#through gritted teeth. haha I don’t care about perfection

[knightmare-fantail]

The duality of the Scourges of Avernus 🔥💖

[the-somwthing]

As the number one “I hate how misconstrued the secret soulmates scenario was and while both Scar and Grian were wrong I think Scar was more wrong” person in the fandom I figure I should share my thoughts on the “Scar Secret Soulmate Question that Grian showed up for and they argued for a few seconds” moment

Warning for being a fandom type of fan talking about characters and stuff it’s not really that serious PS I loved the scene it was so funny

First of all LOLL I loved that moment. So good

ANYWAYS

I don’t see anything ooc about the interaction (whatever that means). I loved it, and bringing up “past season drama” when that’s a whole thing with Gem and Pearl is hilarious. With that out of the way, time to dissect the (literal two) things they said about the situation to each other for the fun of it!!!

First, Grian’s “BigB treated me right”

It’s funny cuz the more I think about it, I can’t really think of much of anything BigB did for Grian really. Grian gave BigB a ton of stuff and I can’t really remember anything BigB did for him in return? He was just nice I guess. Yeah okay the cookies yea I was thinking something USEFUL but case in point: Grian was just looking for someone to be NICE to him. BigB didn’t give Grian many valuables or anything but he gave him cookies shaped something like a heart and risked his relationship to be by his side. Meanwhile Scar treated Grian not-right. Scar was actually able to provide some valuables for the team but he wasn’t treating Grian the way BigB was.

And Scar’s argument?

“I built a panda sanctuary for you!”

Liar. You built that for yourself. You KNEW Grian hated the pandas. It’s sort of just proof that Scar really didn’t pay Grian enough attention in their relationship, yknow? The fact that his argument for how he was actually the better soulmate was “I built something that you tried to stop me from building”. Like bro that’s not gonna change his mind.

“So you can pet pandas!”

But maybe he did remember Grian hated the pandas. But he still brings this up because he didn’t care what Grian wanted, he was busy doing what he thought was best. “Sure, Grian didn’t want me building the sanctuary, but I did anyways and it was great. He should appreciate me for that. It’s everything you could want. He has no reason to like BigB more than me.”

He did build the sanctuary as a couple’s retreat.

…

Yeah I don’t have much more to say, I just wanted to get those thoughts out cuz MAN I was thinking about it haha.

If you don’t understand me, you should go find my post on why I think Scar was toxic in DL.

And for further clarification: I defend Scar always. It’s just I only BARELY defend him in DL so I’m mostly attacking him cuz no one else is LOL. But like currently in Wild Life I think Scar is the perfect angel and when he’s trying to be friends with Grian I’m like *through gritted teeth* “whatever makes you happy sweetheart” like as if my daughter immediately got back with her ex but where most people act like the analogy is about Scar and Grian’s relationship being bad in DL for ME it’s all about Wild Life. Like Wild Life Grian does NOT deserve Scar but Scar wants to make amends so sure buddy… 😭

[britany1997]

Paul and Fishy: The Start of Something Beautiful

The dynamic duo are back:)

Big thanks for @crustyraccoon for suggesting a Paul and Fishy backstory fic!!! I hope y’all enjoy this:)

🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟

“You can’t be serious,” Paul mumbled as he stared in disbelief at the fishbowl David had placed in his lap.

Dwayne cringed, “we got you a pet.”

Paul laughed dryly, “this isn’t a pet it’s sashimi,” he ground out through his teeth.

Marko bit his thumb nervously, “you…you don’t like him?” He asked.

Paul’s eyes narrowed, “you’re fucking with me,” he decided, “haha, very funny, where’s my dog?” He demanded.

David stepped forward, “we didn’t get you a dog. We got you a fish, you’re welcome,” he stated with eyebrow raised.

Paul placed the fishbowl to the side as he stood, “but why? I’ve been asking for a dog for weeks!” He reminded them.

David rolled his eyes, “maybe if you take good care of the fish we can talk about getting you a dog.” He lied.

“What?!” Paul exclaimed, “Dwayne didn’t need to prove he could take care of a fish before he got a dog!”

“Dwayne takes care of a child,” David said through gritted teeth.

“Dwayne takes care of a child,” Paul mocked in a high pitched tone.

“Paul…” Marko trailed off.

“Whatever,” Paul huffed, as he picked the fishbowl up, “enjoy your night assholes.” He grit while storming off.

“Yeah why don’t take some time and think about how you can be more grateful,” David yelled after him.

“I told you guys he’d do this,” Marko grumbled, still biting his thumb.

Dwayne shrugged, seemingly unphased by the whole ordeal, “give him time,” he assured the other two vampires, “he’ll come around.”

Paul stuck his fish bowl on his bedside table and rolled his eyes. “I wanted a golden retriever, not a goldfish,” he grumbled.

He pulled a vinyl from its sleeve and placed it on his record player. The harsh sound of “Shout At The Devil,” blared through his room.

Paul crossed his arms and furrowed his brow, as he sat on his bed and leaned back against the wall. He hoped they’d hear his music in the main hall over the noise of whatever they were up to, ‘It would serve them right for this bs they pulled on me,’ he thought to himself as he pouted.

As the lyrics played, Paul glanced in disdain at his new “pet,” but when he caught sight of the fish his face twisted in disbelief.

His fish was bobbing along to the beat. Paul leaned forward and rubbed his eyes, but he wasn’t imaging things, the little goldfish really was moving to the music.

“Do you like this song,” Paul asked the fish in disbelief, feeling a little foolish for trying to speak with a goldfish.

To his surprise, the fish seemed to blink back a response.

“You do? Does a blink mean yes?” Paul asked.

The goldfish blinked again.

Paul gasped, “you like Motley Crüe???” He asked the fish excitedly.

The goldfish blinked affirmatively.

“Me too man! I love Motley Crüe!” He told the fish, prompting the little goldfish to swim in a circle around his bowl enthusiastically.

Paul beamed as he pulled the fish’s bowl from his night stand into his lap. “What other bands do you like bud?” Paul questioned.

Fishy wiggled his fin and let out bubbles, but Paul just stared at him in confusion.

“Hmm this won’t work…” he trailed off while rubbing his head, “oh! I know!” He exclaimed as inspiration struck him.

He set the fish bowl down on his bedside table once more, and grabbed a handful of his records. He held his copy of Toys in the Attic up to the fish’s bowl. “If one blink is yes, blink twice for no, ok?” Paul proposed.

The goldfish blinked in response.

Paul smiled, “perfect,” he said. He tapped the vinyl.

The fish blinked once.

“Me too!” Paul told him, “I love Aerosmith!”

The fish’s fins wiggled excitedly.

Paul moved to the next album, Give Me Convenience or Give Me Death. Paul shot the fish an expectant look.

The goldfish blinked affirmatively again.

“ME TOO!” Paul exclaimed, “the Dead Kennedys rock man!” He told the fish.

The goldfish let out three bubbles happily.

Finally, Paul held up Master of Puppets and bit his lip.

The fish blinked one last time.

“Yes!” Paul shouted excitedly, “you have impeccable taste bud!” He assured the fish.

He put his vinyls away and moved to sit back on his bed and place the fish bowl in his lap, “I think we’re going to be very good friends,” Paul told the goldfish smiling.

The fish swam in circles, obviously excited by Paul’s words. Paul chuckled softly as he watched the fish race around his bowl.

“You sure do have a lot of energy bud,” Paul noticed, “I’m the same way, sometimes I just can’t sit still.”

The fish let out a bubble as he looked into Paul’s eyes, “you too? That’s crazy bud! It’s like we’re meant for each other or somethin” He said while smiling.

“I guess I should give you a name,” paul reasoned. His brow furrowed as he thought about what to name the rocker fish.

“You know what,” Paul started, “you look like a Fishy to me,” he decided,

The fish blinked once in reply.

“Yeah? Fishy? You like that?” Paul asked.

The goldfish blinked again.

“Alright then,” Paul smiled, “Fishy it is.”

Fishy let out three bubbles and wiggled his left fin.

“Sucks that I can’t really understand you,” paul pouted. Fishy blinked in agreement.

Paul sighed peacefully, “that’s ok,” he told Fishy, “I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time to learn.”

🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟

Taglist❤️:

@dwaynesbiboyfriend @6lostgirl6 @misslavenderlady @ghoulgeousimmaculate @pixielostboy @anna1306 @solobagginses @heyriojude @its-freaking-bats @henhouse-horrors @mickkmaiden333

[the-last-kenobi]

Hurt Obi-Wan and this prompt, if possible!! Still new to requests haha. 10. “Don’t worry about that right now, just hold on.”

Ahh, one Obi-whump fic coming right up. Had to beat up the whole Team this time though, you can’t have one without the other!

From this various prompts list.

Requests are currently closed.

-

Anakin saw the flash of an explosion in the corner of his eye.

His head snapped around to look through the side window of his fighter as he felt a horrible shock of no, it couldn’t be —

— but it was, and he felt all the air leave his lungs as if sucked into the vacuum of space.

“No!” Anakin screamed.

He could hear voices clamoring over the comm lines, but although he could pick out Rex’s sharp tenor and Ahsoka’s higher, frightened tones, he couldn’t pick out any individual words.

The only thing in the universe that his mind cared about was the burning, smoking wreck that was plummeting to the planet below. The wreck that had, a moment before, been Obi-Wan’s starfighter.

“No!” Anakin screamed again, tilting full forward on the controls, and his own ship tilted into a dive so sharp it was almost a fall. The flaps rattled and the transperisteel vibrated in its lining as he pushed his fighter to its limits and then a little further, following the sparks and debris trailing in the wake of his Master’s ship.

“Obi-Wan! Obi-Wan, answer me!” Anakin demanded, his voice aggressive with terror.

There was no reply.

The damaged fighter began to tumble and spiral as it fell, pieces snapping off and flying all around Anakin’s own. Flames licked along the familiar red paint, consuming the alloy that had survived a hundred battles, eating away at the symbol of the Open Circle Fleet, their fleet. Obi-Wan’s command.

In his mind’s eye Anakin could see a nauseating image of his friend already consumed just like his fighter, already ablaze inside his cockpit, swallowed by the inferno.

He shoved the nightmare aside and kept going.

Rex, Ahsoka, and others were still online, screaming at him to stop, but Anakin tuned them out.

He had to reach that fighter.

Obi-Wan was alive, he knew it. But he couldn’t survive the inevitable crash, no one could, Anakin had to pull him out of there, he must succeed.

Anakin yelled as he ripped off his comm and then reached down and tore at part of the console with his mechanized hand, ripping open a panel. Blindly, still focused on the burning ship and on steering with his free hand, Anakin reached inside, brushing past wires and sensors, and found what he was looking for.

The regulator.

He ripped it out.

The ship screamed with alarms and shook violently as the safety features disengaged. The flaps were destroyed as the ship accelerated into an engine-fueled straight dive, a free fall but with acceleration behind it.

The burning ship began to fall apart in earnest.

Anakin held tight to his controls and gave it all that he had, barreling downwards, the air screaming around his ship, getting closer and closer.

He kept one hand on the controls, both eyes on Obi-Wan’s ship, and with his other hand he reached downwards and detached his seat straps. Then he reached up and disengaged the hood safety.

Three…

His ship rattled and bounced; smoke began to plume from the engine as he hurtled towards impact.

Two…

He was so close. His timing had to be good, so good, perfect. Flames were eating the crimson starfighter. He was almost on a level with it.

One.

Anakin engaged the autopilot, flung open the hood with the Force, and launched himself upwards and out with all his strength, using the Force to augment his leap.

His palms slammed against burning metal and his boots thudded against the flaming wing of Obi-Wan’s starfighter. Below him, his own ship was slowing down, pulling off in a wide arc, the autopilot saving itself.

But Anakin honestly was not paying attention to anything other than the burning starfighter that he was balanced on, clinging to its side like a fly as it plummeted to its death.

To Obi-Wan’s death.

Not on his watch.

Anakin hugged the side of the ship and closed his eyes, feeling metal rattling and groaning beneath his skin, and concentrated, searching for an opening, for something.

He found it. With a flick of his hand the hood of Obi-Wan’s ship blew off, breaking into pieces as it fell, and between the smoke and the shaking and the screaming alarms, Anakin caught a glimpse of a pale figure slumped in the pilot’s seat, the straps the only thing keeping him from being yanked out into the open.

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin screamed. Obi-Wan did not wake even as the ship gave a violent shudder and his Master’s head whipped sideways and struck a loose panel. Anakin cursed and glanced down past the wing to see the ground growing closer and closer, and grit his teeth.

There was so little time.

Anakin took a deep breath, tasting smoke and fuel and thin air.

Three.

He lunged forwards and grabbed onto the pilot’s seat, locking one leg around it and reaching out with his body to take hold of Obi-Wan, forcing the man back into his seat as securely as possible. Obi-Wan’s head lolled against his shoulder, and there was blood seeping from below the reddish-blonde hair.

Two.

Anakin covered his Master with his body, reaching down behind the chair for a control switch that he knew was there, painted bright red. He murmured a swift plea to the Force, almost a prayer, and held onto the chair and to Obi-Wan as tightly as he could. The ship tumbled slowly, first one way up and then the other.

One.

Anakin flipped the switch as the ship turned upright again, and there was a loud snapping noise as the entire pilot’s seat was ejected straight upwards through the open roof and into space. Debris smacked into them and Anakin knew they were in danger of being cut to pieces long before they would land, and so he buried his head next to Obi-Wan’s and concentrated, deflecting the debris with the Force. Not quite all of it. Something grazed his leg and he felt hot blood immediately soaking his clothes, but Anakin did not dare raise his head to look.

Obi-Wan’s head shifted next to his.

The air around them roared in their ears, but he could still hear the faint sound of Obi-Wan saying, “An…‘nakin?”

“Hold on!” Anakin yelled back.

Obi-Wan’s voice was confused. “We’re… falling. It… Anakin.”

“Just hold on! I’ve got you!”

“‘nakin,” Obi-Wan mumbled, and he struggled in the straps, fighting them.

“No! Stay still!” Anakin barked. “Stay still, Master!”

“You’re hurt,” Obi-Wan said clearly. “Stay still Anakin.”

Anakin could have laughed if he weren’t so terrified. He couldn’t tell which way was up and couldn’t concentrate on the fall with his attention on the debris and on his injured friend. The air wailed around them, and still they were falling, even as not so far below them there was the sound of the ship impacting with a thunderous boom.

“I’ve got you,” Obi-Wan said. “Hold on, Padawan.”

And then they were slowing.

Anakin felt it, like a miracle, the ejected chair slowing from a free fall to a long glide to a gentle, oh so gentle landing, settling on the earth like a feather.

He opened his eyes.

Obi-Wan was awake beside him, blood streaming down his forehead and into his eyes, but he had one hand outstretched, his face peaceful as he brought them to a safe stop.

Anakin sat up at once and began working on the straps, his breathing speeding up as he took in the blood seeping between the pale tunics, the damage he could feel beneath Obi-Wan’s skin. Obi-Wan on the other hand seemed unconcerned, his attention settling on Anakin’s leg.

“You’re…hurt,” he said again. “‘nakin, what did you do?”

Anakin did laugh, now.

“Always so disapproving,” he said, chuckling, still yanking on the straps. “I saved your life, that’s what I did. You totally owe me, old man.”

“Your leg…is b-bleeding,” Obi-Wan said, ignoring him, trying to get a look at the wound over Anakin’s shoulder. “It needs a… a medic.”

“You need a medic!” Anakin shouted, still half-laughing. His hands shook, and he gave up trying to undo the straps and instead clung to them, his shoulders beginning to shake as well, and still he was half-laughing.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan mumbled. His voice was growing weaker by the moment, and Anakin could feel the broken ribs, sense the pain that was starting to attack his Master’s system as reality caught up with him. “Hey… Anakin… shhhh. Look at me. What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?”

Anakin felt hot tears building in his eyes but didn’t have the strength to brush them away. He looked at his friend’s worried blue eyes and laughed again through his tears, shaking his head.

“I thought you were dead!” Anakin burst out. “Your ship was hit and I thought you were dead! I almost didn’t get you out in time!”

“But you did,” Obi-Wan said, softly. “You did.”

“But I wasn’t able to slow us down!” Anakin said angrily, still clinging to Obi-Wan, as if he might fall again, as if he’d turn to smoke and ash, burned away by the flames. “What if I don’t make it next time?”

Obi-Wan shook his head, and he reached up clumsily and pulled Anakin a little closer, heedless of the burning pain it caused his injuries. “Don’t worry about that right now,” he murmured. “Just hold on, Padawan. The medics are coming for both of us.”

Anakin nodded, and let his forehead drop to Obi-Wan’s shoulder, slumped against the chair. Tears still slipped from beneath his eyelids and began to dampen his friend’s tunics, but Obi-Wan said nothing, just holding onto him, so tightly one might have thought it was Anakin that had just nearly been shot out of the sky.

Minutes passed in silence.

“If you tell anyone I cried I’ll tell them what happened on Cato Neimoidia,” Anakin mumbled.

Obi-Wan laughed.

[chuckbass-love]

Hi lovely, I’d love to request a Loki x Male Reader writing if you’re up for it! One where Loki reads the reader’s mind and finds out that he’s attracted to him and that he has a kink for his long hair. So, before making any moves to get with the reader Loki uses magic on his hair to make it even more beautiful and much longer in order to tease the reader. This might range on the “weirder” sides of requests but honestly I’m a sucker for a pretty man with pretty hair haha. But if you don’t feel inspired by or comfortable writing this then obviously no hard feelings! I’ll enjoy anything you come out with in the future! 💚💚💚

Hey. Thank you so much for this request i am in love with it. I was more than happy to do this for you.

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Male!Reader

Warnings: Fluff central and a sprinkle of cheekiness from the man himself because let’s face it he is evil but in the best way.

Word Count: 1,970

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @0goddammitloki go check them out ❤️

Just Like Magic

If there is one thing people should know about you is that you’re not captivated or taken easily. Especially when it comes to crushes. But with Loki. There was an instant attraction, on both parts.

Not that either of you have ever done anything about it though. It’s a known fact to you both that feelings are there and Loki has pretty much made it his mission to tease you every time you’re around him. 

The one thing he doesn’t know though, is the effect his long black hair has on you. The way you fantasise about running your fingers through it, about pulling on it when things get heated. But that will never happen. He’s too complicated for commitment apparently.

You make your way over to a café, you made plans with him for lunch today. He was desperate to get away from his family and you were more than happy to be his distraction. Despite it not being in the way you imagine. It’s still something. 

As you take your seat, you pull your book out, a classic. Romeo and Juliet, if you’re going to wait for him, you might as well do some reading. Feed the brain and all that business. 

“Always got a book in your hands” you hear, moving the book down slightly and just showing your eyes. It’s him.

“Always late”

“Touché” 

He takes his seat, glancing over the menu whilst you return the book to your bag before doing the same. Once you’ve come to the conclusion of what you want, you order. Plus drinks too, of course.

“So, what is it you’re reading this time then?” he asks, showing as much enthusiasm and interest as he usually does. He always likes to keep up with you and what you’re doing.

“Romeo and Juliet” you smirk, knowing exactly what he’s about to say to you, you’ve heard it a thousand times before.

He runs his fingers through his silky smooth locks as he opens his mouth to respond “again? how many times is that now?” 

You just roll your eyes at him, refusing to answer. But the truth is, you’ve lost count. You can’t help it, you love what you love. Being a hopeless romantic is incurable, not that you would try to cure it if you had the chance.

“Let’s just eat, shall we?” you raise a brow at him and he does as you suggest, digging into his food instantly, as do you.

During lunch, you ask him about the latest with his family. He tells you all about Odin favouring Thor again. 

You can’t help but feel bad for him. He’s always tossed aside, like he doesn’t mean anything. You wish you could help that, rectify it but you can’t. All you can do is be there when he needs to talk. You still remain the only person in his life that he can open up to. That’s saying something, right?

He tucks a strand of hair behind his ear whilst flicking another strand out of his face. That hair is your literal weakness. 

It’s something you simply cannot explain. But it does things. Things that you could never repeat out loud. 

Especially not to him. 

But little do you know, Loki can hear everything inside that pretty little head of yours as he watches you eat. The way you’re sitting back into the chair, one leg over the other. So well put together, so graceful but your thoughts are far from it.

In fact, he’s known about your dirty fantasies for a while but he chooses not to say a word. Mostly due to the fact that he wouldn’t know how to bring it up but also because he would never want to embarrass you. He cares for you. 

Deeply in fact.

So he waits around for the perfect timing to say something in the best way he can. 

Whilst he waits, intruding on your thoughts. You think some more. 

About all the ways his hair turns you on, all the ways it could come in handy in the bedroom. 

His lips curl up into a satisfied smile, catching your attention.

“What’s that smile for?” you ask, kicking his leg gently.

“Oh, nothing really” 

Something tells you, that’s a lie “no, it’s clearly something? Tell me”

He just shakes his head, denying you the pleasure of the reason behind his smile. You just pout, hoping it’ll help but it doesn’t. Unlucky. You finish eating and both stand up ready to say goodbye and part ways. He pulls you into a hug, making you feel small compared to him. He’s so much taller.

“Same time tomorrow?” 

“How about we have lunch at my place?” you suggest, nervously gritting your teeth and awaiting his response.

“Sure” he agrees before turning on his heels and walking away. You feel weak in your knees as you rush back home. Time to continue reading. 

Loki gets home and as he stands in his mirror, brushing his hair. He’s reminded of your thoughts, the way you were practically drooling just looking at his hair. 

The way you were flustered. 

What if he could intensify that? Have you begging to touch it, feel it in your hands. 

Wait. He knows a way that he can make that a possibility. 

He racks his brain for a couple second before remembering a spell. 

Once he gets it mastered, he puts the spell into place, on his hair. Causing it to grow a couple more inches, it’s now just to his chest. Not much longer, but a noticeable change. One you’re sure to love. Just what he wants. 

He cannot wait for tomorrow now. This should do the trick intended.

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You rush around, tidying after yourself and the mess you made yesterday after lunch. You don’t want Loki coming in to a mess. Not that he’d judge.

The second you finish, there’s a knock at the door, making you jump out of your skin. You pass the mirror on the way to the door and you check yourself out before opening up to reveal the man himself.

“Afternoon” he grins, stepping in and waiting for you to lead him to the kitchen where all the food waits. As he takes his seat, you glance at his hair, it’s longer. Sexier somehow. You don’t recall it being that long yesterday. 

How does he do that? How does he have you so captivated? Not even just because of his hair. But because of how he carries himself, how he speaks, how he walks. Everything about him draws you in.

“You okay?” he asks, a smug tone in his voice, on purpose. He can hear your thoughts once again. The spell is definitely paying off. Nows the time.

“So you like my hair then”

You almost choke on your water, looking up, your eyes meeting his “what?” you ask, wanting to know if what you heard was correct.

“My hair? You like it, don’t you?” 

You feel your cheeks heating up, the panic filling you. You can’t deny it.

“I do, why?” play it cool Y/N.

“Why do you like it?”

You widen your eyes, standing up to bring some more food to the table and filling your plate “it’s just really nice”.

He chuckles, clearly not accepting your answer.

“So you don’t wish you could touch it? Tug on it in let’s just say, intimate situations” 

Okay, now you’re mortified. 

What could possibly give him that impression? How does he know that? 

“Have you been reading my diary? How could you possibly know that” you blurt out, regretting it right away and covering your mouth with your hands.

He gets up from the table “your diary?” he asks, walking past you and into the next room where he spies a book on the coffee table. He wastes no time in picking it up, all whilst you’re trying to retrieve it. 

He starts reading it out loud.

“Dear diary,

What am i to do about this? 

What am i to do about Loki? That man has all this power over me and i’m struggling to be mute about my feelings, about the things i want to do to him”

You jump up, screaming at him to give it back but he just holds it higher. Not letting up.

“Loki, stop. Please” 

He brings it back down to your reach but before you can even take it, he pulls it behind his back “not so fast. When were you planning to tell me all of this? What sort of things were you talking about?”

“That’s private”

“It’s about me pretty boy, i think if it concerns me then i have a right to know”

You gulp, twiddling your thumbs as you avoid his gaze.

“I just meant that um, if there was ever a situation where um, we would kiss. That your hair, would be great to tug on. I’m sorry, i’m so embarra-”

Before you can finish the sentence, his lips are on yours. The last result you anticipated. But boy is it just how you imagined it to be. Actually no, that’s a lie. It’s a million times better. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, he drops the diary to the floor and his hands grip your face. Your lips fit together like two puzzle pieces. Like it was always meant to be. 

You break away, your hands find purchase on his chest, your pinky fingers touching his hair.

And that’s when your whole body shivers. His forehead rests to yours, his breath fans your face.

“That certainly took a different turn” you let out a deep breath.

He seconds that “a turn that is most welcome” 

He pecks your lips once more “why didn’t you tell me about all of this pretty boy?” 

The name turns you on.

“Nerves mostly, not wanting to ruin the friendship and besides you made it clear you weren’t ready for anything” you explain

“But for you, that would have changed”

“Am i dreaming right now? Pinch me please” 

He can’t help himself, his right hand glides down to the spot just above your ass. He takes his finger and thumb, doing as you asked and making you squeal. 

“I’m sorry, was you not serious?”

You shove him playfully and attempting to walk away, not so fast though.

He pulls you back, attacking your lips in a less than family friendly way. More of a make out session.

A lip biting, tongue battling kiss. All consuming and breath stealing. 

The kind of kiss that everyone dreams of having with their crush. The kind of kiss that just like in the movies and books, leaves you seeing fireworks or stars. 

The way his lips move with yours, so effortlessly and so soft against each other. 

His hand remains on your lower back while the other still cups your face. You lean into him as a whisper like moan fills his mouth, causing him to smile into the kiss. Your hands finally get to run through his hair. And boy does it feel good to tug at it too, pulling him deeper into the kiss, if that’s even possible.

This is everything you could have wanted.

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[sohin-ace]

Rohan - A Day In Paris

Happy birthday to my lovely Giovanna @gio-is-writing . I love you with all my heart. Thank you for barging into my life and stealing my gangster's heart. This one's for you.

You huffed and dropped your heavy luggage in the hotel room you were staying at for your short vacation. You briefly glanced out your window, The Iron Lady greeting you from afar.

No time to spare, you had a busy day ahead of you, and your friend would not let you off the hook if you spent your short rare days in Paris lounging around doing nothing.

You took out your phone and called her, struggling to change from your heels to more comfortable shoes.

"Y/N, hello! How was your trip?" Your friend picked up, instantly greeting you with her unmistakable accent and you swore you could hear her sadism.

"Please let me rest, I beg of yo-"

"Nuh huh, sweetie. I have a big program for you and you will make the most out of your trip. You'll thank me later, trust me." She cut you off and you groaned, sleepy and jet-lagged.

Yes. You had to travel to the marvelous city of Paris for a conference meeting, but of course, you could only expect your best and only local friend to make you tour the entire city in a record-breaking time.

She had planned out for you a extended list of activities, museums, restaurants and places to visit during your voyage. Knowing her, you were impressed and almost suspicious that she didn't try to drag you out with her and forced you to meet 'your future husband' through many blind dates.

Losing yourself through confusing subway stations and vintage architectured streets, you eventually found yourself in your most desired destination.

Obviously, whoever thought of Paris thought about the iconic Pyramid of glass. That was the one place you always dreamt of seeing.

"So... That's the Louvre, huh?" You breathed out, almost in disbelief.

You couldn't possibly pass the occasion of visiting one of the most reknown art gallery in the world.

Looking around the vast plaza, you had expected much more people to crowd the area, but you were pleasantly surprised to only see a few strangers here and there. Good, that was much less anxiety inducing.

Not wanting to wait any longer and too eager to finally discover this magical place, you guided yourself in. The contrast between the loud sunny exterior and the dull and quiet ambiance inside forced you to relax.

Hours had passed by without you even feeling them. You were having much more fun that you'd have ever anticipated, even though visiting a museum all alone was a thought repulsive to most people. You loved every bit of it, walking through the  finely decorated corridors, immersing yourself in the eery yet pleasant quietness of the place, learning through the masterpiece's description, imagining the sculptures come to life.

You smiled. You were happy from this simple yet incredible experience. It was crazy how a change of scenery and how art could so easily move you, transporting you into new worlds, new horizons, and make you travel through times and spaces.

"It's like magic, isn't it?"

You gasped and instantly jumped at the sudden deep voice right next to your ear. You looked behind you to glare and maybe insult who ever had just almost given you the biggest heart attack you'd ever have.

"O-Oh my god!" You yelped, already too loud for the place you were in, prompting a few heads to turn your direction. You shamefully toned down, "Y-you scared the shit out of me-..."

"...I apologize, miss," The male's daggered expression looking down at your small frame did not match his polite words and soft tone. "I didn't mean to startle you, but you looked so deep in thoughts and you were blocking the view."

He pointed at the painting behind you and you decided to ignore his left-handed comment, moving a bit to the side and away from the painting. When your breathing finally slowed down to a healthier pace, you took the time to observe his features a little more.

He stood tall in front of you, his frame slim yet sturdy. You were striked by his eyes of emerald and his androgynous facial traits that seemed to soothe you even without contact. His dark green hair was meticulously styled to the side with an intriguing headband adorning his forehead.

You decided to not stare down his body in fear that his expensive-looking clothes revealing his toned abs and lean waist were actually not an illusion from your peripheral vision but his actual look.

Dang it, you thought, he was too hot for you to stay mad at him.

You looked to the side, and mumbled "... Apologies accepted."

"Wow. Took you a long while of staring at me to accept my apologies. Like what you see, maybe?" He quirked an eyebrow, his tone now condescending, which completely contrasted with his earlier princely behavior.

You gasped and clicked your tongue at him, "You-... Are you famous or something? Why are you acting so bratty all of a sudden?" You knew it, your friend had warned you about this type of guy. The type to act all high and stuck up, roaming art galleries and belittling others. More often than not, handsome and wearing sketchbook-filled satchels. "French artists, I swear..."

You saw him lick his lip before scoffing, as if you had offended him. Unbeknownst to you, the man was actually quite amused by you and did not expect this comeback. He had already long forgotten about the painting behind you.

"Oh you're funny. How did you know?" He smirked obnoxiously, stepping up slowly and looming even taller over you. "You should consider yourself privileged to even be looked at by the Great Rohan Kishibe."

You squinted your eyes at his bold ego, but also at the sound of his name. "Rohan Kishibe...? That sounds like a Japanese name. So you're not a snobby French city boy? Disappointing."

He let out a 'tch' of annoyance. How dared you slander his persona? 'Snobby city boy'? 'Disappointing'?

...'French'?!

Rohan huffed and closed his eyes. Oh no, he couldn't let you get to him so easily and give you the satisfaction.

"That's correct, you dense child." He buried his hands in his pants pockets, dismissing the look you gave to his shamelessly visible underwear waistband.

"Oh shut up, you can't be barely older than me." You huffed and blushed, avoiding eye contact with this man getting so deliciously on your nerves.

You wouldn't admit it, but you were quite enjoying this excentric man's company. His manneurisms and the small smirks he showed at your defiance stirred a little something inside you that just made you want to keep him here a little longer and waste his time. He did look like the busy type, after all. Perfect for bothering and messing with.

Oh but you certainly did not expect him to be thinking just the same as you. In any other circumstances, Rohan would have probably lost patience long ago and snapped, not wanting to spend another minute with the likes of you. But for some obscure reason, he wanted to get to you just as much as you did him. Push all your buttons and drive you absolutely wild.

Maybe it was the little grimaces you made at him that he hated to find cute, maybe it was how your small hands mindlessly held the velvet railings protecting the artworks. Perhaps it was your overall form so gracefully holding yourself up, a delicate sight for such a fierce lady. Or maybe it was that little lipsticked wide smile that he wanted to wipe off your face and kiss absolutely senseless.

"Whatever you say... Uh... 'Your Name'."

You swore you felt a vein pop on your flushed forehead. "It's Y/N. Y/N L/N. Get it right next time."

You rolled your eyes at him and whipped your hair out of your face with exaggerated and unnecessary sass. You wanted to giggle but held it back as he stepped forward and uncomfortably close to you.

You thought he wanted to strike you for a moment and froze as he leaned down and poked his index finger to your chest accusatively.

"Listen here, L/N, "He spat your name through gritted teeth and your mind was hazy with the heady scent of his cologne. "Keep that little attitude of yours and I'll pin you to one of these fucking walls next to these paintings. That'll teach you a lesson."

Your face warmed up and your breath hitched shakily at his bold 'threats'.

"Ooh~ woah there, partner. At least take me to dinner first..." You chuckled and pushed gently on his toned chest, trying to conceal how insanely flustered he had made you feel.

"... Fine then. Tonight 8 P.M. Right here, at the entrance of the pyramid."

Rohan straightened up and stepped away from you. The sudden cool air hit your red face and you widened your eyes, only then registering the fact that he had just flirted back.

"Wait... What?!"

"Don't be late."

"Hold on-"

And just like that, the 'Great Rohan Kishibe', as he had comically introduced himself, disappeared from your sight, continuing on his visit as if he hadn't just shamelessly stolen your heart, leaving you both a blushing and a confused mess.

What a smooth bastard. He was actually taking you to dinner.

It would be a fun trip to Paris.

Bonus:

"Girl I can't come with you tonight, I'm sorry." You told your friend on the phone. "I just met a super cute asian boy at the Louvre!"

She gasped and wanted to whine at you. You were leaving her for a cute asian boy? But soon her tone changed to a more suspicious one.

"Wait... A cute asian boy...? At the Louvre...? Does he, perhaps, by all means, coincidentally, maybe, look like a thot, with green eyes and stupid hair?"

"Yeah? How did you know?" You replied without hesitation.

"Oh that's Rohan! Can't believe you found him haha!" She chuckled, barely caring about trashing the poor man left and right, "Tell him I said Hi. Also, have fun, and use protection cause his dumbass won't-"

"Shut up! SHUT UP!"

[whumpqin]

48? 👀

You got it! (sorry for the wait, this one fought me a little bit haha)

CW: pet whump, collars mention, choking mention, referenced past abuse, referenced past torture, whumpee thinking caretakers are whumpers, blood, aftermath of a beating, bruises, scars, referenced past finger whump (really brief), hiding an injury, victim blaming (as in “you asked for this”), whumpee begging for punishment, nonhuman whumpee, nonhuman caretakers

It was before the rooster crowed when he returned home. Dawn only had the smallest glimmers of orange against the horizon, and all was quiet in the house. Equally as quiet, Caleb limped through the house until he found his Masters’ bedroom and stepped in.

His Masters were sleeping on their bed, limbs tangled together and blankets wrapped around each of them in a lazy embrace. They were comfortable, and it made his heart ache.

He wouldn’t wake them after he was done, he decided. They looked far too comfortable to want to be disturbed.

The dresser was easy to look through. He quietly pulled open the drawers and reached into the far back, feeling a pliant and stretchy cloth. Caleb unfolded the fabric he pulled out and found that it was a sweater - a turtleneck, to be more specific. A little on the small side in terms of height, but otherwise perfect.

Caleb pushed in the drawer and tip-toed over to the bathroom, closing the door behind him as quietly as he could, just for a bit of privacy. He knew all the doors that creaked or groaned to a slow touch, and this was not one of them. In the bathroom he set the turtleneck on the side of the sink and breathed a low sigh. He had to keep reminding himself he could still breathe. Then, Caleb reached his hands to begin unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it off of him and allowing it to sink into the floor. He used his bad foot to scoot it into a corner, where he didn’t have to look at the blood on it.

He made the mistake of looking up into the mirror.

Dried blood dribbled from his nose where he’d been hit, crusting over his upper lip. Further below that there was his neck - where a collar should be, a small voice reminding him never take that off without permission, Pet - where bruises were already beginning to color from the night’s events, clear fingerprints that marked the pair of hands that squeezed and squeezed until Caleb thought he was going to die. Even further down there were a litany of bruises, ugly purples and blues blossoming out in a portrait of his punishment, overshadowing the burn and cut scars.

Don’t you tell a soul, now, he remembered him saying, his voice whispering sickly sweet in his ear. You asked for this, remember?

Caleb swallowed painfully as tears pricked the corners of his eyes. Yes, he had asked. He asked for this.

Which is why he needs to hide it.

Putting on a sweater as a Cambion is more difficult than one might imagine. For Caleb, he had to fit the neck over both of his now very long and curved horns before he could even think about pulling it any further. He understood readily why his Masters never liked to put a shirt on him like this. Too much work. Still yet, he needed it. So he took his time and rolled up the turtleneck to the best of his ability. Caleb’s poor motor skills never really helped him with these things, and the lack of all the proper fingers made it frustrating, to say the least.

That being said, he was making fair progress. The first horn was always the easiest, and then the real struggle of threading them both through the neck hole began. If he was patient he could do it easily, it just-

A knock. At the bathroom door.

“Caleb? Is that you?” A voice. Master’s voice. Of course he’d woken when Caleb snuck in, how could he be so stupid? “You okay?”

Fuck. Shit. Shit shit shit-

Caleb panicked, tugging as hard as he could to try and get the fabric to stretch to what he needed. When he thought it was good enough he pulled down, working the turtleneck over his face before his Master had the time to turn the knob and step in and see him like a mess and punished and not working on breakfast like he’s supposed to - and then he heard a rip. A big one, as the turtleneck’s neck became looser than it was before. He tugged, feeling up his head until he felt the loose strands that made up the sweater, broken and frayed against his fingers.

He’d torn a hole through it. Caleb’s stomach dropped at the realization, guilt weighing him down as his hands fumbled at the fabric to adjust it properly. What had he done? He’d just ripped up one of his Masters’ shirts, and he didn’t even ask for permission if he could put it on! There were no specific rules about wearing clothes, but ripping up something that wasn’t even his had to be some sort of disobedience.

No, no he needed to get it off, now. If he could hide it with his other clothes then maybe they wouldn’t find out? Oh, but they would always find out. Caleb was like a guilty dog when it came to doing something bad.

He stumbled back into the wall, between the tub and the toilet, sinking low to his feet while he squirmed. The door clicked and opened as Master stepped in.

“Caleb? Hey, hey what’s wrong?” Footsteps drew near. Master drew near. “Caleb?”

Caleb’s voice caught in his throat. His chest squeezed with discomfort and guilt and pain. His throat even more so as it locked before he could get out any sinful words. He couldn’t speak. He wouldn’t speak. No more baring fangs.

He whined, curling his tail over his legs while he cringed away. He knew he looked pitiful, and hopefully that would allow his Master to spare a bit of mercy for him.

“Is he alright?” Came another voice - Sir - as he too stepped into the bathroom. Everything was falling apart and he was at the center of it. “Oh, hon.” Sir spoke in an affectionate tone, pitying him, but Caleb could almost hear the contempt in his voice. He was angry, he knew it.

“I think he’s stuck. It’s kind of-” A pause, as Master’s voice drew closer. “It’s wrapped around his horns. He’s… I’m not- Caleb, is it okay if I touch you?”

He didn’t answer. Caleb knew he should, but the words wouldn’t come to his rescue, now. They hadn’t for a long time. Instead he stayed curled in his little ball, gasping and trying not to sob into Sir’s sweater.

“Lemme try. Hey, darlin’, sit still for a moment. Think you can do that?” Sir’s voice lowered even further into a soft and soothing tone. It was the one he used when Sir wanted to order him around, but in the gentlest way possible. Caleb stilled upon command, afraid of what would happen if he disobeyed, panting quick breaths like a caught rabbit waiting for the right chance to bolt. “Good boy, good. I’m gonna put my hand on your knee, don’t kick out. It’s just me. Quinn, remember? Ommy, help me out with this.”

Caleb felt fingers brush against the bare skin of his knee, then a warm hand ran over it, gentle and featherlight in its touch, like he was made of glass. He flinched at first, then relaxed as he was supposed to. Don’t kick out. Stay still. Simple commands for his head to easily comprehend.

The two of them were careful where they touched him. Master guided Sir as they both worked the sweater off, and though Caleb did absolutely nothing to help they didn’t scold him like he expected. Instead, when he could finally see their faces, all he could read from them was shock and horror as they stared at his bruises and the blood on him. Feebly he covered himself with his scarred hands, trying to mask some of the larger bruises so that they didn’t have to see them. They were ugly. Ugly and disgusting and he deserved every single one of them.

I’m only givin’ you what you asked for. Regardless, you deserve it, don’tcha? Say it.

I-I deserve this-this. Thank you.

Then he caught sight of Master covering his mouth with his hands, brows knitting together in concern, and the aching feeling seeped into his chest. It cut through him, choking his breath until he could barely breathe. Sir in a similar fashion was quiet, his face expressionless as he reached out. Caleb shook under the weight of Sir’s slow movements. He took just two fingers underneath Caleb’s chin, lifting his head so that he could see the bruises better.

“Caleb.” Several emotions flickered through Sir’s eyes. Concern, anger, worry, disbelief, fear, then anger again as he fought to keep himself composed. “Who did this to you?”

Caleb gritted his teeth. The words wouldn’t come and save him. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t, and it only made the pit in his stomach sink deeper. Instead he took Sir’s hand and nosed his face into it with a whine. He outstretched his arm towards him, scarred forearm up, begging without words for a relief of some kind.

Thanks for the stress relief, darlin’.��Same time tomorrow?

[makbarnes]

Chapter 5

Turning over in your bed you tucked your face into a solid warm mass. Looking up you see Bucky was laying still next to you asleep. Feeling his arm tighten around you, Bucky lets out a little whine. Bucky had stayed most nights after learning how close Loki was to reaching you. Dating your best friend apparently had its perks. He had access to your phone number and where you lived, so Bucky took the opportunity to stay with you more. Even though there had been no attempts to contact you. But your nerves were everywhere, being cautious to not get Tatum upset and being vigilant about your surroundings. Kissing Bucky’s upper arm you felt him kiss your head.

“Let’s go back to sleep.” Bucky pulled you on top of him, sighing heavily and you buried your face into his neck.

“You and I both know we can’t do that. Tatum is always up within an hour of me being up.” Bucky grumbled in his throat a little while you tried to pull the covers off of you two. Feeling the cold metal arm wrap around you, you shivered a little and attempted to pull away from him.

“Bucky, I have to get up.” You put your hands behind him and pushed yourself off of the bed. Pulling down your tank top you walked toward the doorway and chewed your lip while winking at Bucky before moving into the main room. Bucky laid his head down and got up, pushing his mid length hair back. Leaning against the wall he smirked at you.

“Were you just teasing me?”

“Not at all.” You said smirking back at him while scooping some coffee into the pot. Bucky moved over to you and turned you to face him.

“I have to go shower and change. I’ll be back later.” Kissing you Bucky left your apartment and you smiled widely. Pressing the button on the coffee machine you pilfered around your kitchen trying to find something quick to eat before Tatum got up. Finding nothing you headed back to your room and made the bed before slipping on some jogging pants along with a regular T-shirt. Quietly checking on Tatum you heard your phone start to ring and hoped it wasn’t your firm calling you again. Rushing to your room you quickly pressed the answer and held it up to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Are you still mad at me?” Felicity's voice cracked a little, knowing that she was either crying or about to cry.

“I guess not, I know how hard it is to resist Loki’s charms.”

“Yeah. Haha, I guess.”

“What’s wrong?” Felicity sniffled and you pushed back your hair.

“Nothing. Why?”

“Felicity, I know when you are crying. What is it?”

“I was just thinking and you know how my mind is. It goes places.” Felicity had struggled with depression and anxiety for six years. She had been placed in horrible ones, and after her mom's death three years ago, it had gotten worse. Her family kept bothering her about it so she dropped contact with them about a year ago. You two had lost touch but reconnected when you moved to Brooklyn and ran into her. You two knew everything about each other and could tell when the other was upset.

“Well, as long as you don’t bring Loki over here You can gladly come. I’m sure Tatum can cheer you right up.”

“I actually haven’t seen Loki since yesterday, he went out for a drink last night after I got home and hasn’t been back since.”

“He’ll turn up. But my offer still stands.”

“I have to do some things, can we reschedule?”

“Always do.” You heard a click and sat down your phone, hearing the coffee machine beep you headed back to the kitchen and poured yourself some coffee. Your hand was shaking more than usual at the news of Loki being somewhere and maybe being drunk at the same time. Drinking your coffee silently you went back to Tatum’s room and saw she was waking up.

____________________________________________________________________________

Later in the day Bucky and Tatum were playing on her little mat while you were fixing something for lunch. Tatum was laughing at Bucky’s voices he was making and you watched them bond. Hearing a small knock at the door you put down the knife you were chopping vegetables with and wiped your hands before heading over to the door. Smiling at Tatum you opened the door and felt your heart stop.

“Where is she?!” Loki screamed at you from the hallway.

“Bucky, take Tatum to her room…” Bucky picked her up on his hip and walked towards the door.

“Why?”

“Bucky, stay in her room with her…” Your voice was shaky and nervous around him. Bucky followed your order and swept Tatum off to her room. But not without Bucky seeing him.

“I don't know who that ignorant oaf of a man is, but if he knows what's best for him he will let go of my daughter. Now!” Loki pushed past you and headed toward Tatum’s room.

“Loki! Stop! That oaf is my boyfriend, he is not ignorant and he will not let her go. He is protecting her from your ass. You have no right to call her your daughter. You left us, Loki! Fucking left! I have raised her by myself for four years without you. Bucky has been a huge help for not only me but with Tatum. She adores him.” Your face red from shouting you had moved in between him and Tatum’s room. He backed away from you a little and you proceeded by moving forward, getting him as far away from Tatum’s room as possible.

“You would trust the princess of Asgard to a bionic freak show of a stranger more than you'd trust her with her own father? How the high and mighty have fallen...you aren't as righteous as you pretend to be are you, {Y/N}? Tatum deserves to know her birthright, she is above you both.” Clutching your fists together tightly you pushed back your hair before pacing a bit.

“I have not fallen, I am not pretending to be something I am not.I am still the same person that fell in love with you and had your child. She will know her birthright but only when she is old enough to understand what you did to me and her. Besides, it's not like you will ever be the king again, because the only way you were ever king was because your brother was banished. She is not above her own mother and she is not above Bucky either.” While you and Loki yelled at each other Bucky was cradling Tatum in his arms while she shook a little.

“Why is Mommy screaming? I don’t like it.” Tatum curled into Bucky more as her eyes started to tear up.

“Shh, She will stop soon.” Bucky looked down to see that Tatum had changed into the full blue color from last week. Shit… Bucky got up and set her in her bed.

“Do you want Mommy?” Tatum shook her head and Bucky dashed out of her room into the main room where you were with Loki.

“Watch who you're talking to, you vacuous excuse of a wench.” Loki’s hand went across your face, hard. Feeling blood rise to the surface you touched the spot before bringing your fingers down to see blood.You were about to react back before feeling Bucky grab your hand.

“Where is she?”

“In her room and you need to go to her now.” Your eyes went wide and rushed off leaving Bucky with Loki. Checking behind him Bucky approached Loki slowly. Gripping Loki’s throat with his metal arm, Bucky pushed him up against the wall.

“You ever touch her again, I will kill you without hesitation…”

“Eheh...you're just as bad, whoring around with something that belongs to me. I'm a god you mongrel, you and your scrap metal will never compare. Hit me if that makes you angry, but I won't be the only thing you hit when it's my name on her lips in the middle of the night.” Bucky was fueled with rage as he lifted Loki into the air and threw him onto the ground. Bucky picked up a knife from the table and held it against Loki’s throat.

“I will slit your throat right here. She belongs to nobody and she will never utter your name, unless it is while she is beating the shit out of you.” Bucky pressed the knife to his throat with more pressure letting it break the skin. While they had been duking it out in the main room you had Tatum in your arms trying to calm her down but it wasn’t working. She was sobbing into your shirt and you knew that having Bucky there along with you would make it better. Regretting your decision you held Tatum close to you and carried her softly down the hall. Peeking around the corner you saw Bucky let go of Loki and he touched his neck. Loki was about to jump on Bucky when you walked out with Tatum. Bucky rushed over to you and kissed your forehead, making sure Loki saw. Tatum’s eyes locked on Bucky’s and she tucked herself into your chest. Her whole body was still blue as ever and Loki’s face was pale.

“I think you need to leave now, Loki.”

“Oh I'm not going anywhere. Look at her...that is my heritage coursing through her veins. You have no idea how to properly care for a child this gifted, but I can help her. Teach her. She deserves to not live in fear the way I did, to not hate herself. I think being raised around her sibling will help, I will teach and raise both my heirs into the nobility they were born to be. Don't deny her that.” You looked at him in disgust.

“No, I know how to handle this Loki, She will embrace it and she won’t hate herself either. She is perfect and beautiful. It may be your heritage but she is my child, we gave you the chance to stay but you left. I can raise her perfectly fine after all she is my child and I have an amazing boyfriend to help me.” You handed Tatum over to Bucky and he rocked her while whispering calming things into her ear. You walked forward to Loki until he was backed into a wall, Taking his shoulder in your hands your breath hitched.

“But I will tell you this. If you leave Felicity with your child like you did me. You might need to find another realm to live in, Because you break her I break you.” Loki felt a little defeated, seeing how strong you had become from the last time you two spoke. As you went back to Tatum Bucky handed her to you and he walked over to the door, opening it.

“Get out…” Bucky gritted through his teeth while he pointed out into the hall. Loki stood in the doorway feeling a tear fill his eyes.

“{Y/N}..”

“Go away.” You uttered silently before going into your bedroom cuddling Tatum. By this point she had calmed enough to make half of herself change back, while the other was still blue. Hearing Bucky shut the door and lock it he came over to you and examined your cut. Bucky went to your bathroom and grabbed a small first aid kit, coming back and sitting next to you. Wincing at the cleaning wipe you cuddled Tatum closer to you. Bucky wiped a small tear that was wiping down your face.

“If you start crying, Tatum will get more upset.” Bucky finished cleansing to wound and put a small bandaid on it. You laid down on your neat bed and he moved himself next to you and wrapped an arm around your waist. Smiling down at Tatum you kissed her head while she clung to you.

“I have to call Felicity…”

“It can wait.” Bucky kissed behind your ear and you scooted into him. This was only the beginning of Loki wanting Tatum as his own.

NEXT CHAPTER

SERIES MASTERLIST

[ellana-ravenwood]

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

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

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

__________________________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

Tim said, amused.

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

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

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

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

Drop. Drop. Drop drop drop drop.

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

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

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

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

It kinda made him want to cry.

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

“I’m-I’m a big brother.”

And boom. There it was.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

So many questions, and no answers. 

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

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

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

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

Sweet.

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

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

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

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

You noticed everything. All of you.

Most importantly, you noticed the big changes in him.

Damian was 12 now.

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

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

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

Feel like he was amongst his family. 

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

It was a learning experience for everyone. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It all happened so fast. 

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

Hours went by, and no news were given. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like the baby would come in a very long time ?

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

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

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

What would he find in that room ?

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

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

He didn’t know. He didn’t know !

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bruce was looking down at his tiny son in his arms, and was just smiling widely and...sort of like a child ? 

Like even when he smiled to his wife, or to his kids. Those actual genuine smile he gave them, not the fake "Brucie Wayne" persona ones. They were always very him ? They always had his past in it. When he smiled at them, they could see they meant a lot, because he was able to smile even through all his pain. And they were the one that brought his happiness forth. 

Bruce’s smiles to his family were grateful, full of pure joy, and recognition. With a hint of sadness, however. Of traumas he could never forget. 

But here, as he held Thomas, it was like he forgot everything, and was carefree for the first time since he was eight. 

Of course, it only appeared like that to Damian because he wasn’t quite sure yet about how he should feel. Happy, or jealous ? He never noticed the many times his father gave him that exact pure child like happiness and awe too. 

Bruce wasn’t always the best at showing his feelings, a lot of time, he would smile softly, full of love, in the way he was right now, only when he was sure no one was looking. 

He most definitely smiled that way to all his children, they just never had the chance to witness it due to Bruce’s own self-consciousness, and not being sure  how to handle his own feelings at times.

In that way, Damian and his father were very much alike. You often said so. They sometimes had great trouble expressing themselves. 

Which could cause great misunderstanding, like right now. 

As Damian witnessed his father smile this way for the first time ever, and wondered...

Wondered if..If Talia gave him to Bruce as a baby, would he have smiled the same way ? 

…Probably not.

It made Damian feel all sort of things, to realize that. 

Strangely, the emotions he felt weren’t negative. On the contrary, he was glad that his little brother was lucky enough to be born into this family he thought amazing, and would grow up immediately loved and never alone. 

Sure, Damian wished it would’ve been the case for him too. But you told him once that the past was the past, and it did no good to dwell on it (he was pretty sure you misquoted Dumbledore from Harry Potter but never said anything), and it really stuck with him. 

He would never be a baby anymore, hurting himself and his feelings thinking about what could’ve been was useless. It would only bring him misery. While thinking...Thinking about his new brother having this chance...Well, it made him very happy. 

He was glad, times were changing. 

“Do you want to hold him ?” 

You asked him, taking him out of his reveries about how he realized he only had positive feelings about this new life coming into his. 

Good feelings yet, but not enough to dare hold him. Panicked, he took a few steps back and said : 

“No ! No no, I’m good !” 

You tried to hide your disappointment, and instead gave the boy to your oldest son, Dick. You kinda wished Damian would’ve accepted to take Thomas into his arms. After all, his reaction was the one that worried you the most... 

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

It’s only as he witnessed all his sibling holding their new brother, and beaming brightly at him, that he felt like he wanted to do that too. 

He felt like he was missing out, because they all seemed to thoroughly enjoy holding Thomas ! And he felt like he was building unnecessary boundaries between him and his new baby brother. 

What if Thomas thought he didn’t want to be his brother ? 

Of course, right now, being only a few hours old, Thomas couldn’t think about that yet. But Damian read somewhere that infants could feel this sort of things. And so he turned to Tim, who was the one holding the baby boy at the moment, and said : 

“Can I-...Can I ?” 

Of course, Tim understood, and did not hesitate to put his little brother in his other little brother’s arms. He explained quickly to Damian how to hold him, making sure Thomas’ head was all good, and let go (later, he’d admit that he watched YouTube video to know the proper way to hold a baby). 

And the rest was history. 

“I’m-I’m a big brother.” 

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

“Friday, October 16th 20??,  Thomas : 4 months old. 

       I found books about babies. Many of them. 36 to be exact. They were in the library, I suspect father bought them to read up on how to take care of a baby. After all, he never had one, since we all arrived around 8/10. 

       I put in practice what I got from them, and was very successful doing so. Thanks to them, I was able to refine my studies on what it truly means to be a big brother. 

(...)” 

“Damian ?” 

Bruce was looking for you, and guessed you were in your office, which, just like the bedroom you shared with him, was right next to the nursery. Of course. 

He knew you must’ve been there at this time of the day because it was your “writing time”, but also Thomas’ “nap time”. In your office, you could make sure to be there for him quickly. 

Bruce had just come home and as usual, looked for you immediately. He had a tough day at Wayne Enterprise, and you always were his respite. 

But as he walked in front of Thomas’ room (where he was planning on going after seeing you), he was stopped in his track by the door being open, and quite an odd vision. 

Damian was standing next to his brother’s crib, an arm reaching out in it. As Bruce, intrigued, approached them, he noticed that one of Thomas’ tiny hand was wrapped around one of Damian’s finger. 

Before he could ask what was happening, his boy whispered, as to not wake his little brother up : 

“I read somewhere that babies need physical contact so their brain can develop well. A baby that nobody ever touches just doesn’t speak much, and isn’t as advanced as one who received affection. So I’m holding his hand.” 

Bruce’s brain went blank, as he looked at the extremely cute scene of his youngest son sleeping peacefully, holding his older brother’s hand. It was too much for his heart, trying to not sound choked up, he asked : 

“How long have you been here ?” 

Damian looked up, thinking, before he answered : 

“A couple of hours ?” 

“A couple of-That long ?!” 

“Ssssshhh. Father !” 

Damian whispered scolding his dad for his loudness. He gave a worried look to Thomas, afraid he woke up, and then turned to his father again saying : 

“I heard him cry, and recognized it as being his lonely cry. So I came. Mother fell asleep on her desk, I think she was just too tired to even realize he was crying. I know neither of you have been sleeping very well lately, so no one can blame her. You two work tough jobs, then do the vigilante thing, and have to take care of a baby who doesn’t sleep through the night yet. It’s understandable, to feel very sleepy. So I came.” 

Bruce felt it through his entire body. This warm, fuzzy feeling. The same one that he forgot for so many years, until you and Dick came into his life. 

“How did you hear him ?” 

“I rigged his baby phone to my phone, so it would give me alerts if he cries. Tim helped me develop a sort of app for that.” 

This specific feeling he only felt when looking at you or his children. A sort of serenity filling his entire body. Peace.

“I rocked him a little bit. He smiled at me a lot, and cooed too. And then he felt back asleep, but as soon as I put him in the crib he cried again. I figured he didn’t wanna be alone, so I stayed and held his hand, and he eventually fell back asleep. Now I’m too afraid to wake him up if I leave, so I’m here.” 

“So you’re here...” 

Pride was in Bruce’s heart now. A beaming, strong, huge pride. Pride of having such a sweet little boy. Ah. Who would’ve thought, over two years ago, that Damian Wayne would stay two hours near a baby in fear that if he left, he would wake him up ? 

Feeling inspired, Bruce bend down and kissed Damian’s forehead affectionately. This took the boy by surprised, and he literally gasped ! 

It made Bruce feel a little guilty. His sometimes odd way of loving made it so that he reserved those forehead kisses only when his kids felt bad, or when he through they were asleep (though they never were). Moments of distress; or moment he was sure they wouldn’t notice. 

Sometimes, Bruce just wasn’t too sure how to react with his children. Except on definite moments, like them needing him, or them being too cute for him to resist a forehead kiss (they were always adorable, sleeping). 

Or, in this instance, his boy doing something so sweet he felt the urge to kiss him with all the love and affection he had. 

Now though, a little embarrassed, he took a step back, and ruffled his son’s hair again, saying : 

“You’re a good brother.” 

And then he left awkwardly, going to your office so he could pick you up and go take a nap with you in your room. Yes. This surge of emotion he felt, as he saw his two youngest children together, definitely called for a nap in your arms. You always had a knack, to calm him, even unconsciously... 

Damian stayed in Thomas’ room, a huge smile plastered on his face. 

His father just said he was a good brother !

“(...) Continuation of the previous entry (October 16th).      I put in practice what I got from them, and was very successful doing so. Thanks to them, I was able to refine my studies on what it truly means to be a big brother.

      Now, after four months of studying Thomas’ behavior and such, I came to realize that he has different kind of cry. They are as proceeded :  1. High pitch continuous noise = he’s hungry.  2. When he makes a series of loud “heh” = he’s too cold, or hot, or wet. It’s his sign to express a discomfort. Usually means dirty diaper, if no dirty diaper, means something else and then you have to look for what is bothering him. Example : Yesterday, the bird outside his window chirping was annoying him and keeping him from sleeping soundly. 3. Loud screams punctuated by pauses = He’s lonely. The pauses are him listening in to see if someone is coming to get him.  4. Almost silent cries, when it’s so loud it becomes quiet = he didn’t burp properly after eating and desperately need too. A few light tap on his back will make him feel better very quickly.  5. When he whimpers, it’s usually because he has gaz. Putting him a little straighter helps him...evacuate.

        I put this directly in practice today, when I realized he was doing his “lonely cry”. I went to his rescue, and I didn’t mind staying hours with him even though he’s still a little baby and doesn’t do much. He smiled at me a lot, I think he recognized my voice. And my singing (note for self : make sure no one is around when such occurrence happen, almost got caught by father today). Then it felt like he didn’t want to let me go, so I stayed. 

      Is that what it is, to be a big brother ? Being needed ? If it is, it actually feels nice. It would certainly explain all the time Dick, Jason, Tim and Cass came to my own rescue. Wether help for my homework or to comfort me. But, I do that too, as a little brother ? I comforted them too many times. And I witnessed Jason, Tim or Cass comforting Dick and vice versa and in all ways. So, this means it’s a sibling thing, not quite a big brother thing. Need to keep studying to know what “big brother” is exactly.” 

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

"Saturday, December 9th 20??. Thomas’ first Christmas/6 month old.

     I started to build his gift. I think he will like it. I-” 

“What are you doing, Damian ?” 

You asked him, walking towards him as he busied himself at the gadget station in the Batcave. You saw him jump in the air slightly, and put away a bright pink notebook quickly. 

And then he saw you had Thomas in your arms, and when Damian saw him, he hid whatever he was doing as fast as he could. 

“Mom, you’re gonna spoil the surprise !! Get Thomas away !” 

Surprised, and without thinking about it, you went to your husband who was typing away on the computer and put the baby in his arms. 

Bruce was about to grumble that he was busy and brush the both of you away (he could be a jerk sometimes), but you didn’t gave him a chance, shoving your son in his arms. And when he looked, annoyed, at his baby and how the little one seemed the happiest of them all as he just recognized his father. Bruce’s mood lifted all of a sudden. 

He smiled softly, realized he was being an asshole and was going to apologize to you but you were already gone back to Damian. Your husband and baby son exchanged a curious look, before Thomas got very interested in his father “Bat” logo and started to try to grab it, while Bruce smiled softly again and, holding his son in one arm, continued his work. 

Balancing family and night activities had been hard for him to get and do, but he had it covered, nowadays. Well. Almost. 

Meanwhile, you were back next to Damian, and with a sigh of relief, your son uncovered his project. 

It did all kind of things to your heart... 

“Damian, is that-” 

You couldn’t finish your sentence, too touched. Your son, proudly, said : 

“It’s a mobile to go above his bed ! I think he doesn’t like the one he currently has. So I’m making him one with things he’ll like ! See mom, that’s you. Do you recognize yourself ?”

Damian seemed worried about this, and you nodded. It definitely looked like you. So. Your son wasn’t just good at drawing, but also at sculpting... 

“It’s for Christmas.” 

He said, smile wide. And as you grabbed him and crushed him against your chest, he got a little confused... 

"Saturday, December 25th 20??. Thomas’ first Christmas/6 month old.

*There’s here a drawing of Thomas beaming at his mobile above his bed that Damian build for him*

       I knew my present would be Thomas’ favorite. After all, it represents everything he likes. I put everyone from our family (Father, mom, Alfred, Dick, Tim, Cass, Jason, and of course, me), and a few of his favorite animals (I used Ace and Titus for the dogs, Tommy is very fond of them). And it makes music, which he seems to enjoy a lot. Especially when our mom, dad or anyone from the family sings to him. I recorded all of them secretly when they sang to him, and made it so he just has to push a button on the side of his crib to turn the mobile on.

       I wasn’t even worried that he wouldn’t understand how to make it work. He’s only six months old, but he’s already very smart and curious (I think the physical contact  we all gave him is a lot to “blame” for). So when I put the mobile above his bed, and pushed the button to start the voice of our mother, he moved his little arms and legs excitedly and smiled at the mobile widely ! I only had to push the button a few times more, and for our father, Dick, and Jason’s voice to be on for him to notice the button, and to push it himself. Or rather, to kick it or throw himself on it as best he could. He is still not that coordinate when it comes to movements. But he’s smart. He understood that, to have the music, he had to push the button.

         He didn’t pay attention to all his other gifts, but mine he loved. It’s because I made it with everything he likes. So of course, he loves it. Is that what it is, to be a big brother ? To know your little sibling and be the best at giving him a gift ? No. That doesn’t sound right. Tim, or Jason, already gave me absolutely useless terrible gift, and yet it still made me happy to receive them, and that they thought about me. Mmm. The researches are still on.”

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

“Thursday, March 7th 20??. Thomas : One year and a half.

      Father and mom entrusted me with babysitting Thomas today, as everyone was busy. I was very happy to be trusted with such responsibilities. I thought it would be easy, at that age, they're easily manipulated. Well...I was wrong"

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

“NO NO NO NO NO NO NOOOOOOOOO.” 

Thomas was screaming, while Damian was trying to be heard : 

“Thomas, listen, you need to put your pants on or-”

“NOOOOO !! NO DAMDAM NOOOOO !!”

“No”, was one of the first word Thomas pronounced. Right after “mama” and “dada” (the jury was still out on which words he said first, and was source of endless bickering between you and your husband). 

Then he started to try and pronounce his siblings’ name, although he wasn’t quite there yet. Damian being the youngest and still at home (Dick and Jason had their own apartment by now, and Cass and Tim were starting to be very busy with college), he was able to sort of say his name first. 

“Damdam”. Close enough. 

But right now, Damdam really wasn’t having a good time. 

It started rather smoothly. Thomas was a pretty calm child, so Damian (wrongly) thought it would be all good all day.

Only, it was the first time he was taking care of his brothers for so long. A couple of hours there and there. He made sure to be with him at least once a day, for at least two hours. Most of the time, it was more. 

They really started to be very close, sometimes, Thomas would choose Damian over you or Bruce...it vexed the both of you, but you had to put yourself in the shoes of your young son. 

Damian only had the good times with him. Playtime, and bed time stories, and such. While you and Bruce had to be strict with him sometimes, and give him boundaries (like no jumping on his bed, or no pulling the dogs’ tails). 

Bruce once mentioned that Thomas most certainly inherited your petty side, given the fact he always went to Damian when you scolded him. But when you smacked him on the head, vexed, he said he was joking (although we all know he wasn’t). 

In any way, Damian, in that year and a half, only had the good times with his brother. And today, as he had to take care of him all day long, he realized that...it wasn’t always that easy. 

Proof : the morning had gone well, but now, it was over, and it was time to put some close on. Problem : Thomas didn’t seem very keen on putting pants, today. 

It started slowly, as if it was a game. 

Thomas ran around the room, laughing, repeating : “no ‘an’ !” (which probably meant “no pants”). Up until Damian tried to take his father’s strict tone and said : 

“Ok Thomas, enough now, you need to put your pants on.” 

Well. That didn’t play well in Thomas’ book. Frowning, he said : 

“No.” 

“Yes, Tommy. It’s day time, you need to put pants on.” 

“No.” 

“Yes. Come on, I’ll help you.” 

“NO !” 

Thomas ran away from Damian’s grasp, and your son was so surprised that he wasn’t able to catch him right away. He caught up to him though as Thomas was climbing a couch, sure that he’d be out of reach at its top (probably not understanding that Damian wasn’t as small as him...). 

Once on the top of it, he sad down and put his hands in front of his eyes, clearly thinking he was hidden, now. 

“I can see you Thomas.”

“No.” 

“Stop saying no, I can see you.” 

“No.” 

“Come on Thomas, I’m not playing anymore, I can see you, and you need to put some pants on.” 

“Noooooooooooooooo.” 

“Tho-” 

“NooOOooOOoOOoOOoOoo noooooooo.” 

“Thoma-”

“NoooOOoOOoo no no no no no no no !!!!” 

Damian realized trying to talk it out wouldn’t work. His brother was probably too young to be reasoned with. Quickly,he scratched his head to find a solution. 

Maybe making him laugh again ? Like Dick did with him at first. 

It felt like such a long time ago, but there was a time when Damian was a really big brat. He still was, sometimes, he wasn’t perfect of course. But he improved a lot. 

Regardless, one of the way Dick would make him stop being bratty, was making absolutely awful jokes and trying to make him laugh by doing stupid things. Ok. Here we go then : 

“Hey hey Thomas look, look !” 

“No no no no...No ?” 

Ok. Good point. Thomas was now watching Damian doing backflips and running around. Beaming, the little boy smiled widely and clapped his hands. 

YES ! Damian most definitely won. He stopped doing his acrobatics and turned to his little brother, saying : 

“Ok, time for pants now.” 

But Thomas frowned again, as if vexed he fell for the show, and gave Damian a definitive : 

“No.” 

Well. That was a fail. What did Jason do again, to stop one of Damian’s own tantrum ? Oh. Right. Um. That probably wouldn’t be a good method with such a young kid. Skipping that one. 

Tim ? Tim would talk to him about his favorite things. Video games, or whatever. And blackmailing him a lot (as a good big brother). Damian wasn’t too into blackmailing, but he was kinda running out of ideas. 

This was the first time Thomas was being difficult with him, it was too new, he needed more data to know exactly how to react ! 

So, blackmail it would be. 

“If you put your pants on, we’ll watch your favorite movie !” 

This seemed to peak Thomas’ interest. He looked at the Tv, then at his pants. Then at the TV again and...oh...Ooooh...Damn it ! Damian could see he almost got him. But it didn’t work, his brother shook his head “no” so strongly he almost fell of the couch. 

Ok. What were the options left ? What did Cass do ? Mmm. She would hug him and tell him things would be alright. Which worked for him, given his past, but Thomas was a little over one and had a normal happy childhood so far ! 

They couldn’t relate to their past, like Cass and him did. 

Ok. What would his mom do ? Well, with his mom, Damian had the intimate feeling that Thomas would’ve put on his pants without a word. He knew she wasn’t joking around. He’d never pull this sort of things with her. 

He would though, pull that with his father. And what would Bruce do ? Either let it go, or, if he was in a bad mood, be very strict and force him to put his pants on. Nobody said his father was perfect...His mother, neither. She could be implacable in her way of educating her son. 

Thomas was a calm boy, and was of course allowed to have tantrums. Their mother was mostly understanding. But if she was tired, she’d be less patient...It wasn’t always easy, raising kids. And the gods knew the Waynes had a LOT on their plates, at times.

MMm. Damian didn’t want to force him to do anything, or to lose his patience. 

And then it hit him. The solution was right in front of his eyes. Of course. It was so simple ! 

"(...) Continuation of last entry (March 7th) 

         New observation after today’s babysitting : toddlers sometimes focus on one thing so much they don't know how to react, and therefor, explodes with feelings 

        I found that my siblings tricks to calm me down would not work on Thomas, because he isn’t me. We don’t have the same personality, or background. I never even noticed before, how Dick, for example, used different methods to comfort all of us. Adaptability is key. Like how father gives us all different trainings, according to our own needs. Little brothers are the same. When mad, they need to be calmed in different ways. Thomas is such a calm kid and has so few tantrum, I feel comfortable doing what I did. 

       Which brings me to my next point. Being an older brother sometimes mean being the bigger person. Giving up, and letting them do what they want. I never realized how many things Tim, Dick, Jason or Cass gave up for me. But it now becomes very apparent to me. They switched things around in their lives to be convenient for me. Like, Tim used to love playing video games on his own, yet he let me come and play with him even as he doesn’t like multiplayer modes. Jason is afraid of snakes yet took me to Gotham terrarium where there’s one of the largest concentration of snakes in the US when I asked him. Dick gave up on ever taking many hoodies I stole from him back. Etc etc. 

         Being a big brother means being the bigger person sometimes, and letting the small one have their ways. Dick, Jason, Cass and Tim did it all the time with me, and it’s my turn to do it with Thomas. Unlike our parents, I don’t need to be the “police officer” of the house. I can have only the good times, and when appropriate, just let go. 

       Today was the first tantrum I witnessed Thomas having, and I decided to let it go. After than, it went all smooth. And honestly, he’s just a bit over one. It’s ok, if he doesn’t wear pants...” 

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

Their parents found them both asleep in front of Thomas’ favorite movie. 

They were still both in their pyjamas. 

“No pants” day became a thing, for the two brothers. 

**********

“Wednesday, April 19th 20??. Thomas : 3 years old.

        Today, I learned a new lesson. I kind of already knew it before, by observing Dick, Jason, Tim and Cass. But it only became obvious to me today :  A big brother is here to help his little sibling walk his own path. And discover the world.” 

Damian was looking at his baby brother toughtfully. Mmm. Seemed like the kid liked animals too. Maybe they could bond further over this ?

Your boy remembered that that's how his own siblings handled him. They found common ground on which they could understand each others.

With Dick, Damian learned how to perfect his flips and other acrobatics. They enjoyed the creativity and yet physical training of this “game”. 

With Jason, he used to spew all his frustration at him, and Jason would nod and say things like : “that’s right little bird, you tell ‘em !” and just agree with him on everything, even when he was wrong. They could particularly agree on how sometimes, Bruce could be a jerk...And yet wouldn’t wish for any other father. 

With Cass, they’d do artistic things. Drawing, or dancing. Sometimes sitting in silence for hours, back to back, while they painted. It was nice. Relaxing. 

With Tim...Well, Tim was a big advocate of this definition of sibling, that he made up himself : “The only people who will pick on you for their own entertainment, and beat up anyone else who tries.” So they’d bicker a lot, but then if anyone else was trying to rile Damian up, Tim would appear out of nowhere to give them a piece of his mind.

Yes. Yes. As Damian was observing little Thomas hug and smile at his stuffed animals, and thought that this could be quite the approach. 

After all, he really loved animals too.

"'Ook Damdam, ook ! SIMBA !"

Damian had become an expert in his brother's baby talk, and knew this meant : "Look Damian, Look ! A lion"

"No Thomas, not a Simba, a lion. Not all lions are called Simba, just like in the film."

Patience was key. Damian was pretty sure he already told Thomas that exact same thing a hundred time, but for some reasons, the boy stayed stuck on his Disney knowledge. 

But today, something different happened. Things clicked in the boy’s head.

Thomas looked at his stuffed animal for a while, and then asked : 

"…Nala ? Girl ?"

"…Wether it's a boy or a girl, their names aren't simba or nala, they're lions. And lionness. Simba and Nala are characters in a movie."

The boy looked at his  brother, confused, then looked back at his plushy lion and asked, to make sure :

"…Not Simba ?"

"Lion."

"…'ion ?"

"Yes."

"That, not Nemo ?"

OH ! They were making progress ! So far, Thomas didn’t really listen to Damian when he tried to teach him animal names, and just gave them names of Disney characters ! 

Now, he was pointing at his stuffed clown fish, asking wether he was a “Nemo” or not ! PROGRESS ! 

Damian smiled internally. Thinking it was cute, you and Bruce never did much to correct your son, which Damian found frustrating. But here they were, him finally gaining grounds !

“Right, not Nemo. Clown fish.” 

“On fish.”

“Clown. CL-OWN”.

“O-N.” 

“K-K. LL. AON. Repeat after me Thomas, Clown.” 

“...Cl...cl...clnown ?” 

“Clown.” 

“CLOWN !” 

“YES !”

“CLOWN FISH !” 

Thomas said proudly, showing his plushy. And Damian felt a rush of pride.Yes. That was it. Clown fish. He learned a new thing. And...And he probably wouldn’t have learned it yet if it wasn’t for him ? 

Oh. So a big brother also kinda had the role of a teacher. Interesting. 

And as Thomas ran to his father and screamed “CLOWN FISH” at him, Damian couldn’t help but being proud of him. Even though their father was clearly confused, as the little boy now was running to Alfred to show him he knew what a clown fish was, and didn't give further explanations to Bruce. 

“Clown fish ?”

The big scary bat repeated, utterly confused. By a three years old. What was it again ? Best detective in the world ?

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

“GWAYSON !” 

“No Thomas, no, I’m Dick, not Grayson !” 

“...Dick ?” 

“Yes ! Damian, stop teaching him that my name is Grayson ! Ugh. I swear, he hangs out wayyyyy too much with you. I need to spend more time here...” 

Damian grinned slyly, and Dick rolled his eyes. Thomas was growing up fast, and it made sense that he sometimes seemed closer to Damian, whom he saw the most. 

Dick and Jason had their own place, and both Cass and Tim were busy with college. Damian was still in high school, and a lot home. 

Although they weren’t seeing each others as much as he wished, the youngest Wayne and the oldest one still were extremely close. 

In fact, Thomas was very close to all his siblings. They almost were all like second (or third, or fourth) father, and mother. They were so much older than him, of course they’d have this sort of status at time. 

Their parents would take a lot care of him, and he was also very much a “daddy’s and momma’s boy” (like all his siblings really, though they’d never admit it). 

But Thomas did spend a lot of time with Damian, and wether it was on purpose or not, he took a lot after his mannerism and such...just like Damian used to copy his older sibling mannerism, and so on and so forth. 

“Gwayson” though, he could avoid. 

Dick rolled his eyes again, and smirked at Damian, before returning to play with Thomas. 

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

“Thursday, July 23rd 20??, Thomas : 4 years old. 

       Today, father and mom told me I was to take a night off and not to go on patrol. And that was a very big inconvenience. I had things planned, to prove my valor. I was about to sneak out anyway when (...)” 

Damian, his costume on, made sure his parents were busy before starting to come in action. 

First, he had to wait for his father to go on patrol, and join his other siblings out. And for his mom to get in front of the Batcomputer to monitor everything. 

Then, he had to wait for Alfred to put Thomas to bed, and to go himself sleep, the baby phone near him, just in case, even though Thomas was already 4 now and had full nights. The butler would never just leave him like that, even if his room wasn’t too far. 

Finally, he'd just have to sneak out by...

“DAMDAM !” 

Damian jumped in the air, surprised, and turned around. 

His little brother was right there, in front of him, smiling widely. 

“Thomas ? How did you get here ?” 

“I jumped out of bed, and walked.” 

Thomas said the most natural way ever, as if it was obvious how he got there, while it was almost 1 am and was supposed to be in bed. 

“It’s way past your bed time buddy.” 

“I can’t sleep. Mama and daddy awe not hewe. Cassie and Tim either. Alfwed is sleeping !” 

“Well you should be sleeping too !”

“But I can’t ! I just told you !” 

There was a short silence between the two, and...Oh. Oh he dared. 

Thomas was giving his older brother his world famous “puppy eyes” (a method he directly stole from Damian, of course). And as usual, it worked. 

Damian took his mask off, sighed and said : 

“You want a bed time story ?”

“YES !” 

And without invitation, the boy jumped on his brother’s bed, slipped under the covers, and waited patiently for Damian to go fetch the book they were currently reading. 

“(...) Continuing last entry, (July 23rd)

       And then Thomas fell asleep in my lap, and I realized something. I guess it was good, to have a night off. If I went out, I would’ve never made this important discovery : Tonight, I have learned that to be with the ones I love is enough. And that I do not need to chase after anything else to be happy. 

     It’s a discovery I thought I made long ago, but as I felt more big brother than ever after reading him a story, it truly hit me. Being me, and being with them...It’s enough. I don’t need to have more. And maybe, maybe being a big brother means to simply be there when you feel lonely ? Like Thomas, tonight, as our parents were away, and none of our other siblings were there. Like me too, when I had nightmares and went to hide in Cass, Dick, Jason, or Tim’s bed...whoever was available when mom and dad weren’t. 

       Mom and dad. They do their best. And their best makes them the best parents anyone could wish for. But they have a lot to do, wether in the day or at night. So sometimes, it comes to me. Or to my older siblings, to take care of each others. To take care of Thomas. We have to be there for each others, always. Being a big brother means taking the time to be there. Simple.”

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

“Look Damian, it’s a freakin’ elephant !!”

“Um, what did you say ?”

“It’s a freakin’ elephant !!”

Damian looked around at the disapproving looks he got, and couldn’t care less. Of course, he wasn’t particularly thrilled about his little brother using “freaking” but oh well. It was to be expected, when everyone around him used it (and in some cased *cough* Jason and you *cough* used even worst). 

But as Damian came towards his little brother, he realized something. Something that made him burst out laughing. 

Thomas was starting to read on his own now. 

It was exciting, to witness Thomas’ progress as he slowly but surely learned how to read. And it felt so nice, to participate in said progress. To be there every steps of the way. 

Damian shared the pride Thomas felt whenever he showed his parents how well he’d gotten at reading.

And it was so nice, to see his mom and dad congratulates both of them…Thom because he really started to read well, and Damian for helping him out.

Far were the frustrating days when Thomas was a stubborn toddler that refused to call animals by their “actual names”. 

Damian spend many hours trying to explain to his younger brother that no, mice weren’t called “Mickey” and elephants “Dumbo” ! 

Nowadays, the little boy knew what the animals’ name actually were. Which didn’t mean no incident ever happened…Like today.

It was Thomas’ sixth birthday and he asked to go to the zoo (Damian definitely had an impact on that boy).

“Look Damdam, it’s a freakin’ elephant !!”

The boy said excitedly, pulling his brother’s sleeve and pointing at the elephant’s massive enclosure. Damian shook his head, slightly shocked. 

Not because his brother just called him “Damdam” (it was the nickname Thomas gave him long ago, when he couldn’t pronounce things quite right, and it just stuck), but because Thomas’ words were very much unlike him. 

Their parents were a bit further, being disgustingly cute together, holding hands and all, and trusting Damian to keep an eye on Thomas (they knew he’d never let that kid out of his sight, plus Damian was almost an adult, now, he was responsible…sometimes).

“What did you say, Thomas ?”

“It’s a freakin’ elephant !”

The boy seemed so proud of himself. Damian knew elephants were some of his brother’s favorite animal, but he just couldn’t get over the fact that his precious little brother just used the word “freaking”, even if it really wasn’t a bad one. 

That’s when Damian noticed it. The plaque giving informations about which kind of elephant it was. …His laughter resonated in the entire zoo. Both you and Bruce went to see what happened, and were face by a son shaking with laughter, and another little one that seemed very confused. When you asked what happened, Damian barely manage to say, pointing at the enclosure next to you :

“It’s a freakin’ elephant !”

And there, there came the laughter. 

Yes. Yes it was an “freakin’ elephant”…Or, for those who weren’t as new at reading as Thomas was, an “African elephant. 

Damian later shared what just happened with his older siblings, and they in turn gave him many occurrences of him being naive or such sometimes. 

Like that time Jason made him believe that the hays in fields covered with white plastics were marshmallows’ fields...But instead of being vexed, Damian laughed with them. 

Because that was what being a little sibling meant. And being the older one meant to see the evolution the small one went through, witness it all, and help out. Be there. 

Finally. Finally Damian felt like he truly understood, what it was to be a big brother ? 

**********

“Saturday, July 12th 20??, Thomas : 6 years old. 

          It took me six years, but I think I know now. After countless study and experiment. After spending hours and hours with Thomas. I think I know what it means to be a big brother. 

         First I had to understand what being a sibling meant. And that was easy. I had good model. Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass. They’re the best older siblings you can wish for (after me, of course). They helped me understand so much...Thanks to them, I finally got what it was, to be a sibling. And here it is : 

        Being siblings means our bond is stronger than any outside force, and we always have someone to lean on. It means late night pillow talks, awkward phone conversations, and insane laughter. It means calling each others over for no reason other than to sit in silence or talk for hours about nothing. One minute I'll be talking to one of my brother about Harry Potter, and the next I'll be talking to my sister about the newest music we're listening to. 

        But being an older brother...Being an older brother goes beyond just that. When you’re the youngest, sure you’re there for them, and you help out. But most of the time, you’re the one being helped, and having the most support. While still having fun ? 

        Being an older brother, it's keeping that balance between letting out my inner child (which I didn’t even know I had for the longest time, and was let out thanks to my older siblings at first) but still looking out for my little brother.

       Basically, it means having a free therapist and the greatest confidante you could ask for. I went to my older brothers and sister many times, in time of need. And Thomas comes to me often, too. When it’s things we can’t tell our parents, you know ? 

        Being an older brother means being there for your little one through thick and thin. There were many times I had to stand up for Thomas even when it was difficult, whether it was to our parents or someone else. And there were even more times when Dick, Jason, Tim or Cass stood up for me. 

        But it also means being a little strict at times. I came to realize that when Dick told me to do something, or Tim, or any of them...It came more from the fact they wanted me to not get into trouble than anything else, and that...That I realized with Thomas. Sometimes, you have to tell your little sibling what to do. But some other times, it’s totally ok to let go. 

        Being a big brother means loving and supporting your little sibling no matter who or what they choose to be or do. That’s what my brothers and sister showed me, and my parents too. And that’s what I discovered with my own little brother. So what if we didn’t have all the same interest ?

        Being a big brother means celebrating individuality and being proud of the fact that your little brother/sister is a part of your family. I’m glad we’re all different, with my siblings. And I’ll never make Thomas feel bad for that. It’s good, that he’s the calmest out of all of us, and had a different kind of life.

        Maybe being an older brother means that occasionally, I take advantage of the fact I can tell Thomas what to do (and how easily he listens to me), but...I am his biggest fan. If he falls, I will always pick him back up (right after finishing laughing, like Jason would say). 

        Yes. It took me six years, but I think I finally know what being a big brother means. I’m glad, because this is the last page of this logbook. 

        One day, I think I’ll give it to you, Thomas. Just in case. If you’re going through a tough time, or you’re not sure of who you really are. To remind yourself I went through the same thing. 

        To remind yourself I had to write, for six years, certain important interactions I had with you so I would understand a simple concept such as “being a big brother”.

        And that Dick did too. It wasn’t easy for him to go from a circus life with his parents to Wayne Manor with mom and dad, who were both rather young at the time, and inexperienced. 

         Jason came from the street, rejected by everyone. Do you think it was easy for him to acclimate to a life where he could finally be at peace ? Nope. And then, when he died and came back ? Ask him, and you’ll know. 

         Cass came a long way. Now, she speaks a lot, especially to you. But she used to be “mute”. And had a hard life. You should ask her, sometimes. 

         Tim struggled with being ignored all his life, and then he came in and suddenly had siblings, and “real” parents. Then I came along and fucked things up a bit (don’t swear)...but he came through, understanding what a big brother was supposed to be. 

         We all came through. Mainly because we had each others. So please Thomas, if you ever feel down, just come to me. Or to them. To us. We’re your older siblings, and that what it means. 

          I’m here for you. We’re here for you. Forever.”

The end 

__________________________________________________

So, y’all know I was very nervous about posting this. I hope it wasn’t a total fail and you enjoyed reading it ? Thank you for reading, and as usual, if you liked it and all, comments and reblogs are always more than welcomed :). Here we go. See you next time with another story. Now, I’m going to go hide in a whole out of fear that you guys will hate this and how different it might be from other stories (as it’s mainly Damian/Thomas centric). 

For those who do not know who Thomas is and are curious, here are the stories from my main Batmom timeline in which he appears : The Great Mall adventure, Master of Diaper, Shaky steps and bad teaching, Polichinelle, “Go away, you’re confusing my baby”, How do you make babies ?, Wild Child 2, “We want them back” and After Batmom’s death

CLICK HERE FOR ALTERNATE ENDING 

[hq-letterbox]

Dear Tooru,

Haha I feel like I'm one of your fangirls writing you a letter but actually, I guess I am. How are you? I'm not sure why I'm writing this but I wanted to say that I wish I could hang out with you. There's something about watching you that makes my heart ache. You work so hard to keep up with geniuses and I had given up on doing that when I hit high school and met a fair bit too many. It wasn't until recently I decided to get back in the game and fight for my place with them. Ironically, I didn't like you at first. You strolled onto the court and I rolled my eyes and spent a good bit of time talking about how annoyed I was by you to my brother.

And then, watching you all smiley and friendly contrasted with you spending the night watching rival volleyball games with an obsessive glint in your eyes or act all cute on the court but have moments where your intensity slips through made me a bit misty-eyed and I ended up crying pretty hard when you lost. When I realized you would graduate without ever having going to nationals or winning against Shiratorizawa, I literally whispered 'that's not fair' out loud. I'm not a crier, I'm not emotional in general, but I was upset for you. I think I relate to you? I make myself have a perfect image - charming, confident, pretty, smart, athletic, playful, supportive etc. But, at the end of the day, I question my worth and wonder if I'll ever be good enough. My own family was shocked when I finally confessed about all the pressure I was feeling and putting myself through because they thought I was happy-go-lucky.

I want to be one of the best but I've been unmotivated lately and I think hanging out with you would give me a push forward. This might be super weird but sometimes when I go for my morning runs, I imagine I'm running with you, teasing me as a way to keep me going. I hate hate to admit it, but I think you'd be that popular guy at school that I look like I don't care about but secretly want you to notice me.

It's not like a fangirl's opinion matters or anything but I want to say that, in my eyes, you're better than Kageyama. He works hard as well, but I don't think he gets what it's like to truly grit your teeth and claw to be one of the best. And the fact that you are ambitious but support others to be the best version of themselves is far nicer than I could be.

I wish I could just sit quietly with you on a park bench or something and be comfortable around each other. I'd like to see a real smile and what you're like when you're more serious. You're not my favorite character (sorry Iwa-chan has my heart ^^), but I'm the most unhappy about how I'll never meet you.

Keep doing what you're doing pretty boy and I'll work hard to be a person someone like you would admire.

Love, angel.

[darknessofbnha]

I’m coming

Requested by @todogirl707​ “ Hi! I just stumbled across your blog and I already love it 💞💕uhm the bio said requests were open so if it’s not too much to ask could you please do a scenario fic with todoroki shoto where the reader gets kidnapped ? And then he has to save her? Or something like that ? Again if this is too much feel free to ignore it

Thank you so much for the request and I’m glad you like my works! I hope I won’t disappoint you! 💞💕 

I’ll take the chance to tell you guys that I’m working on the requests. Don’t worry. I just had finals, and still have them, which is why it’s taking time ^^; I don’t think I’ll be refusing requests (unless I’m inexperienced on the topic or extra uncomfortable) so don’t be afraid to go wild haha~ 

Word Count: 2247 Warnings: kidnapping; blood; gore Pairing: Todoroki x Reader

Feedback is deeply appreciated~!

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He would never forget when it happened. The memories wouldn’t even leave him to dream peacefully. They would come crawling and wake him in cold sweat with a shout stuck in his throat.

You were someone he held dear. You had been there for him when he needed support. Never mind how many times he refused, how cold he used to be, you never left his side and stubbornly clung to him. You had overheard his story during his confrontation with Midoriya at the Sports Festival and you weren’t afraid to tell him after it was all over and to once again offer him your support and friendship. He was grateful and before long, his feelings manifested into love. He loved you unconditionally. He didn’t know how to express himself though.

When you got burnt by Dabi while your little group was trying to save Bakugou and Tokoyami during the Training Camp incident, he got so angry with both the villain and himself for not confessing his feelings earlier. The thought of something happening to you and him not being able to tell you that he loved you scared him. So during that night, at the hospital, he held your hand, as you struggled to not fall asleep due to exhaustion, and confessed. It was awkward but also cute and it made you smile and laugh which was more than enough for him. He was happy that he made you happy. And that’s how you started dating.

Everything was so perfect when you moved into the dorms and you two got to spend every minute together.

But the Universe always has to put people through challenges. To test them. And it happened so suddenly that it took your breath away and swept you off your feet.

The news had been blasting about a dangerous villain who managed to kidnap people easily. Nobody knew how or what Quirk he had and it was causing big trouble. What was even more troublesome was that his victims were very young girls, obviously virgins. Rumors were that he was a crazy Satanist using virgin blood to summon demons. Perhaps a bit farfetched but it wouldn’t be surprising if it was the truth considering that the world was full with insane psychopaths.

Your Quirk was powerful – very powerful. It allowed you to manipulate earth and Kirishima often joked and compared you to Toph. Speaking of Kirishima, you were very good friends. Your quirks were compatible as well. He was the best defense and you were the best offense. That’s why the two of you decided to intern together, choosing Fatgum.

“Hey kiddos, what do you say we go out tonight and eat some takoyaki?” grinned the hero and you and Kirishima nodded vigorously while Tamaki only smiled softly in agreement. And the four of you ended up walking and chatting while eating, inhaling the aroma of the street food and absorbing the lively atmosphere. Even though it was night time there were many people out.

“Oh, I’ll go buy some ice cream!” you exclaimed when your eyes landed on the colorful, creamy texture of the ice cream and the boys nodded, telling you their favorite flavors.

“Why don’t you guys go buy some waffles and other sweet things while I get your ice creams? I’m dying for sweets tonight,” you offered and they laughed before walking away. And that’s when you heard it – the most melodic, soothing and beautiful voice.

“Beautiful, sweet girl, come to me,” it swayed on the wind and tickled your ears, beckoning you to follow it. And you did.

“Hey, little lady, where are you going? I’m still not finished with your ice cream!” exclaimed the seller but his voice got drowned. Everything got drowned, fading in the background in the shape of a dull lull as your brain concentrated only on the man calling you.

“There you are. I knew you would come,” came in the voice from your right and you slowly turned your head to look at the man. He was young, tall, very handsome with his sun-kissed skin and light blue hair tied in a low ponytail. Even under the fancy suit the muscles were visible.

Your legs moved on their own. You weren’t sure if you even felt your body at this point. You were completely entranced. You came to stand right in front of him, leaning your head on his chest and closing your eyes, allowing yourself to sink into him when his arms encircled you.

“What a good girl. No resisting whatsoever,” he chuckled and it sent pleasant shivers down your spine.

“Let’s go home.”

｡☆ ❅ ★━━━━ ❅ ━━━━★ ❅ ☆｡

“What do you mean gone?” whispered Shouto and Kirishima sniffed, looking at the ground. “What do you mean gone, Kirishima!?” shouted the boy this time and the redhead grit his teeth, letting the tears fall.

“I-I don’t know! She was with us a-and a few seconds later s-she was just gone!”

When they had returned to the ice cream parlor, you were gone. They had asked the seller but he had been able to only point at the direction you had gone towards. They had run immediately but there had been no sight or sound from you. Nothing.  They had immediately contacted the police. By now it was obvious that you had been kidnapped by the same villain that was terrorizing the town.

Shouto was numb. He stared at his classmate before his eyes moved to the floor, hands clenching so hard that his nails dug into his skin, forming crescents that bled. He was both freezing with fear and burning with anger.

“I have to find her,” he muttered but when he tried to pass through Kirishima, the boy stopped him.

“Are you out of your mind? You can’t do anything! Nobody can! Because no one knows anything about this villain!” cried out the redhead and Todoroki grit his teeth.

“Move,” he grit out as he attempted to pass but Kirishima held him again.

“Todoroki!” before he could say anything else, Shouto threw him the iciest glare. Kirishima and the others, who had been watching the display with tears in their eyes and shaking forms, didn’t even have time to be shocked when Todoroki encased all of their feet in ice.

“That’s not cool, man!”

“Don’t do that, Todoroki-san! It’s dangerous to go out!”

Their shouts fell on deaf ears because at the moment, Shouto’s mind was clouded with the thoughts of finding you and killing the bastard who took you.

He barely got past Aizawa and the Hound, leaving UA grounds and going to the place where everything happened. He narrowed his eyes as he rattled his brain about the possibilities of this villain’s quirk.

“What do you have so far?” he asked himself quietly as his brain brought up all the news he had read so far. Many of the cases were mysterious because nobody was there to see what happened. But there were a few cases when there were witnesses and all reports stated that the girls were going on about their day when all of the sudden they stopped and switched directions, walking towards something or someone as if in a trance. From what the ice cream man had told Kirishima, you had reacted the same way.

“Walking towards the source as if in a trance, huh? Is it like Shinsou’s Quirk then? Mind control?” he mused, rubbing his chin. “But if it was mind control there should’ve been some form of contact. She was surrounded by crowd. What kind of contact can one create in a crowded area. Even if his quirk doesn’t require an answer like Shinsou’s, or eye contact like Aizawa-sensei’s, there still should be some sort of cont-“ he gasped lightly. But of course. It has to be his voice. His right side grew colder and colder, frost seeping from his feet, covering the ground gently and baring footprints.

“Hold on a bit more, Y/N. I’m coming,” he vowed quietly, cold, smoky breath sipping through his lips.

｡☆ ❅ ★━━━━ ❅ ━━━━★ ❅ ☆｡

You hissed, the stinging pain causing you discomfort. It was one thing getting hurt while fighting because the adrenaline was not letting you experience the pain, at least at the beginning, and completely another when someone was slicing at your body with a blade.

“That’s right, princess. Bleed some more for daddy,” he smirked, licking his lips impatiently as he squeezed your wrist, causing the blood to flow harder and making you feel dizzy. How much did he bleed you? Two, three, five times? You didn’t know. But he made sure to do it often because you couldn’t use your quirk in such condition. That and it gave him immense pleasure. You couldn’t understand him. Did he enjoy drinking blood? Was he offering it as a sacrifice? Was it part of his quirk or something? At this point you didn’t care. You knew that you were going to die. Nobody knew anything about this villain. There were only speculations about his quirk. No one would walk through these enormous mahogany doors and put an end to this.

“We’ll continue later. I have something else to do now,” he grinned at you as he left the golden goblet on the cabinet next to you before he moved to the bed and laid down next to what you assumed was a girl. You willed your vision to clear. Yes, it was a girl – probably his previous victim – and she was dead, chest torn open as if the bloody eagle was performed on her, drenching the sheets in red.

“Isn’t blood beautiful? Don’t you want to be surrounded by it all the time?” he asked you and you barely managed to shake your head, a scream of horror trapped in your vocal cords. “Don’t worry your pretty little Y/H/C head. You’ll be joining her soon,” he laughed and a tear slid down your cheek.

And at this moment, the doors burst open, getting completely shattered by sharp shards of ice. Splinters showered the occupants of the room, causing the man to shout enraged.

“Who has the audacity-“ he didn’t get to finish because more ice came towards him. The man evaded gracefully to the left, only to be engulfed in flames, making him scream. Before he could get serious burns, the flames were extinguished and he was quickly encased in ice from head to toe.

“Shouto,” you whimpered and smiled shakily. The boy’s head snapped, eyes widening. He had been so insanely worried but thankfully you seemed to be alright. When he actually reached you and took a good look at you, he realized that, no, you weren’t really ok. You were covered in slices and bleeding. He saw red. He twirled sharply, fully ready to shatter the ice alongside the person trapped in it when your voice stopped him.

“Please, Shouto! It’s not worth it! Don’t put a bad name for yourself before your career has even started!” you pleaded and he gulped, lowering his hand and turning to look back at you. You shot him an encouraging smile, trying to signal him that you were alright. He didn’t say anything as he burned the ropes and scooped you up in his arms. The police and other pro heroes were swarming the place for investigation and arresting the villain. Shouto was angry with himself for taking so long to notify the police of what he found and to formulate a plan. And you could see that he was blaming himself, that he was angry and disappointed with himself. You wouldn’t have that.

“Hey, look at me,” you whispered as you cupped his cheek. That made him stop. The two of you were far from the beeping sirens and the bustling cops. “I’m ok. Nothing happened to me. Just a couple of cuts that Recovery Girl can heal. You did well, Shouto. You saved me. You are my hero,” you told him gently as you snuggled into his chest, hearing his rapid heartbeat that was slowly beginning to calm down. He pressed a kiss to your temple and tightened his hold on you.

“I’ll never let anything happen to you again. I promise,” he murmured and you encircled your arms around his neck, bringing him closer and kissing him on the cheek.

“I’ve no doubt.”

｡☆ ❅ ★━━━━ ❅ ━━━━★ ❅ ☆｡

You were accepted with happy cheers and a cake from your classmates. They literally threw you a party and it made you so happy. They were truly a blessing. Poor Kirishima blamed himself and you had to smack him over the head a few times to get it through his thick skull that he was not to blame.

It was the first few nights that were the problem. The very first night, you had a nightmare and you snuck into Shouto’s room. He had had a nightmare too and gladly accepted you into his embrace.

“I can’t get this girl out of my head. That was… the most horrifying scene I’ve seen. I dream of myself in her stead,” you sniffed and Shouto hugged you tightly as if imagining you melting into his embrace so he could protect you from the world.

“I dream the same,” he admitted quietly and you looked him deeply in the eyes.

“We are going to be ok. As long as we are together, it’s going to be ok,” you whispered hopefully and he gave you a smile – that little pretty smile he had reserved only for you.

“Together then.”

[mieohmy]

drafts... // yjh

to start with: hi everyone again 💕 you can probably tell by the title but sometimes I can’t write shit so I have a bunch of wips/horrible writings that I’ll never finish or just straight up hate -which means I’ll just post them so they can rot away and I never have to look at them again(and no they are not proofread) 🙂

D I S C O N T I N U E D

yoon jeonghan x matchmaker!reader

genre: fluff, humor, angst, strangers-to-lovers?

warnings: cursing

wc: 1.9k

summary: yoon jeonghan- your toughest matchmaking customer yet. flash forward thirteen dates and still insatiable. your only choice is to further investigate the reason behind all his failed attempts....but maybe it’s because he only wants you?

“How was your last date?”

He leans back with a bored sigh. “Uninteresting. She looked like her face was gonna melt with all that makeup on.”

And as much as you were starting to ‘dislike’ his presence here, yoon jeonghan was still your client and a fucking funny one at that.

You press your lips to prevent the laughter and it doesn’t go unnoticed. Neither does the shake of your head to collect your thoughts.

If there was anyone else in the room, literally anyone, they would’ve known exactly who jeonghan wanted really to go on a date with. (Hint hint: actually- no. you don’t even need one.)

“Well, i know she wasn’t the best choice, but we’re running out of options.” You hated forfeiting, but this guy was truly giving a run for your money.

“Are there other choices? Anyone?”

You rub your temple in frustration, scrolling through the options of contenders.

Honestly, you had no clue why he was constantly coming back to your office.

If you’re just gonna reject and complain about every girl, then why are you still here?

But you are indeed a professional- so the only thing you do is smile that polite worker smile and say, “Okay then. There’s another available person that’s willing to go out. Should we try one more time?”

The look on jeonghan’s face is unreadable. It almost makes you nervous. Does he.... does he not want to-?

“Okay,” he simply states.

When he gets up to leave, your eyebrows furrow. But you didn’t have the time to dwell on his strange action when his voice interrupts your further thoughts.

“Just text me the details. I’ll see you soon.”

“Wait-! You don’t even know anything about them....” your voice falters.

After a solid five minutes of making sure he was truly gone, you whip out your phone, furiously typing for the familiar contact on the screen.

“...yes?”

“Josh, I’m fucking quitting my job and moving to Alaska.”

There’s a pause.

“Is it that one guy again?? Jungle juice or whatever?”

“..... his name isn’t even hard to pronounce, and yes. More than 13 dates and jeonghan hasn’t found a single match. You know how stubborn I am but maybe it’s time to give up. I mean, is he just extremely picky or what?? I don’t get it.”

You spin circles in your chair, a perfect representation of how your mind felt.

“I don’t know y/n... could the problem might not be his dates but more him instead?”

The chair stops. “Him? What do you mean?”

The voice on the other line suddenly gets quieter. “I dunno, maybe there’s something wrong with junkyard and that’s why no one wants to date him?

The urge to correct him again is strong but the newfound thought distracts you.

“Huh.... Joshua, you might be onto something. I’ve never had problems with my clients being straight up horrible at dating though. But then again, thirteen failed dates and not a single success?”

You stare at the twirling ceiling. “But he must really want to find love, why else would he keep asking for my services?”  

Joshua’s voice turns suspicious. “You’re right... why else would he keep coming back to you?”

You snap your fingers, the perfect plan in mind. “I’m a genius, josh. I’ll take him out to really see what’s been happening on all the dates. Then we can figure out the problem.”

“So... you’re saying you’re gonna ask him out on a date to see what he’s been doing wrong on his other dates?”

The chair squeaks. “Oh. Uh. I guess so?”

“Okay.... just be careful. See you later.” There’s a certain edge to his voice that you notice.

After the call ends with a beep, you stare at the black phone screen.

Did josh mean something when he said that?

Shrugging it off,  you text jeonghan a few minutes later, surprised when he responds almost immediately.

You hesitantly tell him the reason for the so-called “date”, not expecting him to agree so quickly.

“Jeonghan, I-“ you stop and instead pass him as many tissues as you can, purposely avoiding looking at him and his very much see through shirt.

After a tense silence of just cleaning up, you mutter, “Did you really not wear anything underneath?”

He laughs. “So you were looking?”

“Haha, funny. And no. But when a mad person throws a drink at your white shirt, what do you expect?”

You soften, helping him with all the used wet napkins. You admire his strength to stay calm and not get angry in a situation like this.

“Are you really okay though? Do you have a jacket or anything to cover up with?”

He shakes his head.  

Coughing, you reach behind you, giving jeonghan a sheepish look.

“Well, I brought mine?”

Once you reach your car, you finally bring up what’s been buried in the back of your brain for quite a while, actually.

“Jeonghan.”

He looks at you curiously, your jacket still draped around him.

“Yeah? What’s up?”

You exhale, trying your best to seem unaffected and upbeat.

“I’m sorry. I just don’t think I can help you anymore.”

His heart stops. 

“...what did you say?”

“I think we should stop the whole matchmaking stuff, whatever this is. It’s not working out, which was obviously proven today. How many dates has it been? Why waste your time when we both know that it’s most likely not going to lead to anything?”

You smile, but it looks more like a grimace. “I suggest you find someone else to assist you if you’re that desperate for love. Once again, I’m sorry.”

Even with the feeling of defeat making you sink inside lower and lower, there was just simply nothing else you could do.

And jeonghan watches as you drive off, leaving him alone in the parking lot. The jacket -no, your jacket still wrapped around him, but suddenly it feels a lot colder than before.

But when you thought jeonghan finally left your life for good, he shows up once again, this time at your house.

What’s even worse is that it’s late at night and pouring outside. And you were stuck at home in possible the most embarrassing and ratty clothes to be caught wearing.

“What the hell jeonghan? What are you doing here?”

You examine his soaked body, aghast.

“I came to see you. And return your jacket, but mostly to see you.”

“Did you walk in the rain or something? Go back home. It’s so late -you must be crazy.

“No.”

His hard-set expression only makes you more frustrated.

“Listen. If you’re looking for more help, I can’t do anything. You- yoon jeonghan- are my hardest customer. I really don’t know what you want from me. I’ve tried everything and nothing’s worked.”

You can tell he’s getting increasingly annoyed, eyebrows furrowing and teeth gritting.

That causes you to sigh, arms crossing and uncrossing.

“I’m sorry. You’re just a case I can’t help. It-”

“The case isn’t about me. The case is that I’m in love with you.”

His voice is strained and controlled, like he’s barely able to hold it back.

.....huh?

You stare at each other for a solid minute.

Then comes the uncomfortable feeling of his eyes boring into yours and you feel the urge to close the door.

Unfortunately, that’s the one time your body actually listens to your brain and you swing the door shut in his face.

Even more unfortunately, it takes a minute for you to come back to your senses and let out a horrified, muffled scream.

Your hands scramble to reopen the door again.

There’s no one in sight, only the rain still coming down strong.

“Jeonghan?” you call out tentatively.

You walk out under the safety of your front porch, glancing for any sign of him.

After a couple more seconds of no results, you sigh and turn around to go back inside-

“Oh my god jeonghan.” He was to the side of your door, barely out of your peripheral view.

Jeonghan looks up from his small huddled position on the ground.

The sight of him looking like an abandoned puppy makes your heart squeeze.

Coughing, you attempt to smile feebly.

“I’m so sorry. Please come inside? It’s raining hard and you’re very much wet.”

Luckily he doesn’t protest much and follows you in. You force him to take a shower while you dry his clothes. There was some spare clothes found that might possibly fit him? It was better than nothing. You really did not want to see nothing. you don’t think you could handle that.

It all makes sense. Why he kept coming back to you. Why he was so eager to go out on that fake date with you, even if it was only an experiment.

But that’s not the real question. The real question is, how did you feel?

When the bathroom door finally opens, you start from your anxious seat on the couch.

But when he sits next to you, you slowly feel a wave of anger course through your body-no matter how good he looked.

“Are you stupid?”

His effort to dry his hair with the towel stops with your words.

He only stares at you.

You stand up, snatching the towel from jeonghan and beginning to dry his hair for him.

Quite forcefully, he notes.

Jeonghan heats up from your touch, noticeably getting softer and gentler. On the other hand, you were very much annoyed while also focusing on drying his hair to your best ability.

“Who the hell just goes in the rain like that? And shows up at someone else’s house without notice? And then proceeds to confess their love for them?”

Jeonghan says nothing. Eventually, you finish drying his hair and throw the towel to the side.

“How long?” Your voice is tight, attempting to hold back the emotions. But the look in your eyes is different-desperate, curious. You really just want to know.

This. This isnt what you expected. Your job is to find someone perfect for him, and that someone couldn’t possibly be you yourself, right?

Out of all the people in the world, jeonghan only wants you. That one thought is enough to make you shiver.

For the first in a while, jeonghan speaks up. “Since the first time we met.”

“Stop lying. I know for a fact you don’t give a shit about love at first sight.”

He laughs. “That’s why I like you. You get me, my jokes, and pranks. Basically everything I say and do. Ah, and it was like after three failed dates or whatever. What can I say, I really liked seeing your face after all those boring dates.”

It’s hard for you to hold back a smile.

“Alright, since I believe you this time, I guess I’ll  accept your confession.”

“Wait, what? You like me back?”

“Well,” your voice cracks and you shoot him a crooked grin. “I don’t know, but we can always try?”

He stifles a laugh at your obvious attempt to hide your shyness, looking back at you with a glint in his eyes.

“Okay. Bet.”

Your head tilts in confusion.

“I bet I can get you to fall in love with me in one week,” he says, trademark smirk pasted on his face.

And jeonghan already knows -you’re not one to back down to challenges.

“Oh, it’s on, lover boy.”

a/n: EWWW ALSKJFASL anyways- sorry for typos and yes there are so many random cuts and scenes (ones i liked and didnt want to delete) that probably make no sense since my unproductive ass doesn’t want to rewrite the whole story-like there is nothing going on with this aHA that’s all :) 

[vannminner]

Admin: And if you are open to prompts, may I request something tender like Honey braiding Elsa’s hair for the first time? Elsa experiencing the sensation of letting her guard down to her lover for the first time. Possibly getting emotional? Cram it with mushy kisses if you wish haha. Thank you, I adore your work!

-

A branch snapped in the distance. Elsa turned over her shoulder and a small smile tugged at her lips. 

Honeymaren, fists held tight in frustration, grumbled quietly to herself. She removed her foot from the branch. Her nose wrinkled, and she grit her teeth. 

“Plan not going as anticipated?” Elsa teased. 

Her expression softened. Having been caught, Honeymaren’s shoulders relaxed and she approached the cliffside where Elsa sat. 

“You are always sneaking up on me,” she defended. “-just once, I’d like to be able to make you jump out of your skin.”

Elsa laughed. “You know, that is not the smartest idea... Magic hands, remember? Your plan might end with you freezing permanently into some elaborate ice sculpture of my creation.”

Honeymaren rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Elsa’s attention diverted back to the clearing below. 

It was dusk. The sky flooded with waves of pink, purple, and vibrant oranges. Along her fair skin, Elsa’s complexion painted with colors from the setting sun. Waves reflected off of her, transforming Elsa into mother nature’s living canvas. Honeymaren couldn’t help but stare. 

Slowly, she came to sit besides her. Elsa’s legs drew up into her chest and her feet braced against the rock. Honeymaren mimicked her posture, taking her arms and wrapping them around her own knees. 

“So,” she sang. “What brings you all the way out here so close to supper?”

Shrugging, Elsa’s eyes fixed to the sunset. “Thinking...” she hummed. “It is quiet up here. I needed some time alone to gather my thoughts before heading back down to the village.” 

Honeymaren’s spine pulled straight. Her brows lifted. “Oh, I’m sorry... I should have asked before joining you! I just, I’ll- I can go?” 

She drew up from the rock and made moves to slide away. 

Elsa’s hand caught Honeymaren’s forearm. “No, stay.” she requested. 

Honeymaren considered her briefly. Elsa was looking at her now, her wide eyes almost pleading with her demand. She waited. Elsa didn’t remove her hand. Finally, with a nod, Honeymaren relaxed and returned to sit with legs crossed beside her. 

She reeled in a deep breath. “So... what were we thinking about, then?” Honeymaren asked. 

She pulled away from Elsa. Honeymaren placed her chin in her hand, as her elbow braced against her knee. 

“Arendelle.” Elsa answered shortly. “My sister, to be more specific.”

Honeymaren frowned. “You are missing, Anna. I have noticed you are acting a little different lately.” 

Her head drew into a slow nod. “I didn’t mean for you to pick up on it. I love it up here, I do, but sometimes it hard being so far away from those you care about.”

“Tell me about it,” Honeymaren teased. “Now you know how I feel when you take those long, extended trips to Ahtohallan.” 

Elsa giggled and pushed her shoulder into Honeymaren’s arm.

“I’m kidding!” she grinned. “It’s okay to miss, Anna. I am certain she misses you, too.”

Her lips pulled to the side. A steady frown drew to Elsa’s face. “It is the little things, you know? I miss our nights reading together in front of the fireplace, and midnight snack runs, where we would sneak danish from the pantry without Gerda seeing. Or even the mornings when Anna would come into my bedroom, and brush my hair for what felt like, hours... There are the little moments from our days that I now feel I took for granted.” 

Honeymaren shook her head. “You didn’t take them for granted. You speak as if you are treasuring those moments, right now, and it is really sweet to have you share them with me. And, I promise you, despite the distance, you will still have new moments worth treasuring. As always, you are too hard on yourself, Elsa.” 

Elsa had turned silent. Her thoughts traveled away with the layers of coloured sky before them, and she continued to frown. 

Honeymaren’s expression came to echo Elsa’s. She watched her, feeling a bit helpless that she could not pull Elsa from her stupor. Elsa often dealt with her issues on her own. Honeymaren knew this about her. However, this behaviour was much different than she had come to experience, herself, while growing up in Northuldra. Here, she had always been a part of the village. People moved about their days as a single unit. Honeymaren relied on her people, and they in turn, relied on her. Just once, Honeymaren wanted to show Elsa that she could rely on Northuldra, too. She was a part of their community now, and that came with all the benefits.  

“Here, scootch in.” Honeymaren moved onto her knees.

Elsa’s eyes snapped to her. “What did you just say?”

“Move up.” she tried again. “Scootch in so I can fit behind you.”

“Oh, um...”

Elsa wanted to question her, but something kept her silent. She did as Honeymaren requested, feeling a surprising warmth spread through her waist when Honeymaren slid in at her back. 

“What are you doing?” Elsa asked. Hands moved in softly at her neck. 

“Relax, would you?” Honeymaren scolded her, hiding behind a tiny grin. 

She pulled Elsa’s hair from her shoulders and splayed it against her back. Very gently, Honeymaren’s fingers stoked through each strand. Elsa had gone rigid at the sensation, but after a moment, she began to relax. Her back arched and her shoulders rolled. Elsa leaned her head further into Honeymaren’s hands. 

“That feels nice.” she commended. 

“Well, hang tight. I’ve only just begun.”

Honeymaren’s fingers massaged against her scalp, and she drew her nails down from the top of Elsa’s hairline. Center section in hands, Honeymaren slowly began to braid. 

Her movements were gentle. “You are very good at this.” Elsa felt herself grin. 

“I’ve braided a head or two.” she nonchalantly replied. “There are a few children around here that also enjoy, my magic hands.”

Elsa giggled. “I see what you did there.”

“Thanks,” Honeymaren boasted. “I will be here all night.”

A small sigh pulled from Elsa’s lips. Honeymaren’s fingers had accidently brushed at the base of her neck. 

“Does that hurt?” she worried. 

Elsa gave a small head turn. “Not at all- quite the opposite, really...”

“Good,” Honeymaren moved nearer to Elsa’s back. Warmth trapped between them, and she felt Elsa shiver in response. “I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

“You could never.” she defended. “It’s not in your power.”

Honeymaren didn’t respond. Instead, she finished off Elsa’s center braid before starting in on a second one, just below the hilt of her ear. 

“How did you know this would help take my mind off Anna?” Elsa asked. “You always seem to know how to make me feel better. You must have a gift.”

Honeymaren fought a blush. “You said, Anna likes to brush your hair. I thought, perhaps, by doing this I might be able to bring a little of Arendelle to the forest for you. I don’t know how, or why I make you feel better. I just know I don’t like seeing so sad.”

Silence filtered between them. Honeymaren tied the two smaller braids together, and pulled the center one over where they conjoined. The rest of her hair had been left loose. Honeymaren ran her fingers through the blonde waves, setting them flat against Elsa’s back. 

She was sad when she finished. “There,” Honeymaren feigned a grin. “They’re perfect.”

Elsa wished she could see. Thinking quick, she crafted a small hand-mirror out of ice and angled it over her shoulder. There, she saw the intricate, yet delicate braids Honeymaren had made for her. 

In her white gown, with her shoulders exposed, Elsa felt almost elegant. 

She smiled softly to herself. Elsa pulled the mirror to her face and stared at Honeymaren through the reflection. 

“You’re perfect.” Her lips curled slightly. Elsa was teasing her, and so her eyes turned sheepishly away. 

The mirror suddenly dissipated into thin air. Elsa spun against her rear and turned to fully face Honeymaren. 

She stared back at Elsa. Her expression was curious. There was the spark of something lingering on her lips, that Honeymaren could not identify. It had Elsa’s blue eyes shining brighter than the darkness surfacing behind them. 

“What?” Honeymaren finally asked. 

Forgoing words, Elsa leaned forward. She watched for any sign that she was crossing an unspoken boundary between them. Elsa inched closer towards her face, and she rest her hands on Honeymaren’s knees. 

Honeymaren didn’t move. She’d stopped breathing. Air caught in her lungs and her eyes drove, just a fraction too wide. 

She froze completely when Elsa’s eyes closed. Excitement and panic danced in unison beneath Honeymaren’s shirt. Elsa’s lips brushed against hers- only once, and then she leaned back onto her hands. 

“I’m sorry,” Elsa whispered quickly. Her wavering gaze returned. “I... I have wanted to know for sometime now, how that might feel...”

Honeymaren coughed. She cleared her throat. A steady blush surfaced along her chest, drove up her neck, and settled on her cheeks. 

“I, um, how did it feel?” she stammered. 

Elsa smiled. She shrugged, turning away. “It was... nice.” she dutifully nodded. “I... I liked it.”

“Good.” Honeymaren’s hands pulled into her lap. “I, uh, liked it a lot too.”

She sat back to mimic Elsa. Honeymaren drew her feet between them and pulled her hands behind her waist. Unfortunately, she was closer to the edge than she remembered. Her fingers slipped, weight falling over the curve of the rock, and Honeymaren tumbled backwards onto the ground. 

When she looked up, Elsa was there, looking down at her. She stifled a laugh behind an open hand. 

“Are you alright?” she asked. Elsa stretched down to her. 

Honeymaren’s blush darkened as she stared at Elsa’s waiting hand. When the embarrassment faded, she shook from her shock. She accepted the gesture, and allowed Elsa to pull her back to her feet. 

“I am- I’m fine, surprised, but.. fine.” she blinked rapidly.

“I probably should have given you a warning of some kind... instead of throwing myself at you,” Elsa laughed before continuing. “-but what fun would that have been?”

She slid from the rock, feet landing beside Honeymaren’s. Her face lit with humour.

Honeymaren’s jaw tipped, and she shook her head. “Just another item to add to the list of things I will get you back for someday.”

Elsa shrugged. “You seem to be trying, however, stealth does not always appear to be your strong suit...”    

Rolling her eyes, Honeymaren took Elsa’s hand. “Just you wait, princess. You won’t know when, you won’t know how, but one day I will catch you off guard, and you will be sorry.”

Giggling, Elsa squeezed her palm. “I won’t hold my breath.”

-

Note: I love the idea of Honeymaren being frustrated by Elsa’s constant, sneaking up on her. As we have seen before, Elsa is rather clueless. She is often taken by surprise, while lost in her thoughts. It was fun dabbling with the headcanon that- while Honeymaren is a hunter with unprecedented stealth skills, she cannot sneak up on Elsa; try as she might.

-

Cheers,

-M. 

[slashingdisneypasta]

Hiya! Could I possibly request a Jason the Toymaker x Reader where the reader meets Jason through their younger sibling and offers to be Jason's friend to keep their sibling safe but actually ends up liking him? Thank you so much if you choose to accept my request! ❤

Hey! Ahhhh... I literally wrote this over months and months' worth of time, so I think it gets kinda better as you read on? Haha. Still not totally happy with it but I hope you like it!! So sorry for the wait, I had a lotta trouble figuring out how I was gonna spin it😬😆😅

I really, really hope you like it!! ^^ Thank you, it definetly tested by skills, haha XD

~~~

“Oh my god,” I gasp, a sharp, almost painfully deep intake of cold air paired with a high-pitched noise because I get it. I know what he meant last night when he said he would take him. It didn’t mean to his shop, that I see just ahead, looking like it was just plopped down there on the ground like Dorothy’s house. I whip around and start sprinting back down the road the way I came. He meant wherever he came from, or wherever he’s going next.

And I left Noah at home, alone. “FUCK!” I yell, not caring that the Asian couple strolling down the path the opposite way I’m going startled at the expletive. Jason has made it perfectly clear that he’s not playing around. He’s cut him, he’s kept me in a metal box for a day, he’s taken Noah so many times in the past 2 weeks that he’s cursed our goddamn lives that I’ve learnt quickly to always be on high alert. It is always code red with him around, and now… Gritting my teeth, I force my legs against the air and stupid gravity until I get to the front door, which I lunge at so hard my wrists would probably hurt if I could feel anything except freezing, numb dread and even kick the fucking thing before I’m able to unlock it with the key and throw it open so forcefully that the doorknob slams and dents the wall. “Noah?!”

For a second, theirs no noise and I nearly stop breathing.

Then the tiniest, could-have-been-the-walls-creaking kind of muffled sound breaks the silence and that’s all I need. I rush through the house, and it feels like 2 seconds but still way too long before I find them. Of course, in Noah’s bedroom. Immediately a horrible, angry scowl because I’m so fucking scared, crashes across my face like wretched broken glass, seeing Noah held up in Jason’s arms, one covering his soft little mouth. “Put him down.”

“See, Noah? Told you you shouldn’t make any noise, Y/N’s such a killjoy!” Jason says in a light, casual tone as he ruffles Noah’s hair a little too roughly. His gradually brightening green eyes flash up to mine and make it obvious that he feels the exact opposite of relaxed, though. And poor Noah takes this time without Jason’s hand restricting his mouth to ask me to save him. Like he really believes I can, because I’m his older sibling. Jason rolls his eyes and tightens his arm around Noah’s shoulders, holding him against his chest and not even bothering to support him. “You don’t need to be saved, kiddo. It’s a playdate. Hardly a death sentence… “

“Bullshit.” I say, my brain frozen about what to do. I can try to fight him, sure, but that’s not going to go well. And might put Noah in danger. Jason rolls his eyes and pastes on a fake, sniggering look on his lips. “Go find another kid.” I half bed, half demand, not sure which he might spontaneously start to respond too. I’ve tried everything to deter him these past weeks! But he’s just rotten, right down to his core.

“-Don’t you get demanding with me, you bitch!” He snaps back, immediately, black creeping up the skin of his hands and his eyes glowing way brighter then before, telling me he’s reaching his bursting point anger level, and this is becoming as dangerous as it can get. He tries, to calm down though. Flicks the long, sharp fingers on the hand that isn’t holding up Noah… then loosens his grip on my brother momentarily, deliberately so now he’s holding him up by his neck. Forearm against his little throat. I cover my mouth with my hands in shock, watching Noah struggle and strain in vein. My heart starts to beat faster, sensing the end of this, which cannot be good for me or Noah. “… hah.” The monster stretches his neck out, rolling his shoulders. Hair turning a shocking white. “Hate to get pissed like this but you know not to talk to me like that, sunshine.”

… okay. This is the end. The rumours said that when Jason’s true colours come out, that’s when it’s over. Noah and I are not getting away from this.

I don’t have a choice anymore, like I even did in the first place… So stupid. Plan Z.

The funny thing is that now, when I should be the most afraid, I’m absolutely calm. I hold my hands up in surrender, dropping the tension in my shoulders entirely. “Okay, I’m sorry.” At least Noah will be safe. That’s the point. Jason, sensing something new, raises an eyebrow and tilts his head. “I won’t ever disrespect you again.” I love my brother so much. I would’ve done this in a heartbeat in the very beginning, if I hadn’t known that this, giving myself up, would also hurt him. I just… I don’t have any more ideas. If this means Noah will survive and he’ll grow up safe, with the chance to be happy? Then it’s worth it. I step towards them, slowly. “I’ll be kind to you, and I’ll play with you. And I’ll never leave you.” Jason’s second eyebrow meets the first halfway up his forehead. “I’ll be the perfect friend- I mean, what does a kid know about being the perfect best friend anyway? They’ll always make mistakes, Jason, and aren’t you tired of looking?” When I reach them, I swoop down and hook an arm under Noahs butt, holding him up so Jason’s choke hold doesn’t hurt anymore. But I don’t take my eyes off Jason’s, watching the understanding and agreement dance across them, both in horror and relief. It’s working. I’m so afraid, and I’m so glad, that it’s working. “I’ll be your friend instead. Just let Noah stay safe, in his home. And promise you’ll never see him, or have him hurt, ever again.”

“What makes you think you’re in a position to make demands like that?”

“Because I’m giving you what you want. No resistance this time, doesn’t… doesn’t that sound good?”

Please. Please, please, please. That’s all I can think now. Just please.

Please let this work, please let him agree. Please let him let Noah go, please let Noah forget me. Please let him live a long and happy life. I love you Noah, be happy. Please.

Then suddenly Jason’s eyes flash and turn into a brilliant golden colour, his hair goes back to red and the black, corrupted mould that had infected his skin crept down to the tips of his fingers and dappled away. He smiles.

“I’m willing to take that risk! It might work, actually!” Jason lets go of Noah, raising his hands up to either side of his head, in surrender, as I take Noah entirely into my arms and his little arms wrap around my neck. Jason almost looks like a level headed and understanding guy, as he backs off now. I turn Noah’s body away from him, looking reproachfully at the being, whatever he is.

“D-… deal then.” I state, offering a hand to Jason to shake. “Noah lives a happy life, not any longer or shorter than it was meant to be.”

Jason jumps, making me jolt in surprise and encloses his hand around mine, shaking enthusiastically- but I can see the evil glint still in his eyes and in his smirk. “’Course! You’re gonna love it Y/N, I promise. I knew you had a little something better in you, less moody and not a stick in the mud. In fact! I’m so on board, have a couple minutes alone with Noah. I’ll just be in the hall.”

With that he lets go of my hand, but his presence stays with me even once he’s gone out and into the hall. Like when you’re in the hospital, or at school, and your parent is outside the door while the doctor or the teacher sees you privately. Except, much, scarier. My stomach’s full of dread.

Finally I turn to Noah and see someone safe and I know I did the right thing. Still, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I have to go. “Okay little bro. Mum and Dad’ll be home later tonight.” I start, setting him down on his bed and leaning down to him instead of looking down at him. His eyes are wide, and full of fear. And I force myself to look at them because it’ll be the last time. Oh god, it hurts. Tearing my gaze away for a moment, I point to the clock. “When the little hand touches the 5 and the big hand touches the 12- that’s when they should be home. If not, make sure all the doors are locked-actually, as soon as I leave, make sure they’re locked, -, turn on the TV, get comfy on the couch and make some two minute noodles. Here’s my phone; Call them if you want, whenever. Keep it charged. Remember to get the police, the doctors, or the firemen then you need to call 000/911/ (Insert your countries emergency phone number). Our address is on the fridge, they’ll be patient with you so please don’t worry about that. Ummm… “I try to say everything calmly, and clearly so he understands but now my voice is starting to tremble because he’s started to cry. “I love you so, so much Noah. Please remember that I will be okay, you don’t need to worry. I’ll miss you, and I wish I could be with you but this is for the best, okay? This is not your fault, I love you. Be happy when you can, okay?” I lean in and give him the tightest hug ever, then pull back and let him go for the last time.

Finally, I blow him a kiss and leave the room.

___TIME SKIP: 3 Years___

Slowly joining the conscious world again, I feel hard floor under my shoulder blades and groan, remembering where I fell asleep. Stupid Jason making me play trains until we fell asleep- not to say it wasn’t fun, but couldn’t we have situated some pillows under me or something? Opening my eyes, I turn my head on the floor and see the monster himself.

Red hair a mess of streaks and rivers around his head and over his forehead, he’s fallen asleep on his back too, the trains still between us. Groaning again, I pull myself up from the floor into a sitting position and roll my shoulders back to relieve the stiffness. “Shhh, I’m still sleeping.”

“Time to get up now, its like lunchtime.” Smirking, I slowly stretch my arms forward, linking my fingers together as I do so. He’s an idiot.

“I disagree.”

“Are we gonna do this?”

“Me disagreeing?”

“Yes.”

He rolls over onto his side, sticking his hands under his head as if they could ever match the comfort of a pillow. “Then yes.” I roll my eyes at him, getting up and hobbling to my room.

A couple hours later, I’ve taken a 45 minute shower and warmed up my joints again and am just flipping through Pinterest in my room, when Jason finally decides to join the land of the living- slamming the door open suddenly so hard that wall behind it cracks open. “Goodmorning Y/N!”

“Its 3pm.”

“Time is a construct!” He rounds the room, stops by me as I sit calmly on my bed with my iPad on my legs, then leans down with his arms folded behind his back. His grin is wicked. “Anyway, we have places to be- Let’s go!” With his usual level of rudeness and eccentricity, he grabs my wrists and flies off out of the house.

With me just managing to not have my arm ripped off.

When I actually have our pace under control and not in danger of losing one of my most important limbs, I look around and the street that we’re on is… unnervingly familiar. I know exactly where we are, immediately.

I nearly stop dead in my tracks when the street I used to live on comes into view. “Where are we going? Jason? Jason! Where!” We’re getting closer, and I’m starting to panic. “Are! We! Going!? Where are we-”

“If you would stop asking that same question over and over, I would tell you!” He snaps, causing me to shrink back and stop trying to wrench my wrist out of his grip. Okay, point taken grumpy gills. “We’re going to check on Noah.”

Immediately blind, horrendous panic spreads to every little crevasse in me. I think the worst and I try even harder to get away; Yanking my arm so hard that Jason’s yoinked back a few whole feet. “No! You promised; We had a deal!”

He growls down at me through his teeth after quickly recovering from the shock of being yanked back. “Come on, you’ll see.”

“No!” I don’t know anything else to say but no. Nothing else that comes to mind properly describes how I’m thinking and feeling. I just want him to know, NO! No, we can’t go see Noah, no he can’t hurt him, so no. No, no, no!

He keeps on dragging me, all down the street and past my old house which I don’t care to even glance at, to a skatepark. When we stop under the shade of a tree, in the park right by the skating area where surely no one who’s skating will glance over and see us with any clarity, Jason looks over at my terrified expression and tilts his head. He looks strained. “Now, are you going to behave and let us have a looky-loo, or am I going to have to keep holding your hand, like a baby?”

I just feel stuck, and shaking. All that comes out of my mouth is a shaky, squeaky, as I’m sure I like a terrified baby bird. “No.”

He nods his head side to side for a moment and let’s go of me, crossing his arms over chest instead. “Fine, I guess that’ll do.” He rolls his eyes. “Now look over at the skaters, one of them will be familiar.”

I look over, and immediately search the helmet wearing boys for Noah. I search the face of every sweaty, lanky boy here but goddamnit, its hard! They’re all zooming all over the place, I can barely search their features. Its hard enough, since I haven’t seen Noah for 3 years!

“I… I don’t see him.” I force out, still in the squeaky, strained voice from before.

Jason’s strong hand finds my head, and turns it like a peanut butter lid carefully to the left. I keep looking immediately forward, until-

I find him.

Or, her, now.

I look at those eyes, the same as mine, and I know that the girl at the top of the curve with a Marvin the Martian skateboard is my sibling. She’s safe, and she’s smiling, and a lump grows in my throat as I watch her for whole minutes without blinking.

Slowly, I raise my hands to my mouth, tears clouding my vision so much that all Noah is, is a bright pink helmet flying all over the place. I wipe my eyes quickly, turning to look up at Jason. He’s watching Noah, or whatever her name is now, and looks bored of course. He’s never happy when he isn’t doing what he wants.  

But he came here. He brought me here. He did this for me, even though he’s bored.

All the love and the happiness I feel about him comes rushing at me all at once. These past few years were hard, yes. Absolutely yes, it’s a nuclear yes to that, but Jason has also been… an oddly wonderful friend. The way we got here was wrong, and it will always be wrong because of that and I’m never going to think otherwise, but -and this is not even really a ‘but’, because nothing will ever make what he did to me and to Noah even the slightest bit okay. It’s just a… its other feelings. Unrelated feelings that overlap the hatred and the fear, that sometimes, a lot of the time, stand out more, - there has been a certain overwhelming magic about my new life with him.

My eyes fill up with tears instantly, all over again. “Thank you, Jason.”

“Yeah, okay, great. Whatever. Can we go somewhere better, now?”

“Just a little longer?”

“I’m gonna go make a daisy chain for you.”

[pastellhunny]

•Under the Red Sky•

Chapter 1. The Introduction

Alastor walked mindlessly down the side walk of a crimson world with an everlasting smile upon his lips. His golden yellow teeth sharp as razors always glaring at passerby's. With all the killing he could do Alastor found himself to be quite bored with things nothing that interesting has happened besides his normal day to day things like talking to Rosie and laughing about the other low life's flooding into hell. That's the thing though instead of evil and tormented petrified souls coming to the place they belong in they're getting fished out like side dishes at an all you can eat buffet. The yearly purge or "cleanse" as it's called due to overcrowding flushes out hundreds upon hundreds of demons every 666 days. Alastors smile stretched as he remembered that the all mighty god and his children orchestrate this event. "How pitiful" Alastor thought to himself. A God who destroys his own misbehaved children by having his well behaved children wipe them out of existence. Ironic maybe..

Alastors thoughts were interrupted by the sound of static and a female voice singing, an annoying sound to him at most, the tv static not the singing. Thanks to his "pal" Vox just hearing the incoherent noises a tv makes in it's void of connection makes him wretch. But still with a smile on his face he turned to the source. Almost instantly demons crowded around the class that guarded the tvs. A flicker of intrigue shined through the red demons florescent eyes as he looked on at the screens. A closer look was indeed needed as the princess of hell herself was beaming upon the screens. Alastor stepped forward his presence alone sent chills down the other demons spines as they swiftly moved away from the radio demon. On the screen the princess of hell seemed to have been promoting that new hotel that was built. yet she was singing about a "happy hotel?" Alastor laughed to himself, "What and absolute sham.." Yet Alastor couldn't shake the feeling of interest the young demoness sparked within him. He certainly couldn't resist after a quite hilarious fight broke out between the princess and one of the demon news reporters. "Oh what a nasty brawl wish i were there in person to see!" Alastor yet again laughed to himself, his mind was made up and his boredom seemed to be quenched, it had found its next source.

Charlie returned back to the hotel which in a sense was her home. Well especially since she lived there after all. After a sh!t show that was the news broadcasts only meant to promote he hotel she felt quite terrible. An overbearing feeling of dread filled her as she suspected her fathers words to be true. Vaggie and Angel were getting into it so charlie just slipped out the front door to make a quick call to her mother. Not that her mother would return it, it just felt nice to at least pretend like someone was listening to her.

Little did she know someone was listening to her. Alastor had arrived at just the right time to see a gleam of dispair shine through the usual happy and giddy princess. A side he figured lingered within her like everyone else but seeing a lady cry never made Alastor happy. Alastor stood proper and prim as he made his way over to the damsel in distress only to have her turn and shut the door on his nose as soon as he reached out to tap her on the shoulder.

Charlie walked back inside and closed the door but not a second later a knock came to the door with the sound of radio static outside. Charlie's eyes widened as she carefully reached for the and opened it to reveal a demon in a red suit and color scheme.

"Hell-" the door closed but charlie's opened it again to make sure what she saw was real.

"lo!-" she closed it again.

"Oh god." she said aloud to herself. She opened the door slowly this time and peered her head around it carefully.

"May i speak now?" the Radio demon said as his smile widened. His eyes lowered to her soft rosy cheeks. "what a sight" Alastor thought.

"Um you may but can i ask are you here to be redeemed?" Charlie asked with a glint of hope and a little smile on her face.

Alastor noticed this little smile it made his eyes soften for a moment before he went back to his usual demeanor. He opened the door with a burst of energy letting himself in. "HAHAHhaha, no ofcourse not my dear!"

Charlie was a bit bewildered, "Then why are you here? Please if you've come to mock me you can let yourself out i know you've probably seen the news anyway." Charlie said as she gestured towards the door with a bit of sadness in her voice.

"What? No ofcourse i don't want to mock you my dear! Why that show was quite entertaining and it's just what i was looking for!" Alastor beamed as he projected his voice enough for the other patrons, aka Angel and Vaggie, to hear.

"Oh yeah and what's that?" Charlie asked referring to what he was searching for.

"Why something to cure my boredom you devilish girl!~" Alastor said whilst spinning round charlie and ending with an arm around her shoulder and his face awfully close to hers

Charlie blushed at the sudden closeness and creeped her way back to her own little bubble. "So you're gonna help with the hotel just cause you're bored?"

"Precisely! Let's call this investment for my entertainment." Al said with a big showy smile on his face once again leaning down to meet charlie's gaze and popping her little personal bubble of space. "I want to watch the scum of the earth and all sinners alike climb the ladder of redemption only to fall back down in the firery pit of failure" Al finished with a red glow in his eyes along with an amused expression at the very thought of it.

"Um Yeah." Charlie brushes off nervously. Just then the other patrons, aka Vaggie and Angel come scurrying you're see who the new person was.

"Oh hey guys." Charlie said with a nervous smile as the tall red demon loomed over her and stared at the other patrons with a sickening smile.

"Oh charlie tell me you did not just make a deal with the radio demon!?" Vaggie blurred out as she drew her spear and pointed it at Al.

"No no relax Vaggie i didn't make any-"

"Unless you'd like to make a deal my dear!" Al quickly proposed as his brow furrowed and his smile widened.

"NO no no deals! Okay?" if charlie knew anything it was to not make any deals with a demon let alone the radio demon himself.

Angel piped in with a little giggle, "What? you scared of this guy. He looks like a strawberry pimp HA!"

Vaggie slapped Angel on one of his arms, "Show some respect he could kill us in the blink of an eye." she said quietly as she gritted her teeth.

A little rumble of static sifted its way through the air around Alastor not before stopping the moment Charlie turn to Al suspiciously.

"Okay so no deals but by the power and status invested in me i hear by ask you to stay and aid the hotel.. for as long as you'd like... and no tricks or voodoo magic or anything got it." Charlie finished as she eyed Alastor up and down.

"You have my word my dear." Al said with an unusually more sinister smile than before. Little did Charlie know his shadow had its claws crossed. Al stood confident as he forged an idea of what exactly he could obtain from this little adventure with the princess. His smile grew ever so widely, his pupils small he had somewhat of a deranged look in his eyes as he realized what he really wanted to do. He laughed to himself quietly as Vaggie and Charlie talked back and forth about their situation. "Those angels will get what they deserve and so will the big man upstairs." and with that thought Al stepped forward and swooped his arm around Charlie as he pulled her forward and away from Vaggie. "Now come my dear enough of this senseless bickering its time to do business!"

(So the rest just follows in suit to what happens in the pilot, like Alastor bringing Nifty and Husk into the whole ordeal.)(to note Charlie and Vaggie are not together in this au but still are really close friends)

A few weeks have passed since Alastor joined the gang. No other demon has showed up to the hotel other than to maybe throw food or make fun of the mere idea of the hotel. Funny thing is even if Alastor has no care for the cause he still scared the living daylights out of anyone trying to tarnesh the hotel and its name. On the outside could be mistaken for Alastors boredom getting the better of him, afterall demon hunting was a fun hobby of his. Yet perhaps it was something deeper than that that kept him around going out of his way to do things for the hotel. Besides what Alastor was plotting, the hotel was rather enjoyable especially when the princess would be around him. He did enjoy her company though and found himself to do things in her favor. Maybe just to please her to get closer to her and his goal or rather something else. Alastor shook away his thoughts when he saw the young princess scurrying around like a madman. "What is she up to?"

Al snuck up behind Charlie as she fumbled around with books looking to be some sort of old phone books.

"My dear may i ask what you're doing?" Alastor said whilst leaning over with a curious grin on his face.

Charlie jumped in surprise, "Oh god you scared me Al"

Al huh a new nickname for him but he didn't appose to the sudden change. He kinda liked how comfortable she was getting.

"I'm just uh sorting through some old phone books to see if i can rent out a place for the hotel" Charlie said as she flipped through pages.

"Space? Don't we have enough of that here! haha" Alastor joked while he spun and gestured to the wide open space of the main area.

"Yes but it's not preferable for dancing." Charlie laughed with a little smile.

A sudden radio blip crackled through Alastor.

Charlie thought to herself "Did that startled him?"

"Dancing? DANCING? Why my dear no need to waste money this room exact is perfect for a ball. Why i'll have this place ready in no time for you my dear-"

Charlie jumped up and put her arms on Als shoulder for just a second then retracted them a little out of fear but just to calm him down. "Hey, hey that's okay look i know we have plenty of room i just don't want the hotel trashed by people who don't even care about it."

Al noticed the sudden jerk of her arms when they retreated. Another blip cracked through him with a little static as he tilted his head to the side with a smile. For a moment Charlie mistook it for sadness in his smile but when she looked again it was gone and back to its normal sinister self.

Alastor hummed in response then took up a few books.

"Hey i need those?" Charlie said with a confused look on her face.

Angel who was passed out at the bar awoke to a giant book being slammed next to his face.

"AGHHHHHHH jeez what'd you do that for smiles?!" Angel cried as he jumped up from his nap.

"Hey you insulant porn star help Charlie look for a dance room or so help me." Alastor threatened as static loomed around him and radio cracks and blips seemed through but this was to no avail.

"Yes sir, i like it when you take charge~" Angel commented with a perverted joke as always and a wide smug smile present on his face.

Alastor pretended he didn't hear that and reluctantly went over to Vaggie. Him and Vaggie haven't gotten along in the slightest since his arrival at the hotel. He glared at her as he handed her the book, Vaggie sneered at him as she took the book from his grasp. And with that Al gave a book to both Husk and Nifty and had the whole hotel staff searching for a place.

⎯

part 2 part 3

[seasonofthegeek]

Somebody You Loved

This drabble was requested by @27percentonrottentomatoes through ko-fi for some angsty Chloe/Nathaniel with the song “Somebody You Loved” by Lewis Capaldi as inspiration. You wanted the pain, sweets, so here we go, haha.

___

“So after everything, this is it then? You’re done, just like that?” Chloe crossed her arms as Nathaniel pulled another scruffy suitcase out of the depths of the closet. 

He paused to looked up at her and his expression was pained. “Do you really not understand what you did to me tonight, Chloe?”

“I can’t believe you’re taking it this seriously. I told you I was just teasing you about your art.”

“You teased me in front of a gallery full of people. People who came to see my art.” His cheeks flushed with anger. “I finally got up the courage to put my stuff on display, to put myself out there,” he clutched at his heart as if his hand was the only thing keeping it in his chest, “and you mocked me in front of everyone.” His face crumpled. “You know what each piece has meant to me and you were so cruel. You told complete strangers some of my deepest, darkest thoughts like it was no big deal. You made light of it all.”

She shifted uncomfortably, wishing she’d taken off her high heels before they’d started the fight. She couldn’t very well do it now. Nathaniel was actually upset. She hadn’t expected... No. She’d known what she was doing when she did it. If there was anything Chloe Bourgeois excelled at, it was self-sabotage.

“I didn’t mean...I was...I didn’t expect it to bother me so much to see you and Marc together at the gallery so I may have acted out a little.”

Nathaniel shook his head and unzipped the suitcase. He turned to the chest of drawers behind him and opened the third one to start taking out his shirts. “I’ve told you so many times that we’re just friends.”

“He’s in love with you! Why can’t you see that?!” Chloe felt all the insecurities she kept bottled up start to spew out like a soda can that had been shaken a little too much. 

He dropped a stack of shirts in the suitcase and dropped his head. “I don’t think he is but even if he was...Chlo, I love you. That’s all that should matter. You were the one I wanted.” He met her eyes with sadness filling his. “But I just can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep making excuses for you.”

“Making excuses for me,” she echoed. “What’s that mean?”

“I have friends who can’t understand how we’re together. They think you’re selfish and petty and spoiled, and I always thought they just didn’t know you the way I did, but maybe I’m the one who was wrong. I thought I saw something in you that was different, but...” He trailed off and returned to packing.

Fear rushed through her like a flood and she crossed the room, gripping his arm so he couldn’t life another stack of shirts. “Please don’t do this, Nath. Please don’t leave,” she begged. “I know...I know I was a bitch. I know I’m a bitch a lot, but I can be better. I’m trying to be better.”

His shoulders dropped. “I just don’t know if I can believe you. You really hurt me tonight. I don’t know if you get how I feel right now.”

“You can tell people my secrets. We’ll be even.” She knew she was crying now and she wiped at the tears in irritation. She hated crying in front of anyone, even Nathaniel. 

He shook his head sadly and pulled away from her enough to grab the shirts. “I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to hurt you. That’s not how you treat people you love.”

The accusation in his unsaid words felt like a brick in Chloe’s stomach. She wanted to fight him. She wanted to scream and tell him to stop being stupid. She wanted to guilt him into staying, to belittle him into bending to her will. She wanted to...

She wiped at her eyes again as fresh tears welled up. “Will you come back?” she asked, straightening her spine even as her voice shook.

He paused in packing a set of pants and finally looked back at her. “I’m not sure.”

Chloe nodded and swallowed against the lump in her throat. “Okay.”

There was nowhere she could hide in the apartment that he might not find her before he left so Chloe grabbed her purse and quietly let herself out the door without another word. She walked the darkened streets numbly, uncaring that it wasn’t safe, and when Chat Noir found her hunched over and crying on a bench in the park, she didn’t fight him when he took her back to his apartment.

___

“You want coffee?” Adrien offered, holding out a cup.

Chloe took it without comment and stared at the steam rising up from the dark liquid. Her head ached and her eyes felt puffy and her neck was strained from sleeping on his couch the night before. 

“Are you ready to talk about it?”

“Nathaniel left me.”

“Oh.” Adrien frowned and settled into the armchair beside her. “I’m sorry.”

“I deserved it.”

“Chloe, I don’t think--”

“I deserved it,” she repeated. “And I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

His brow furrowed but he nodded and settled back into his chair. “Okay,” he said softly. “I’m here if you change your mind.”

___

It took two more nights on Adrien’s couch and a comment from Alix about how she looked even worse than she smelled that finally convinced Chloe to go back to her apartment. 

The light was on just inside the door because Nathaniel always left the light on for her when he knew she was getting in late. She didn’t bother turning it off as she walked further into the apartment. 

She expected it to feel empty, but it didn’t. All the furniture was still in place because it had all been hers. Their bedroom looked mostly the same, though the bit of the closet she could see through the half-open door was less full than it had been. The bed was even still made from the morning before the art show, but the top cover was mussed at the end where the suitcase had been. Chloe ran her hand along the bumps of fabric without smoothing them out.

She moved on to the bathroom like a ghost haunting a place long abandoned and noted the missing razor and shaving cream from the shelf below the mirror. Only one toothbrush was in the cup now and her stick of deodorant stood alone. She stared into her reflection and couldn’t rally any kind of feeling. She was numb.

“You did it again,” she murmured. “Congratulations on being utterly unlovable.”

___

“I don’t know why I’m here,” Chloe said, crossing her arms. “This was probably a mistake.”

The therapist gave her a gentle smile. “It’s okay not to know why you reached out, Chloe, but the fact that you reached out is a good sign. You know you need help and it’s okay to admit that.”

She gritted her teeth and held back the instant retort that sprung to the tip of her tongue.

“I see in your questionnaire that you recently went through a break-up. Would you like to talk about that?”

Chloe clenched her jaw. “No.”

“Okay,” the therapist nodded. “May I ask if it was your first serious relationship?”

She blinked in surprise. “Uh, yeah, it was.”

“I see.”

“I never really cared about anyone before...him.”

“That can make it doubly hard,” the older woman nodded. “Especially if you’ve opened up to that person.”

“Yeah.” Chloe dropped her hands to her lap and looked at the uneven nails. She’d really been letting herself go. “I just...I think I thought he actually saw me, the me I wish I was.” She scowled. “That probably doesn’t make sense.”

“I think it makes perfect sense.”

She dared a glance at the therapist but quickly dropped her eyes. There was no way she was going to get through this if she kept reminding herself of the stranger across from her, but she somehow hoped this could be penance for what she’d done to Nathaniel. “If he saw that version of me and still left, I must be even worse than I thought.” She hadn’t meant to let the words come out. They’d floated through her mind and before she realized it, they were whispering out from between her lips.

“What version of Chloe do you want to be?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you could sit down and make of list of attributes you wish others saw in you, what would they be?”

Her face screwed up in thought. “I guess I just want to be me, but a version of me who doesn’t screw everything up.”

“How do you think you screw things up?”

“I’m mean. I know how to hurt people with my words and I do it.” Tears stung her eyes and she ignored them. They were so familiar now. 

“Why do you think you do that?”

“I don’t know,” she huffed. “Aren’t you supposed to know why my brain does stupid stuff? I’m going to be paying you enough to.”

The therapist gave her a patient nod. “I can draw my own theories, but you’re the one who knows yourself best, Chloe.”

“People never really seem to like me,” she finally answered after a long stretch of silence. “Even when I’m trying, they don’t...I’ve just never been that person people want to talk to, so I found other ways to get attention, I guess.”

“By saying and doing mean things?”

“Yeah.” Chloe shrugged. “I thought I was getting past it and then...I thought I was going to lose Nathaniel to someone else and kinda freaked out and just...just word vomited all over the place. I wanted to hurt him before he could hurt me.”

“And that’s why he left?”

“Yeah, not the best plan, but definitely a norm for me.”

“What made Nathaniel different from the other people in your life?”

Chloe froze, realizing she’d been talking about her relationship when she’d said she didn’t want to before. She was tempted to shut down and refuse to answer, but she’d come here willingly and she may as well try. She had nothing else to lose.

“He felt safe, I think.”

“And do you think you loved him before or after you realized he made you feel safe?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

Her therapist nodded and made a note on her pad. “That’s okay. Sometimes we don’t know why we do the things we do, and sometimes we can figure it out after a while.”

“And you think this can help me be better?” Chloe asked, voice small.

“I think you wanting to come here and try is already a sign that you’re on your way.”

___

Chloe had been in therapy for two months when Nathaniel contacted her about meeting up for coffee. She’d read the simple text at least a hundred times before she replied that she needed more time. After a day of anxiety-ridden waiting, he replied back that he could wait.

She wasn’t sure if she’d be ready to be in a relationship again anytime soon. She still had her demons to slay and the fear that she would revert into the version of herself she was trying to bury jumped to the forefront of her mind. She needed to be better for herself before she could worry about anyone else; she wanted to be better for herself. But she couldn’t obsess over that. Change didn’t come all at once.

She would take everything one day at a time. That’s all she could do.

And with a little hope and an effort to be the version of herself she wanted to be, she could make it. She would make it.

Buy me a cherry coke?