#i keep forgetting i have tumblr sorry chat | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

drivestraight · 7 months ago

Note

Obv no pressure!!!!!!!!! And sorry if it comes off that way ❤️❤️ I was just wondering if u would ever consider posting the 4fic?? Just on tumblr even

i keep forgetting OMG but here is part 1 (4.2k)

THE SET-UP

They don’t do this very often anymore. Hang out, just the four of them.

George, Alex, Lando, and Charles.

To get closer to the truth, it’s not like the four of them ever properly hung out at any point in time, in the strictest sense of the phrase. They’d stream together on Twitch during COVID, yes, and they get on well in the paddock. But that doesn’t exactly count, when George thinks about it. Not even in 2019 did the four of them ever really hang out willingly, outside of work, not even just George, Alex, and Lando, no matter how much media they were shoved into together throughout the year. These past four years, they’ve just all been too busy. Besides, Charles and Lando have their own friend circles. Charles prefers his hometown Monegasque friends. Lando has Max F and Max V and Martin G and Daniel R and Quadrant and—whatever the fuck ever, really.

George and Alex, well. Different case. Not the point.

Even closer to the truth: they had more time and less fame before Formula 1, and they would hang out outside of races. Underage pub crawls, house parties with friends from secondary, even during their F2 season. Which George won, by the way.

So.

Formula 2.

George, Alex, and Lando were close back then despite being competitors. They were the weirdos. No one liked Lando because his dad was rich and bought him a spot in McLaren’s junior academy; no one liked Alex because he was a Red Bull junior and Asian, but not Asian enough; and no one liked George because—he was George.

Jokes on everyone else. They were the winners. They’re the ones who made it to F1.

All this to say: the three of them were close back then, but they’re not as close anymore. Still, good times. They had many good times.

One memory George holds quite dear to his heart is Alex accidentally knocking Lando into a bush that George puked on. Yes, George is quite fond of that night.

But then, that three-way friendship didn’t exactly include Charles at all. All of them were friends and friendly with Charles even in karting, but those days, Charles wasn’t exactly part of their little group. It was just George and Alex and Lando. Or George and Alex.

Which is probably why they’re here, in Charles’ teeny tiny flat.

They were in Spa, the four of them chatting before free practice. Alex had offhandedly asked why they haven’t gone on their little drunken adventures like they used to. Then, Charles made a shocked noise, small and offended, and demanded to be included.

Demanded is probably a strong word. His eyes went wide and curious. He tilted his head to the side and pouted at Alex, then Alex spluttered and said, Of course, you should come!

As if they had tangible plans.

However, they ended up making plans, and it was a miracle that they all had a weekend free in Monaco before Alex fucked off with Lily to Majorca.

And it’s not like George doesn’t like Charles.

He likes Charles a lot, actually.

It’s just, sometimes—

All the time.

It’s hard to tell what his humor is. George’ll say something, try to crack a joke, and Charles will look at him with these big, round, open eyes. Not understanding, or worse, understanding, and choosing not to play along.

Not in a, like, malicious way. But in a why did you say that? sort of way. Which is probably worse. He’s always very nice about it, very earnest. But his sincerity knocks George off-guard. Sometimes, George wishes Charles was more like Alex, laughing at everything and playing everything off like a joke just to maintain an ounce of control. Twist things the way he wants them to be twisted.

Right, yes. Charles.

It’s easier with him online. Voice chat. That way, George doesn’t have to see his microexpressions and feel self-conscious, analyzing each of their conversations.

Charles has a very expressive face.

Alex gets on with him a lot better.

He makes Charles laugh, a lot. A lot. And while George has made Charles laugh plenty of times, it’s never actually been on purpose. It is more like—George saying something unintentionally funny, and Charles slowly bursting into giggles, or Lando and Alex making George the butt of the joke and Charles laughing along just because he wants to fit in.

Ah. George needs to be more charitable.

Returning to Charles’ teeny tiny flat:

They’ve just gotten back from Jimmy’z. Honestly, George was having a great time: Alex was all giggly on his shoulder sipping on a fruity cocktail and Lando had been up by the DJ stage and Charles was off at the bar chatting with some girl. But then Charles sprinted to them and tugged on George’s arm and said, We need to leave.

So they left.

They found Lando first, of course, floundering as he tried to get this girl’s number. They dragged him out of the club, the four of them squeezed into an Uber, tried to be as polite as possible to the driver, and here they are now:

Charles’ teeny tiny flat. On the floor circled around the coffee table in the sitting room. Lando took the couch because—of course he did.

“So?” Lando demands, frowning. His cheeks are flushed, his curls a mess. “Why’d we leave? I thought the point was to get pissed, and I’m not even.”

George would disagree. But, well.

Charles huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “I saw someone that I did not want to talk to.”

Alex snorts. He flushes this lovely color of pink whenever he’s drunk, George has noticed. Quite lovely. Very lovely. “Who? An ex-girlfriend?”

Charles kicks lightly at Alex’s thigh. They’re deep into summer, hot, sticky. Alex is wearing these little shorts. Not so little, really, but right now, George can see the meat of his underthigh, muscle hidden.

“Ex-boyfriend,” Charles corrects.

Alex dyed his hair to this auburn shade of brown the other month. George likes it better, like this, if he’s being honest. Obviously, Alex looked amazing as a blond—Alex looks amazing no matter what, but he looks softer like this, not a blond bombshell, alien and out of reach, grabbing everyone’s attention. Instead, just George’s best friend.

“Which one?” Alex asks, propped up on his hands, flat to the ground behind him. His shin hairs tickle George’s. Under the table, George only now realizes, they’re touching.

“Jean,” Charles answers.

“Oh,” Alex says, brows furrowing. Overdramatic. Alex likes being dramatic like that. He looks a little goofy right now. Silly, maybe. “I never liked that guy.”

Charles sighs. “It has been a while, but our breakup was…” He turns to Alex. “How do you say it…”

“A shit show?” Alex supplies, grinning warmly. George feels so warm.

Charles laughs, shoulders coming up to his ears. “Yes, a shit show,” he repeats, the syllables odd and unfamiliar on his tongue, mouth curling emphatically. “He—”

He.

Charles keeps talking.

But George:

“Wait, wait, wait. Your what?”

Charles turns his head to George. Blinks. Slowly. Tilts his head to the side. Confused.

“My ex-boyfriend,” he repeats, like this isn’t earth-shattering information.

George gawks. Mouth open. Jaw unhinged. Eyes bug-wide. The full mile. He glances over at Alex, who looks just as confused as Charles, then Lando, who’s looking down at his phone, disinterested.

Charles blinks again, seeming to understand George’s confusion. “Oh, you don’t…?”

“I don’t what?” George snaps, feeling like he’s just had the rug pulled out from under him. Feeling like the odd one out. For the first time in their little quartet, George feels like the outsider.

“I am gay, George,” Charles deadpans. “Did I never tell you this?”

“Uh,” George says, wincing at how his voice cracks, “no?”

“Oh,” Charles replies, blinking. His mouth parts into a small circle. He bats his eyelashes, demure, and George feels something ugly twist in his belly. “Well. Sorry, I think I forgot.”

George suddenly feels very sober.

“But you—your girlfriend—”

Charles shrugs. “She is a good friend. It is always good to have a public girlfriend.”

Well. This explains a lot.

“Lando,” George starts, head whipping toward him, “did you—?”

“Mmh. I didn’t like Jean either,” Lando replies, still not looking up from his phone.

George makes a noise. “How do you guys know this Jean?”

Alex snorts and rolls his eyes. “George, you know Jean. F2?”

Jean. Jean Jean Jean. George thinks and thinks and—

“Oh,” George says, Jean’s face materializing in his head. George never really talked to him; they ran in different circles and drove for different teams, but George vaguely remembers narrowly missing out on a win because Jean wouldn’t get out of the fucking way when George was trying to lap him. He lost the win by three seconds. To Lando. That’s about all he remembers of the guy. “Wow.”

Charles… dated him.

Suddenly self-conscious about how he’s coming off about this whole thing, George stumbles to clarify, “I mean, mate, obviously I don’t care. It’s not a problem. Like, of course I don’t have a problem, I’m just shocked, mate. I would’ve—”

“Oh, calm down, George,” Alex says, grinning beatifically. “Yes, yes. You’re an ally. You’re teammates with Lewis Hamilton. Love is love. We know. You don’t need to give us a little speech.”

“Sod off,” George mutters, kicking Alex under the table. “Why did no one tell me this?”

“Not my fault you have a stick up your arse when it comes to sex,” Alex jibes, kicking George back. “I think talking about gay sex would’ve given you a heart attack.”

George huffs, cheeks warming. Like, fine. George is self-aware enough to know that he gets a bit dodgy when it comes to sex. But that’s the way he thinks it should be, anyway. “Doesn’t have to be about gay sex, does it?”

“You should try it,” Alex says. “It’s fun. Quite different.”

Charles hums carefully, eyes big and curious, assessing. George feels like he’s being taken apart. “Yes, George. I think it would loosen you up,” Charles says, too sincerely.

From the couch, Lando snickers, chewing on his hoodie drawstring.

Charles frowns and glares at him. “What?”

Ah. Charles hadn’t even caught the double entendre.

Wait.

His head whips to Alex. “You have?” Had sex. With a man. George can’t get any of the words out.

“Oh, c’mon,” Alex says, easy and casual like George’s whole world isn’t falling apart. “You know I like blokes.”

Well, sure. George did know that. He knows everything about Alex. Alex is his best mate, after all. But Alex’s sexuality was an irrelevant, inconsequential little fact that George’d merely hold in the back of his mind. His best mate happened to be bisexual. That didn’t change anything.

“Yeah, I guess,” George admits, “but—Lily?”

“Again,” Alex says, “you know we have an open relationship.”

George laughs nervously. Yes, right. He’d forgotten about that.

He’d honestly—

He doesn’t know. He hadn’t actually thought Alex and Lily were acting on that.

“You’ve never thought about it?” Alex asks. “A little hanky-panky with the lads? Never?”

George chokes. “The lads? Plural?”

Alex waves his hand. “Hyperbole.”

Lando, hoodie drawstring still in his mouth, asks, “What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“Hyperbowl,” Lando butchers. George isn’t sure how he made it past primary.

“Like,” Alex says, “when you tell your girls on Raya you have an eight inch dick. Hyperbole.”

The drawstring falls out of Lando’s mouth. He sits straight up, inflamed. “I do not tell them I have a—”

“Lando, you have an eight inch dick?” Charles asks, suddenly very interested in the conversation.

Alex snickers. “The point is that he doesn’t.”

Tomato-red, Lando bumbles, “Oh, bugger off. It’s not like you’d know.”

“Anways, George?”

George scratches the back of his head. Is it hot in here? Is it just him or the shitty insulation in Charles’ flat?

He thinks back to the original question and replies, “I cannot say I have thought about it.” He swallows. Because honestly, he hasn’t. He’s, like, twenty-five now. That’s far too old to be having sexuality crises anyway. Still, drunk, and a little too honest for his own good, he starts to ramble, “Like, I don’t think I. I mean. Haha. I am very happy with, er. Women.”

Not like George has been getting much lately, not after his less than ideal breakup with Carmen at the start of the season. And he isn’t like Lando either: going on apps or picking up a girl at the club is, like, his worst fucking nightmare. Rock fucking bottom. He’d rather go celibate than go on Tinder.

“So, like. You know. Men don’t.” God, why is George still talking? “I have my own, er. Likes. And I don’t think that—”

“Oh,” Alex sighs, exasperated, “don’t be such a prude, Georgie. Here—”

Fireworks. Butterflies. Violins.

No, none of that, actually. Just Alex’s mouth. George wouldn’t trade it for the world.

It has been so long since George kissed someone. Since George was kissed by someone.

Alex has a hand cupping his cheek��so tender and gentle that George shivers beneath him. Yes, beneath him. George isn’t on his back, but it’s taking all of his core muscle strength to keep himself somewhat upright with Alex half on top of him and half in his lap, kissing him. Alex, Alexander, Alexander Albon is kissing him.

His tongue runs along the seam of George’s mouth, and with a gasp, George parts his lips, mouth going slack, finally realizing that Alex is kissing him, and he isn’t kissing him back. He’s a bloody idiot, that’s what he is, he thinks, as he surges forward to return the kiss, and—

Ah.

Alex sitting back on his heels, eyes a little wild, mouth pink and slick.

Anticlamactic.

George makes a soft noise, feeling like he’s just been taken apart, disemboweled, ribs in all the wrong places.

It feels like—

Feels like the comedown after Brazil 2022. He got a taste of a win, and now he’ll spend the rest of his life knowing what it feels like to stand on the top of the podium.

Now, he’ll spend the rest of his life knowing what Alex’s lips feel like against his.

It’s not like it was a fantastic kiss, or anything. George has had better. Loads better. This wasn’t even a proper kiss. George hadn’t even managed to kiss back. And it wasn’t like it meant anything either.

It was just Alex.

“Hey,” Charles whines, sounding like he’s pouting. Only sounding like it—George couldn’t possibly know what Charles looks like right now. He isn’t looking anywhere but at Alex. It just isn’t possible for him to take his eyes away. “Why do you kiss George and not me?”

Lazily, Alex throws his head to the side, looking at Charles. In the meantime George stares at the lovely column of his throat. “Been there done that, Charlie.”

George sucks in a breath.

“Don’t look so jealous,” Alex says, chuckling, his gaze returning to George. George doesn’t even want to imagine what he looks like right now—what Alex sees. “It’s not like you were up for grabs.”

“Ah,” George says, shuddering. It’s just—the way Alex’s voice sounds, the way he’s looking at him—

“Oi, oi,” Lando sounds, swinging upright so that his shoes are finally off the couch and on the ground. “This is getting a bit too gay for me. I’m calling a Lyft.”

“Lando,” Alex laughs, “you are quite literally dating a man.”

Lando, ever prey-like and anxious when it doesn’t matter, blushes and says, “Oh, fuck off. Me and Max aren’t dating. We’re just, um…”

He reminds George of a snapping turtle, in a way: hard-shelled, prickly, and goes through puberty late.

At Lando’s words, Charles’ head rises, which is rather striking, George reckons, since he hasn’t said a word this whole conversation. His face scrunches up, brows furrowed, almost irritated. He’s frowning when he asks, “Lando, you are with Max?”

“Fewtrell,” Alex clarifies.

“Oh,” Charles exhales, tension releasing from his shoulders as Lando blushes an even brighter red and blubbers incoherently.

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Lando says, flustered and bitchy. “I’m not with Max. Fewtrell or Charles’ Max—”

“Um,” Charles says, looking a little furious, “he’s not my—”

“Whatever,” Lando says, waving his hand vaguely. “Anyway, I’m leaving—mmph!”

Oh, alright then, George thinks, watching as Charles yanks on Lando’s wrist and pulls him down to the floor for a kiss.

Lando yanks himself away, and in the process, bangs his knee on the underside of the coffee table and hisses as he falls onto his back. Clearly still very drunk. Charles is laughing at him. So is Alex, honking and boisterous. George feels too shocked to find the humor in this.

Scrubbing his mouth with the back of his sleeve, he stammers, “What was that for?”

Charles shrugs. His face is pink and filled with glee, eyes sparkling. “Alex wouldn’t kiss me.”

“That’s the only reason why?” Lando asks, lifting a brow.

Charles giggles. “I like you, Lando,” Charles says, like it’s nothing, like Charles Leclerc liking someone means nothing. George wonders what that is like, to be able to say something like that without shame or anxiety. To be able to throw things into the air like that. I like you with the self-assurance to know that it will be well-received. That your attraction will be reciprocated.

“I think you are very cute,” Charles finishes, swaying a little.

“Not cute,” Lando huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, which strangely, George reckons, makes him look cuter. “I’m sexy.”

“Yes,” Charles says, giggling harder, his shoulders rising to his ears, “you are very sexy, Lando.”

“You’ll say anything to anyone,” Alex snorts, watching them with curiosity.

Charles keeps his eyes on Lando when he says, “When I want them in bed, yes.” Lando’s throat bobs, a mouse caught in the trap. Yes, George thinks, that’s what it’s like being looked at by Charles: caught in a trap. “Is that something you would like, Lando?”

“Uh,” Lando squeaks.

“Or will your Max get mad at me?”

Instantly, Lando shakes his head, a bit like a dog coming out of the bath. Doesn’t even make a snippy comment about your Max.

Charles kisses him again.

It isn’t anything like the last kiss, abrupt and awkward. It isn’t anything like when Alex kissed George either. This one is—

George has to look away, face hot.

“Oh, don’t do that,” he hears from the side.

“What?” George asks, his insides feeling gooey.

“Look,” Alex says, then his hand is on George’s burning cheek, turning it to face Charles and Lando. Lando, who is sitting in Charles’ lap. Charles, who has his hands firmly on Lando’s waist.

George swallows. The room is far too small and the only sounds are the slick-wet sounds of kissing, and heavy breathing. Now that George is looking, he can’t look away no matter how much he wants to. Like a car crash, he thinks absently. Sweat drips down the side of his neck, where Alex’s hand is placed now. George’s whole body feels on fire.

Alex isn’t saying anything. They only—watch. Watch as Charles slides a careful hand under the seam of Lando’s shirt, snaking along his lower back. Lando squeaks and pulls back from the kiss, panting against Charles’ mouth. Desperate, George thinks. They both look a little desperate right now.

More than a little. Faces flushed, clothes wrinkled, making out on the fucking floor in front of a fucking audience.

“It’s kind of late,” Lando mutters, so quietly that George can barely hear him over the sound of his own breathing.

“Yes, ah,” Charles says. Lando crawls off of him, uncoordinated; whatever spell the both of them were under seems to be broken. Charles turns toward George and Alex, his lips swollen, looking thoroughly kissed. His shirt is riding up. Lower: a massive tent in his jeans. George forces his eyes to drift back up to Charles’ face, settling on his mouth. “Maybe everyone should go.” After a beat, he adds, “I am very drunk.”

Lando is avoiding eye contact, playing with his fingers, hands positioned conspicuously over his crotch, inhibitions remembered.

George swallows, his voice hoarse when he says, “We can tell.”

Alex collects Lando off the floor, and George and Charles follow them to the door, silently.

“I’ll get these two home safe,” Alex promises, clasping a hand on both George’s and Lando’s shoulder. Lando bats his hand away.

Leaning against the wall, Charles smirks and says, “You owe me a kiss, Alexander.”

Alex smiles back at Charles. George stiffens at the reminder that Charles has Alex wrapped around his fucking finger, even now. “I’ll pay you back with interest next time, Charlie.”

After that, they start to shuffle out the door, but then Lando, still inside the flat, says, “Charles.”

George and Alex turn around.

Head tilted, Charles asks, “What is it?”

And that’s all he’s able to get out before Lando is grabbing his face and kissing him. Hungrily. Charles makes a shocked noise as he’s backed up against the wall, melting.

It’s a chaste kiss, all things considered. After only a moment, Lando pulls away with a smug smile, and Charles looks—dazed. Kiss-stupid and slack-jawed. George wonders if that’s how he gets when he isn’t in control.

“We should,” Charles starts, throat bobbing as he stares at the three of them in the hall. He licks his lips, cheeks red like his car, and scans each of them with his eyes. “All of us. Again.”

All of us, George thinks. Not just Lando, not just Alex. All of them. All four of them.

“I mean. Only if you all want.”

Charles, George registers, is looking at George. That’s where his gaze has settled. And George realizes that, yes, he is the limiting factor here. Because apparently, a-fucking-pparently, Charles has a history with Alex, and George’s more than half sure that if Charles and Lando were only marginally less drunk than they are, they would have fucked tonight.

Alex and Lando are looking at him too.

What’s the harm if George says no?

No, no. Wrong question.

What’s the harm if George says yes?

He doesn’t want to be the odd one out. What he wants is—

He turns to look at Alex, looking at him with curious eyes. George’s gaze drifts and drifts—Alex’s pink mouth, the shape of it, remembering the feel of it against his own.

George made his decision a long time ago. Charles and Lando—they’re just the implications.

Shuddering, he turns back to Charles, and nods his head.

Monaco is small enough that practically everything is just a walk away. Lando’s flat is the closest one to Charles’; George and Alex drop him off. On the way, surprisingly, they don’t chat about what happened back at Charles’ place. Instead, they grill Lando about whatever’s going on between him and Fewtrell, only to get absolutely nothing.

George’s flat is the closest to Lando’s, so Alex walks him back. And they don’t talk at all, at least until they’re outside the front door and George is about to walk in.

“Hey, um,” Alex says, biting his lip. “Tonight was a lot.”

“Yeah,” George admits, finding no use in pretending otherwise.

“So,” Alex starts. “Are you, like, sure? About—getting all together again? I feel kinda bad that like—I dunno. It was kinda like, we were ganging up on you. If you feel pressured in any way, I couldn’t live with myself, so, uh—”

Alex rambles. He’s a rambler. George knows this about him. Alex is a horrible storyteller, always telling the punchline first, then filling in all the gaps. Even then, he always forgets important parts, tells it all non-linearly and it never makes sense to anyone but him.

The truth is, as much as Alex’s blithe, carefree nature obscures, beneath that persona, he does just as much overthinking that George does.

And George—

Perhaps he isn’t as sober as he thought he was, but he feels clear. For the first time tonight, he feels in control. Brave.

He does what he wanted to do earlier, back in Charles’ flat, when Alex pulled away and George surged forward.

He kisses Alex. Mid-sentence, mid-word, mid-apology.

It’s just a peck, really. George thinks that if he properly kissed Alex right now, he might do something absolutely stupid, like drop to his knees and try to blow Alex under the cameras of his building. Even if he’s never done that before, he thinks he’d do that for Alex.

If Alex asked. If Alex wanted. He’s too afraid to ask if that’s what Alex would want.

Alex is smiling at him—and it’s one of his soft smiles. George feels so dizzy and stupid. “Not so straight then, are you?”

Heart hammering, George remembers to be brave. “Probably not.”

Alex licks over his mouth. George wants.

“Alright then,” Alex says, pupils wide. “We’ll talk in the morning? All of us?”

Yes, George thinks. They will.

And, against all odds, they do.

#4fic #the fic is called “the anatomy of a joke”#i still don't love it but...#my writing #there's like 3k more in the doc but none of it is coherent

63 notes · View notes

nighthunter241 · 1 year ago

Text

He is Mine-Chapter 1 (Henry Cavill x male reader)

Masterlist

NOT MY GIF, GIF USED FROM TUMBLR OPTION 18+ DNI if you are lower the age of 18

Rival #1 Amy Adams

Monday

You wake up to the alarm and start getting ready for school. The weekend left you with an aneurysm having to decide how you're going to break up the friendship of Henry and Amy. Maybe you can just see what they do and hopefully something comes to mind. While heading downstairs you see your brothers just starting to eat breakfast. A part of you wants to tell them about your chat with Robert and your feelings for Henry but would that even help. “Morning” you said to your brothers, they say morning back while eating their breakfast and while eating you notice your parents aren’t up yet. “Hey and what about Mom and Dad, why aren’t they awake yet?” you asked and brother Sebastian responded “Not sure, I think I heard them last night talking about taking the day off for something important, something about someone named Saldana, or maybe they just wanted to sleep in”. You shrug it off and leave home with your brothers. You manage to make it to the corner that you usually meet up with Henry, you stay back and your brothers continue the walk to school. After a long time Henry finally shows up later than usual. “Hey what happened, you overslept or something” you asked. “I forgot to set my alarm so I quickly showered and ran,” Henry responded. We start speed walking to school and Henry starts talking about how Amy is going to give him shit again for making her wait at the entrance of school. “Why don’t you just tell her to fuck off” by the time you realized what Iyou just said you couldn’t take it back. Henry looked at you funny and said “I think I’ll say that in a sweeter way, you alright you’re acting kinda weird”. You tell him you are fine and you just woke up on the wrong side of the bed and he shrugs it off. By the time you two make it to school Henry tells you he will meet up in the homeroom and runs off to meet up with Amy.

While Henry is out of sight you follow him to the spot where he meets up with Amy to hear their conversation and hopefully find something out. M/R manage to find a bush at a safe distance where they can’t see him and where he can still hear them. Amy: Ugh really again, you can’t keep me waiting like this, does this look like we are middle school.

Henry: I’m sorry Amy I forgot to set my alarm.

Amy: Well if it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t even wake up, I can’t be your clock 24/7 it gets annoying especially when waiting for you.

Henry: I’m sorry, if it bothers you that much then we can just stop meeting up here before class so then you don’t have to worry about being late.

Amy: That's not what I meant…..forget alright just forget it. Since we only got a couple of minutes I need you to meet me at the fountain during lunch period.

Henry: Ummmm, Why exactly?

Amy: Just meet me there alright, don’t keep waiting like you did today, got it!

Henry: Ok, Ok, relax I’ll meet you at the fountain during lunch period.

Amy: Good.

They finish talking and they start heading to the inside of the building, Henry goes one direction while Amy goes to the homeroom. You follow her and end up seeing her set down a container, and hear her mutter “I did my best, he is going to like it, just give it to him and that's it and he will enjoy it”. She walks away and when you get closer to the container and notice it was a lunch box, she actually made Henry lunch. She is taking “ a way to a man's heart is through his stomach” a little too seriously. THAT'S IT, you thought to yourself all you need to do is get rid of this lunch, wait no you should make her food taste bad so Henry could think she is a terrible cook. So you quickly leave and try to think of a way to make her food taste nasty. You pass by the nurses office and notice the medicine cabinet and quickly think of a plan.

You see your brother and run to Anthony and pull him aside from his friends and to ask him something.

Anthony: Alright, what do you want?

M/N: I need you to distract the nurse.

Anthony: Um, no, why would I do that?

M/N: I need to grab something from her cabinet while she isn’t looking.

Anthony: Why don’t you just ask her for it?

M/N: What I need to grab is something she would usually give out for emergencies.

Anthony: That just makes this weirder, what do you need from her cabinet that she won’t be able to give to you if you ask?

M/N: None of your business just help me.

Anthony: Tell me what it is and why and I’ll help.

M/N: Um…..no way

Anthony: Well, no help from me.

M/N: Quit being such a jackass and help your brother out.

Anthony: Fine, but you owe me one day you are going to tell me why you needed me to do this.

Anthony goes to the nurse pretending he has a headache and asks for something for it. You see the nurse walk up to the cabinet, unlock it and pass him the medicine with a glass of water. While she was doing that you got to the cabinet and took a bottle while she wasn’t looking. You leave and go back to her homeroom, while on your way I run into a student council member who gives a questioning look and stares while you are slowly walking away from them. “The student council members are a bunch of weirdos,” you whisper to myself. Now at Amy's homeroom and to her desk and open up the lunch box. It looks like she made some homemade soup with chunks of meat in it. Henry did always love meat, and can't live without it. You take out the bottle from the pocket that says Emetic on the label and you pour it into the lunch box. “If I am correct, Emetic medicine should make someone throw up and give out a strong taste, hopefully this will be enough”. You turn around to leave and see your brother Sebastian standing there looking at you, crap you ended up forgetting this was his homeroom also.

Sebastian: What the hell are you doing?

M/R: Nothing just looking around, stretching my legs.

Sebastian: So are you going to act like you just didn’t pour something into that lunch box

M/R: I have no idea what you are talking about.

Before you could react Sebastian quickly yanks the bottle of Emetic medicine from your hand.

Sebastian: How the hell did you get this and why did you pour this into Amy’s food?

M/R: None of your business just shut up.

The bell rings and people start heading to their homeroom.

Sebastian: When we get home we are talking about this and I’m letting mom and dad know

M/R: You’re so mature aren’t you, snitch.

He punches your arm while you walk out of his homeroom and make it to your own homeroom and sit next to Henry who seems quieter than usual. Hours pass of usual classes and the lunch bell rings. You run to the fountain area and pretend to eat your lunch there and see Henry waiting for Amy until she shows up with the same lunch box in hand.

Henry: Alright, I am here. What is the reason you needed to meet me here?

Amy: Well here it's because of this.

Henry: A box?

Amy: It's a lunch box STUPID!

Henry: Wait, you made me lunch?

Amy: NO!!, just made some food for my sister and she forgot it and I didn’t want to waste it so I thought I should bring it to you.

Henry: Wow thank you, I’ll gladly eat it.

Amy: Yeah whatever, enjoy.

You cross your fingers while seeing Henry start tasting the soup. After a couple of spoonfuls his face of gratitude turned to a face of disgust.

Henry: Amy, what did you put in this?

Amy: I don’t know, I made it last night so I don’t remember the ingredients.

Henry: It tastes weird, I’m sorry I…..can’t finish this.

Amy: HENRY WAIT!

Henry runs off to the bathroom and Amy is left with a sad expression, You follow him to the bathroom and end up hearing him throwing up. After he finishes he sees you and gets startled.

Henry: M/R you scared me, what are you doing here?

M/R:I saw you run into the bathroom in a hurry, I got worried.

Henry: I’m fine just Amy gave me some food and it didn’t sit right

He goes towards the sink to wash his hands and mouth

M/R: Is she usually a bad cook?

Henry: She doesn’t cook much but the times she had it didn’t taste good but not bad to the point where I’m throwing up.

M/R: Maybe she did it on purpose.

Henry: Why would you think that M/R

M/R: Well you would say she always gives you shit for being late to meet up, maybe as a way to get back at you she made you sick.

Henry: That's a stretch mate

M/R: Maybe, but you never know, her thinking since you are best friends she thinks she could do it and knows you will easily forgive her.

Henry: I don’t easily forgive her.

M/R: Henry, you tell me she yells at you and sometimes insults you for small things, and you still talk to her

Henry: That's because we are best friends.

M/R: Are best friends really like that, I’m not like that with you and we are close.

Henry stares at me as if he is about to say something but seems to hold it in.

Henry: Can we just drop it, I need to possibly lay down at the nurses office.

M/R: Yeah, not a problem see you later.

Henry and M/R leave the bathroom and later meet each other in their last class of the day, Henry not bringing up what happened during lunch or what was discussed in the bathroom. You grab your bag and head towards the gate of the school and walk home. When you make it home your brothers are there earlier before you for some reason. You say hello to them and they pass you a note they found on the table.

Dear kids,

Your father and I had to leave town for a bit for a quick emergency, don’t worry it is nothing serious and hopefully we will see each other soon. Now we added money to all of your bank accounts and hopefully it is enough to last until we come back. If you need more just call us and we will send more, but we will be looking at the bank statements to make sure you aren’t spending it for the wrong things. Now you know the rules when you are home alone and most importantly DON’T GO INTO THE BASEMENT, REMEMBER THAT. Love you and hopefully see you soon.Love,Mom and Dad

“What the hell” you said after reading the note, my brothers looked at you with the same expression. “All I see is home alone to do whatever I want without mom and dad here” Anthony said. “Definitely going to invite Sarah over,” said Sebastion. “Yeah no, you know the rules, you really want to wait and find out if mom knows you broke the rules” you reminded them. They looked at each other and understood, moms wrath can be the scariest thing in the world. After ordering pizza and getting ready for bed, you get a text from Henry.

Henry: Hey sorry about the way I was acting today didn’t mean to make you feel weird.

M/R: Hey it’s fine no need to apologize to me Henry.

Henry: Just wanted to do it anyway you know I don’t like when things are weird between us. Besides Amy you're the only person I can truly talk to and be comfortable with.

M/R: I feel the same way Henry.

You see the three dots pop up on the message but after awhile it disappears and then appears again

Henry: Well see you tomorrow have a good night.

M/R: Good night

You are about to turn off your phone until you receive another message but this time from Amy, “Did Sebastian tell her what I did?” you asked yourself.

Amy: Hey M/R I need to ask you about something.

M/R: Yeah what's up.

Amy: How was Henry today?

M/R: He seemed alright, a bit spaced out but that's it.

Amy: Oh god, I messed up today, I made him lunch and I guess the ingredients I used went bad cause he ended up throwing it up.

M/R: Wow thats crazy, food does spoil and random times

Amy: We talked on the phone and he accepted my apology but said that I shouldn’t cook for him for a while.

M/R: I mean you probably gave him PTSD 😂

Amy: Not funny

M/R: Sorry just trying the lighten the mood

Amy: Well thanks for letting me know how he was, but I think I found a way to make things up

M/R: ???

Amy: I bought him a present and I am going to give it him in the morning and have him open it during lunch time tomorrow, hope he loves it

M/R: That sounds great I’m sure he will

Amy: Thanks M/R for the confidence, well good night and see you in AP CALC tomorrow

M/R: Night

You send the last text and turn off the phone, before you could get to bed your nosey brothers walk in without knocking.

Sebastian: So we are going to talk about today

Anthony: Sebastian told what you did with the Emetic medicine, I can’t believe I helped you steal that just to poison some food

M/R: I didn’t poison anyone, just gave someone a little stomach ache.

Sebastian: What is going on with you cause a week ago you were acting mad weird.

M/R: Nothing is going on.

Sebastian: Liar

Anthony: M/R talk to us come on you know you can count on us

M/R: UGH FINE, but you can’t judge me, I did it to mess with Amy and Henry

Sebastian: Why, aren’t you friends with Henry?

Anthony: Let him finish.

M/R: Amy likes Henry and I like Henry and she is planning to confess to him this friday and I have to stop it but I’m still to much of a wuss to confess my own feelings first, so I’m…….sabotaging their…..friendship to make sure he says no to her confession.

Sebastian: ????

Anthony: ????

M/R: *You look nervous while staring at them*

Sebastian: That's it?

M/R: What do you mean that's it.

Anthony: So you have a crush on Henry and you are just stopping someone from becoming their possible girlfriend.

M/R: Um….yes, I know it sounds crazy

Anthony: That's not crazy.

M/R: Wait what?

Sebastian: Yeah bro, we have done that already, how do you think I got Sarah, I didn’t get lucky.

Anthony: And my past relationships you think they were just magically single.

M/R: Wait, you guys have done stuff to get your crushes.

Sebastian: Yeah mom taught us, don’t you remember.

M/R: I mean I barely remember what she taught us.

Anthony: Relax it's nothing really important but don’t worry you're not crazy for doing this.

M/R: I still can’t believe you guys have done this before.

Sebastian: Relax, if you need any more suggestions just ask us, we would love to help.

Anthony: Yeah, you and Henry seem cute together anyway

You blush at your brother's comment and they end up leaving your room, you finally get to lay down alone with your thoughts. What are mom and dad doing, what can you do to sabotage that gift, you can just steal it or you can just replace it with something more offensive to get Henry disgusted at her. That sounds better just need to figure out what, you fall asleep thinking of a possible gift replacement that would shock Henry

Tuesday

The sound of the annoying alarm wakes you up and you get ready for the shower. Of course both showers are being hogged by your brothers. After an eternity you manage to shower and get ready for school, you go downstairs expecting your parents but remember the letter from yesterday. You sit down and also remember the chat with your brothers and decide to ask them for help.

M/N: Hey I need help with something.

Anthony: Yeah, what is it?

M/N: Amy is going to give Henry a gift as way to make amends from yesterday's incident

Sebastian: That you caused.

M/N: Shut up, any way I my idea was to replace the gift with something offensive that would disgust Henry, got any ideas

Sebastian: Why not just steal it?

M/N: Stealing it would just not do anything, no feelings are hurt just a lost gift and he would just move on

Anthony: Got any ideas on what you want to replace it with.

Sebastian: Of course he doesn’t, that is why he is asking.

Anthony: Is Henry sexually active?

Sebastian: Dude really?

M/N: That I know of, no he isn’t, not the type to hit and go.

Anthony: Well there's your solution.

Anthony leaves and goes upstairs to his room and comes back down stairs and passes you an item.

M/N: A CONDOM!!!

Anthony: Yeah, as the gift.

M/N: Why would I do that?

Anthony: Well it will make him uncomfortable with what he receives and feel awkward about it with Amy.

Sebastian: What if he likes it and takes it as a suggestion from Amy?

M/N: Doubt that, if your best friend gave a condom as a gift you would be confused or uncomfortable.

Anthony: Well, that's the end of it just swap the gift with the condom and see Henry's reaction

Sebastian: Weird way to sabotage something but whatever not my crush.

You hide the condom in your wallet and leave the house with your brothers, while walking you receive a text from Henry saying he won’t be able to meet up before homeroom so you keep walking with your brothers. When you make it to school you say goodbye to your brothers and run off the same bush that you hid in yesterday. Of course you see Henry waiting for Amy and when she shows up they start chatting.

Henry: Well I’m here early

Amy: About tim….I mean thank you.

Henry: You said you wanted to discuss something

Amy: Well actually I wanted to give you this.

She takes out her bag a box with a blue ribbon on it.

Henry: A gift for me?

Amy: Yes, I want you to open it during lunch time and you can tell me how much you like it and at the end of the day.

Henry: Alright, thank you so much Amy.

Amy: Your….welcome hopefully you like it

You could swear that you see Amy blushing which starts making your blood boil for a moment but you quickly calm down. After they leave you head to your homeroom and thankfully Henry sets the present down on his desk and leaves to go do something. You notice the classroom is empty so you take advantage of the moment and head towards the present and you open it. The present reveals a video game specifically World of Warcraft, she got Henry the game he was saving up for. A present like this would definitely cause him to fully forgive Amy, you take out the game and stuff it into your bag and you take out the condom from your wallet and put it in the present and manage to make it look like it hasn’t been touched. After swapping, M/N leaves the class and pretends to be walking around school and acting casual. You see your brothers who end up asking if you did the deed and you tell them you did and they just smirk but before they can say anything else the bell rings. You run to your homeroom and sit next to Henry who seems to be staring at the present in excitement. Class begins and before you know it the lunch bell goes off and you go to find Henry. You see him with his lunch and the present in hand, you walk up to him to start a conversation.

M/N: Hey Henry, what did you bring for lunch?

Henry: A classic burger, my mother made it for me so I'm going to enjoy it, and what about you?

M/N: Just a sandwich, can’t really bring takeout to school.

Henry: Why would you bring takeout to school, doesn’t your mum usually make lunch for you and your brothers.

M/N: Well, yeah it's just that my parents are currently….on a trip or something.

Henry: What do you mean?

M/N: We got this note saying they needed to leave for some emergency but to not worry about it, and since I am the only one that can cook I need to provide food for my siblings but don’t really want to cook for them so we are just planning to order takeout till our parents return.

Henry: They are missing out, your cooking is amazing.

M/N: Thanks Henry, by the way what's up with the gift, been meaning to ask you that during homeroom?

Henry: Oh, Amy gave it to me as a gift for getting me sick yesterday.

M/N: Really, I wonder what she got you?

Henry: I don’t know, hey open it for me while I eat.

M/N: Um, sure I’ll open it for you.

You open up the gift and pretend to be confused and shocked

Henry: What is it?

M/N: Well, it’s very……well…….

Henry: Just give it.

Henry sets his burger down and grabs the gift and looks inside, and his face changes from anticipation to confusion and disgust.

M/N: Henry?

Henry: I…..what……what the hell is this?

M/N: Looks like a condom.

Henry: I KNOW what it is, but why the hell is this as a gift.

M/N: Maybe as a joke.

Henry: Well I’m not laughing, I can’t believe she would get me excited about a gift and do this.

M/N: What are you going to do?

Henry: I’m just going to let her know that I didn’t like the gift and leave it at that.

You guys finish your lunch in an awkward silence and end up leaving each other to go to your last few classes. But before you enter your classroom you see Henry having a chat with Amy and clearly you have to go listen.

Amy: So, how was the gift?

Henry: Amy, don't ever bother giving me a gift like that ever again.

Amy: Wait, you didn't like it?

Henry: No, of course not, just leave the gift giving for christmas and birthdays.

With that Henry leaves Amy and heads to his classroom leaving Amy with a confused expression. You decide to enter your classroom and a couple minutes later you see Amy walk in clearly sad as you see her sit down. The weird part is you sadly feel bad but the moment you remember about her crush on Henry those feelings go away instantly, then you think of a way to make yourself the hero of the day. After class you notice Henry is going to walk home alone, so you go up to and ask him if you guys could walk together and he quickly says yes. After reaching the corner that causes you two to walk in the opposite direction you two stand for a bit and chat and decide now is the perfect opportunity.

M/N: Henry how are you feeling after you know?

Henry: A bit ok but really just a bit bother that Amy would give me that as a present.

M/N: Well, I was actually going to wait till graduation but since these two days have been unlucky I might as well give it to you now.

Henry: Give me what exactly?

You take out your bag the World of Warcraft game that you took out of Amy's present and pass it to him.

M/N: For you, early graduation present, from me.

Henry: M/N…..I….thank you this is amazing I've been saving up for a bit for this game. This means a lot to me M/N thank you again.

M/N: No need to thank me.

Henry: Wait, if it was going to be a graduation present why did you already have it in your bag.

M/N: Well….. I was going to wrap it in the sewing club but they didn’t really have wrapping paper so I was planning to just buy wrapping paper but now I don’t need to.

Henry: Ah, alright that makes sense but thank you so much this means a lot from you.

Henry hugs you tight and you hug him back and notice that your hug lasts a little longer than usual but he eventually lets go. You say our goodbyes and you see Henry walking with a smile on his face, the same smile that attracted you to him. You walk the rest home and see your brothers at the front waiting and straight to point start throwing questions at you.

Anthony: So lover boy did it work?

M/N: Yes it did work, thank you for the help.

Anthony: Well you are welcome

Sebastian: So are you still going to sabotage them or you think Henry is going to still say yes to the confession?

M/N: Not really sure, better be safe than sorry so might as well still keep an eye out

Anthony: Let's order some burgers as a celebration for a good job on sabotage I guess

Sebastian: Lets get like five each with large fries each.

After having a fulfilling dinner you and your brothers spend the rest of the night playing video games and getting homework done. By time you are ready to go to bed you receive a text message, expecting it to be Henry you see it is from Robert.

Robert: Looks like someone has been busy these last two days, funny how a friendship can start crumbling so easily.

M/N: Is it really that interesting?

Robert: Yes it is, seeing the events unfold is quite entertaining to say the least.

M/N: Do you have things for girls about to get their heart broken or something.

Robert: Not really, think of me as your cupid.

M/N: Yeah hell no.

Robert: Fine, just here to help remember that.

M/N: Thanks but for now I think I’m good.

Robert: Alright whatever you say just remember let me know when you need help cause I can be a good ally.

Wednesday

After waking up and eating breakfast you meet up with Henry usually and walk to school then leaves to meet up with Amy to chat. You still don’t know how he is able to still talk to her but you called it, they are still friends. This time it looks like Amy was waiting for a while and she seems excited.

Amy: Finally you’re here

Henry: Yeah I’m here you texted me saying you wanted to meet.

Amy: I have reservations at a restaurant after school, so you're coming along with me.

Henry: Wait, like a date or something??

Amy: WHAT NO, I was going to go with some of my classmates but they canceled so I don’t want the reservation to go to waste.

Henry: Well sure, I would love to go.

Amy: Alright meet me after school and don’t be late.

You see them walk away and you start there is no way you can sabotage that date without getting caught in the restaurant. Nothing comes to mind, maybe you can try to get the reservation canceled, no it wouldn’t work cause most likely sent her an alert that it got canceled. Maybe just hang around Amy today and hopefully you can think of something. After finding Amy sitting in her homeroom alone you decide to walk in and say hello.

M/N: Hey Amy

Amy: Hey M/N how are you doing?

M/N: Great, excited for that AP CALC test today.

Amy: Yeah I…am

As she says this she lets out a big yawn which startles you at first.

M/N: Everything alright?

Amy: Yeah just that I didn’t get much sleep last night since I was studying and I have a date later at this restaurant and now that I am thinking about it could be a bad idea I might fall asleep.

M/N: You have a date, with who?

Amy: Can’t say keeping a secret for now M/N don’t worry one day you will find out.

M/N: Alright why don’t just cancel and let this date know that you are tired.

Amy: Took a while to get this reservation and I really wanted this date for a while.

M/N: Wow, he must be a great guy.

Amy: Yeah, he is.

M/N: Well I don’t know, go take a nap or something or drink coffee.

Amy: Wait, that is a good idea

M/N: What the coffee?

Amy: No, the nap I’ll take a 30 minute nap at the rooftop before I meet with Hen….my date.

M/N: I….yeah go with that I’m sure that will help you stay awake.

Amy: I don’t know why M/N but lately you have been really helpful with giving me solutions.

M/N: Well miracle worker here I guess

Amy giggles a bit and you say your goodbyes, she is going to take a nap after school at the rooftop alone, with no one around. You start having solutions but dark ones and you instantly ignore them and try to think of another solution. Hours pass with you struggling trying to figure out how to stop Amy and Henry from meeting after school. Until the time comes for Amy to take her nap you quickly find a place behind the wall and see her get to bench on the roof. She takes out her phone and starts talking to herself. “I’ll just set an alarm for 30 minutes and that should do it”, she lays down and you can tell she fell asleep due to her snoring. You see her phone without thinking, you tiptoe to her and grab her phone. You try to turn off the alarm but she has a pin, but you manage to fully turn off the phone and you place it back next to her. You tiptoe away and head to your locker. After 50 minutes Henry is still standing outside waiting for Amy until you hear him start muttering. “Where the hell is she, and I’m the late one screw this restaurant I’m going home”.

You see him start walking away and you call this a success but you wait for a couple more minutes then you start walking towards home. When you get home your brothers are setting their shoes and going upstairs you are about to do the same until you get a phone call, you check and it's from your mom.

M/N: Mom?

Mom: Hey M/N just calling in to check in on you guys

M/N: We are fine, just that Anthony for some reason is running out of money already and is about to start using my card.

Mom: I’m sure that is because you've been ordering take out and other junk.

M/N: Maybe??

Mom: I’ll send more money from our cards but that is it,if you guys need money you need to get yourself a part-time job

M/N: Why a job, and why include me. I'm busy.

Mom: Really, busy doing what exactly.

M/N: I mean AP CALC can be a pain

Mom: Mhm yeah right, you've been getting straight A’s since middle school so I don’t buy it. The recommendation isn’t a punishment, it can do you guys some good especially for you, it can keep you from doing something ... .extreme.

M/N: What do you….fine I’ll think about it.

Mom: Good

M/N: Anyway Mom why did you and dad leave us here, what's going on

Mom: I’m sorry, just that something came up, something in our way and your father and I need to take care of it.

M/N: Is it that Saldana person, my brother said he heard you guys talking about someone with that name.

Mom: DON’T get involved M/N, it is a story too complicated

M/N: Someday you have to tell us about it.

Mom: One day I will, and don’t worry it isn’t boring like your fathers stories.

Thursday

The alarm sounds from your clock and you realize again that today is Thursday, if everything keeps going your way, hopefully tomorrow Henry will reject Amy's confession. You shower, dry yourself off and put your school uniform on. While going downstairs your brother Anthony throws you his phone, you grab it and take a look at it. It was a post made by Amy and it was a photo of her at home and she had a bowl of ice cream with her, and based on her face it looks like she has been crying. While looking at this phone your brothers start smirking, “Alright thanks for the update but I’m sure she probably called Henry and he probably forgave her like always”. You grab your things and leave without letting your brothers say anything else. At the corner where you meet you wait for him but he doesn’t show up, a second later your phone dings and you check it and it is a text from Henry saying he won’t meet up today saying he is currently not feeling well. You had a gut feeling that you should run to school so once you got to your usual hiding spot you barely made it on time to listen to Henry and Amy discussion and based on Henry's face he did not want to be there.

Amy: Hey Henry, you wanted to meet up earlier than usual why?

Henry: Do you still have the book I lent you a couple of days ago?

Amy: Yeah I do, I’m almost done with can you let me have it for the rest of the day,I was planning to read the rest at the fountain after that I’ll give it to you at the end of the day.

Henry: Fine, just make sure to not damage it, it was a gift from M/N.

Amy: Alright don’t worry.

Henry leaves without saying another word and Amy follows until they separate for their classes. You didn’t even need to think twice, you instantly knew what you had to do, steal that book or destroy it. You head to class and decide to talk to Henry and possibly see if your sabotage is actually working. Henry sees you walk in and waves and starts talking to you.

Henry: M/N sorry about this morning, I needed to meet with Amy cause I asked her to give something she borrowed back to me.

M/N: Did she give it back?

Henry: No, she said she will give it to me after school, just hope she keeps her word.

M/N: Everything alright?

Henry: Just lately Amy has just not been good lately, I don’t know but seems like she really is showing her true colors and I am not liking it.

M/N: That is too bad, but hey you have that new game to distract you.

Henry: Yeah, you’re right just hope everything returns back to normal.

When the lunch bell rings you go to the school fountain and sit down on a random bench until finally you see Amy show up with the book. You see her reading it and what feels like forever you see another student go up to her and ask her for something. She gets up and stupidly leaves the book on the fountain. You slowly walk to the fountain and double check to see if anyone can see you, after you check that no one will see, you drop the book into the fountain then leave. After another minute you see Amy come back and when she notices the book fell in the fountain she freaked out and started panicking and she quickly ran. You don’t bother following her and just eat your lunch and not care. The day goes by quickly and when after school comes around you are pretending to be packing and from a earshot you hear Henry and Amy.

Henry: Do you have the book with you?

Amy: Henry, I’m sorry the book fell in the fountain somehow and I couldn’t fix it.

Henry yanks the book away from Amy's hand

Henry: But, how did this happen!?

Amy: I don’t know, I set it down left for a bit and it must of fell in when I got up.

Henry: HOW COULD YOU!, M/N gave this to me. It was special to me.

Amy: Henry I’m sorry

Henry: Amy just, I’ll see you tomorrow bye.

Amy: Henry, wait.

Henry walks not even bothering to listen anymore he seemed more sad than mad, you walk home feeling accomplished and proud and when you settle at home you end up going to bed feeling nothing but joy.

Friday

Today is the day, if your hard work paid off Henry will say no to Amy's confession hopefully. After getting dressed you walk downstairs and see a well cooked breakfast served on the dinner table.

Anthony: Morning M/N, as a way to celebrate you succeeding in breaking up that friendship, enjoy having a full breakfast meal.

M/N: First, I’m not even sure if it's going to work and….

Anthony: Don’t even think like that, it is clearly working since even we can feel the tension between Henry and Amy and not the good type

Sebastian: You kidding, the tension couldn’t even be cut with a knife, that's how intense it is. Trust me whatever you are doing is working.

M/N: Does that mean should I even bother trying to do something today to mess it up also.

Anthony: I say still do something, just to overall seal the deal for today.

You eat the breakfast your brothers made you and head out to school with them, they leave you at the usual corner and you wait for Henry until he shows up. When Henry finally makes it you both start chatting for a bit.

M/N: Wait Amy damaged what?

Henry: She damaged the book you gave me as a gift, I can’t believe she would be so careless.

M/N: What makes you think she was careless?

Henry: I don’t know, I always had a feeling that she was jealous of our friendship, which I don’t understand because she is my childhood friend not you. You're my good friend but she just…GAHHH.

M/N: She really has been getting on your nerves lately,

Henry: She has been, I’m running out of patience with her. M/N she just…..

M/N: She just what?

Henry: She isn’t like you, I feel like you're more of a childhood friend to me than she is to me.

You stay looking at each other for a moment in silence but that silence is broken when Henry's phone dings, he checks it and receives a message from Amy asking help on a homework assignment.

M/N: So you're going to help her?

Henry: I don’t feel like sitting down and chatting with her so I’m just going to let her copy it.

M/N: Really?

Henry: Yeah, at least I won’t be chatting with her because right now I need a little break from her.

M/N: Alright, do what you think is best.

Henry sends her a message saying that he will leave it on top of her desk and to give it to him later. Henry and you head to your lockers and Henry leaves to go give Amy the assignment. You follow behind and once you see him give Amy the assignment you thought of a plan. Amy before she starts copying heads to what seems like the bathroom and leaves Henry homework in her bag. After she leaves you see the classroom is empty so you walk in and dig in her bag and find Henry's homework. Once you found it you stuffed it in your bag and left the room not bothering to see her reaction. You head to class like usual and wait out the time then hours later around after school Henry walks up to you.

Henry: SHE LOST IT!

M/N: Henry calm down, what's wrong?

Henry: Amy lost my homework assignment I let her borrow, so I got freaking zero on that assignment and my grade dropped a whole letter.

M/N: Henry calm down, breathe in.

Henry: That was the last graded assignment for that class, everything else would be quizzes and exams so now I am going to have to study my butt off to bring my grade up if I want to possibly earn full rides to universities.

M/N: I know Henry, just relax everything will be alright it's Friday so use this weekend to just forget about this horrible day.

Henry: More like a horrible week, but thank you’re right I need to relax and just deal with the reality on Monday.

M/N: Where is Amy?

Henry: Don’t know haven’t seen her since class time I think I may just walk home without her, going to try to use this weekend to just not remember anything bad that happen this week so don’t feel if I ignore your calls

M/N: You can use the weekend to play that game all day and night.

Henry chuckles and asks you to meet him by the gate so you do, from a distance you see Henry at his locker but notice he takes out a note. You run up to him and ask him what the letter is about, apparently it is from Amy asking him to meet him at the rose garden, Henry looks at you and just ends up going. You give Henry some time to give some distance then you decide to follow and go to the rose garden. Once you make it to the rose garden you hide behind another bush and you see Amy come out from behind a tree and step in front of Henry and she starts talking.

Henry: Amy?

Amy: I’m….glad you came.

Henry: What is this about?

Amy: Just needed to have you meet me here, because I feel some sort of confidence.

Henry: Confidence about what?

Amy: Well, the reason why my relationships never worked was because I felt like it was never with the right person.

Henry: What made you think that?

Amy: Every time I was with someone I kept thinking about another person.

Henry: Who?

Amy: Just listen alright, I…..LIKE YOU, I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU AND I BELIEVE YOU AND ME CAN BE SOMETHING SPECIAL.

Henry: Amy honestly, I’m sorry but I don’t think we can be something special.

Amy: What…..is it because of what has been happening this week, it was just one shitty week that's all just….

Henry: Amy don’t, it's not just that it is way more than that.

Amy: I can be nicer, neater, believe me I can……..

Henry: Just stop, it just won’t work, this won’t happen, goodbye.

Amy: Henry please wait.

Amy starts crying while Henry turns his back around and leaves her alone in the rose garden, while you in a distance start feeling joyful and start laughing a bit knowing you had succeeded. You leave school and run home to tell your brother the good news.

Saturday

Henry's POV

Henry goes into a park to clear his mind after yesterday and sits on a bench feeling sad, until someone passes by

??: Oh, hi is everything alright?

Henry: Um, I’m sorry, Gal right?

Gal Gadot: Yeah, we are assigned to that school project

Henry: Oh I remembered

Gal Gadot: Is everything alright, what has got you feeling down.

Henry: I don’t want to trouble you.

Gal Gadot: It is no trouble at all.

Henry: Well, I have a childhood friend named Amy, recently we just have not been getting along and I believed I may have feelings for her but this week our friendship kept getting tested and it was struggling. So, when she confessed her feelings I couldn’t say yes because it felt like her true colors were showing. I feel bad for rejecting her and ruining our friendship but I didn’t want to accept her feelings out of pity and now I don’t know if I did the right thing.

Gal Gadot: Don’t you know what's his name, M/N haven’t you discussed it with me.

Henry: I was going to, but can’t bring myself to throw my problems on top of him. He is someone I can count on but I don't want him to worry about me about something so dumb.

Gal Gadot: I’m sorry to hear that, maybe a walk in the park will help clear your head instead of just sitting and feeling sorry.

Henry: Maybe you’re right, a walk can do some good.

Gal Gadot: I’ll join you.

While Henry and Gal walk around the park they don’t notice someone taking photos of them and following them.

Sunday

M/N POV

You are getting ready for bed and you suddenly get a text message from Robert.

Robert: Well I will say I didn’t expect you to get rid of Amy that way but it works

M/N: Why do you seem disappointed, expecting me to go crazy?

Robert: Mostly surprised but not really sending you a message for just a normal chat

M/N: Why did you text me?

Robert: *Attached images of Henry and Gal walking in the park standing real close*

M/N: WHO IS she?

Robert: Her name is Gal Gadot, she is Henry's partner in a school project, seems to be catching his attention and Henry seems to be catching her attention.

M/N: Why warn me about this again, what is your game?

Robert: No game just like I said good karma.

M/N: Good karma?

Robert: Doesn’t matter, it looks like she is planning to confess on Friday also, so I will think of something fast or you may lose Henry to another girl.

M/N: I can’t lose him when he is mine already.

#henry cavill x male reader #male reader #x male reader

168 notes · View notes

adnauseum11 · 6 months ago

Text

SITREP (John Price x Reader)

Dinner continues after you get a hold of your emotions.

3.6 k words

CW: mention of deceased parents.

Hopefully I slalomed through this dinner without adding too many personal details so the reader remains as much of a blank slate as possible while retaining some interesting backstory.

This work is part of the SNAFU series - most of which has been posted here and the Masterlist is pinned to my page. Due to threats from apps like lore.fm and Ai data scraping, I'm feeling less and less secure posting my work to Tumblr. I'm toying with the idea of taking it all down, although that feels a bit like closing the barn doors after the horses got out.

This will be the last chapter I post in its entirety here on Tumblr for the time being. Partial chapter updates only going forward. If you want to continue, please consider asking for an invitation from Ao3 to make an account. It's free, and then you can read anything, even the locked fics, like mine. It's worth the little bit of a wait.

link to the chapter over on Ao3

feedback welcome, let me know if you primarily read here on Tumblr or over on Ao3. I asked earlier and the responses seemed to favour Ao3. Not the case? Let me know!

sorry for folks on the taglist - let me know if this upcoming change works for you or if you'd rather not be tagged if it's not the full chapter. I'm trying some stuff out, love to have your thoughts.

You take a few long moments in front of a large gilded mirror to breathe deeply, shaking off the lingering pall of grief, occupying your hands by checking your hair and make-up. John had been out of the country when your parents had been killed, unreachable for long months while you struggled to keep your ship afloat amongst the ensuing chaos. The situation had left you de-stabilized for longer than you cared to admit, John more familiar with the aftermath – the constant fighting with David and wild emotional dysregulation that he had weathered with equanimity. You can’t help but wonder what your parents would think about you dating the man you’d been fast friends with for all these years. Would your mother think it inevitable or inconceivable that you would see John in a new light after everything you had been through? You’re touching up your lipstick when Michelle’s face appears over your shoulder in the reflection.

“Are you ok? I’m sorry if Kate upset you. She’s prone to prying and forgets herself sometimes.”

“It’s fine, the emotion takes me by surprise every now and then. Needed a minute to get my head on straight, as John would say.”

You answer as you square your shoulders, turning to face the other woman. Michelle nods sympathetically, twisting her fingers together in front of herself.

“I’m sorry for your loss. John is pretty concerned; I think he would have come in after you himself if I hadn’t offered to come check on you.”

You give the other woman a reassuring smile, gently rolling your eyes at the unsurprising news of John’s overprotective streak. She carries on before you can make a weak joke about his hovering.

“You guys are pretty serious, hm? He didn’t call you his girlfriend when he took Kate to task about being too intrusive, he said you were his partner.”

A warmth blooms from the pit of your stomach, and you have to fight to keep your smile from growing into an inappropriately triumphant grin. John was listening after all bouncing around in your mind. Michelle follows you out of the bathroom, chatting easily.

“It’s nice to see him with someone that loosens him up. I can’t remember the last time we did something like this. There was a time where I didn’t think he would ever relax. I swear his shoulders were habitually around his ears most of the time I saw him. I’m rooting for you two.”

“Thank you, we’ve had our challenges so far but have come out the other side stronger I think.”

You squeeze John’s shoulder again as you step around his seat, his hand coming up to rest on your side protectively before you sit, his attention zeroing in on you.

“It’s alright, I was just caught off guard. Everything is fine.”

You reassure him, squeezing his wrist before his hand slips away again. Kate is contrite.

“I apologize, it was tactless to ask such a personal question.”

With a smile and a wave of your hand you try to place her at ease, not wanting dinner to grind to an uncomfortable halt.

“No, no, you couldn’t have known. Quite alright. I’m usually better behaved, I blame the red wine on an empty stomach for making me emotional.”

John huffs, having seen you far worse for wear but satisfied all is well if you still have a sense of humour. Kate’s face also relaxes into one of relief, and they both sag back into their chairs slightly.

“Are you a cigar aficionado as well, Kate? John’s been wanting to come here since it opened.”

“Only when we’re playing poker. The ‘lil missus doesn’t like the smoke.”

Michelle takes a half-hearted swat at her wife who smiles in return, shrugging slightly as if the truth would come out regardless.

“No more smoking inside if everything works out, sorry John.”

Michelle adds with a small smile in John’s direction. He nods, as if he was expecting the news.

“Fair enough. I’m not smoking as much as I used to these days. Although I am interested to pop downstairs and see what their selection is like. I was gifted a beautiful lighter for Christmas, would be a shame to not use it a little more.”

The look John sends your way makes your skin prickle again. Not just with the desire that’s been simmering between you two all night but backed with the warmth of genuine deep-seated affection. It makes you want to crawl on to his lap and mess up his perfect tie despite all the onlookers. He reads the look on your face and the corner of his mouth quirks up. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as he reaches into his inner jacket pocket, finally breaking eye contact to hand over the vintage lighter to Kate’s curious reach.

Your eyes follow it as she turns it over, examining the silver rectangle. It has a unique arm mechanism for lighting, effectively stamping out the flame when shut. It’s all hand wrought, the screws on the bottom for refilling the chambers individually made. There’s a delicate filigree up the corners, leaving the worn space in the middle empty for the engraving you had commissioned with John’s initials. John had been thrilled with your small gift, it had immediately joined his wallet and watch as an essential item he carried around every day.

“It’s a 1928 Kickstarter from Colibri. No idea where she found one in such good shape, it works like a dream.”

Kate tries the lighting arm and it swings upwards easily, a flame springing forth almost instantly. She snaps it shut again with a satisfying click and offers it to Michelle to inspect. You take a sip of your wine to avoid John’s intent gaze on the side of your face, certain that if you look over, you’ll give in to the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch him. You can practically feel him willing you to turn and he only relents when Michelle hands the lighter back, a knowing smile hovering at the corners of her mouth.

“Looks like she’s got a homerun here. That’s a lovely piece, John.”

“I had to look for a while to find one in good working order.”

You supply, pleased these women who seem to know John so well are impressed with your gift.

“You know who else would appreciate that? Simon.”

Kate gestures to the lighter in John’s hand, raising her eyebrow at him in an expression you don’t understand. Michelle turns to face her wife immediately, concerned.

“Kate, no. No work stuff.”

“What? John will want to know.”

Kate’s tone is innocent, but her wife’s posture tells another story.

“Know what?”

John is cautious, returning the lighter to his inner pocket slowly, his eyes tracking from Michelle to Kate.

“He’s asked for the paperwork to be discharged; he’s going to retire. Making noise about moving back to this neck of the woods.”

John hums and his hand settles on your forearm, making you glance over at him in surprise. You’re fairly certain he’s unaware he’s reached out and grabbed you, his focus solely on Kate’s face. Kate notices the knee-jerk reaction though, and you watch her face rapidly go through a series of complicated emotions you couldn’t name even if pressed.

“You’re right, I do want to know.”

John’s tone of voice has a measured calmness to it that belies the grip his hand has on your forearm.

“Well, this is all very cryptic. Who is Simon?”

You don’t dislodge his hand, raising an eyebrow at him when he slowly turns away from Kate to explain.

“Simon was my Lieutenant. He’s had a… rough go lately. Not surprised he’s wanting out but did he say what he plans to do?”

John answers your question broadly before directing another question back towards Kate. Michelle sighs, and you get the impression that this hi-jacking of the conversation happens more often than she condones.

“No, not to me. Nor anyone else as far as I know. I was hoping maybe you could check in on him.”

“Hm. Yeah, could do – “

John is interrupted by dinner arriving. Everything is laid out still steaming and fragrant, fresh from the kitchen. Michelle shakes her head at the platter that is set before Kate, disbelief written across her face. John’s plate isn’t much better, the thick slab of meat before him making your eyebrows raise.

“Is this a military thing?”

You ask Michelle in a stage whisper, John letting go of your arm to attend to his enormous meal. He’s got a baked potato and lightly roasted green beans to get through as well, never mind the huge cut of meat. Kate’s lobster tail and steak take up most of the plate before her, with a potato of her own nestled beside a garden salad.

“No, it’s an excellent food thing.”

John answers, his eyes crinkling in good humour. Kate makes a sound of agreement before adding with a smile.

“And it’s a John’s paying kind of thing.”

“Kate!”

Michelle’s back to scolding her wife but John just smiles, not offended in the least.

“She’s earned it, Michelle. Don’t worry.”

“Lord help us, don’t encourage her John. I haven’t decided yet how I feel about you two not working together anymore.”

Kate smirks at that and clinks her glass against John’s, and in a flash the depth of their friendship becomes clear. You refocus on your own food, wondering again at this part of John’s life you’ve heretofore been excluded from. You soothe your slightly wounded ego by reminding yourself that John’s trying at least to bridge the formidable gap between his work life and what you consider to be his ‘real’ life. His enjoyment of the company across the table is evident to you though, giving you pause. Michelle picks up on your thoughtful turn and catches your eye as you cut into the tender side of the filet mignon in front of you.

“They’re always having side conversations, it’s insanely annoying. It was worth putting up with it to know someone out there had her back when they were working. Now, it’s just taking the piss, as you say over here.”

She narrows her eyes at John who has the good grace to look slightly chastised. Kate ignores her wife, digging into the lobster with gusto.

“John doesn’t talk to me about his work much. It’s all classified, apparently. I just found out that you two existed the other day.”

You try to gently joke with her, brushing off the fact that you know next to nothing about John’s work other than the broadest strokes. Michelle sends you a kind look and nods in understanding while Kate stares down John over her buttered lobster.

“Field work is difficult - Kate you know that. It’s safer for everyone if there’s nothing to leverage. As recently proved.”

You barely understand the context of John’s words, leverage striking you as an odd phrase when talking about relationships. You gather he’s talking about the break-in and subsequent shit show only just recently put behind you. Kate understands his meaning straight away though and shrugs, arching a brow across the table at John who’s paused in eating his meal.

“God love ya John, you always pick the hardest possible path forward. I get where you’re coming from, just not sure on the execution in reality.”

“Could you two speak English, please?”

Michelle interjects, her eyes on your face as you quietly puzzle over the layered conversation going on. If you knew her better you would say the look on her face was sympathetic. Kate explains herself for your benefit, her eyes flicking between you and John.

“I worked with John for years and if it makes you feel any better, he didn’t tell me that you existed until recently either. He seemed to be under the impression that keeping the spheres of his life from overlapping was the safest way to operate. The idea being that it would keep you from becoming a target. I’d say forewarned is forearmed, myself. But I understand his logic. His work was dangerous.”

John’s face is suddenly serious, his hands still, waiting for your reaction. You’re trying to piece together what little you know of his work and the events of the last few months. The idea that he’d been living what amounts to a dual life is jarring for some reason. You like to think you know John well, and this night is reminding you there’s a lot you are unaware of. Kate’s revelation that she didn’t know him as well as she thought either is cold consolation.

“So, keeping everyone separate in their own little box was about safety?”

“It’s always about your safety.”

John answers and you get the impression there’s more to be said but he’s holding his tongue. You decide to leverage it out of him later. What possible danger could there be in meeting these women now that wasn’t there when he was working? You exchange a long, silent look with him that must convey your skepticism because he only physically relaxes when you eat another bite of dinner, seemingly letting it go for the moment. Kate watches the tense exchange between you with rapt interest as she polishes off the rest of her lobster and salad.

“I don’t know about anyone else, but my dinner is simply delicious.”

Michelle breaks the silence, reaching across her wife’s arm to snag her gin and tonic and take a delicate sip. You smile in appreciation at her attempt to break the newest layer of tension, Kate’s chagrined face only making your grin wider. You exchange an amused look with Michelle as she hands the gin and tonic back to her annoyed wife.

“The food is really delectable. I’m getting full but it tastes so good! I’m going to risk popping my dress.”

Michelle laughs and Kate smiles over a bite of steak.

“I know John can put away a lot of food, but these portions are massive you guys. I’m impressed.”

You continue, a hint of awe entering your tone as you watch Kate’s methodical approach to her plate.

“I suspect they don’t half-ass things around here.”

Kate supplies, looking pointedly at the rich appointments around the big dining room. From the chandeliers to the floor length window dressings, the restaurant screams sumptuousness. John is just as regimented about his food as Kate, most of his steak gone and half of the side dishes remaining. He huffs in acknowledgment of Kate’s words, amused.

“They haven’t half-assed their prices so I would hope not.”

You smile into your last bite of filet mignon, relaxing into the gentle banter again. You take a moment while finishing what you can of your dinner to observe the way the group easily pivots from topic to topic, and the familiarity of it is striking to you. John is himself with them, there is no pretence in his conduct and you puzzle over his insistence on keeping you separated from people he gets along with so well. If what he says is to be believed, John spent his career being concerned about your safety such that he went to extreme lengths to keep you protected from its dangers. That’s not the behavior of a man who has only recently decided he wanted more from your friendship. His admission about the dress you're wearing turning him on years before he asked you out rattles around in your brain like a marble you can’t stop rolling around. His hand on your forearm draws you back to the present, and you look at him, his vibrant blue eyes taking in your dazed expression.

“Do you want more wine? I’m having coffee. Kate’s having another gin and Michelle is going to have a decaf.”

He asks, filling you in quickly once he clocks that you were lost in thought.

“Yes, that would be lovely. Please.”

The return of your manners earns you a warm smile and John turns to the waiter to relay your order. The dishes are cleared and you spend the next three quarters of an hour forcing yourself to stay present in the moment and not withdraw to puzzle over all you’ve learned. You find yourself naturally drawn to Michelle, her dry wit cutting and more than a match for her formidable and straightforward wife. Kate and John seem to be able to have a conversation within a conversation, and you quickly learn what Michelle means about it being annoying. It especially grates on your nerves as it’s typically you and John with a litany of inside jokes scattered through any conversation. Having the shoe on the other foot is less fun than you imagined. John excuses himself to the bathroom, which you know is code for paying the bill and you steel yourself to spend the next few moments alone with his friends.

“You’ve had a lot of change over the last few months, what with starting to date John and then moving in so quickly after the break in. How are you finding living with him?”

Kate’s got the question out as soon as John’s big frame leaves the general vicinity of the table.

“It’s like anything, a bit of an adjustment but it’s been good. He’s far neater than me, maybe you should ask him what living with me is like instead.”

You laugh before you continue, mentally acknowledging your vastly different decorating styles. John’s a minimalist where you love fun and funky tchotchkes. Your flat had been crammed to the rafters with knick-knacks. Moving in with John had necessitated parting ways with a lot of your less sentimental pieces. The lowkey dispute about the Christmas decorations had hardly been a solitary event.

“So far it's been lovely, he lets me have my way most of the time and pairs the most delicious wines with dinner. I have no complaints or salacious details, sorry ladies.”

You keep your most recent fight to yourself, unwilling to expose John or yourself to the scrutiny of these women, even if they mean well. In the end, you had gotten what you wanted there too, which was to be heard and considered in matters that concerned you. Which by all accounts, seems to have landed for John.

“He plays it pretty close to the vest too, as previously established. Was hoping you would be a bit more forthcoming.”

Kate smiles, not unkindly, but her rampant curiosity might as well be a neon sign flashing over her face. Her wife elbows her arm with all the subtlety of a gunshot and the dirty blonde schools her face back into something more restrained. You offer a smile and swirl the dregs of your wine, unsure what the other woman was hoping to learn.

“He snores when he’s been drinking?”

Kate gives a startled laugh and shakes her head quickly.

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

“I suspect the John you know and the John I know are the same, we just see him in different scenarios.”

“True enough to a point. He doesn’t let me have my way as often, I'm going to guess.”

You can feel heat creeping over your cheeks at the suggestive tone and she carries on before you can speak.

“I’m more interested in you, than how he behaves when he’s with you, to clarify what I meant. You went to university?”

You nod dumbly, the wine doing nothing to help your mind focus. Kate rolls along with more questions, to her wife’s open annoyance.

“Kate, leave her alone. Seriously.”

“Where do you work? Have you been there long?”

“Uh, I quit, before Christmas. After the break-in John and I talked and I’m going to find something else. I wasn’t happy there. So, technically working nowhere right now.”

“Were you using your degree?”

“No, it was customer service essentially with some data entry. Soul sucking. Awful.”

“What would you prefer to do?”

“I’m not sure. I think being a docent would be fun but those positions can be quite hard to get.”

Michelle’s distracted from trying to back Kate off this line of questioning by this tidbit of information, and her attention swings to you.

“Oh! Like at the Tower of London? They were phenomenal! That would be a fun job.”

“Yes, exactly. Having new faces to chat to every day and all that history around would be – “

“What does John think?”

Kate interrupts, the curiosity on her face in full force. The wine answers before you can corral your thoughts into something more even-tempered.

“I haven't mentioned it yet, besides, why would he care? He won’t be the one working there.”

Michelle tilts her head backs and laughs, John’s quizzical face popping into view at the end of the table eventually subduing her mirth.

“Hate to interrupt but everyone ready?”

You exchange a smile with Michelle and nod at John, standing and linking you hand with his outstretched one. He leads you back through the restaurant to collect your coats from the coat check. Afterwards you stand on the chilly sidewalk to exchange hugs and goodbyes, a whispered good luck sent in to Michelle’s ear that she acknowledges with an extra squeeze before letting you go. Kate bundles her wife into a waiting cab with a final wave out the window, and John convinces you to go peruse the cigars downstairs before heading home yourselves. If things work out for the two women, he reasons Kate will need a celebratory cigar to herald in their newest adventure. You can’t say no to his sentimental reasoning and find yourself an hour later, back in the same place on the sidewalk, John’s newest purchases tucked into your clutch to protect against the damp while you wait for the valet.

Taglist: @beebeechaos @cadotoast @syoddeye @writeforfandoms

@itr-00 @chloepluto1306 @batw3nch @magsmagic @h0n3y-l3m0n05

@chickennn-soupp @fruitymoonbeams-blog @redwites @glitterypirateduck

@tf141gloryhole @bespectacledhuman

#john price x reader #fanfic #john price #john price x f!reader #friends to lovers #john price cod #captain price #captain john price #john price x you #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #captain john price x female reader

48 notes · View notes

kimbapisnotsushi · 1 year ago

Note

oh please talk about kawanishi taichi i love that silly guy

OF COURSE ANON I TOO LOVE THAT SILLY GUY LET'S GET IT!!

(also i am SO sorry for taking so long oh my god i am back in action and catching up i promise!!)

i think he likes beanies in his casual wear

idk kawanishi feels like such a beanie person but not the douchebag slouchy ones he's got one that's a little snug and has something embroidered on it like a bird or something

okay that's a lie. he has ONE douchebag slouchy beanie that makes him look like how a high school romance shoujo mangaka of the mid-2000s would dress a flashy somewhat-delinquent teenage boy (honey lemon soda my beloved)

this, of course, could not be farther from the truth

the entire second year is scared of him bc they never somehow realize he's there until he says something and they're like "holy SHIT". this also means he knows a bunch of hot gossip

(the hot gossip miyagi group chat: kawanishi, watari, onagawa, and narita)

on the other hand. that means the students of 2-5 win the contest for "best cultural festival attraction" between classes bc they had the best haunted house the miyagi prefecture had ever seen

he's on really good terms with the school nurse because sometimes he sneaks into the infirmary to take naps during lunch or gym periods

knows how to lockpick BECAUSE he keeps trying to sneak into the infirmary. and occasionally the school roof for their "team bonding picnics" so that tendou doesn't have to keep swiping the key from the student council

i'm not just saying this bc i like enamel pins but i think kawanishi DOES like enamel pins. he's got a collection of these edgy sarcastic ones that he thinks are hilarious in a "started-ironically-and-now-i-can't-stop-pipeline" kind of way

he's got this whole tumblr-grunge-indie-hipster thing going on with his douchebag slouchy beanie and denim jacket with pins all over the collar and ripped jeans and converse sneakers and shirabu thinks he pulls it off unfairly well

i feel like kawanishi also really likes fantasy/sci-fi and is actually SUCH a huge secret nerd about it. and really likes cyberpunk and fantasyland settings you'd get from like idk snow white with the red hair or nivalis (i KNOW it's an indie game that's not even out yet but sue me i don't know cyberpunk all that well)

he and tsukki actually become friends while arguing about how much of akira is deep meaning and how much of it is actually just straight up bullshit because WHAT the fuck was that

also he's subscribed to a bunch of these small artists on youtube who make background music and fun art to go with them bc he can put together a great soundtrack for getting hw and studying done

likes getting lil gifts for shirabu, especially to add to his stationary collection. shirabu has sticky notes in the shape of whales and ice cream and paper lanterns and washi tape with fireworks and beach motifs and bakery stuff and it's all because of kawanishi

kawanishi just sticks to the plain solid-color square sticky notes that he uses to leave shirabu notes around his dorm. just small things, really, a reminder that this is a place shirabu belongs and it is a place he is loved. you're doing great. get some water soon. i'll bring you dinner, just text me. don't forget to sleep.

and shirabu will be hard pressed to admit it, but those might be his favorite sticky notes of all

#LMAO WAIT I REMEMBERED SOMETHING I COULD HAVE USED INSTEAD OF NIVALIS #not that i should have bc idk if it counts nor can i rec it in good conscience but. the aesthetic fits i think #anyways i googled a bunch of stuff for this and that's how i learned that final fantasy is apparently cyberpunk???#this completely messes with the image i had of it in my head for like. the entire last eight years or so #also like. i'm assuming this came from my mixed inarizaki/shiratorizawa post where i talked kawanishi and kawashira there a bit #so pardon me for getting a lil bit sappy there at the end. bc i love them #ANYWAYS I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO GET OUT OH MY GOD I HOPE YOU ENJOY ANON TY FOR THE ASK <333 #kawanishi taichi #shirabu kenjirou #kawashira #honorable mention also goes to:#tsukishima kei #and #tendou satori #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu hcs #sou says stuff

57 notes · View notes

arvadthecursed · 21 days ago

Text

haven't said anything about it here but. I am very deeply saddened by Liam's death.

I remember hearing "What Makes You Beautiful" for the first time and being astonished. I grew up an ugly duckling with very few friends. And here was a band telling me I didn't know I was beautiful, and that was the reason I was wonderful. It gave me a sense of hope, that maybe yeah, I couldn't see my own beauty but maybe others could.

And, as y'all know, I have auDHD. I didn't have the words to explain how I felt as a kid. I just knew that I felt wrong, like I was an alien compared to other girls. I got picked on a lot and sometimes didn't realize it til after; or sometimes, no one would talk to me because my interests were "too weird." But 1D gave me something to talk to other girls about. We talked about our favorite boys, the music, and yes, the fanfic. I know RPF is often looked down upon now but when I was 11-13, we commonly passed it around. The "kidnapped by 1D" fics were popular for a reason: escapism, which, for hormonal, emotional tweenage girls, is super important. I remember reading Dark (yes, THAT Dark) in 7th grade because the girls were passing it around in FB chats. Now, we shouldn't have been reading that particular fic at that age, of course, but we were 13, of course we were gonna read it lol. We giggled over how shocking it was and showed it to our friends bc that's what 13 yr old girls do.

I made my first real best friend because of 1D. We bonded over watching videos of the guys together, buying J14 and Tiger Beat for the posters we would meticulously put on our walls, listening to the music. We made fanpages on Facebook together where we would write imagines and post pictures of the guys. We called each other our favorite guys' nicknames and hell, my first url on Tumblr was "hayitstommo" after Louis. My first posts on this site almost 12 years ago were 1D related. That friend and I supported each other through tough times; I helped her when her mother was sick, and she comforted me when my grandma died. I won't ever forget that bond.

And I know about the allegations against Liam, absolutely. I believe Maya. I feel deeply for her in this situation as I know she's received horrible vitriol for something that was not her fault. I can't imagine what she's feeling right now.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that there's this weird grief in me. I am sad for Liam, for his family, for Maya, for my fellow fans. But I'm also grieving that sense of community I didn't really realize I had lost til now. 1D let me connect to others and feel like a girl for the first time in my life, when, as I said before, I had felt like an alien, like I could never belong. The music made me happy. The ability to talk to girls who otherwise would've stuck their nose up at me bolstered my confidence, especially when I felt so wrong inside from undiagnosed neurodivergence.

The emotions I feel about Liam himself are complicated. I know he struggled with drug addition; I know he was an abuser. I know he was one of the guys who gave me my greatest comfort in one of the worst years of my life, when I had to move houses, my grandma died, and then I had to move states. I know he was flawed and I had put him on a pedestal as a kid because kids don't have full pictures of their idols.

I keep thinking about all this. The outpouring of love from Directioners -- even people like me, who wouldn't call themselves that now but certainly identified with the fandom was kids -- has been astounding. I think we're all feeling a very weird sense of grief right now, knowing what we know about Liam, his untimely death, and our relationship with the band and how it's changed over the years. There are fond memories I will always have that were because of 1D. But now that I'm older, I have a more nuanced perspective, and that gives me this weird grief in my chest that hasn't gone away since I heard the news.

Anyway, sorry for rambling. I hope this kind of conveys how I feel.

#millie says

7 notes · View notes

ynisreal · 10 months ago

Text

wires (8) - michael afton x reader

author´s note: helloooo tumblr! so, i've already uploaded these two chapters to ao3, because my main fan work consumption is on the site… sorry for the delay in posting them here :P summary: Michael tells you part of the truth. You and Michael clean up the establishment. Where is Ennard?

"You know what his goal is, right?" Henry's voice echoes in Michael's memories. Of course he knows, that same goal was hinging and hammering on Michael's memories all the way to your house. "Ennard must be looking for a new body to camouflage himself with again," Henry reminds the younger man of each metallic limb entering his stomach and wearing his skin like a coat. Michael wasn't going to forget the animatronic's purpose, having experienced first-hand what the big robot intended to do.

"I know, but he won't be able to find one so quickly. The person he chooses has to be injected by Remnant through the scooper before he dies or, anyway - during, as happened to me," Michael's answer to Henry's question pops into his memory, reminding him of the seriousness of the situation they were in, "I don't think Ennard knows about this, so until he finds out, there will be other bodies just like Noah's, failed attempts to find a puppet for this piece of shit."

That's Michael's fear. It's the same fear that makes him hold on a little tighter to the hands that are intertwined on his torso. You notice the change in his grip, finally understanding that you weren't the only one afraid of going back to the establishment. All along the way, Michael has been giving you these little indications that he was also afraid of what had happened, even though he didn't want to show it to you. The sudden grip on your hands, the slightly controlled breathing and the tension in the broad shoulders of the man in front of you. When there was a red light and Michael's motorcycle stopped, the man's hands brushed against your thigh, his anxious fingers tapping out a frantic rhythm on your skin. Honestly, you feel a little guilty for not comforting him, but you know how serious Michael is about his secrets and what he decides to share, so you don't want to force an opening and end up fighting with him again. You don't have the strength to get into a fight about who yells the loudest with Michael right now, with the vivid images of Noah's organs racing through your head.

"Thank you for coming to pick me up," you thank him, trying once again to distract yourself and Michael from the fear you were both feeling on your way back to the establishment. "Sure, I promised I'd help you carry the weight on your back, and I'm going to do just that," Michael replies, in a slightly happier tone than his demeanor showed. He was trying to reassure you and show confidence, which you could appreciate in him.

You smile under the large helmet that surrounds your face, "Is this the extra helmet you use when you offer girls a ride?" you joke, trying once again to ease the tension in his shoulders. However, this seems to have the opposite effect when you feel his shoulders tense up once again, perhaps even a little more. This makes you open your mouth in shock, "Wow, here I was just joking, and little did I know that I was another one of your victims," you imitate an angry tone, wanting to hear what Michael's response would be.

"Calm down, it was only two," Michael replies quickly, turning his helmeted head slightly in your direction, keeping his eyes on the road. "Apart from you, of course," the last comment being added in an obviously teasing tone, the man clearly amused by the little jealous tantrum you were throwing. "Hm, I see, should I assume that they also worked with you? Or that you also wrote them notes?" you add, continuing to dramatize the situation, amused by the lightness in which you and Michael were chatting, which completes its task in distracting both of you from the fear hanging over both your minds.

"No, that was just you," Michael says seriously, which surprises you a little, given the joking tone the subject was taking.

It's true. You feel it almost immediately.

"I didn't used to get too involved with the people I had sex with or talked to, that only started with you," Michael adds, not really caring what his words meant or what they suggested.

True. Again.

Your cheeks immediately blush. Shit, how Michael had the ability to dominate your thoughts and make the problems surrounding your head seem like ants next to his magnitude. "Well, what's in the past doesn't matter, I'm glad you've changed. You're the kind of person that everyone would love to meet," you replied awkwardly, not knowing how to react to Michael's sudden confession, letting the first words that came into your mind take over your facial muscles and spill out of your mouth.

Michael doesn't answer. After all, that clumsy little reply of yours brought a light into Michael's mind. He had changed, after meeting you, after so many months locked in the silence and darkness of the establishment, after dying and having to drag his own corpse out of a dark alley, Michael had changed. And this change was a good one, of course he still had certain reactions or behaviors that were already automatic in his brain, but even unconsciously, he had opened up to you, he wanted that opening. Michael was willing to open all his scars for you to look inside, through all the blood and pain.

"We're here," Michael says, seeing such the familiar establishment lurking on the sidewalk. You raise your head to look through the tinted window of the helmet, feeling your stomach rise in your throat and threaten to come out of your mouth. Days passed, Noah's case was still open, analyzing suspects, the sun still rose and fell the same way as before, but your fear was still there. Michael's company made you feel safer, knowing that neither you nor he would ever walk those same corridors alone, but it was inevitable that you would create various scenarios in your head about how the two of you would end up dead in the same way as Noah.

Michael noticed your hesitation, so he squeezed your hand that was still wrapped around his torso, signaling that he would be entering with you. He would help you carry the tiring weight of fear, even if his hands were growing calluses from having carried the same fear alone for several years.

The engine noise ceases and you look around the parking lot, unaccustomed to the scenery belonging to the establishment. You remove your helmet awkwardly, wrinkling your nose as you feel some of your hair being pulled along with the material. Your eyes meet the dark glass of Michael's helmet, and you wait a few seconds, a little confused by your companion's delay, when it finally hits you.

"Do you want me to go in first?" you ask, your voice soft and your head tilting slightly in sympathy. Michael's gentle laugh makes itself known and he lifts his hand to stroke your cheek.

"No need, just wait for me at the exit to the parking lot," he replies, knowing that you would feel uncomfortable entering the establishment alone, but you still wanted to make him comfortable. Michael still had no plans to show his face to you, that hadn't changed, so he appreciated your respect for his secret.

You nod and give him a small kiss on the hand that was hidden in a glove, which you assumed was part of the bike's equipment. Your footsteps echoed through the establishment as you walked up to the large red door that marked "Exit" in black letters. Michael waited until the footsteps were far enough for him to take off his helmet, wrinkling his nose when he felt bits of skin from his face getting stuck in the material. Shit, he would have to buy a wider helmet to avoid the cracks that were forming in his face, leading to some black patches from the necrotic muscles. He picks up the backpack he had brought, reaching for his hoodie and the black surgical mask he had brought. After lifting the hood from the hoodie, the upper part of his face was hidden, along with the lower part which was covered by the mask.

After a few minutes, you hear Michael's footsteps echoing through the garage, signaling to you that he was coming to meet you. "Is this the exit?" you ask, given that he's been working in the establishment longer than you. Michael saw the red door next to you and made a positive sign with his hands, showing you the new bandages that covered his fingers and hands. The famous mask and hood you were used to seeing every week are back, and you finally realize how much you had missed Michael. Honestly, you were grateful. A lot of feelings went through your head these last few days, especially with Noah's death and the story Henry told you, which helped you realize that: life is grey. It doesn't judge, it doesn't help or facilitate nor does it hinder or slow you down. Life gives what it can, and now, you were extremely grateful for what little Michael shared with you. Whether it was a blind kiss, a faceless figure or sweet words that were muffled by the mask. Life gave it to you, and you felt grateful for what seemed so little to other people, but was immense to you. And for Michael too.

"And the wage earners always come back to collect their wages," Michael said casually, letting out a theatrical sigh as he opened and held the large, eye-catching door for you to pass through. You let out a small laugh, "True, the chocolates my sister likes are very expensive these days," the same joking tone in the man's voice is heard in your own, enjoying the light mood you were starting the shift in. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's just your sister who eats them," Michael says sarcastically, calling the elevator as he pushes the button that instantly lights up. You let out another laugh, pushing the man's arm a little too hard, just to provoke him. But honestly, with the short contact of your hand on his toned arm, you realize that even if you had used one hundred percent of your strength, Michael might not have moved at all.

The elevator finally opens its doors, making a loud noise, as apparently all the doors in this establishment do. Michael lets you in first, extending his arm between the open space of the doors to prevent them from closing. As you enter that familiar environment, the reality of the place you're returning to makes itself present in your stomach again. Memories of you running through the corridors and praying to any entity that would listen to you so that you wouldn't be the next victim return to your mind, letting the discomfort begin to grow in your body. You are not alone is what you try to repeat to yourself, as an attempt to stabilize your anxiety. And it was the reality, you weren't alone, Michael was with you, the man who always tried to help you and ease your worries, why should this time be any different? It wouldn't.

The man next to you found your sudden silence strange, imagining that the memories and traumas of that night must be tormenting you. He still didn't know the details of what you had done or what you had thought on that day, only receiving the narrative through indirect sources—via Henry and the reports the older man had brought home. His imagination filled in some of the gaps, relying on the fact that Michael had been through similar experiences a few times to make accurate assumptions. "Close your eyes," Michael says impulsively, his voice coming out hoarse, surprising even himself as if his body had taken action before he realized what he was about to do.

You hardly needed time to react, immediately complying with Michael's request and allowing your sight to be stripped away. Your swift response exuded desperation, a realization that left you a little embarrassed. It became clear how effortlessly Michael could read your body language, especially in your most vulnerable moments. Your other senses took over, enabling you to listen to Michael's movements. You heard the elastic of the mask being stretched and the friction of the material against the man's skin, indicating that he had removed the object. Almost immediately afterward, your sense of touch allowed you to feel Michael's lips meeting yours. The kiss was slow and sweet, the small cuts on the man's mouth adding a subtle tickle, especially when you reached out to grab the material of his hoodie, bringing the two of you even closer. The affirmation you sought was present in the shared kiss—Michael was here. The same Michael who had promised to help you, no matter how challenging things became.

The sound of the elevator doors opening echoes through the closed room and you feel Michael's hand cover your eyes, even though you've kept them closed. The sweet taste of the man's lips disappears, replaced by the cold breeze that envelops the bare lower part of your face. "We're here," Michael whispers, his husky voice close to your ear. You nod positively, a little nervous about your prolonged lack of sight. The hand covering your eyes finally leaves, allowing your vision to return, the dim lighting of the establishment invading your eyesight again, irritating you slightly.

You glance at Michael, who already has his mask back on. The affirmation you were repeating was now firmly in your mind, so you didn't hesitate to take the first step, making your way towards the heavy, noisy doors of the main hall. This time, the loud sound didn't startle you, showing how determined your brain is to ignore any kind of fear, focusing solely on the mantra hammering away at the back of your mind. Michael follows you, satisfied that the little bit of encouragement he provided in the kiss worked, pleased with the image in front of him: you attempting to move forward. It won't be easy, but he can try to make it easier for you.

Michael follows you, noticing how you're walking a bit too fast through the main hall, searching for the cleaning utensils to organize the chaos that the police and investigators had left behind. Michael's strong arm appears in the corner of your vision as you reach for the mop bucket.

"Doll, slow down, I'm here to help you," his voice is once again close to your ear, "I'm glad you're determined, but don't forget that I also have my role in helping you," he continues, grabbing the bucket with ease and placing it on the floor in front of you.

"Okay, sorry, I'm just afraid this wave of motivation is gonna leave too soon," you express, rubbing your hands on your uniform, a sign of your sudden hyperactivity. "So don't use it all up within seconds, just take a deep breath and calmly use up your motivation battery, so you don't go into total denial about everything that happened," Michael says calmly, raising his arm to pick up the other utensils. "Honestly, denial would be a good way to deal with all this," you admit, watching as the man in front of you, once again, gathers up all the items and then leaves you empty-handed.

Michael turns his head towards you, letting the dim light illuminate the upper part of his face. With so many emotions over the last few days, you'd forgotten: Michael's eyes were completely dark. A dark black that consumed all the light in the room and didn't reflect a single glint. You remember the drawing you made that associated this feature, which at the time you thought was imaginary on your part, with the eyes of a powerful villain. It's true, it was a look that would make any villain envy the darkness and emptiness that his gaze conveys. But you couldn't possibly think that about his gaze, knowing that Michael wasn't a villain, at least not in your eyes. You looked away, not wanting Michael to find out that his eyes were uncovered. After all, if he kept secrets, you could keep yours.

"Don't say that," the man's voice is serious, "Denial won't do any good, in fact, reality will only hit harder afterwards," Michael says. Truth, you feel it again. Damn, you wish you could tear your insides apart so you could stop feeling these intuitions. Feeling your body betraying you and agreeing with Michael.

"Yeah," you reply dryly, in denial about being able to stay in denial, basically. "I hate to be cliché, but time heals all wounds, and well, justice heals other wounds too," Michael looks back at the shelves, reaching for the cleaning cloths and gloves.

"Have you experienced this before?" your voice comes out hoarse, a little frustrated with Michael's advice, not wanting to accept the reality that you would have to cope with your emotions and fears. The man doesn't stop in his movements, continuing to throw the cloths he found into the bucket in front of you. He takes a few seconds to respond, as if he's thinking about what to say.

"Yes," Michael says, "Noah wasn't the first death in this establishment."

Well, what the fuck? Isn't this kind of information usually shared with new employees?

You don't answer, your body speaks for itself, your eyes going wide and your hands clenching your uniform. "What do you mean?" your voice comes out a little broken, your fear returning almost instantly. Michael realizes this, so he makes the decision to tell you this story in another manner. "I'm going to tell you, I just need you to close your eyes so I can comfort you," he says, his voice heavy with anxiety. Shit, it was hard having to be careful about the secrecy of his appearance and keeping you physically close at such times.

You sigh and close your eyes again. Michael brings you close, covering the top of your face once again with his hand and letting his other hand caress the fabric of your uniform that was covering your shoulder. "It's been a while since that body was found," Michael is careful with his words, not wanting to scare you or expose himself too much, "Henry, the man you met, was the one who found the body, but the killer was already identified in that case, so you don't have to-"

"Did this man come back to life, or did something happen to him after death?" you ask curiously, remembering the tale Henry had told you. You really didn't believe that the man had come back to life, so you assumed that it must be some kind of lesson or significance that the employees of this establishment shared. Well, you were partly right.

"What do you mean?", the hand on your shoulder stops abruptly, surprised by your question. "Henry told me that he knew a story about a man who had another chance in life after he died," you explain, your hand reaching for Michael's to return the caress on your shoulder that was helping you to calm down, "Well, I assumed that it was a well-known tale in the establishment, and since Henry found the body, he may have tried to pass it on to me," you conclude, a little confused by your own statement. "Forget it, I must look crazy," you add, finally finding Michael's hand as you feel the familiar bandages around your fingers.

Michael smiles beneath his mask, evidently Henry must have shared the story of his death with you. "Would you like the story to end like that?" Michael asks, resuming his caress on your shoulder, "For the corpse that Henry found to come back to life?". You think for a few seconds, not understanding Michael's question, but regardless, you decide to answer: "Yes, it would be less gruesome than ending up with Henry running around the corridors afraid of being the next one, just like me," you shrug, the sincerity in your voice making your speech seem a little too casual for the reality of your statement.

"Okay," Michael smiles, a smile so big that he's afraid the necrotic tissue on his cheek will tear deeply. "You mentioned that the killer was identified, is he under arrest?" you ask.

That's going to be impossible to explain, Michael thinks.

"No," the man replies sincerely, not wanting to delve into who, or rather what, the killer was. "That's why I'm here with you, it's safer for both of us, and believe me, I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure that these same stories don't repeat themselves with you or your sister."

"My sister?" you vocalize, your hand that was stroking Michael's bandages quickly ceasing. "Michael, what does my sister have to do with this?", your voice sounds irritated, which makes Michael hesitate in his movements. Shit, he said too much.

"She has nothing to do with it, Y/n, calm down," Michael blurted out as he felt your hand grip his tightly. Not that it was actually hurting, but he could sense the desperation in your tone. "I only vocalized my concern for both of you, I know how much you love and care for her."

"Okay, but why should the murder in this establishment worry my sister?" you asked once again, the irritation you felt still not subsiding.

"There's a killer on the loose, Y/n, that's what I'm saying, we don't know where he is," Michael knows that what he's telling you is the opposite of comforting or calming you, but it's the truth. He didn't want you walking the streets carefree or letting your sister come home from school completely alone. Ennard was still on the loose, and he was testing bodies until he could find one that would hold up, which won't happen until Ennard realizes that the corpse needs Remnant.

You sigh, letting the depth of Michael's statement settle within you. He was presenting facts that were difficult to accept, the realization that your sister or other people could be in danger. You couldn't afford to let fear paralyze you, to be as openly vulnerable as you were being, you needed strength and courage in this moment, especially since your little sister depended on your protection and care.

While Michael could bring you comfort and motivation, this line of thinking brought you courage and determination. You had to control your emotions, after all, it wasn't just your life that depended on it.

It worried the man when he didn't hear any response from you, but soon after, he listened to your breathing become more controlled, as if you were trying to calm your thoughts and stabilize your heart. "I understand, thank you for clarifying that to me," you finally reply, your voice strangely calm, "I needed to hear that, thank you Michael," you add, raising your hand to caress his other hand, which was still positioned over your eyes.

Michael smiles, satisfied with the conclusion of the confusing and unexpected conversation you two shared. So he carefully lowers his mask, sealing the discussion you two had with a small kiss, just to bring you and him a sense of comfort and closeness after a sensitive conversation for both of you.

When you feel the hand being removed from your eyes, Michael is already wearing his mask and standing at the same distance he considers safe. Your gaze falls on the utensils already positioned in the bucket, apart from the mop and broom in Michael's hands. You crouch down to pick up the bucket with the cloths and cleaning products, but Michael's arm reaches for the item before you can grab it.

"Why do you still try?" Michael's voice is laced with teasing, totally different from the tone you two had been talking in a few minutes ago. You let out a hearty laugh when you saw that Michael was practically hugging the broom and mop with one arm, squeezing them tightly against his body so they wouldn't fall off, while his free arm was carrying the bucket. "If you'd rather contort yourself to carry the bucket than let me handle a broom, honestly, you're crazy," you smiled, holding out your arms, hoping that Michael would make an exception for today.

"Call me crazy all you want," he says, ignoring your offer and starts walking through the corridors in search of the mess made by the investigators. You roll your eyes, amused by Michael's extreme insistence on being a gentleman, but you still follow him down the corridors to start your day shift.

"Fuck, couldn't those jerks collect their damn tapes?", Michael's voice rings out through the corridors until you reach Ballora's gallery, where you were. Hearing him get angry about this makes you laugh as you organize some boxes that the cops had emptied during the investigation. "Damn it, just put that shit in the garbage can, did they have to leave it on the floor?", Michael finally makes his way to the door of the room you were in.

"Michael, it's our job to manage the establishment, their only job is to investigate," you explain, without taking your eyes off the task you were doing, sorting out the items that were for the decoration box that ended up on the floor due to the policemen's carelessness. "But it's also their job to have the minimum of human dignity and throw garbage in the garbage can," Michael replies, still frustrated by the mess that had established itself in the Funtime auditorium: badly cleaned blood, torn yellow tapes on the floor, empty coffee cups everywhere and, to complete the humiliation, the staff toilet near the auditorium was clogged. Not that Michael needed it, he no longer has a functioning digestive system, but you did, and the asshole cops apparently didn't think about your digestive system while they clogged up the only fucking toilet in this establishment.

"Are you going to unclog the toilet? I can finish the boxes quickly and get it done," you asked, turning your body towards the door. You saw Michael standing in the doorway, holding two transparent garbage bags, both visibly full. "No, I'll do it," Michael replied in frustration, not at you, but at the mess. As much as he found the months he spent alone in the establishment frustrating, he had created a sense of home for the place. For him, seeing this messy and untidy place that he'd practically lived in for months would burst a vein, well, if he had veins with blood pumping through them.

"You're already cleaning the auditorium, which I believe has been left in a mess of blood and other filth," you plead. Michael had immediately offered to clean the auditorium, knowing that it would be uncomfortable for you to relive your memories there, even more so with the blood barely cleaned up by the investigators who collected the body and the various tapes written "Crime Scene".

"No, I'll clean the auditorium and the bathroom, no problem," Michael put the bags down, sighing at the effort he'd been putting in all afternoon. It was strange, to spend the whole afternoon mopping the floor and walking back and forth through the corridors to carry bags of garbage, and not break a sweat. He felt hot and breathless from the hard work, but he couldn't sweat anymore. "I don't want to kiss you later and have you smell like stale coffee and bleach," Michael explained, putting one hand on his waist and the other to loosen the hoodie he was wearing, shaking the fabric of the collar so that a breeze of air would cool his dead body.

"Oh yeah, then I'll have to smell that on you later," you laugh, not at all convinced by Michael's explanation. "I don't want your sister to be traumatized by the stink she'll smell when you get home," Michael says, his voice carrying a provocative tone, which makes you smile once again.

Michael looked extremely attractive right now, even with his face covered. The fabric of the hoodie really helped with the masterpiece in front of you, making no effort to hide the man's physique, apart from the fact that, with the movement he was making with the fabric, you could see a bit of bandage around his abdomen. You had discovered yet another feature of your sexual preference with Michael, finding the bandages he wore on his hands extremely attractive, even if you didn't understand why he wore them. A good amount of time had passed since the episode in the control room, and honestly, all you wanted now was to have the opportunity to feel Michael like that again.

"Doll, I'm going to throw this shit away and finish the auditorium tomorrow, I need to sort out the fucking toilet by today," Michael announces, picking up the bags again. You nod positively, "I like it when you call me that," you say with a fond smile on your face, happy to have Michael working with you, it really managed to distract you from the fact that the two of you were cleaning up the mess of the policemen - policemen who had come to investigate a murder.

"Brings back good memories, right?" Michael's voice echoed through the corridors, the malice evident in his tone, but he missed the opportunity to see your cheeks blush and your eyes close in shyness. But your face bore a smile, good memories indeed.

You took the opportunity that Michael had taken on the task of cleaning and unclogging the toilet to check the Scooping Room. Over the last few days, you had called the company a few times, explaining the situation of the robot forgotten in the establishment. The secretary had been polite to you, but she repeated that there was no record of the animatronic you were describing, an animatronic with several exposed wires and white plates forming a face that held a hat on top. You were confused by the situation, which she tried to explain could be some robot from another establishment or an export error by the construction company. The secretary explained that they were swamped with demands from the redesign of this facility and the lawyers who were handling the lawsuit over Noah's death, so she couldn't give you a definite date of when someone would pick up the lost animatronic.

So, walking quickly through the Funtime auditorium, avoiding looking at any traces of blood or, frankly, anywhere other than the small door of the Scooping Room, you decide to check on the animatronic, even to see if the police had removed it or done anything to the robot. When you enter the dark room, the animatronic is no longer next to the door, which makes you think almost immediately that it must have been removed, but as soon as your eyes get used to the darkness of the room, you can see the animatronic standing next to the large scooper in the middle of the room.

The animatronic was positioned in a creepy way, its arms, which were tubes and tubes of wires, were next to its metallic body, with its eyes turned towards the door, where you were standing. Next to him was the large scooper, which you assumed was for rebuilding or destroying the robots. "Well, it looks like they left you right here," you vocalized in a low voice, making sure Michael didn't hear any noise coming from the auditorium. The animatronic was submerged in the darkness of the place, the open door with the low lighting of the auditorium didn't do your vision any justice, you could only see the white plates that formed the robot's face and the long tubes that escaped from the metal body. Some dark spots were on the animatronic's white face, which made you think that the policemen must have moved the robot and let some coffee drip onto the plates. You were still amazed at the lack of care the investigators had shown with the establishment.

When you hear footsteps in the corridor and Michael's voice calling your name accompanied by some complaints about the smell in the bathroom, you immediately close the door to the scooping room and practically run through the auditorium, taking care not to bump into anything and cause a loud sound that would attract Michael's attention. "Y/n, let's close up and leave, I can't stand that stink any longer, tomorrow I'll bring a gas mask to keep cleaning the bathroom," Michael says, as he walks towards Ballora's gallery, but quickly notices that you are no longer there. "Y/n?" Michael says louder, wanting to hear an answer from you before he turns this establishment upside down, creating more chaos than the policemen left behind.

"I'm here," you reply as you run down the corridors to meet Michael. "Where did you go? Finished with the boxes?" the man asks as soon as he sees you running towards him, his hood hiding the frown of concern that has formed on his eyebrows. "I went to have a look in the auditorium, but I came running when I heard your call," you explain, placing your hand on the old walls of the corridor, trying to calm your breathing. Well, it wasn't entirely a lie, but you still felt bad about lying in front of Michael, especially about a subject he clearly felt strongly about.

"Hm, you could have told me," Michael replied, crossing his arms, "It's okay, next time, just let me know before you go to the auditorium, I don't like the thought of you alone in that place," the man explained, his husky voice filling your ears with a tone of distress.

"It's okay, Michael," you responded, smiling awkwardly due to the shortness of breath you were still feeling. "Let's go, you need a shower," your attempts to calm your breathing allowed you to inhale deeply of the reek that covered the man at that moment. Honestly, you were relieved that he had offered to clean the bathroom, you wouldn't put up with that smell for a second before vomiting.

"Wow, look what a gentleman gets for cleaning the bathroom for a girl," Michael imitates a sad voice, "Get used to the smell, doll, you'll have to cling to me on the bike on the way home," the man adds, letting out a small laugh while your face contorts into a disgusted expression. "Honestly, I'd rather walk," you admit to the man in front of you, who, upon hearing your statement, lets out another laugh, this time more sincere and louder than the first.

"I'll walk with you then," Michael starts heading towards the auditorium, moving past you, while your figure is still leaning against the same wall, trying to rest your body from the effort you've exerted today. "I'm going to lock the rooms, wait for me here so we can head down together," he said, stroking your hair gently as he came across your clumsy figure, still leaning against the wall. Your gaze was on the floor, giving Michael free access to run his fingers through the strands of your hair, which were shiny with sweat and a little messy. For Michael, it was another reminder that your body was alive, your body was warm, sweating and flushed red, unlike the cold, purple fingers of the dead man.

You nod positively at him, feeling the touch of careful fingers in your hair go away, accompanied by the sound of Michael's footsteps once again echoing through the corridors. The wall was strangely comfortable for you, so as Michael had asked, you didn't move, letting your whole body lean against the wall as you waited for Michael to return and leave.

The man does his task quickly, locking all the rooms that had been opened in the investigation and checking if the ones that remained locked were properly closed. Arriving at the auditorium, Michael moves in hurried steps towards the door that was so familiar from his nightmares. Now he and Noah shared the same place of death. No matter how much his steps faltered or how much his dead heart screamed at him to get away from that door, he always checked to see if it was closed. It seemed that his soul recognized the place, as all the organs that were no longer active in his lifeless body twitched and writhed in pain. Michael unconsciously raised his hand to protect his abdomen, an unnecessary and useless action for his current situation. His stomach had already been ripped open, all his organs had already been expelled onto the floor, Michael's survival instinct had nothing left to protect.

Even though his hand was shaking, he reached out for the handle, which, to make matters worse for Michael, was open. At that moment, the fear ceased, the feeling of rage and revenge taking over Michael's entire body, already expecting to find Ennard behind that door. He couldn't risk leaving that door open, not with you here, not with your figure standing a few meters away from this room. The door swung open abruptly and violently, the dust that guarded the entrance flying everywhere given the room's lack of use.

There was no one there. Or rather, there was no animatronic. The room was dark, but Michael could draw this room with his eyes closed, he didn't need light, the memory that terrified him every night would help him navigate the room. The man wasn't stupid, he knew and had experience with the way animatronics hid, so he made a point of checking every corner or square meter of the small space. Michael felt his soul almost jump out of his body once again as he stood inside the Scooper Room, recognizing that it was here that he had lost his life, it was in this small space that Michael didn't see the light, Michael didn't hear, see or feel anything for the first time in his life. At least, he couldn't feel anything after he felt the large piece of metal puncture his stomach. He couldn't hear anything after his ear almost bled from his own screams. Ennard was the last vision he had.

Ennard wasn't here. Michael felt selfish for being relieved, at least, he didn't want to imagine how he would deal with knowing that Ennard was in the establishment at the same time as you were. However, that meant it was somewhere else, loose on the streets of this city in search of a corpse to dress, just as he had done with Michael.

The man quickly closes the door, locking it before going to meet you.

#fnaf fanfic #fnaf michael afton #fnaf movie #fnaf x reader #michael afton #michael afton fanfic #michael afton x reader #michael afton x you #scooped michael #five nights at freddys

26 notes · View notes

caseythebunnyboy · 2 years ago

Text

! MINORS, HOMO/TRANSPHOBES, TERFS/RADFEM, PRO-ANA, DETRANS/MISGENDER KINK, STRAIGHT MEN, STRAIGHT WOMEN & LESBIAN ONLY BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT !

!! WARNING !! this blog will contain hardcore kinks. please don't scroll through my blog if you are sensitive to these things, prioritize yourself.

hello, my name is casey! iam an 18 y/o, 5'4, south-east asian trans boy (he/him exclusively) that is going to be running this tumblr blog! im a bottom switch, which means that i prefer to be the one getting penetrated, but i can be both dom and/or sub while doing so.

taken emoji anons: 🗝️ || 🚂 || 🧸 || 🍅 || 👁️ || 🐺 || 🐦 || 🏹 || 🥀 || 🍡 || 🎸 || 👑🖤 ||

what i will be posting: mainly kinky text posts, nsfw art of myself, and sometimes ill show off my body in a nice outfit when im feeling more confident!

rules & info:

if you cross my boundaries 3 times, i will block you, no exceptions. depending on the severity of the crossing, i might block you instantly with no second chances.

if your blog makes me uncomfortable or i get a bad feeling from it, im blocking you.

sexting and roleplaying with me in my dms is allowed, but i will not send photos to you in dms! i dont feel comfortable doing that. so only strictly texting! i am fine with people sending me videos and photos though, but it depends on what you'll send me.

atleast say hi before chatting me, had someone say "worthless cunt" as their first dm and i blocked them lmao, its not hot to me. greeting me first would be nice.

if you are going to sext and/or rp with me, please keep my kink and no-no lists in mind, i have boundaries too.

only those that arent women and arent exclusively attracted to only women are allowed to sext with me. sorry to the women out there who wanted to, but im not attracted to you... but im sure you're still very pretty, and theres many other people who'd want to chat with you!

what to call my genitals: cock, dick, boy cunt, cunt, cunny, boypussy, bunny pussy, wet hole, front hole, little/small/tight hole, needy hole, bunny hole! (please dont call it a vagina, clit or just "pussy" by itself. only calling it a "pussy" without my preferred additions is something i can excuse sometimes, but i dont like it. vagina and clit will get u straight up blocked.)

what to call my chest area: chest. thats it. if you call it tits, boobs, or anything like that i will block you. even if you say "boy tits" or "man boobs" you are still getting blocked. its either you only refer to it as a chest or you never refer to it at all.

inbox and asks are always open! please send me threats of what you'll do to me if you find me, what you want to do to me, and if you got off to anything i post 💜

my kinks: cnc, somno, teacher/student, power imbalance/dynamic, roleplaying, voice kink, degrading and/or praising me, dry humping/grinding, humiliation, free use, gangbang, overstim, edging, orgasm control/denial, impact play, begging, namecalling, pet play, watersports, monsterfucking, tentacles, breeding (no preg, makes me dysphoric), creampie (also no preg, same reason), cum dump, bondage, shibari, being punished, manhandling, size kink, treating me like your toy, making me into a sex slave, being protective/possessive, dumbification, claiming, jealous/angry sex, rough sex, and teasing. (theres prob alot more but theres so many that i forget lol)

kinks that are hard no's: feet, knife/gunplay, feeder/feedee, ed, choking, scat, vomit, age play, misgendering kink, detrans kink, calling me any term mainly used for women (good girl, queen, princess, babygirl, using she/her for me), drug play, bioessentialism, pregnancy, forced feminization, and gore.

things i like being called: baby boy, bunny boy, little bunny, little boy, cunt boy, bunny, bun bun

tags: #casey ★ grumbling for little (often nsfw) text posts/rambles/thoughts that i dont think are interesting enough to be in other tags, #casey ★ mumbling for text posts, #casey ★ answering for ask posts, #casey ★ doodling for drawings, #casey ★ peeking for body pictures, #casey ★ speaking for important announcements/posts, and #casey ★ sharing for reblogs!

also! this is all a fantasy, i do not actually want this to happen to me. consent and safety is very important in kink, sex and bdsm. i do not condone these actions being done unconsensually.

thats all! i hope my blog can make your dicks throb 💜

172 notes · View notes

toasts-httyd-hyperfixation · 1 year ago

Note

Hey, i hope you're well! I just wanted to ask - do you know anything about a httyd books discord? I'm sure I saw one mentioned somewhere and I think it was on your blog (though I may be totally mistaken) - I would really love to join one, so wanted to ask around!! :))

Hey, sorry for the late response, i saw this shortly after you sent it and then just kept forgetting to answer lol Anyways the answer is yes, i do know about a httyd books discord 2 of them in fact 1 because im in it and the other because, well

i made it So the first httyd books discord is run by a person names Star She's very nice, and its a fairly calm chat Heres a post she has linking to it or at least I believe that link still works

Anyways

I would liken it to being in like, an afterschool club, where you have a theme for it, but its also just for chilling and hanging out

People are nice, its chill, you can vibe Then theres mine, which i made because i was too anxious and awkward to talk in the aforementioned chat, which is also why im pretty much never active there, RIP I would describe it as "if Tumblr were only httyd book themed"

If the first discord is a casual afterschool club, mine got banned after someone set something on fire, and now we meet under the bleachers at an old abandoned baseball field

Mine's a little messy, leans more heavily towards general fandom stuff, fanart, memes, 1001 AUs, both actually insightful conversation and shitpost type content so ya know theres no general chat for non-httyd convo, or for the movies for that matter, because quite frankly the movies have enough space already, tho we do still talk about it occasionally

All in all, its pretty casual i think, you can talk and share as much or as little as you want, theres not really any rules besides like Be respectful to everyone and in general try to keep things httyd book related (not that that always happens, sometimes youre talking and you end up going off on a ramble about like, piranha or something, its cool, no worries)

anyways uh

idk what else to say about it, ive really enjoyed the time ive spent there, its been cool, had a lot of fun, everyones real nice and ive made some great friends (shoutout to them, love y'all 🫶) so yeah

Come hang out if you want, i love seeing new people join, we're all mildly insane there, its fine, dont worry about it

#httyd books #httyd #how to train your dragon #how to train your dragon books #im bad at describing things lol

36 notes · View notes

mihai-florescu · 6 months ago

Text

Ive been on this account for 10 years and i wanted to remember the times i've met with people tumblr has brought into my life since my early teen years. I may not talk to some anymore (not for any particular reason, we just grew apart) but i still treasure our memories and wish them the best!

-Alex, whom i met through our shared love of musicals when she was still in middle school. We're from the same city and met to go to the theatre, and she has been my irl ever since to the point i forget this is how we met actually. As time went on we did develop a bunch of irl school and extracurricular acquaintances, i dont think any of them know how we actually met lol. Actually maybe one person, whom i also met through tumblr but she went to my high school so im not sure if it counts... if it does add her to the list too. She gave me her copy of radio silence in the early days of the pandemic and i shared loveless with her (i didnt really like the latter:/)

-India, my first internet friend. We had been friends for years and at 16 i flew with my mom to ireland for a few days to see wicked together. See how it all goes back to musicals for me... she now works in theatre and im so happy seeing the occasional instagram story, even if we eventually grew apart. I think about you a lot

-Maura, whom I started talking to while living in the US, and asked if she'd like to drive from west virginia to dc while i was on a trip. Her mom was outside in the car iirc, i infiltrated her into my hotel room, and we just chatted for a bit until the chaperones came to check and lock us in... i hid her in the bathroom, and then snuck her out with a hood on while the chaperones were talking to the room next to ours right before sticking those papers into the door that would tell them in the morning if anyone opened it overnight. The random girls i was paired to share a room with thought it was creepy im bringing a stranger to the room but like... tsk, you just dont get it. She's not a stranger, she's a mutual. Go back to breaking up with your american boyfriend over the phone.

-Anna, who saw I was depressed on main 2 years ago and said she'll come to my city to buy me bubble tea. And then we walked around and had ramen too and i learned she was skipping school to be here. A lovely day in an otherwise shitty semester.

-Moth, probably the only person you'd know if you follow me for enstars since, well, they're the himeruP mutual ever. Fun geography fact, belgium isnt a real country, it's just a backdrop for us to hang out. They build it up and tear it down just for us every time. They have such a nice handmade crazyb jacket and the enstars bible book is still my most treasured possession.

I think that is it? If i missed anyone i'm very sorry... here's to 10 years more? Maybe i should keep this for my exact blog anniversary in september... maybe i'll get to add to it by then?

EDIT I FORGOT SCHOOL ANON. Anon who goes to my uni and then we happened to share a course a few months later and finally met and we're irls now:)

12 notes · View notes

gardenerian · 1 year ago

Note

I know you've been on Shameless and Gallavich tumblr for a while and I was hoping you could give me some advice. I hope this doesn't sound too pathetic.

I'm a massive Shameless and Gallavich fan. I have been here for nearly a year and I feel very excluded. I really want to connect with the others in this community, but it's not working no matter what I try. I don't write, draw, make art or create gifs. I don't have any creations to offer and share. I know those types of things would get me some attention and for people to notice and interact with me. I like and reblog a lot of other people's posts daily. I leave comments on people's posts as often as I can to praise their work or to share my thoughts but I rarely get any responses from the person. I post random Shameless and Gallavich thoughts and head-cannons with tags but they rarely get many likes and no one ever comments to strike up conversation. I take part in the tag games and tag others, but week after week never get tagged to participate, but I participate anyway. Still, I never get comments on the stuff that I share about myself to let others get to know me. I have tried sending ask to people about things they have posted to strike up conversation, but I either never get a response or it's a one time response that doesn't go anywhere after that.

I suppose the gist is that I keep trying to strike up conversations to connect with the people in this community and it falls flat every time. I'm simply at the point where it makes me sad to come on here and to see how tight-knit this community is and how much you all interact with each other, hype each other's posts and make posts for and mentioning each other like on birthdays. I know you are part of an especially close group so it seems like you might be just the person to ask.

I'm not writing this as a complaint or to accuse anyone of anything. It's the opposite. I want to join in in this community and feel included. I want to no longer feel sad and ignored when I am on here trying to participate and interact. Like I said, I don't write or make art so do you have any tips about how I can get noticed and accepted into this community? I just want to make friends with all of you and finally feel a part of this community.

hi there 😭 i am so sorry you're feeling this way. wanting to connect is such a human thing, and it's not pathetic at all to reach out. i think it's great. so thank you for coming to chat with me about it, and i hope i can help ❤️

excluding people is never something i want to do. i want to engage fully and enthusiastically - i think we all do! and while there are so many ways to get involved, i do think engagement around here (on tumblr as a whole!) is different than it used to be. for me personally, i was on tumblr 24/7 for a long time, but now that i am working again, it's a little harder for me to be present as much as i want! it comes and goes in waves, really. sometimes i am tagged in things that i don't get to, sometimes i forget to respond to asks, sometimes i miss posts that go around during busy times. and sometimes i think i'm following people when i'm not! this happens to me a lot and it's super embarrassing 😭 and i think these kinds of things happen to just about everyone! sometimes we just can't be here the way we want, even if we love it. and we do love it! so much!

i'm glad you're participating! and i want to make sure that everyone knows that making or posting things is not a requirement to be here. there's no entry fee to enjoy fandom space. if you want to give it a try, please do! but you don't owe us anything; your presence is more than enough.

for me the answer was just to keep talking. i wish i had more direct tips, but i just have not shut up since 2019. people started talking back, but for a while it did feel like i was just talking to myself. i know you've been putting yourself out there, and it's really brave and wonderful. i hope you'll keep trying. there are people that will love you, and i'm sorry if i've missed you so far. i don't want you to feel sad here. if you feel comfortable, shoot me a DM! tag me in things! i will hype you up, i promise. i want to hear what you have to say, and i want to get to know you. there are friends here for you 💓 edit: join the discord if you can!

anyone else with tips is welcome to chime in.

#i really do mean it #i'm sorry you're feeling this way #i don't mean to overlook people and i don't think it's ever the intention for others #let's talk i am here for ya #mel answers

36 notes · View notes

arty-shadow-morningstar · 1 year ago

Text

Who Made Me a Villain (5)

To the ppl who read my fics only on tumblr, I am sorry. I have been posting a lot on ao3 and I keep forgetting that I have a tumblr acc. I will try to be more mindful in the future.

--------

[Masterlist] [Ao3]

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Here) (Part 6)

-----

“B, what’s all this?” Dick asked during one of his visits to Gotham. He was here for Alfred’s cooking.

Upon seeing the eye bags on Bruce, Dick was understandably worried. “Have you slept at all, Bruce?”

“A few days ago, Rebel brought something serious to my attention.”

Bruce had spent days working on the case Rebel had dropped into his lap. He felt that she had summarised the situation too simply. Or she was unaware of what the full extent of the situation was due to her lack of experience and knowledge.

John Constantine was unhelpful in getting more information on the Miraculous but did confirm their presence in Paris in the same period Rebel had given. Rebel had given more information than him.

Zatanna said that she would sort through her father’s journals to give him a definite answer but told him that it was likely Rebel was telling the truth about Paris. There were surges of the magical equivalent of earthquakes from Paris which her father had gone to check out a few years ago.

Diana had overheard their conversation and talked about how her mother used to wield the Ladybug Miraculous. She promised to talk to her mother for more information. Bruce decided to ask Doctor Fate later if his research wasn’t enough.

However, the thing that had Bruce tearing apart his training dummies like they were paper was the good-for-nothing, sham of a man that Paris had for a mayor.

Mayor André Bourgeois had blocked all news about the akuma from getting out of the city. He didn’t report about it to the Justice League European branch and blocked all attempts to prevent others from reporting it. His reasoning was that the child heroes were enough. That was just the political side of things.

To further make things worse, the heroes who were stationed in France all claimed to have been told to be relocated to other cities by the Justice League Headquarters. They did as they were told under the assumption that someone else would be filling in for them. Just before Hawkmoth struck.

Bruce investigated that lead and it appears that someone had sent out that order but Bruce hadn’t figured out who it was yet or whether it really was sent by one of the Justice League. Either they had a mole or the JL Headquarters needed a new update to their systems.

Then, one of Zatanna’s contacts in Paris had informed her that magic helped in preventing news of akuma reaching outside of Paris.

By the time Dick came to the Manor, Bruce was hours deep into the many footage he had spent the most of the day collecting from the internet. He started with the first akuma where Ladybug and Chat Noir were practically strangers shoved together and forced to rely on each other. He didn’t like that the Parisians were forcing the love narrative between the two of them. Ladybug had the sense to focus on her job and remain professional while Chat Noir tried to enforce the love story. He was not pleased with that interview.

The Ladyblog that was run by a very dedicated teenager was very helpful in getting raw footage of most fights, albeit a bit shaky and blurry. He was currently watching the blog owner’s interview with Ladybug. How she got an interview with the very elusive heroine Batman doesn’t know. There was something about the heroine that caught his attention. It felt like he had met Ladybug before.

Dick skimmed over the notes Batman had taken. He whistled. “This is pretty crazy.”

“Why are you doing all of this research?” Dick asked.

“Hawkmoth. I am trying to track him down.”

“Wait, you are telling me that there is a powerful supervillain in Paris and these kids are heroes? They look like babies. They don’t even know how to properly fight.”

“We are already too late. Hawkmoth has been defeated and stripped of his powers.”

“So what’s the problem? Is he coming back?”

Bruce sighed heavily and showed off his days of research to Dick.

“Rebel had been planning something for months. Something big. I asked the reason behind it all. She asked me to bring him to justice and she would call it all off. Apparently, the leader of the hero team, Ladybug, gave Hawkmoth the equivalent of the slap on the wrist and Rebel doesn’t agree with him being off the hook that easily. He got his wife in exchange for giving back the Miraculous under his possession and didn’t face consequences for his little foray into villainy.”

“How does she know what happened to Hawkmoth?” Dick asked, “It just says that no akumas was seen for a month and then, Ladybug announced that Hawkmoth was defeated before disappearing forever.”

“According to her, Rebel used to be one of the heroes going against Hawkmoth.” Bruce told him.

Dick nearly fumbled the file in his hand due to the surprise.

“Oh. Um. That- That explained a few things. The experience in fighting. Those acrobatic stunts. Former hero, huh.”

It left a bitter taste in his mouth. The thought of somebody who was once a hero turning to the dark side.

Dick changed the subject. “Any luck finding him?”

“I have one suspect. He’s the one that fits the profile.”

Bruce handed Dick a file.

“Gabriel Agreste.”

Dick looked through it. “He’s a fashion designer. That doesn’t exactly scream evil to me.”

“Even without Rebel’s hints. He’s still suspicious.” Bruce said. “I am meeting him in a month to get a feel for him.”

Dick closed the file. “Even if he is Hawkmoth, it’s been a few years since his defeat. We can’t just take him in.”

Bruce suddenly looked very tired.

Tim popped up from where the pile of blankets besides the Batcomputer that Dick hadn’t noticed. Dick’s and Bruce’s voices have woken him up.

Dick definitely did not scream.

“Tim! How long were you there?” Dick asked, putting his escrima sticks away.

“A few hours I think.” Tim replied and yawned.

“Anyhoo,” Tim started, “Rebel had already taken care of that part. She had been using different accounts to sow seeds of conspiracy theories and rumours for people online to find Hawkmoth’s true identity. No mention of Gabriel being Hawkmoth or it won’t be taken seriously if the truth comes out. I think she is trying to spread the idea that Hawkmoth must be taken in to face the legal system.”

“Why is she going that far?”

Bruce was silent for a moment. “Hawkmoth was part of the reason she was framed for murder.”

“Framed? Why do you think that she was framed? Her father is the Joker. The Joker. The one who killed Jason.”

Bruce stiffened. Jason had left Gotham after their last showdown. Last Bruce heard of him, Jason had teamed up with Roy Harper to form his own mercenary team.

“I know. But children are not their parents.”

Bruce handed Dick another file.

“Her case file and the transcript of her trial. Read it and draw your own conclusions.” Bruce instructed.

Dick took it.

“You are not going to like it, Dick.” Tim said.

—--

A day later, Dick came back, storming into the Batcave.

He slammed the file in front of Bruce.

“What the fuck is wrong with people? How did something like this get past you?” Dick demanded furiously.

There was the last thing that was cherry on the icing of the cake that was this whole situation.

Rebel was not supposed to be in Arkham Asylum. She was not supposed to get a life sentence. She was not supposed to have fourteen charges of first-degree homicide to her name.

Dick read the trial proceeding.

It was way over exaggerated and very dramatised. He thought that he was reading the script for a courtroom soap opera drama. Dick even went as far as to hack into the French government to get the untranslated copy of the files and it was just as bad but in French. It didn’t take him long to find the blatant amount of bribes that were tossed around. The very obvious abuse of power. Every odds was stacked against Rebel. The unnecessary DNA test that unfortunately brought her to Gotham.

No wonder Marinette Dupain-Cheng turned to a life of crime. Everyone was dead set on labelling her the bad guy.

Then, he read Gabriel Agreste’s involvement in the case. His son was part of Rebel’s old class. Their classmates spoke about Rebel’s stalker tendencies towards him. But Dick kept an open mind, knowing how exaggerated everything was. Gabriel had blacklisted Rebel from every company in the fashion industry he had connections with. That move confused Dick until he found out that Rebel was trying to be an aspiring designer. It was essentially salt in her wounds.

Dick simply couldn’t understand the witch hunt against Rebel.

“Bruce, we have to do something about this.” Dick said.

“The only thing we can do right now is bring Hawkmoth in before Rebel takes it into her own hands.”

“What do you mean by that?” Dick asked.

Tim injected. “You already know that Rebel had been acting suspicious for the past few months. She had been meeting up with several different villains and secret projects we couldn’t figure out until now.”

“We found a warehouse in Washington connected to her that contained these strange stone statues.”

Bruce pulled up a picture of the stone statues in the warehouse.

“Now look at the clip of the first akuma attack.”

Bruce played a clip of Stoneheart attack. The monster looked similar to the stone statues in the photo.

“Going through the akuma fights and her movements in the past few months. It is obvious what she is trying to plan.”

Picture of Rebel talking to many different ice villains with a powerpoint presentation and a clip of the Glaciator attack.

Picture of a machine that could create floods that the Teen Titan had managed to shut down a few years back and picture of Paris being flooded.

Picture of Weather Wizard, next to a picture of Stormy Weather.

“She’s trying to recreate akuma fights.” Dick concluded. “And making it seem like Hawkmoth was back.”

Bruce nodded gravely. “I wouldn’t have figured it out if Rebel didn’t deliberately let me in on her plans. She exposed a great problem we had missed. She is giving us, the League, a chance to rectify our mistake.”

Rebel was not counting on the legal justice system to bring Hawkmoth to justice. She was counting on him as Batman to make sure that Hawkmoth ended up with the same fate as her. His reputation torn apart and dragged through mud. Behind bars for the rest of his life with the supervillain mark following him everywhere.

Or she will forcefully do it by bringing the whole world down to force the Justice League in carrying it out.

“Without Ladybug’s miraculous power, it would be disastrous for us and we would have a lot of civilian casualties.”

“I don’t think she would do that, Bruce.” Tim argued.

“Then, lock her up.” Dick suggested.

“Arkham is currently in no position to take her in.” Bruce said. He looked resigned.

Dick looked at Tim for an explanation which he helpfully provided. “It was being renovated a few months ago to put in a new security system. In the chaos, her records were wiped out from the system and her physical reports went missing. Every copy was gone. So even if we arrest her now, we have to find a pretty good justification to keep her there legally. We only have these copies because Bruce regularly back-ups the Arkham database onto the Batcomputer and the Bat-net.”

Dick cursed. While they could just put it back, it wasn’t worth the headache if it was erased again.

“What about the police? Won’t they have her records?”

“Same thing. We think she did it when Clayface attacked the police a while back.”

“How about her original case that sent her to Arkham?”

“It was erased too. We need to get to Paris in order to access their database or if she erased her case, then we need to get the physical copy and we would have to go through so much legal bullshit to get it. That will take months.”

“She covered everything.” Dick said, amazed.

“She thought of all the possibilities and covered all of her bases. She had been staying under the radar and not getting caught.” Bruce said.

“He means that he got caught in her traps if we try to catch her.” Tim said with a shit eating grin on his face.

Bruce grumbled.

“You? How did you even get caught?” Dick asked.

“Rube Goldberg machines.” Tim answered.

“Rube what?”

“Here.” Tim opened up Youtube and showed Dick a video of a marble rolling down a pipe and then knocking down a row of dominoes in a spiral which continued to set off a chain of reactions that ended with a ball going neatly through a hoop and triggering a banner that said ‘WOW!’ to pop up.

“So that’s what it is called.” Dick commented. “Aren’t these like super complicated to do? She couldn’t have set them up that quick …unless she had them set up beforehand.”

“According to my research, she has at least 50 of these set up in different locations around Gotham. There are videos of people setting these off on purpose. Rebel is always making more. They usually have victims stuck in a net or a hole. Or have water, paint or liquids splashed onto them.”

“She did that? That picture you sent me where Bruce had yellow pain all over him?”

Bruce glared at Tim.

A derisive snort came from the entrance of the Bat cave.

They all turned to look at the newest addition to the house.

Damian Al Ghul. Well, Damian Al Ghul Wayne now.

“I find it hard to believe that this one petty criminal got the better of all of you.” He said mockingly.

“Damian.” Bruce said. “Even if she is just a petty criminal, she cannot be underestimated. You must never underestimate your opponent, no matter how deceiving they look.”

“Perhaps Father, you and Drake aren’t good at doing your jobs.”

“Like you would be any better catching her.” Tim said under his breath.

“If it was up to me, she would be killed on sight.” Damian continued.

“Damian, we do not kill here. People deserve another chance to redeem themselves.” Bruce explained like he had a thousand times before.

Damian scowled. “I don’t need to kill. I have brought in targets alive before.”

The way he said it implied that those targets were in a state where their hearts were the only things that could still move.

“Do you really believe that you can catch Rebel?” Tim asked.

“I don’t have to believe. I know I can.” Damian answered, disdain in his voice that Tim dared to doubt his skills.

“I bet you can’t.” Tim taunted.

Damian lunged but was stopped by Dick who grabbed his shoulder.

“Boys!” Bruce shouted. “Tim, stop antagonising him. Damian, you know you aren’t allowed to go out on patrol.”

“No!” Damian demanded. “Drake has issued me a challenge. I will not back down. I will prove to him and you that I can catch that petty criminal that goes by Rebel.”

His declaration was filled with the determination and stubbornness that all eleven year olds seemed to possess.

Bruce rubbed his head at the oncoming headache.

He knew that despite whatever he gave, Damian would go behind his back and against his orders to fulfil his self-assigned mission of capturing Rebel.

“Tim, this is all your fault. I am blaming you for this. You will be washing the Batmobile for a month.” Bruce said after some thinking.

“Bruce!” Tim complained. “What did I do?”

“You started it. And Damian, I will let you go after Rebel.”

Damian gave Tim a smug grin.

“However,” Bruce continued. “There will be a few conditions.”

Damian stood up straighter and paid attention. “One, Nightwing will be with you.”

“What? Why, Bruce?” It was Dick.

“I am busy with the Hawkmoth case. Tim and Damian shouldn’t be together. Cass and Steph are busy with their own things. I don’t think Jason wants anything to do with me and he’s out of town. Babara has no desire to watch Damian.”

“Thank you, Bruce.” Oracle’s voice came from the Batcomputer.

“Tch. Grayson is an acceptable choice.” Damian said with a sniff.

“Fine. I can stay for a week or two. Give me a few hours to sort some things out.” Dick threw up his hands in defeat.

“However, he will not be helping you. He is going to be monitoring your every move and he will intervene if it was a life and death situation.” Bruce added.

“Fine.” Damian replied.

“Two, when you bring Rebel in, she should not have sustained any life-threatening and fatal injuries. She should also possess all of her limbs intact.”

Damian scowled harder. “I know my limits. Anything else?”

“Three, do not kill anyone to achieve your goals.”

“Got it.”

“Your deadline to bring her in is in three months. You will report to me on your progress every morning. That’s all. Any questions?”

“No. I will not fail you, Father.” Damian said seriously.

“Does anyone else find this funny?” said Dick. “Son of Batman hunting down daughter of Joker. Children of two arch-enemies repeating history.”

“That only means that I am destined to bring her in.” Damian further solidified his mission.

—--

Forty-eight hours later, found Damian, currently going by Redbird, tied up, covered in green paint and dangled upside-down over a vat of something that smelled utterly foul.

Rebel landed near Nightwing and asked, “So what’s the deal with the new kid?”

Nightwing extended a hand dramatically towards Damian, “That’s Batman’s blood son.”

Rebel frowned. “Is this going to be a thing now? Child of Batman versus child of Joker. Because I really don’t want to hurt the kid that much.”

“I AM NOT A CHILD.” Redbird yelled as he struggled against his restraint. “Nightwing, help me get untied and catch the villain!”

“Would a dip in that kill him?” Nightwing asked, pointing at the vat of whatever that was. He wanted to stay more than 20 feet away due to the smell alone.

Rebel shrugged.

“Probably not. It’s just water from the Gotham River with the contents of the nearest dumpster emptied into it.”

Nightwing shivered. He had taken a dip in the icy cold waters of Gotham River before. It was not pleasant. And the amount of showers he had to take to finally get rid of the smell.

“Good news, Redbird.” Nightwing shouted back. “You won’t die if you fall.”

Redbird threw some words in Arabic that sounded a lot like swears.

“So… I ask again. What’s up with the kid?”

“He thinks that Batman would accept him as the one true heir of the Batman title if he catches you.” Nightwing explained. “It has nothing to do with the blood rivalry thing. He’s trying to prove Batman wrong by trying to succeed in catching you when Batman and Robin - especially Robin - couldn’t catch you.”

“It’s there like a deadline for this? Because I really don’t want to play cats and dogs forever with the gremlin.”

“Oh yeah. There is.”

Rebel smirked. “That means I just have to up my game then. Thanks for the heads up, Bluey.”

Nightwing’s smile faded as he realised his slip-up. “Damn it. Baby Bat is going to kill me.”

“Hey, can I use that nickname?”

“Does it matter if I say no?” Nightwing said.

“Nope.” Rebel said with a laugh as she slipped away into the shadows.

—--

A Bat signal shone in the night sky. Calling Batman to action.

However, it was not Commissioner Gordon who met Batman on the rooftop that night.

“Commissioner-” Batman immediately went on guard as a petite figure of Rebel greeted him instead of the broad shoulders of the Commissioner.

“What did you do to him, Rebel?” Batman growled out.

“Chill, Mister Bat, he’s dealing with an anonymous tip off for his latest case at the other side of the city. I just flipped the switch to your nightlight to get your attention. Less messy than other methods, don’t you agree?” Rebel explained as she switched the Bat-signal light off.

He glared at her. “What do you want?”

“A week is up. So what are you going to do?”

Batman gave a tired sigh. To be honest, he had forgotten about the deadline. There were so many things he had to take care of. Starting with the possible Justice League breach. An entire city being under attack and no one noticing until the problem was gone. The investigation into who Hawkmoth was. Finally, dealing with a testy Damian who didn’t take his loss against Rebel well.

“My conclusions showed me that you were telling the truth about akumas. I would like to apologise on the behalf of the Justice League for our massive oversight. You were a child that had to fight a war without support.”

“I won that damn war. Without your help.” Rebel said defensively.

“Yes. You did. I am not criticising your achievement, Rebel. I am just pointing out that you were a child fighting those monsters everyday and some of those monsters had been a family or a friend. You shouldn’t have to carry a burden like that on your shoulders. Even Nightwing had me to look after him until he could step out of my shadow to fly on his own.”

“We weren’t alone.”

“You weren’t. You had other people who were as clueless as you about what to do. No one taught you the basics. You had to learn how to fight all on your own. You had to learn to do it right on the first try because a mistake would cause you everything. I am sorry that we weren’t there to provide that guidance.”

“Why are you apologising for that? You didn’t know.”

Batman’s frown became deeper. “That is exactly the problem. Something this big slipped under our radar.”

He went on to explain about how the oversight occurred. If anything, Rebel looked surprised by the news.

“So you're telling me that I could have had help. I wouldn't have to do it all on my own if it wasn’t for a lot of people meddling.”

She sounded angry. The comment about her doing it all on her own confirmed a theory Batman entertained. There was a little evidence that pointed out otherwise but with magic there was no telling if the evidence wasn’t faked.

“We never realised until now. We have failed you.” Batman apologised.

“Kwami. All this time. I thought you were too busy with your own world-saving to pay attention to Paris. Fucking Mayor Bourgeois. Fuck Magic. Fuck whoever mess with your systems. Fuck Hawkmoth.” Rebel screamed. “What else? What else do I have to know that I didn’t know?”

“That’s mostly it. I am here to get your account of what exactly happened during those years.” Batman paused (Dramatic bitch) “I also need you to confirm the identity of Hawkmoth.”

“Well…” Rebel inclined her head for him to continue.

“Gabriel Agreste.”

Rebel smiled from under her mask. “Bingo. As expected of the World’s Greatest Detective.”

She pulled out a flash drive from her pocket and handed it to Batman. “Here’s everything I wrote down from what I remembered.”

“How did you know I would ask for it?” Batman asked as he took it and put it away in his utility belt.

“I didn’t. I was going to send that to every news station when I start my Armengeddon plans.”

Batman stared at Rebel, waiting for her to hand over her Armengeddon plans she had given the other villains.

Rebel stared back at him defiantly.

“Hand them over.” Batman demanded.

“I already gave you what you needed.” Rebel said with a raised eyebrow, pretending to be oblivious about what Batman wanted.

“What about your Armengeddon plans?”

“Oh. Those plans. Yeah. Gimme a minute.” Rebel reached into her jacket inner pocket and took out a slim notebook. She tossed it to Batman who expertly caught it.

He flipped through it and noticed the jagged edges of pages torn out. He also noticed that none of the plans that involved other villains were in the book.

“Where are the missing plans?” Batman asked harshly.

“You thought it was going to be easy?” Rebel said amused. “I want definite proof that you are working on taking him in.”

“How long do I have to get you proof?” Batman asked cautiously.

“When is the deadline for your son to catch me?”

Batman knew that tone. He had heard that tone from the clown before Joker pulled out the punchline.

“In three months.” He answered.

“That’s around when the plan is supposed to start anyways. Then, if you don’t have it by the time Redbird catches me, you won’t get the plans. However, if he doesn’t catch me by the three month deadline, you will get the plans and I will tell the others that everything is called off.”

Batman had a feeling that if Rebel wasn’t wearing her mask, there would be a smile on her face identical to the one Joker would usually wear for his maniacal plans.

Children aren’t always their parents. But they sometimes inherit their parent's worst traits.

“Deal.”

What other options did he have but to play along with her games.

—-

After Rebel was gone, Redbird came out of the shadows.

“Father, what is the meaning of this?” He demanded. Redbird had been hiding to unleash a surprise attack when Rebel proposed that inane condition to Batman.

Batman sighed. “We will talk more back at the Cave.”

“I want an explanation now.”

“Just hold off trying to catch her for at least a week, Redbird. I am not going to stop you from your task. Maybe use that time to observe her instead.”

Redbird huffed but nonetheless accepted the compromise.

“Fine. It gives me more time to make more well thought out plans.”

“Since she would mostly be at school, you won’t have to do much.”

Batman grappled off the roof and Redbird followed.

When they reached the Batmobile, Redbird turned to his father and said.

“Father, I have been thinking. Perhaps I should infiltrate her school in order to get closer and gain more information on her movements.”

Bruce looked at him in surprise, remembering the first time he suggested Damian going to school and being told that he was never going to step foot into a subpar teaching environment.

“Are you sure, Damian?”

“I am sure.” Damian said firmly.

“I will call the principal in the morning and arrange everything.”

—

“Come back here, you-” The insult was lost as Redbird comically stepped on the rake. The handle hit his face like those old cartoon gags.

A slew of Arabic curses were unleashed.

"Tick-tock, birdy." Rebel taunted as Redbird held his broken nose. "It's nearly midnight and I am not still not in chains or behind bars."

"I should have your tongue cut out for your insolence."

"That threat lost its charm about two months ago." Rebel replied in a bored tone.

"Be more creative. Like ‘I will slowly take a small piece of your tongue a day, roast it and force feed it to you’." Rebel declared with an imitation of Redbird’s voice but slightly higher pitch than it actually was.

“I will gladly do so.” The threat probably would have sounded more intimidating if Redbird wasn’t still holding his broken nose and didn’t sound like he had a very bad nasal problem.

Rebel covered her mask with her hand as if trying to hide a smirk.

“Well, little bird, if you are done with your threats, I will be off- WHAT THE FUCK!”

Rebel didn’t look where she was going and had fallen down the hole in the roof that was hidden with a tarp..

Redbird grinned as he peered over the hole where Rebel had fallen into a cage he had set up to work like a bear trap.

“You aren’t the only one skilled with traps in this city.” He boasted.

Nightwing landed, giving Redbird an appreciative whistle and applause.

“Good job, baby Bat.”

“Call the police, Nightwing. Tell them I have the fiend, Rebel, in custody.” Redbird said.

“Sure thing.”

Redbird turned to give Rebel a smug look at his sure victory. It immediately got wiped out as he saw Rebel dangling her legs over the hole she fell down a few minutes ago.

She gave him a cheeky wave.

“HOW?” Damian exploded. “HOW DID YOU ESCAPE MY FOOLPROOF TRAP?!”

“It’s not foolproof if a fool like me could get out of it that easily. Nice setup though. Gave me a few ideas for my next project.”

Redbird growled and launched himself at her. Rebel rolled out of his way.

Landing nimbly, Redbird charged at her and threw a few attacks. Rebel effortlessly dodged every one of them.

Nightwing watched with a bored look on his face as Redbird chased Rebel around the rooftop.

“Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk. I'm a woman's man, no time to talk ....”

Rebel took out her phone and turned off her alarm as she ducked a birdarang.

“It’s midnight! And you know what that means. You just failed your mission.” Rebel announced cheerfully.

Redbird yelled in anger and charged at her.

Nightwing stepped in between the two to restrain Redbird.

“Chill, baby bat. You need to calm down. She won, fair and square.”

“And just as promised, I will send over the plans I made for the other villain to the Big Guy.” Rebel continued as she walked backwards to the edge of the rooftop.

“See ya around, Birdies.” She said as she jumped back off the roof while giving them a finger salute.

Nightwing hurriedly let go of Damian and ran to look over the parapet wall. Rebel appeared to be perfectly fine after a five-storey drop and was calmly putting her helmet on. She got on her bike and drove off.

“Um… guys.” Oracle’s voice came over the comms. “There is actually fifteen minutes left until midnight. She lied.”

The two vigilantes looked at each other and cursed. They grappled off, trying their best to catch the cunning villain.

—

“I am sorry that I failed you, Father.” Damian reported.

Three months should have been more than sufficient for him to complete his assigned task successfully. He even had subjected himself to the establishment called a school in order to catch Rebel.

Each time, he thought that he was close to capturing the most slippery villain in all of Gotham. Something would interfere in his plans and Rebel continued to walk free.

Head down ashamed as he kneeled on the cold floor of the Batcave to receive his punishment. Damnit, why was his vision getting blurry?

The shadow from his father’s cape moved closer and blocked out the light. Damian braced for the pain.

Damian was confused when he felt his Father placed his hand on his head. It felt… odd and comforting.

“It’s alright. You did your best. Even with the restriction I placed on you.” Bruce said.

Damian’s confusion increased.

“But… I failed.”

It did hurt to admit his failure but he was more confused by his father’s actions. Grandfather would have given out some sort of punishment by now. Like going against some of the League’s Finest on his own.

The hand moved from his head to his shoulder.

“Look at me, Damian.”

Damian obeyed and met his father’s blue eyes. The colour reminded him of the flowers his mother would sometimes wear in her hair when Grandfather was out of Nanda Parbat.

“Even if you had failed in your task, you still had helped me.”

Damian was flabbergasted.

“How?”

“In order to capture her, you monitored her every move. Because of you and your reports, I knew her every move. Avoiding your attempts kept Rebel so busy that she wasn’t able to work on her plans as much. Which gives me more time to work on how to bring Hawkmoth in.”

“I still failed.”

“And I am telling you that you still did a good job. You can learn from this experience and learn how to do better.” Bruce said.

“Aren’t you going to punish me?”

“No. I am not going to punish you for this.”

The answer seemed to have shifted Damian’s worldview. It broke Bruce’s heart to know how Damian had been treated. Being punished for failure which made Damian scared to fail.

“How.. how can you…”

Damian didn’t seem to comprehend that there would be no punishments for failing.

“Damian.” Bruce said gently. “I know that this is hard for you to comprehend but we do things differently here. We do not kill. And we do not punish people for simply failing.”

“But Drake… Batmobile.”

Oh right, grounding.

“I will reiterate. I will not physically hurt you as punishment for failing your mission. I do not like raising my hand to people I call family. Yes, you are part of it now, Damian, no matter how unexpected your arrival was. I prefer giving you chores to do instead. Like washing the Batmobile. Giving Ace a bath. Organising the case files. Helping Alfred around the Manor. Even then, it’s only if you misbehave and go against the rules of the Manor. And you may see them as pointless but they were put in place to keep you safe. I don’t want to see any of you hurt. Yes, including you, Damian.”

Bruce hoped that he got through Damian. Made him see that things were different now but they were a good kind of different. Maybe now Damian would let him in and be the better person Bruce knew he could be.

Bruce thought all of this as he hugged the slightly shaking boy in his arms who hid his face with Bruce’s chest. ------ (Part 6) ----

Taglist: @toodaloo-kangaroo, @iloontjeboontje, @buginetye, @angelwreckedd, @anoires-blog, @ever-since-i-was-young, @shutupandactuallylisten, @its-maemain, @vel-vee, @kashlyn, @officiallydarkgeek, @jayjayspixiepop, @cmouse, @transheso, @thecrazyfantrolls, @just-a-random-girl-loves-anime, @maddiesupdates, @the-dumber-scaramouche,

#who made me a villain #biodad! joker #cue bruce being a good dad #introducing insufferable damian #morally grey marinette/rebel #mlb x dc #ml x dc

16 notes · View notes