you realized that he knew.

And it was obvious that your dog sitting services were no longer needed, so you rushed back to campus and practically locked yourself in a library study room, throwing yourself into studying for your last final.

If you thought back on it hard enough, you weren't sure if that was the final straw that jutted the metaphorical knife deeper into your stomach or what happened Sunday night when Big Rig came over. You had once again, spent the entire day throwing yourself into studying for your finals and by the time you returned back to your dorm room, Kennedy was ordering dinner in for her and Big Rig.

You hadn't meant to completely shut her out, but you honestly felt a little embarrassed at how everything came crumbling down. Tyler had yet to reach out, he pretty much fired you from taking care of the dogs, you're pretty sure that your brother pretty much disowned you...and Kennedy, though not as straight-forward, had warned you of it all. The last thing you wanted to do was feel worse than you did now...though that logic isn't working, because well, you were feeling pretty shitty.

Kennedy was your best friend for a reason and she knew better than anyone that when you were ready to talk about it all, you would. So, unfortunately for her, but lucky for you, she was dealing with your sadness with grace– aka by not complaining when you had your playlist blasting through your headphones or not commenting on how you were watching the notebook one too many a time.

By the time Big Rig had arrived at your dorm, you had shut off your computer for the night, buried yourself beneath the covers, rolled yourself towards the wall and had been trying to fall asleep for almost an hour. You thought that you'd be able to eventually fall asleep, maybe while they were just going to watch Criminal Minds and eat some dinner, but the moment that their hushed whispers grew a little louder, there was no hope.

"How is she doing?" He asked, talking softly as he kicked his shoes off onto the floor and hopped onto her bed, his tall and heavy frame causing it to buckle beneath him.

"Honestly? Not so good. " Kennedy sighed and you could feel her gaze lingering on your back. "Neither Jamie or Tyler have talked to her. She's been either spending all her time studying, blasting sad breakup songs, skimming through The Notebook or sleeping."

"Oh shit...The Notebook?"

Kennedy was silent but climbed onto her bed as Big Rig shifted and unloaded the delivery bag. "I even called her mom earlier, just to give her a heads up before she came home for Christmas in case she notices that two of her kids aren't talking. And then right after, Jordie reached out to me because Y/N wasn't answering him and neither was Jamie. So, I filled him in too."

You couldn't even be angry at her for the fact that she told both your mom and Jordie about what had happened. Firstly, the two of them already had some sort of clue as to what was going on between you and Tyler. Secondly, once again, she was just being your best friend and looking out for your best interest– plus now you didn't have to have that awkward conversation once you went home.

"Yeah, Jamie's uh..." Big Rig cleared his throat and you could tell that he was either trying to avoid talking about something or just trying to figure out how to say it.

"Was it bad yesterday?"

"Horrible," he sighed and shifted on the bed again, probably lying back. "Everyone knows."

"Everyone knows?" She asked, the confusion in her voice evident. "As in...they know about Y/N and Tyler?"

"They know everything."

"Jesus Christ! Is Jamie that fucking petty and pissed that he went and blabbered about it to the whole team?" She caught her voice elevating and stopped, placing their food off to the side. "I'm going to kill him. What an asshole and to do that to his own–"

"It wasn't Jamie."

"Then who–"

"Well, I mean, Bish was with Jamie when he...walked in on the two of them, so Jamie told Bish– but he already kind of had a feeling because Jamie said something about it." Big Rig cleared his throat again. "But no, it was some fan account on Instagram for wags, I guess?"

"Explain, now."

You heard him sigh and you contemplated making it known that you were wide awake, but you had to admit to yourself that you were a little bit interested.

"So it some small fan account for wags of the team, I guess. Anyway, so they make a post and they have pictures of Y/N and Tyler from nights we all went to the bar, to pictures of him picking her up from A.B.C. and even his Halloween party. It was like... spam of almost 10 pictures and you can see how close they are and it's not hard to guess that they have something going on."

"Okay, and how does this tie into the whole team finding out?"

"Everyone got tagged in it. Players, girlfriends, wives, I think even Tyler's family and Y/N too. By the time the plane took off, it was kind of common knowledge."

Your heart was racing against your chest and it felt like it could explode at any minute. Everyone on the team and their significant others knew, which meant the coaches and training staff probably knew. How the hell were you supposed to show your face in the locker room tomorrow without wanting to just disappear into thin air?

"Shit, this is pretty much Worst-case scenario. How is she supposed to walk into a room and treat them all for their weak bones when they all know about her and Tyler?" Kennedy sighed her gaze on you.

"I mean...I don't think anyone judges her for it, because she's still Y/N to them, you know?"

"It doesn't matter, J. Even if she's still just Y/N, they'll still probably look at her and think– 'oh wow, she's been boning our teammate. there's another notch on the belt.' And I know they're your friends, but with Tyler's reputation and all males sharing the same brain– you can't tell me that it's not true."

Big Rig was silent for a few moments before deciding to speak again. "The game was even worse. He and Tyler are barely speaking, the tension between them on the ice was obvious as hell. Add in the confusion with Montgomery being fired and the Instagram was the cherry on top of a Sunday that nobody wants."

"Was it that bad? The two of them?"

"A few of the guys and I were talking on the plane ride back and we're all afraid that something is going to happen at practice or in the middle of a game or something and the tension between them with just make the two of them implode."

"And that would be another worst-case scenario come true," Kennedy sighed again. "God, this is such a mess."

That was all you were able to stand before you sat yourself up and turned towards the two of them. You took in their shocked appearances and you knew that they had thought you were asleep and that if you weren't they wouldn't have had this entire conversation with you in the room.

"I'm sorry," you said, your bottom lip starting to tremble no matter how hard you tried to fight it. "It's all my fault that everything is so messed up because I'm just some stupid little girl with a stupid crush and I ruined a friendship and your team chemistry."

Kennedy looked at Big Rig and got up off of her bed and walked over to your bed. "This is in no way, shape or form your fault, Y/N. I want you to get that through your head right now. " She grabbed one of your hands and tugged on it, causing you to look at her. "Tyler is a big boy, he knew what he was doing and he knew the consequences of his actions. So you are not going to put the full blame on yourself."

"She's right," Big Rig spoke up, sitting up in her bed. "Besides, I don't think that they hate each other. I just think that Jamie is probably a little bit embarrassed because he feels like everyone knew what was going on and he didn't. Especially since Jordie and Bish both had their suspicions about it."

"See?" Kennedy smiled, squeezing your hand again. "Your big brother is just letting his itty bitty man pride get in the way of his common sense."

"He probably also thinks that Tyler was taking advantage of you," he cleared his throat, and his cheeks turned a hint of pink at his insinuation of yours and Tyler's relationship. "Especially since he's older and that Jamie trusted him to be like a brother to you whenever he wasn't around."

As comforting as they tried to make their words, they did nothing but only make you feel worse and that you were responsible for everything that had happened. You sniffled and shook your head, looking at the two of them. "I don't think I can finish the internship, not when everybody knows."

Kennedy was about to say something, only to be cut off by the sound of Big Rig's feet thumping against the floor. He had hopped off of the bed and nudged Kennedy to the side, standing in front of you. He tilted your chin up and made you look at him, seriousness written all over his face. "Absolutely fucking not. You are not going to let some tatted doofus make you quit, okay? This is your dream and as your second best friend, I'll be damned if I let you quit, got it?"

"Got it." You smiled and nodded as Kennedy reached in and wiped a tear from your cheek.

Big Rig smiled and patted the side of your cheek. "Good, now come eat some of this food with us."

❒❒❒❒

It turns out that your little bonding night with Big Rig and Kennedy was exactly what you needed. It wasn't a magical cure to fix everything, but it made you fall asleep a little easier that night. And when you woke up the next morning, you were ready to take on your last final just before you'd head off to the arena for the game. When you sat down to take your final, you felt confident in yourself and slightly more relaxed and at ease than you had been the last two days. However, that all changed the moment your Physiology and Anatomy final was placed in front of you and the time to take your test began. It was smooth sailing up until halfway through when you came upon a question that brought out a memory from your many study sessions with Tyler.

For this particular question, you had to identify and label abdominopelvic quadrants, then their divisions, as well as the planes of the body. And the moment you stared at the outlined body and the lines waiting to be filled and identified, your eyes brimmed with tears at the memory of Tyler.

How when you walked into his house that afternoon and ready to study, he was already making the two of you lunch– 'brain food for my brainiac!' And when it came time to label the quadrants and planes, you realized you had forgotten the sheet your professor had given you, at your dorm. Tyler, being as brazen as he was, stood up off of the couch, took off his shirt, held out his arms to his sides, looked at you with a crooked, goofy grin and said, 'go ahead, paint on me like one of your french boys.' And when you corrected him on what the actual movie quote was supposed to be, he just stuck his tongue out at you and said, 'turn me into a masterpiece.' And it took every bit of self-restraint that you had in your body to refrain from telling him that he already was.

When you wrapped up your final and started to make your way to your dorm room to meet Big Rig so the two of you could head to the arena, your next big dilemma crossed your mind: all of the dorms were closing in two days and you had nowhere to stay. You were originally supposed to stay with Jamie and Katie at his place until the two of you were going to fly home together, but you doubt that's an option anymore. But that was another problem for another day and you weren't going to worry about it until later because your only important issue today, would be how you would carry on in the training room today.

When it came time to enter the training room, Big Rig offered to walk in with you, but you told him that if you were going to do this, you would do it yourself and then you ushered him off towards the locker room. You expected your feet to move towards the door and open it before walking inside, but the longer you stared at it, the more frozen you were. You could hear the muffled voices mingling together on the other side of the door, which only made your heart race and the knot in your stomach tangle and tightens. The locker room door opened behind you and you froze, hoping that it wasn't Jamie or Tyler.

"You're still standing here?"

You turned to look at Big Rig, who was now dressed down from his suit and wearing some shorts and a shirt. "You act like I've been standing here for ten minutes."

"Try five, Y/N." He sighed and walked ahead of you, pushing the door halfway open and turning to you, nodding his head towards the door. "Come on, if there's one person who's one-hundred percent on your side, it's me."

You wanted to run into him and hug him tight, but you settled with thanking the Universe for sending Jamie Oleksiak your way before you followed him into the training room. As expected, the immediate conversation stalls, but only for a short second before it picks back up again. And if you weren't so focused on noticing any kind of difference, you might not have noticed that it paused at all. One thing that was extremely obvious though, was the way that all of the boys were looking at you. Sure, they were friendly, that's their character– but you could still see it in every pair of eyes, the fact that they knew about you and Tyler.

And you couldn't help but feel like they were judging you for it.

Klinger was the first one to come up to you while you were preparing Big Rig for his stretches, and you just had an overwhelming urge to hug the swede, but you resisted. "How did your final go, Y/N?" He asked, stopping by and leaning against the table Big Rig was sitting on.

It felt like things might ease back into normality, just based on his normal question and the conversations going on around you– it was like a weight off of your shoulders. "I bet that you aced it," Big Rig said, poking at you with his foot. "You're the genius Benn after all. You and Jenny must have the brains because I don't know what Jordie and Jamie got."

Right, when you went to reply, the door opened and on instinct, you turned to see who walked in. When you saw it was Jamie, it was as if every eye in the room was focused on the two of you. Jamie didn't bother to look your way, making his way over to the cabinet to grab some ibuprofen. "How did your final go?" He asked, his back turned to you and his voice void of any emotion.

"I think I did pretty good," you replied, feeling awkward as he kept his back to you before turning away and walking over towards another table, not even bothering to reply. You turned your attention to Klinger and gave him a small smile. "Thank you for asking, Klinger." You spoke softly.

He gave you a nod and patted your shoulder before going off back into the locker room. Everything felt fine and the awkward tension eased slightly as you went on helping Big Rig with his stretches. Sure, because of Jamie's presence, there was still a slight stir on tension as if everyone was expecting the two of you to implode right then and there– but it wasn't anything that couldn't be easily ignored. However, when the door opened again, this time Tyler walked through and it was like the air was sucked out of the room.

You felt yourself freeze as you went to adjust the band around Big Rig's foot and he tapped his foot against your hand, causing you to look at him. He took a deep breath and then breathed out slowly before nodding his head. You nodded back, still feeling everyone's eyes switching between focusing on you and focusing on Tyler. After you adjusted the band, you went over to your desk, instinctively picking up athletic tape before sitting down in your chair, waiting for someone else to ask for help.

"Hey, John, how long do you think you'll be?" Tyler asked, barely brushing by Jamie to grab a heating pad before pacing it onto his shoulder.

"What do you want done?" John replied, looking up from a separate cabinet.

"My ankles?"

"Give me two and I can help."

Tyler nodded, adjusting the heating pad before walking right back out of the locker room, not even bothering to look in your direction. You were crushed and fighting like hell not to have it show on your face as you sat in your chair, gripping the athletic tape tightly. Soon, tapping your foot against the floor became another way to prevent yourself from giving in to your emotions and before you knew it, Bishop was calling for your attention at Big Rig's table as he hopped off. "Yeah?"

"Can you come over for a second? I need you to help me tape my thumb for me real quick." You walked over, your supplies already in hand and stood in front of the goalie. "How are you doing?"

"Good, especially now that classes are done," you smiled, exhaling lightly. "Now I get to relax...sort of."

"No, Y/N," he said, looking around the room before leaning in closer. "How are you really doing?" The way he raised an eyebrow slightly, gave you a hint as to what he was asking.

You were slightly embarrassed that he was asking you, but at least he wasn't being so blunt and loud about it. "Embarrassed, sad," your eyes lingered away from taping his thumb and over to your brother, who had a focused and zoned in look on his face. "Is disowned too dramatic?"

He laughs lightly, but his lack of answer lets you know that your feelings are completely valid. "I'm sorry by the way," you apologized, cutting the athletic tape. "For making things awkward around here."

"They're grown men, they'll figure it out," he shrugged, watching as you finished taping his thumb. "Don't worry about that, worry about you."

"Do you think I made a mistake?" You asked as he hopped off of the table.

He looks like he wants to say yes, or maybe you're just overthinking it. He shrugs his shoulders and gives you a half-smile. "Is it a mistake if it makes you happy?"

His reply lingered in your mind as you watched him leave the room before returning to your chair. You placed your supplies onto the desk and spun yourself around to face the wall, thinking about what he said and for once, not feeling all too guilty about your decision.

❒❒❒❒

You've never been happier at the fact that you had to stay in the training room during a game. You took solace in the quiet as the muffled music, announcements and cheers were on the other side of the door. Normally, you'd spend this time studying, but since you were done with all of your finals...you had nothing to do but play on your phone, make sure that the training room was clean and of course help any player who came in with something John sent them back to you for.

The game wasn't going so well the second period was almost over and Dallas was down 2-0. Kennedy was sitting with Katie and sending you updates on how Big Rig was doing, but other than that, you were too busy watching random videos on youtube. You're watching one of those astrological card reading videos when you hear the announcers muffled voices yelling about a hit, a fight and then bickering. By the time you were fully able to focus and take out the one headphone, they were done announcing it and the crowd was roaring– a mix of boos and cheers, you couldn't tell. Right when you went to go back to your video, a text message from Kennedy popped up.

"j took a high stick to the face, ty went to go fight the guy who kept trying to go back after j."

"j and ty arguing...it looks ugly."

You clicked on the message, ready to reply and ask for a more specific update when the locker room door swings open violently and Tyler walks in with a pissed look all over his face and blood on his jersey. You weren't sure if it was trainer mode, friend mode or that your feelings were coming into play, but you left your phone on your desk and ran over to him. "Holy shit, Tyler are you okay?"

He looked as if he was mumbling to himself, the anger still evident on his face as he ignored your question. "I'm just going to take your helmet off for you," you said, reaching up to grab his helmet. "Just to make sure the blood isn't coming from–"

As if he snapped back into focus, he stumbled back, looking at you. "Don't touch me!"

You were startled at how loud and angry he sounded. You've never seen him this angry outside of a hockey game, so seeing it first hand right now, was terrifying. But you needed to do your job, so you weren't backing down. "No, I need to check to make sure that your head isn’t bleeding, Tyler. So just let me–"

"Just– don't!" He said, this time glaring at you, the anger on his face still there, but the look in his eyes softening the moment they took in the slight fear on your face. "God, you're acting like...like," he waved his hand in the air as if the words he was looking for were there to catch. "Like some obsessed hook up!"

Your jaw dropped and as if he just understood the words that left his mouth, the anger started to fade off of his face and for a moment, he looked like he might apologize.

The door swung open again, this time Jamie walking in and stopping just a little into the room. His eyes took in just how close the two of you were standing together and he scoffed. "Of fucking course."

Tyler spun around and pointed at Jamie. "Oh shut the fuck up, Jamie. I stood up for your ass just now."

"You think fighting Draisaitl is sticking up for me when you're the reason why he made that fucking comment?" Jamie yelled, his voice getting deeper, something that always happened whenever he got angry. "You wouldn't have to 'stand up for me' if you were focused and knew where to pass the damn puck instead of daydreaming about getting laid!"

"Guys, stop!" You said, trying to move past Tyler to get in between the two grown men, a huge sense of deja vu washing over you. "Jamie, are you okay?"

"Oh, now you seem to care what I think? Where was this before you started sleeping with my best friend?" And there it was, the aggression pointing towards you– the real reason why he was probably upset anyway.

"I asked if you were okay, not for your fucking opinion column, Jamie." You sniped, reaching up and taking off his helmet before tossing it onto a table and going towards where the suture kit was kept so you could pull it out for whoever was coming in to stitch him up. "You have a cut on your forehead.”

"I am focused on this game, so fuck you, Jamie!"

"Really?" Jamie scoffed, shaking his head. "So you're not focused on the fact that you're gonna go home with Maisy and probably get laid tonight?"

You froze, just as you turned back with the suture kit and glue in hand– that one name sending you into a small panic. You looked to Tyler before looking at Jamie, who was just shaking his head. "Oh Y/N, you didn't know? Maisy's here. You know who Maisy is, you remember?"

Tyler shook his head. "What are you–"

"Don't even play coy, Seguin. Katie texted me before the game and said she bumped into Maisy, who coincidentally is sitting in the same seats that you got her last year."

At this point, you felt like you were going to be sick. You had asked Tyler about Maisy and he told you everything. How yeah, she was one of his main hook-ups last season, that he cut it off completely in the summer, it was never super serious and that they haven't talked since.

But Maisy was here in the same seats Tyler gave her last season and Tyler wasn't arguing back...so maybe he didn't tell you everything.

"Why is that, Tyler?" Jamie asked, raising his eyebrows. "Why is Maisy here? Did you get what you wanted from my little sister so you went back to–"

Tyler lunged at Jamie just as Craig walked into the room. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! What the hell is going on?" He asked, looking at you as the two fuming hockey players stood apart from one another.

Jamie and Tyler say nothing, only moving onto opposite tables as Craig points Jamie to sit down. "Y/N, can you help Tyler with gluing that cut? It shouldn't be too much."

It felt like your entire body was throbbing as you stood there, still trying to take in the information that Jamie just shared. You looked at Jamie who was fuming and glaring at Tyler. And when you looked at Tyler, his anger was written all over his face, but there was something else mixed in that you couldn't quite pinpoint. When you finally looked at Craig, you shook your head. "I think I'm going to be sick."

You pushed the kit into his chest before running out of the training room and down the hallway, finding the nearest restroom. When you locked yourself inside of a stall, you hunched over the toilet, the tears falling from your eyes and into the toilet bowl as the sobs wrecked you. Everything seemed like it would be okay, but what had just happened in the game tonight and in the training room– proved otherwise. There's no way you'd be able to complete this internship in one piece. You went to reach for your phone to text Kennedy, but only then did you realize that it was sitting on your desk.

There's no way you'd be able to go back into that room with Jamie and Tyler being there together– you wouldn't survive. And it turns out, bathrooms make pretty good hiding spots.

By the time you had deemed the coast to be clear, you made your way back into the training room once the third period started and you knew no one would be in it. When you walked into the empty room, you sent Kennedy a text, asking her to meet you in the hall after the game and then you spent the rest of your time wishing that the game would just end.

The Stars lost 2-1 and Tyler scored a goal in the third. Once upon a time, not too long ago, Tyler would've joked that he scored that goal for you– 'his number one fan beside his mom'– but now you couldn't help but let your mind wander over into if he ever told Maisy the same.

As promised, Kennedy met you in the hallway with Katie by her side. Katie was explaining all of last season of the Maisy and Tyler saga to you and Kennedy, but you wanted no part of it, so you zoned yourself out, staring at the end of the tunnel, wondering if you'd see her walk down this way. By the time both Jamie and Big Rig came out of the locker room, there was still no sign of Maisy and you couldn't help but wonder if she was waiting out there for Tyler or even if at all.

"Y/N, are you coming home with us?" Katie asked, giving you a friendly smile and ignoring the glare in her direction that was coming from your brother.

You weren't ignoring it though and though it was there, you knew how to read your brother and beneath that glare were hints of sadness. But you didn't care, you were still angry at him for the stunt he pulled in the training room and sad at the fact that up until today, he hadn't bothered to talk to you– and even then, it was aggressive. You looked at Big Rig and nodded your head in his direction. "No, they're just going to drop me off before they go to his place."

Your walk from the hallway and through security and parking to Big Rig's car felt like a blur as Kennedy and Big Rig were focused on their conversation. As you got into the back of the car, you leaned forward between the passenger and driver's seats. "I sent my mentor an email during the game tonight and I have a meeting with her on Thursday to talk about the required hours of my internship and see if I've met them yet."

Kennedy turned back to face you so fast, you were sure she was going to have whiplash. Big Rig, as clueless as ever, looked between you and Kennedy. "What does that mean?"

Kennedy kept looking at you, raising an eyebrow and you just nodded. She sighed and turned to Big Rig. "It means she's done being your trainer."

[deuynndoodles]

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suspicion increase by deuynndrabbles and @whimsicalweast chapter summary:

Three kids have a sleepover. One word- Mabel.

“Seriously, Mabel?” The boy groans, and looks at his sister with The Look.

“Yes, seriously,” she says, in a tone that is anything but serious.

3k | ch. two

Danny is currently curled up in a rainbow blanket (given to him by the boy, but he mentioned it was knitted by Mabel- he doesn’t necessarily need it because of his ice powers, and therefore likes the cold, but he figures it’d be weird to refuse) in the attic, aka the twins’ bedroom.

He glances over to Mabel, who is currently laying on her bed coloring in a coloring book on her belly with her feet in the air, her tongue sticking out playfully, he starts to reflect on what landed him in this spot in the first place.

(Danny accidentally mentioned he didn’t have anywhere to go that night, and Mabel had none of that and scooped him up, dragging him to another room in the Mystery Shack and asking her great uncle if Danny could stay over for the night.

The older man didn’t seem to care all that much, only giving them a few warnings such as “Don’t stay up too late”, and “Never let Mabel have any Smiley Dip”, and “Don’t raise the dead again”.

Danny found everything he mentioned fairly standard sleepover rules.

The two children thanked the man, one certainly more enthusiastic than the other, and Mabel rushed up the stairs, hopping each stair two at a time, gripping Danny with her right arm.

Mabel’s brother didn’t seem quite as eager to have Danny over as Mabel was, but remained quiet throughout the process for the most part. Well, he did reprimand his sister for inviting over a stranger, which was a reasonable response. But. He was right here, jeez.

All Mabel did was blow a raspberry at him and told him not to worry, but her brother didn’t calm.)

Still feeling the kid’s gaze focused on the back of his head, Danny pulls out his phone and dials two very familiar numbers, one to a specific techno-geek and the other to a goth activist, but is only met with “The person you are trying to reach is currently unavailable, please call back later or leave a message at the beep.”

He sighs, dropping his phone back into his jeans pocket and gives the twins a smile, saying, “I’ll try again in the morning. It is kinda late, anyways. And who knows how late it is for them in Illinois.”

Mabel gives him a wide grin and nods her head, but her brother just gives him an uncertain glance before returning to the journal in his hands. It looks fairly odd to Danny, a red cover with a six fingered hand slapped on the front and a bold number 2 in the center. But he’s not one to judge.

(So now here he is, kidnapped by a thirteen-year-old girl, staying in the attic of a tourist trap wrapped in a multitude of blankets in between two twin beds.)

He still feels as if he’s gotten whiplash from this whole scenario. But he just pulls up the blanket draped around his shoulders to cover his cheeks, content with the situation as well as he can be.

Mabel is now laying on her back, placing her bare feet on the slanted ceiling. Her brother is still scouring his journal, with two other identical covers sitting on his bedside table. He’s chewing on the end of the pencil he holds, occasionally pausing to write a thing or two in the margins. Their pig, deemed ‘Waddles’, is snuggled up to Mabel on her bed.

Danny himself is in a make-shift nest (no matter what you call it, Mabel will say it’s a bed, but Danny will call it a nest) surrounded by a various amount of blankets and pillows.

“By the way, what do ya like to do, Danny?” Mabel says, her tongue stuck out quite dorkishly and she grins a wide brace-filled grin at the boy.

Danny blinks, and then the audio forms itself into words in his brain. “Video games, I guess?” He says, tilting his head slightly and the blanket falls back onto his shoulders. “I don’t have a whole lot of free time.”

(Danny doesn’t share the reasons for this.)

“Cool!” Mabel draws out the syllable, and flips over onto her belly again and props her arms up on her pillow. She turns to glance at her brother. “Hey, bro-bro? Do we have any video games in the shack?”

The small teen furrows his brow. “I don’t think so,” he mutters, setting the book in his lap aside on his bedside table to join the two other identical volumes. “Soos probably has some, but for now I think we just have board games downstairs in the gift shop.”

Mabel gasps, and smirks. “How about Candyland?” Mabel grins, and her brother groans.

“Fine,” he says. “You okay with that, Danny?”

Danny shrugs, and says, “I don’t really care, to be honest.”

Mabel takes the neutral answer and grins even wider, sliding off her bed with an “oomph” and trotting downstairs to retrieve said board game.

The brunet on the bed sighs and looks over to Danny, who simply blinks at him in confusion. “What?” Danny says, and the boy tentatively offers a slip of paper attached to a clipboard along with the pencil he was chewing on to him.

“Can you write some things down on Phantom?”

(Danny is suddenly reminded of the fact that he had agreed to hunt essentially himself- his brain hasn’t quite caught up and he’s sure he’ll bolt up in the middle of the night and go “I’m hunting myself with two thirteen-year-olds”.

But he hasn’t quite comprehended this fact yet.)

Instead, Danny grimaces at the chewed and slightly wet pencil, but takes the clipboard and starts to write in slanted print anway.

After a few minutes, he offers the paper back to the boy, and he starts to read the text out loud. Danny rolls his eyes at this. (He knows what the paper says, thank you very much.)

“Phantom’s a pretty friendly ghost. He’d save people from oncoming ghost attacks back in my hometown. Nobody really knows where he’s from or how old he is-”

(It’s not like Danny’s going to go and share his life story to this kid he doesn’t even know the name of. Besides, it’s technically the truth. Excluding a certain trio, a sister, and a whole world of ghosts.)

“-or how he died, but they never can find out because Phantom is fairly elusive. He typically stays in his own haunt, so it’s unlikely you’ll see him anywhere else.” The boy pauses his reading, glancing up from the paper to meet sky blue eyes with hazelnut brown. “This is all you know?” He says, shaking the scrap of notebook paper.

The door is slammed open to reveal an excited Mabel with a decorated cardboard box in her hands. (To be honest, both boys had pretty much forgotten she was downstairs.)

“Who’s ready to play Candyland?” She exclaims, and doesn’t wait for an answer before she plops down on the wooden floor and sets up the game.

“I get red!” Mabel says, and picks up the piece that is now ‘hers’ and sets it by the start. She grabs a blue and sticks it by the start as well. “Danny, which color do you want?” She shakes the green and the yellow gingerbread man figures, a wide grin still adorning her face.

“Green.”

Mabel shoves the yellow one back in the box. “Poor yellow guy, he’ll be all lonely in there. Well, we’ll make it quick!” She grins, and offers the deck of cards over to her brother who shuffles and sets it down next to the board.

The first card is a purple, and Mabel decides that she goes first and moves the red figure. Danny goes next, and takes an arm out of his blanket nest and moves his character five blocks forward.

Approximately fifteen minutes later, the yellow man is reunited with his best friends after Mabel yells “I win!” and flips the board over in victory.

(For a quick second, Danny is reminded of when Sam would brag whenever she’d win the round of Doom they all played together, slamming the controller down on the couch and announcing her victory to two sour boys.

Though of course, this girl is the complete opposite of Sam so he isn’t really sure why he thinks of her.)

“Seriously, Mabel?” The boy groans, and looks at his sister with The Look.

“Yes, seriously,” she says, in a tone that is anything but serious.

Danny snickers, and stops as he sees Mabel’s wide grin as she believes Danny is on her side.

(He’s neutral.)

-

“Anyway, let’s focus on Phantom,” Dipper says, and pulls out the slip of paper that Danny filled out. He reads it out loud again to his twin, and she smiles as she listens.

She seems to almost deflate like a balloon when he mentions that they might not see Phantom, but when Dipper thinks of that night last week of seeing a bright light above the trees at just before sunrise-

He’s pretty sure they’ll see Phantom.

And besides, Danny’s parents are ghost hunters so he knows a couple things. They’re bound to find something.

“Though you guys could probably find a bunch of animal ghosts and stuff in the woods. Seemed pretty supernatural to me,” Danny throws out, and glances up at the twins.

Suddenly, Mabel’s balloon is filled with helium again and she sits up straight with an excited expression. “That sounds sweet,” she says, drawing out the last syllable annoyingly long and Dipper groans on the inside.

But he can’t say he isn’t excited, because he definitely is. He just doesn’t show it as much as the girl does. His heart is still beating fast, and a grin adorns his face. He just doesn’t flail his limbs around like Mabel is currently doing, hammering questions about ghosts at Danny, while the boy looks at the floor and responds with short, concise answers.

‘Yeah,’ Dipper thinks. ‘Let’s do this.’

And then Mabel hits him over the head with a pillow from Danny’s nest, knocking his snapback off his head and he turns to glare at her.

“C’mon, lil’ bro! It’s sleepover time! We can focus on those ghostie thingies tomorrow!”

Dipper abstains from responding, but he thinks ‘You were just asking Danny a bunch of questions about them’ as Dipper tugs his hat back on.

“Now, let’s paint your nails, boys!”

She lifts a few bottles of nail polish in her hands and a smirk adorns her face.

Danny groans, and says, “Ugh, fine. But I want black.”

(He’s still thinking of Sam and Tucker.)

Dipper soon has rainbow nail polish smothered over his fingers, carefully painted and Danny has all black nails and toes. (Danny found it hard to object to that puppy-dog-eyes face when she begged to paint his toes.)

“Who’s ready for makeup?” Mabel smiles, opening a drawer.

“Uh, no,” Danny deadpans, “I didn’t agree to this.” Dipper falls over onto his bed with a groan.

-

If Mabel didn’t notice her brother’s clear discomfort from this entire situation, she’d call herself blind.

She believes that she knows Dipper better than he knows himself, and now is just proof of that. Danny’s examining his makeup in the mirror, and Mabel watches Dipper fiddle with the pen in his hand unconsciously, spinning it around. He stares down at the hardwood floor as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world with brown hair falling into his eyes.

Dipper has a tendency to avoid things that makes him uneasy, so it makes sense he’s quiet throughout the sleepover. Not that he was ever really that loud in the first place; Dipper usually waits until attention is diverted away from him so he blends into the background when he’s wary of anything.

Or anyone.

Dipper has never been a social butterfly like Mabel, and she doesn’t blame him for that. He still tries. . . Well, at least he used to. Ever since their last summer at Gravity Falls, he seems so different, so closed off.

With everything that occurred last summer, he’s grown even more distrustful of people in general, and she can’t blame him for this either. (She still feels guilty about what she said to him when they were trapped in that ideal world, paradise, but was really just a trap. She was too blind to see, and she has Dipper to thank for ever getting out of there.)

It makes sense, after all.

(A small part of her blames this mysterious town for what it’s done, who’s really responsible for this shift in Dipper’s personality, and Gravity Falls no longer has him haunting the streets but that voice still echoes in her brother’s head.)

Mabel knows that Dipper doesn’t particularly trust Danny yet. She’s still trying though, okay? Games, makeovers, icebreakers; nothing seems to work for them. The two could get along so well if they just talk to each other! (Danny seems down to get to know her brother, but it doesn’t go the other way and she hates it.)

It really irritates her, how she can’t do anything to get Dipper to trust Danny.

She huffs to herself, pulling out another packet of blush and sticking it in the other makeup she holds in her arms.

Mabel knows that she can’t force him to get closer to the teen, or Dipper’ll just shut them both out, which wouldn’t do either of them any good. He may not be sure of Danny, but Mabel just knows he’s nice.

Mabel likes to think she’s a good judge of character, and she’s gotten better at it in the past year. Danny has yet to make her suspicious, so that’s positive!

Besides, there’s no way he’s one of those annoying gnomes, or a vampire, or anything else. He wouldn’t have been able to get through the weirdness barrier if that was the case.

(Though she knows this, she finds herself checking his eyes as she smothers makeup over his face. Just to make sure.)

She definitely cares about her brother, there’s not doubt about that. But Danny had nowhere else to stay! She couldn’t just leave him to the wolves, or even worse, the crazy town members. After Danny mentioned he had to go, he just seemed so lonely and that wouldn’t do!

Even if Dipper doesn’t like Danny, he has to understand why she’s doing this.

She does want them to get along, but she can’t just throw them into a closet together. (last time she did that with Dipper- well, there were some unforeseen occurrences.) She can’t force them to be friends. So for now, she’ll just try to lighten the mood. Try to have fun, it is a sleepover after all!

There has to be some way to get them to talk to each other and she’s gonna find out how.

-

“Hey, Dipper, you good?”

Dipper has a full face of makeup, the makeup surprisingly working pretty well on both Danny and himself. “I’m fine,” he says, and it’s true. Mabel can be annoying at some times but he still loves her.

“Dipper?” Danny questions, and Mabel immediately responds.

“Yup! It’s his nickname because of a birthmark he got on his forehead!” She gets a little closer to Danny, and stage whispers, “It's the Big Dipper.”

“Mabel!” Dipper exclaims, feeling his ears reddening.

“What?” Mabel shrugs. “He was wondering.”

“No, I was double-checking to see if that was his name.”

Dipper turns to glare at Mabel, and then calms. “Yeah, uh, my name’s Dipper.”

“Do you really have the Big Dipper on your forehead, though?” Danny asks, and it’s a fair question, but it still slightly irritates Dipper.

Dipper nods, and wipes the makeup off his face and grabs his cap from the ground (Mabel had thrown it off to make it easier to apply makeup), steadying it on his head once again.

“Cool,” Danny says, sounding genuine, and Dipper pauses. He was almost expecting him to laugh at Dipper for it. “Space is awesome, I think it’d be cool to have a space birthmark or something.”

“Um, thanks.” Dipper says, and glances at the floor. 

(He thinks of how familiar Danny feels, not for the first time that night. He still can't place why, though.)

Stan pops in, slamming the door open. “Kids, get ready for bed. Your Grunkle wants to be able to watch babies fight without the ruckus above his head.”

Dipper finds himself yawning, and nods in agreement.

“C’mon, Grunkle Stan! It’s a sleepover,” Mabel argues, and Stan shakes his head, arms crossed.

“Lights off in five,” Stan says, and it sounds odd coming from such a gruff voice.

“Okay, Grunkle Stan,” the twins say in unison, Mabel’s in disappointment and Dipper’s with agreement.

Despite her craziness a few minutes ago, as soon as Mabel’s head hits the pillow she’s out like a light. Dipper watches Danny curl up in a ball on the floor, his head facing away, and his eyes start to droop.

He falls asleep.

-

Danny is left the last awake, with Mabel snoring and Dipper exhaling softly on his bed. He’s curled into a ball, The blanket essentially a cocoon around him, and he gazes out the open window. The window lets in soft chilly air from the summer night, but Mabel and Dipper are both curled up tight in their blankets so they don’t notice.

Danny slides his blankets off, instead settling them into a mattress shape and curls into a ball again on the fluffy floor.

He still gazes out the open window, watching the waxing moon gently shine through the panes of glass and make pretty shapes on the floor. It’s serene, and there’s no sound except for breathing in the room.

The halfa sighs, tracing a circle in the floor as a stim as he watches the moon. He isn’t sure how he’ll get home if he can’t contact his friends, but he hopes they’ll be awake in the morning.

He finds himself yawning, and eventually drifts to sleep.

[morgana-ren]

I just read your latest shiggy piece and it was so good. I also saw your note at the end. Obviously do what’s best for you but I’m going to miss your writing lol. And if it’s not too personal, can I ask why you’re done with it? Are you falling out of interest with these characters? Of course you don’t have to answer and you’re valid no matter what. But thanks again for the great stories!!!

Thank you! I’m really happy you liked it! 

So basically, there’s a few reasons I’m thinking of calling it quits, but most of it condenses down into my own self confidence issues and self esteem. I’ll put more under a cut cause frankly most people aren’t going to care about my self pitying tirade and I don’t wanna put some long ass thing they need to scroll past. 

I’ve been writing fairly consistently for a few years now. I don’t always post everything I write but on average I usually write at least 5,000 words a week. That might not seem like much but those are during the weeks where I’m still working full time and taking care of shit like cooking and laundry and other adult responsibilities. My googledocs is completely full of my bullshit and half baked ideas, and so is my drafts and the notebook app on my phone. It’s been a very large part of my life. 

Problem with that is that I don’t feel like I am where I should be as a writer despite it being such a large part of my life. I’m one of those exceedingly obnoxious people that doesn’t do things they’re not good at. I gave up guitar after two years because I got so frustrated of hearing myself suck. I don’t draw anymore because I hate my shitty work in comparison to other people’s amazing art. The same is starting to be said for my writing. It doesn’t make me feel good anymore. It just makes me feel bitter and frustrated.

I was able to ignore it for the past two years largely in part to the weird euphoria of finding characters I loved, but that’s quickly starting to wear off. The fandoms I write for are filled to the brink with amazing and talented authors, some of which have been writing for exponentially less time than I have, and already their work far surpasses mine. For some reason, it feels like my brain just is not wired to improve past a certain point, even if I make active efforts to do so.

Now don’t mistake that for me blaming other folks for anything, this has to do with me and me alone. A lot of it can be attributed to some of my illnesses and the fact I just flat out don’t like myself. I just feel like given how much time I spend doing this bullshit, I should be much, much better than I am. I essentially feel like I improved a little bit early on and ever since then, I’ve just been stagnating. My work doesn’t have the originality it did (if it ever did) and people don’t seem to enjoy it as much. 

There’s a lot of incredible authors out there who write the same topics and characters that I do, and when my work is put up against theirs, mine is basically just scraping the bottom of the barrel. I’m essentially throwing out these stories that have already/could be done better by other people and I’m just taking up titles and ideas that could be used for better pieces or concepts that could be done better by anyone but myself. 

I know that we all say “I write for myself” and for me, that’s true on a level. If I truly wrote only for myself, I wouldn’t be sharing it here on this platform or on Ao3. Sometimes when there’s a lack of positive feedback or any sort of acknowledgement at all, it feels like I’m just yelling obnoxiously into the void and cranking out this shit that no one wants and no one even asked for. I’m not entitled to people’s attention or time, and I don’t want to spam people’s tags or feeds with shit they have to roll their eyes and scroll past every few days when I post some bullshit no one really wants. 

I guess it comes down to the voice in my head every time I write or get ready to post something that’s steadily getting louder that says “Why fucking bother? It fucking blows and so do you and you just wasted _ days doing something that fucking sucks.” It feels like I’m just wasting time that I should be using on something, anything else to write these stories that no one gives a fuck about.

And nobody fucking @ me with some shitty insult like “lmao youre so self pitying” or some shit because #1) I am aware. My mental state, especially right now, is not great. I’ll be self pitying if I want, and if you don’t like it? Unfollow/block button is free. And #2) This is something I do mostly for free. You are not paying me to do it, so your input means exactly nothing to me. Start paying my bills or for my medication and I’ll start giving a single fuck.

[otomaticallyobsessed]

Quarantine Blues

Ok y’all so this is my first fic I’ve ever written... If anyone even reads this, feel free to give some feedback. I have some other fic ideas, and depending on how this goes I may or may not write those too. I think it’ll become obvious this is based off my real life circumstances - and I figured if the fic you need doesn’t exist, make it yourself right?

Karno x Reader, hurt/comfort

cw: depression, quarantine, some swearing

It was a dark, lonely night. I had been trying and failing to concentrate on my homework for hours, but to no avail. This quarantine was getting to me, seeping into my spirit and stealing away any amount of positivity and productivity I might have felt.

I am in my last semester of university. Actually, at this point I am only two weeks away from everything being finally over. But the pressure of finals, quarantine, and the reemergence of my depression is getting to me, and I am breaking down.

I sigh for probably the hundredth time in the last hour. I was getting nowhere, and the longer I sat here the more I wanted to just throw my laptop across the room, pack a bag, and go find some cabin in a woods somewhere and make my fate secluded from society.

I cast my gaze up to the night sky, trying to find some source of comfort. Immediately, my eyes are drawn to the familiar stars of the Cancer constellation. I sigh again, but this time not because of the homework.

Karno… I miss you.

I’m sure he is working harder than anyone in the heavens at the moment. I haven’t seen any of the Zodiac gods since this pandemic started, and I doubted I would anytime soon. I smile to picture Karno attempting to talk down Leon as he ripped into Zyglavis. Karno waking up Aigo for the thirteenth time that day. Karno staying up all hours of the day to make sure the department ran smoothly.

I couldn’t help but long to see him. He was always so calm, so reassuring. I could use one of his amazing hugs right now.

Ugh! Karno is working hard right now, so you should be too!

I shake my head to rid myself of thoughts of him. I didn’t want any of my wishes accidentally making its way into the department – Leon and Teo would never let me hear the end of it. And besides, I didn’t want to distract him.

I reopen my notebook, and glance back at my laptop. I really am trying to get something done, but I end up just staring at the computer screen for who knows how long. Eventually I groan and lay my head down on the desk. It was pointless.

“Well now, that’s not a sound I like hearing from you.”

I jerk up in surprise. “Karno?!” I frantically look around my room but no one is there. “Good gods I’m going insane.”

Two warm hands cover my eyes. “Well, I certainly hope not!”

I grab his hands from over my eyes, rise from my chair, and throw myself at him. “Karno!! Why did you hide?”

“I’ll admit, I thought it might be fun to play a joke. Maybe I’ve been seeing Ichthys too much. We’re all working together right now and its a little much.” He wraps his arms around me and holds me close to his chest. I missed his hands on my waist, and felt immeasurably more complete having him in my arms.

“Now, what has gotten my darling so upset I could hear her from the heavens?” I’m quiet for a second. Now that he’s here, I feel really silly thinking about telling him anything. I mean, he’s a literal god helping keep the world in balance, and I’m freaking out over a college final? “I tried to not call to you. I’m sorry if I pulled you away from something important.”

“Nothing is as important to me as you.” He whispers, making direct eye contact with me. He pulls away slightly, but only to guide me to my bed. He pulls me back close to him as we settle down. “Tell me what is wrong?”

“It’s silly.” “It’s not silly if it’s bothering you.”

“I guess its just… I can’t concentrate on anything. I can’t do anything right now either. I’ve been writing the same report for the last week. Usually something like this would take me three hours, not three days!”

“Why can you not concentrate?”

“The… uncertainty of the whole situation! This is an important coming of age time for me. Graduating college is huge for humans! And now everything is on lockdown, nobody is hiring, classes suddenly moved online, my work shut down… All within a week! And now its been six weeks, I’m still not recovered from the whiplash, and this room of mine has become a damn prison.”

He tugs me closer. “I’m so sorry, beloved. If you don’t want to worry about school anymore, you just have to wish it.” “You’re sweet… but I can’t do that. I have to do this work myself – otherwise I may have the degree but I won’t have earned it.”

“And that is why I adore you so much.” He pauses thoughtfully, then asks “Is this all that’s truly bothering you? Its certainly enough to have anyone rattled, but I feel like there may be more.”

I give off a mirthless laugh. I should have known he would notice something. He was too damn perceptive. “Maybe you’re right about that.”

“Mmm.” He acknowledges me, looking at me expectantly. His warm brown eyes show nothing but love and patience.

“Well… I don’t think gods deal with this sort of thing really but… Are you familiar with illnesses of the mind?”

“Well, I have heard of punishment cases of humans who have lost their grip on reality and hurt other because of it. Hue has mentioned though that are lots of different ways humans can be sick, physically and mentally, and that not all of them are so violent as those instances.”

I focus my gaze on the ceiling above me and take a deep breath. He waits patiently for me to say something. When I don’t, he prompts me, “I’m going to assume you suffer from an ailment of the mind as well?”

“It’s… humans call it depression.” “And what is it like?” “It can be different for anyone… But for me I can’t concentrate, and I just want to sleep all day. And all night. And just always. Always sleep. Because everything hurts, and I don’t want it to. I can’t even do the easiest assignment in the world! I can’t concentrate, and it hurts. I’m going to fail my classes and it hurts. I can’t see my family and it hurts. I can’t even take a fucking shower most days. And it hurts. Everything hurts. And it won’t stop. I can’t make it stop. I can’t make my brain shut up, and it just keeps telling me how shitty I am and-“

“Darling.” Karno calmly cuts me off. He’s taken my hand, and is slowly uncurling my fingers from my palms. I hadn’t noticed it, but I was clenching my fists so tightly that my nails had drawn blood in small crescent moons all over my palms. He rubs my back soothingly as he kisses away the tears marking my face. “How long has this been going on for?”

“All my life it comes and goes. Its… its been over a year since it’s been bad though. I was starting to think that maybe it was gone for good – it’s the longest I’ve been okay! I’ve been… good actually. I met you, I’ve made friends for the first time in my life, I’ve actually enjoyed school… But since this quarantine happened, its back. Its soul crushing, because now I know. I was naïve. It’s never going to go. It’s going to be with me forever.”

“Well. It’s a good thing I’m going to be with you forever too.”

I look up at him in shock. “Really? You don’t think I’m some kind of weirdo?” “You are a weirdo dear, but that’s because you don’t like spicy food. If we can get past that, we can get past anything.” I giggle a bit before he continues. “It breaks my heart to hear you’ve been dealing with this alone. But you don’t have to anymore, okay? Anytime you are sad, or lonely, I’m only a wish away.”

“But your work-“

“Let me worry about my work. As I said before, you are the most important thing to me.” As his words sink in, they fill me up to the brim and spill out as tears. “Please don’t cry anymore, my love. I’m here.”

“Can you just hold me?”

“Of course.”

I stay in his warm embrace, and close my eyes to inhale his scent. I could never quite place what he smelled like – probably something too divine for the likes of earth. It smells like citrus and… cinnamon, maybe. He runs his hands through my hair as I cry, and he murmurs soft words of comfort and love until I fall asleep there in his arms.

In the morning, my eyes are sore and puffy from the night before. I wake up warm and comfortable, and I realize Karno is still wrapped around me. Noticing I’m awake, he smiles gently “Good morning.” “You’re still here? I thought you would have left after I fell asleep?” He raises a questioning eyebrow. “Did you want me to?” “No!” I protest, probably a bit too quickly.

He smiles and gives me a soft, slow kiss.

“I do have to be going, my love. But I have a parting gift for you.”

“You do?” I look up at him curiously.

“Indeed. Do you remember my special power?” I nod my head, of course I do. “Well, I figured the least I can do is magnify your happiness, and productivity.” “But I thought that you could only magnify exiting properties… I don’t have either of those right now.” “Oh?” Karno smirked. “Then are you unhappy right now to see me?”

“No!”

“I know you, dearest. I know you are positive, and you are one of the most self-motivated people I know. They’re in there.” He leans over ad gives me a kiss on the forehead. Immediately, I feel a lightness and a warmth suffuse my body. “Remember my love, I am but a wish away.” He gently caresses my cheek, and I close my eyes to his touch. When I open them again, he’s gone.

I was sad to see him go, but no longer lonely. In fact, I felt better than I had in weeks. My love for him filled my chest until I felt like bursting.

Well then. Best not to waste a divine gift.

Time to kick an essays ass.