#my brain is so god damn huge and full of bullshit

[shame-kink]

Every time someone calls cult of the lamb horror one of my fingernails wilts. Like not to insult the game -I LIKE the game but since when does the presence of (mostly implied) violence and like. monsters existing in a combat setting constitute horror. Binding of Isaac isn't horror even though its probably been scarier at least ONCE -/1

[stormxpadme]

“God… I want more… Give me more…” for the prompts, whoever you want? Thanks!

erotic sentence starters. “God… I want more… Give me more…” | Clint/Tony

“God … I want more … Give me more …”

"You're not the one calling the shots in here, slut." Unfazed both by the half-hearted order and the desperation in his sub's voice, Tony dragged the control switch projected into the air right in front of him to the right, thus abruptly ending the vibrations of the small plastic toy he'd strapped to Clint's caged cock.

The look he was given from where his lover was tied to the bed would probably have made lesser men cringe. But after having spent the better part of a movie night with the other team members with a quart's worth of a soap enema and four huge vibrating beads to top it off inside already, Clint was wise enough to keep his big mouth shut. Tony had only just allowed him a badly needed bathroom break once they'd reached their joint living room floor - only after Clint had spent their first fifteen minutes alone sucking him off on his knees, of course. After a couple of months or so of this loose sexual slash semi-romantic arrangement between them, Clint knew very well that Tony wasn't beneath starting everything all over if he took his little rebellious streak too far. "Please?" That charming whine in his lust-roughened voice and a genuine look of raw need from those grey-blue eyes under tear-crusted lids was a so much hotter sight, and almost enough to break Tony's resolve for a moment, too.

Then he remembered again, Clint had thrown himself off another damn roof in the morning and that it was only thanks to Sam's quick reflexes that the guy was happily suffering away in Tony's bed right now instead of some coroner sewing what was left of him together for the funeral. His expression hardened again immediately. "JARVIS, stage 4."

Clint let out another weakly protesting mewl and then a half turned-on, half tortured moan, fighting in vain the soft ropes with which Tony had tied his widely spread thighs and ankles to the headboard. None of which stopped the new toy that Tony had thrust into his deliciously loose hole after cleaning him out from growing another inch or so in size and length and its slowly, quietly rotating movements audibly turning to a far harsher, irregular rhythm of drumming Clint's oversensitive prostate. Clint's reddened cock was twitching in its metal rings in about the same rhythm, more and more drops of white dripping from around the thick sound stuffed into it that prevented any release even more effectively than the sturdy rings separating Clint's equally swollen balls from his body. "Tony ..."

"What's the matter, bird brain?" Doing his best to not bat a lid though his own untouched arousal was uncomfortably rubbing against the inside of his jeans at this point, Tony reached for his half full whiskey glass and took an uninterested, shallow sip, his eyes never leaving the clouded, wide open ones seeking his gaze from across the room. "Not enough adrenaline for you yet? Not close enough to your limits? I could swear you already had your daily dose of that before breakfast."

"That was not about adrenaline, that w..." Clint gasped, the ability of coherent speech already leaving him again when Tony swiped the controls for his vibrator to the left again, leaving now all of his most sensitive spots to intense stimulation without having to lift a finger himself. Which had to make that cruel pressure of unsatisfied lust burning in his lover's veins almost unbearable. "Not ... only adrenaline," Clint somehow gritted out, writhing in his bonds, tanned skin flush and covered in a bright sheen of salt while he fought to stay somehow lucid enough to explain himself, this time without trying to bullshit Tony, at least. "Couldn't make the shot from that roof. That HYDRA asshole aimed right at you. Had a ... Goddamnit, Tony! ... He had a fucking EMP bomb, okay? If he'd hit you ..."

"Then I'd had three failsafe functions in my suit alone, and that's before Rhodey flies in to catch my ass," Tony interrupted him gruffly, but at least no longer that strict. With a deep sigh, he took another sip of his drink, making a mental note to force his dumb lover into more strategic training and debriefings from now on, no matter how much more fun it was, fucking the frustration and hurt and excess energy after missions away. It had still been a fucking stupid mistake, but an honest one; Tony decided that was good enough an excuse to end Clint's suffering at least for this night and start with the fun part. The fact that watching his lover like this, twitching and almost coming dry and mindlessly babbling more encouragements and pleas, almost had him cream his pants at that point had definitely nothing to do with that. At all. He was nice enough to remove Clint's cage before taking that toy out of him that had his sloppy, well-oiled hole bulge obscenely and drew another loud scream from his lover as it finally came free. A sound followed by a guttural, mindless grown when Tony thrust his slicked-up fist into that quivering channel next, making Clint come so hard that thanks to the bent angle, he promptly came all over his own face, shivering, whimpering Tony's name over and over.

His own come was still drying on that expressive face, still slightly banged up from today's adventure, when Tony fucked his own long overdue orgasm down Clint's willing throat just half a minute later, but Tony could swear, those insolent lips were smiling around his aching cock the whole time.

[madametrashbin]

Cosmos Crown

This took me forever, since I initially wanted to post this in my main acc until I realized it had about 8.5k posts in there and... yeah, this story was the reason I made a sideblog for my self-indulgent bullshit writing since they’ll get lost in the sea of memes and things I find interesting skjskjskjsksjksjskjskjs-

This piece is heavily inspired by a lot of other SAGAU writers who I’m rather lazy to name, if anything... it’s been weeks, and I nearly pulled an all-nighter for this (because my brain was dead set on finishing it and it’s 12am right now), lmao. I’m so dead on my feet but I’ll be damned if I don’t finish this after lord knows how long I’ve been working on this. 

Warning ahead that there is a huge divergent to the actual plot... which I think you’ll notice soon enough, haha.

(This fic is... long, surprisingly so but... it’s just my pet peeve of having super big paragraphs in a story that just-- askdjasldj I don’t know how many words are there, but I’ve re-edited this entire story like a thousand times until it felt just right... I lost count of how many words each of them had lmao.)

Now off you guys go, enjoy yourselves and be sure that you’re fed, hydrated and well rested... don’t be stupid like me, okay? Okay. 

I’msofuckinganxiousaboutthisgoodgodIneverfeelconfidentaboutpostinganythingbecausetheytendtobeshitinmyhead.

They say their eyes are the stars above, always watching even behind the daylight skies that hide them from sight.

They say their body is made of stardust, the speckles of light that sometimes descend down like curious little fireflies and occasionally play along with the children who find them before they fade away.

They say their hearts are made of diamonds and gold, brilliant and forever dazzling the world below with its warm, gentle nature full of so much love.

That is what the Gods say when they speak of the Exalted existence that lies beyond all of their reaches... 

The God who stands above all, who is the reason for the world’s life and the reason they are all alive with what they have... they are all given a purpose because of them, and they are so very thankful for that purpose.

The divine all give their prayers in form of monuments of worship and formed traditions to celebrate their name.

The mortals give their prayers in form of little offerings, in their earnest desires to live their lives to the fullest... a blessing that was gifted to them before they were even born.

They are the God of Creation and Destruction. 

The God of Life and Death. 

The God of Peace and War. 

The God of Transience and Eternity.

They are everything to this world.

They mean everything to its inhabitants and the land itself... for all things begins and ends with them.

There is no one who grants more privileges than them, after all... and they are the ones who decide whether the worshippers are worthy or not. They are the judge to the sinners, the punisher to those who dare overstep their bounds from the place they stand.

The Gods have witnessed it.

The Gods have felt it.

The Gods have experienced it.

The divine of Teyvat have come to learn its lessons one way or another... be it a miracle that bears great gifts or through their deaths within their final moments. Many who are left to fall from grace come to learn that there are things you just cannot selfishly achieve, lest they end up invoking the ire of the Exalted One who will deliver what is deserved...

For the God above all loves everyone who understands their place in the world.

Decabarian loved the existence that lies beyond his reaches... who had earned the love of the people and the world unconditionally and had strived to acheive the same.

He wanted to be like them... to be loved and regarded greatly as one of the highest above all others, thus did he built his towers and walls if only to observe the fragile lives below that he strove to shelter from the ruthless blizzards outside.

The towers were built as a symbol of worship to the Exalted existence above as a way for him to convey his innermost feelings for them... it was his manner to show how much he appreciated them and the way they are viewed by all.

But was it truly his worship? Did he truly do all of this because he loved them and their gifts that gave him a reason to exist? Decabarian, although a powerful God, could not understand that the feelings he held for the Exalted One was not love... but one of envy that is fueled by his desires of vanity.

He envied the Exalted existence for how much everyone loved them even if no one has ever seen their face before... 

He envied the Exalted existence for how everyone looks up to them for guidance- for their acknowledgement and favor so they could strive for a wonderful future ahead.

Decabarian did not love the Exalted One as he would have believe... blinded by his own foolishness in his dreams that only benefitted himself.

The God of Storms did not understand what he did was the greatest of follies... for what he dreamt of was no more than to be the Exalted One.

...such a folly came with the price of his life, as he is felled by the swords and arrows of the rebellion, their forms graced with the shine of the stars. He comes to see his mistakes too late, his conceit and envy had overstepped the forbidden and unspoken line that all dare not to walk beyond of.

He realized in his death, looking to the silhouette of stardust that stands behind the rebellion of mortals, that the Exalted existence has always been watching and will always be watching no matter the weather that hides the stars from the eyes of the world.

For every life, mortal and divine, have the smallest glimmer of stardust in their veins, and therefore the God shall always witness even if the stars never shine.

Barbatos lived to grant the wish of the Bard’s desires to see the clear skies and for the birds to fly.. he lived to give the people the freedom they deserved, to make sure that history does not repeat itself. 

He also lived for the precious existence above, who blessed him and his comrades the power to overthrow the God of Storms, and gave him his power to let people experience freedom beyond the cage of storms and unforgiving blizzards.

He remains in the world until the day the nameless bard passes on, having lived out his life to the fullest and gifting him his lyre in the end... a special lyre that was made from the Exalted existence to give him power to inspire the rebellion with strength.

Barbatos called it the “Holy Lyre Der Himmel”, if only so it represented the one who gave it to them in the first place.

In the time before he went into a long sleep, he sang songs with his dear friend and helped create festivals that were formed to give thanks to the great Deity above who gave them strength to liberate themselves from the tyrant. He made sure that everything would remind everyone why Mondstadt was able to become what it was...

Because if the Exalted One had not stepped in, Decabarian’s reign would have been eternal, and Andrius would have continued to ruthlessly blanket the world outside the storm barrier in snow and ice... therefore, they would never have had the luxury of living freely like they do now.

So when Barbatos woke up again, and learnt of the tyranny by the hands of the nobles that had survived the harsh world outside that not only sullied the festivals made in their name, but also changed them to fit their own greediness... 

Naturally, what kind of worshipper would he be if he were to let that continue on?

So when his eyes catch the sight of stardust that hovers over the Muratan’s shoulders, he knew what he must do to ensure that history does not repeat for the third time.

Guizhong devoted herself to her studies, both in the name of the Exalted One who gave her life meaning, but also to help the humans thrive when they sought to expand their civilization.

When the Archon War broke out, Guizhong knew that she would not survive... for unlike Morax, who was gifted with incredible strength, she was gifted with intelligence... and while her wisdom far surpassed many, she knew that it will not be enough to keep her alive.

And when she is felled during a particularly rainy day, she had believed her time was up...

Yet the stars had shined brightly through the crowns, and the warring world had swiftly silenced itself... All who fought for the Seven seats do not move out of anticipation and fear as the form of stardust had appeared.

No one does anything but watch, and as Guizhong breathes for what she thought were her last breaths... an undeniable warmth spreads across her body, and the pain that she once felt with the chill of the cold rain is washed away like the summer breeze.

Her eyes open, and she stares into the stars.

She could not see the eyes nor the face, but she could tell from the close proximity that they were smiling... that they were seemingly proud of something... but for what?

As of this moment, she is only aware of the fact that the Exalted One has given her a second chance to live, and she’ll be damned if she throws it away too soon.

So, when they departed, disappearing in shimmering fireflies, she quickly returns to her friend’s side as he gifts her a sword of jade to fight... and the sword was imbued with stardust- with their power as she feels warmth flow into her veins once more...

She will not die, for if the God she loved and worshipped wholly had given her another chance... she would be a fool to toss it away so recklessly.

Morax counts himself fortunate.

Though he had lost many friends throughout the entire journey of his life, from the rise and fall of the Guili Assembly, to the growing change of the Liyue Harbor as humanity strives to be independent from the divine... He counts himself lucky, blessed to still have familiar faces of his best friends who were also just as fortunate as he was.

All thanks to the Exalted One that exists above, who allowed him to be a victor in the war while still have his friends by his side. 

Azhdaha, who could have been lost to his erosion, was gifted with special beads that helped keep himself together as damages to the ley lines continue. Such a bead as blue as the cloudy sky was so small yet held so much power... to keep such an erosion at bay, Morax had to wonder where such a thing came to be.

Guizhong, who could have been left to die at the Guili Plains, was given a second chance at life... not only was he allowed to finally gift her a sword he forged so she could protect herself better, but to continue experiencing life beside her as humans continue to grow and evolve with time...

Morax wondered, every now and again as he anticipates the miracles formed by the hands of stardust time and time again, of the limits the Exalted One’s power... It is admirable yet terrifying to know what they were able to do, yet he is all the more thankful for their kindness that he is able to keep what he has now.

(Although he somewhat wishes he could be just a little more knowledgeable so he could finally solve Guizhong’s puzzle... would their beloved God grant him something like that?)

Makoto looks over from where she stood in the Tenshukaku, looking over Inazuma as yet another quiet year has passed...

The incident of 500 years ago changed everything, for the Heavenly Principles had acted out to a budding nation where only humans thrived in their evolution with technology that was said to have surpassed that of the Gods... it is something that Makoto wants to avoid, for she does not wish for Inazuma to face the same fate as that human kingdom.

The day when that nation fell and when the darkness of the Abyss was finally quelled down to the point the sky could be seen once more, it had been the last day anyone had seen the Exalted One.

They did much, not only saving her life along with those of her friends, but also prevented a war to break out between the people of Watatsumi and her people... Orobashi currently residing in Watatsumi Island, is still rather on edge after the events of the Cataclysm... not that Makoto blames him.

Even so, with the fact that the Exalted existence has not appeared since the end of those events, she felt as though things will take a turn for the worst.

Her concerns were correct about it when the Cryo Archon had changed, yet she had not expected to be another cause of the change when someone unknown struck her from the darkness... Though death did not reach her, she could not find it in herself to reawaken for a very long time.

She worries for Inazuma... for her friends, and for Ei. 

Makoto sends her prayers to the stars beyond the heavens, hoping that her beloved God would hear her pleas for aide in these tense times.

Ei sits quietly within the top of Tenshukaku.

Another day the war continues between her people and that of Orobashi’s... another day without Makoto as her friends fight. She worries that she would finally lose them this time... with no God above to help them, what is to say that she won’t lose them now?

It’s not that she doubts the Exalted One’s strength, or the fact they might have died or abandoned them... but it’s been years since the Kingdom fell, and the world has been struggling with its monsters made from both man and the world itself.

She doesn’t know when Makoto would ever recover either, and with the war going on, she had no time to truly make prayers while she led the country without her sister’s aide. While she is safe with her Gnosis in the Narukami Shrine, protected by her dear friends who the Exalted One had saved, there was still the Cryo Archon’s meddlesome Fatui.

Without Makoto to deal with the governing affairs so foreign to her, Ei was at a loss for a long time.

When she was finally relieved from her duties, even for a short while, she finally took the time to make at least a prayer... a small hope for the Exalted existence to return to them and end the mess that became of this world since their disappearance 500 years ago.

She admits that she didn’t have expectations for it to be answered... that it would remain unheard like every other prayer she’s made since that day.

Whether it was by coincidence or not, all Ei could think of was her gratitude when the world was washed over and bathed in the familiar light of stardust... except the presence was more solid, and like a beacon amidst the darkness, called out to the world that sang along with that hum of warmth.

I am here.

I have returned.

And so Ei witness the world kneeling, all conflicts go silent as the stardust that painted the world in gentle light continues to bathe it until it disappears... but the presence that called to her like a beacon remains, and she comes to realize the meaning of those words thereafter.

You only remember how sudden it was.

You didn’t dwell too much on what had happened... but it was difficult to ever take in what had truly happened.

Death is a concept that you don’t ever think much about... being as young as you were, you didn’t even think about it. Education and work had taken most of the time in your head, and when did you did have time for yourself outside of that, you would play games until you were tired.

It just so happens that you enjoyed a certain game, very much that you felt a lot for its stories and the creatures created inside of it.

A shame that you never really got to spend at least one more day before your life had literally fell apart and changed...

For the best or worse, you don’t know.

But if there was a God out there, looking at you right now... you have a lot of questions to ask them. Honestly, dying was unexpected... but reincarnation in a familiar world, practically naked if you didn’t have that big white sheet of cloth covering your body like a big blanket...

Yeah, you have a lot of questions to ask.

Especially when you’re surrounded by familiar faces, both men and monster, kneeling right before you as though you were some sort of divine figure.

“Welcome back, Our Master.”

Your thoughts have all but vanquished by these words, with the singular sentence popping into your mind as great confusion washes over you while you awkwardly stood there with only a giant sheet of cloth covering your body as you stand in front of a crowd that seems to be numerous enough to match that of an empire.

What is this?

[scribbly-dee]

Inspired by this post

I adore corruption arcs, so I graded how well the non-archivist characters would have damned humanity if they had been the archivist.

Sasha James 11/10, would be an ideal archivist, this plus her height is probably why the stranger monster targeted her before she could peak

I have a soft spot for any au that knows Sasha has never seen a brain cell in her life and that any unhinged!Sasha au is really just a regular Sasha au. Picture it with me. Sasha and Jon have parallel archivist tracks, until Sasha (my beloved show off) decides: you know what would make me more efficient at snooping? Becoming a Human Google. And things accelerate. The Web doesn't even need to bother with subtly magic lighters, it slaps all 14 marks on her at once by pulling up next to Sasha in a windowless van with "free secrets 👍" written on the side.

After the Unknowing, Sasha takes over the institute from Elias instead of Martin and Peter. With Tim dead, Jon in a coma, Martin lonely-snatched, Melanie compulsively homicidal, Daisy in the coffin, and Basira on autopilot, she quickly bonds with Rosie, the ultimate nosiness enabler. Sasha is a fully marked archivist for a good long while, but doesn't start the apocalypse right away because she's eager to read ALL the ominous notes Elias left, so the watcher's crown statement is in her to-be-read pile. When the apocalypse starts (Rosie: "Hey, Sasha, I just read something extra fucked up that Elias wrote, wanna see?" Sasha: "God yes."), she books it to become the pupil with Rosie as her anchor. Mayhapse an anchor-archivist polycule with Archivist Jon and Martin? Mayhapse Jon is just a normal eye avatar here and deeply invested in all of Sasha's eyepocalypse statements, so it's Sasha and her plus-three? Mayhapse it's a race across the eyepocalypse wasteland between Archivist Sasha and Archivist Jon to usurp Jonah and become the pupil?

Tim Stoker 2/10 dude's here for a good time, not a long time

The only way I see this working is if Elias disguises not-stranger clues as circus related so Tim is motivated to investigate. Otherwise, his archival assistants are way more curious than him and disobey his direct orders to 🍹chill🏝. Jon, Sasha, and Martin inadvertently bring marks home to him like cats bring home dead birds. He asserts his agency when he decides the best course of action? Actually? Just blow up the archives. This unfortunately puts him in a false sense of security, and Elias makes him read the watcher's crown statement by cat fishing him on grindr and sending the ritual as a dm mid conversation.

Daisy Tonner - 9/10 archivist, would have started doomsday before she was at the archivist job long enough to use her PTO

Daisy already had a lot of experience hunting down fear-entity-related people in sectioned cases, which means she possibly canonically already has all the marks from just hunting avatars who use their powers in self defense. The reason she lost one point is because she's too much of a jock to read, only nerds are culpable to watcher crown statements, so this would be the only delay but oh what a delay it will be.

Melanie King - 7/10 archivist, points awarded for achieving her breakthroughs by smashing her head against a wall until she literally breaks through, points deducted for doing so in full clown makeup.

If Jon got a handful of marks by just asking anoying questions in the same room as an avatar, imagine how much faster Melanie would get marks by bringing her trademark Chaotic Brat personality on fear entity investigations. The apocalypse would have started in like two seasons: one season to hire her off the streets and establish shakey, complex relationships with her new assistants (Jon and Sasha put in the time with the institute but were passed over on this promotion for some random YouTuber (plus they're tighter with Tim and Martin, so proletarian solidarity against the boss)).

Then a second season to stab every mark and get stabbed in return. Melanie would blitz through all 14 marks because what precious little impulse control she starts with is slowly replaced with slaughter juice. One fun moral ambiguity to explore could be if Melanie tries to use her new, dangerous Eye/Slaughter powers to revive her reputation and platform in the supernatural community now that she can, ya know, identify supernatural things for the first time ever. Does she acknowledge her entire career up to her hospital episode apparently only investigated fake sightings? A better question to ask is whether Basira, Tim, and Jon ever let her live down how Ghost Hunt UK's professional dignity was contingent on the legitimacy of her sCiEnTiFiC gHoSt eQuIpMeNt in those episodes, so the temperature spikes set to dramatic music were well and truly just temperature spikes and dramatic music. Sasha found a clip of that music playing as Melanie narrates "it's a message... from the other side..." and made it as her text tone.

Also, it would be hilarious if Melanie tried to kill Jonah on sight in the panopticon, once again botched assassination attempt number 1,963,538, and then Jon quietly snuck in to finish the job on his first try just like in canon.

Jon: "What, like it's hard?"

Basira Hussain 3/10 archivist, her eye alignment manifests as office gossip, like a normal person

Basira has the most formidable super power of all: the power to nope tf out of any conversation or plan she wants. She therefore would probably take 10x longer to start the apocalypse than any other archivist because her fatal flaw is refusal to directly engage with a lot of personally difficult things (like the slaughter bullet surgery she organized, Daisy In General, etc). The marks will be slow going if she resists putting her safety on the line or invests time in making good plans (which is smart, but unhelpful for dooming humanity). She would for sure still get marked and end the world because once she's convinced of a plan (aka Elias convinces her of a plan), she's ruthlessly efficient. So I'd stay out of her way that last year or two, she marks the entities right back at them.

Martin Blackwood 2/10 archivist, considering a prerequisite for creepy eye avatar staring is the ability to make eye contact.

S1 Archivist Martin would probably dote too much on the employees under him to be hugely susceptible to Elias' isolation-dependant manipulation. Any progress Martin inadvertently achieves toward the watcher's crown goal would have to be contingent on it helping his loved ones, which is perfect fuel for a "corrupted by good intentions" arc. This would be key because Martin has superb bullshit and manipulation detection, making the marks are tricky but not impossible to orchistrate considering Jon can't stay put in a safe corner for 10 minutes and Martin's mother would refuse to stay with him where she's safe from avatar threats.

Imagine the petty drama when Jon and Sasha learn he got the promotion they wanted because he lied on his CV.

Other than that, Martin would be even worse about pit stops on the apocalypse road trip than Jon because his Kill Bill mode would have no off switch. Does Archivist!Martin and his anchor Jon ever reach the panopticon? Eventually, but not until after they lose points for significantly reducing the apocalypse fear quantity. Would Annabelle survive to deliver her cryptic MaCHiNAtIoNs and achieve the Web's goal? Hard No, additional point reduction for neutralizing the multiverse invasion. Points potentially earned back if Martin's Web connection is strong enough to come up with the multiverse invasion plan on his own, though.

Georgie Barker 4/10, as a fearless coward, all the fear she feeds to the entities would be khaki flavored. They'd get their apocalypse, but they probably wouldn't enjoy the meal.

Similar to Basira, Georgie has the super power to Fuck This Shit I'm Out. She would overall be a subpar humanity damning archivist; a major archivist success factor of Jon's is that he has enough affective empathy to be afraid with every statement giver he reads, so when Jon archives a statement, he unintentionally contributes to the fear soup seasoning. Combined with how Georgie doesn't want anything to do with entity drama, so any corruption specific to the watcher's crown would stagnate. Even her casual exposition conversations would go like

Georgie: "I've connected no dots."

Melanie: "you've connected a lot of dots??"

Georgie: "I've connected shit all dots."

The reason she gets one more point than Basira is because Georgie's fatal flaw is the passive observer quality the Eye tried to stoke in Jon. Her level of engagement oscillates between two extremes, impulsive over commitment and judging from a distance. This would probably lead her to geting involved just long enough for her involvement to become irreversible, at which point she would try to cut that shit out of her life after it's trapped her. She'd linger, barricading herself on the margins of this problem as the marks that are targeted at her slowly tally up until boom. Apocalypse is on and she only half understands what's happening.

Georgie would wander around an apocalypse hellscape confused, but vibes and physical health fully intact. Anchor!Melanie would have quite the emotional journey starting with Georgie on that pedestal Melanie placed her, and ending with a slaughter avatar stabbing the person who convinced her to work on her slaughter inclination.

[dreamyjoons]

Our ‘Get Along’ Shirt - pjm

⇢ another day, another endless round of you and Jimin bickering. It’s never ending, all-consuming, and your friends have had enough. Namjoon decides to end it once and for all - with help from a shirt for squabbling toddlers.

Genre/warnings: smut, 18+! ‘enemies’-to-lovers, swearing, semi-public smut, mutual masturbation, fingering, honestly at this point a sweat kink, multiple orgasms, light choking, some spitting, unprotected sex, creampie.

Words: 14.2k lol

A/N: well hello! I’m back baby, and to celebrate i had to exorcise some Jimin demons. Did i talk about him sweating a lot? Yes. Did i use my favourite pic of him for the header? Also yes. Don’t @ me, i already know. I hope you enjoy!!!

"You're so wrong about this, it's actually kind of embarrassing."

"No you're wrong, only an idiot would think the way you do."

"Guys, no one - and I really mean this - no one cares about what kind of cups you need for beer pong. You've been arguing this for like twenty minutes now." Hoseok huffs, sitting back into the couch.

"Eighteen minutes." Namjoon sighs, tipping back his cup and gulping down its contents.

"But solo cups are far superior-"

"Jimin, they aren't!" You snap, dragging your glare away from his rolling eyes, deciding you never wanna look at him ever again.

"Please stop." Jungkook sighs, slipping off the chair beside Hoseok. His eyes flick between you before scanning the rest of the people in the room, slowly moving to the thump of the music. "Gonna find Yoongi and Tae." He mumbles before disappearing through the mass of bodies.

You'd been at the house party for less than three minutes before you and Jimin found a reason to have an argument. At first, it was how late you were - even though you found out he only got there five minutes before you. Then when you commented on the music choices to Yoongi, he found a way to disagree - despite you both knowing he loved the artist. On and on it went. Now here you were; Namjoon and Hoseok on the couch watching you both with bored expressions, Jin tuned out and typing rapidly on his phone beside them. Jimin stood to your left, and you made sure to keep him totally out of your sight.

But it was getting harder to hear him, thankfully. And he was losing steam. The house was crowded and loud, lively dancers everywhere and the smell of alcohol rich in the air. It was already way too hot out, but being stuffed inside at this party was causing everyone to sweat. You could see condensation forming on the walls.

The house was huge and expensively decorated, belonging to some producer friend of Namjoon. Marbled floors met white walls, a rug carpet covering the floor that made you wince when you thought about the price. It was sprawling and full of a ridiculous number rooms. Yet still, people had to squeeze between the spaces, excuses and polite taps lost in the fury of heat and confinement.

You held your can to your forehead to cool yourself down but it had grown warm waiting for you and Jimin to finish your current spout. You grimace but take a sip anyway - at least if you get a buzz you can ignore him for a little. You felt a pit of guilt at making Jungkook leave. But you were riled up, and you couldn't back down. Not to Jimin.

You saw Jimin tip his head back to drink out of the corner of your eye, but you daren't look at him. He was as insufferable as he was hot as hell, and not just in temperature.

However, you had managed to take a better look at him earlier in the night. His beige silk shirt was already sticking to his skin, tucked into tight jeans blacker than you had ever seen. Who wears silk to a house party? The necklace that he always wore sat just below his collarbones, and you're reminded of all the times you've wanted to throttle him with that damn chain. He'd been pushing his dark hair back all night - you could tell by how it fell about his face, silky strands falling into his eyes. Was he wearing some kind of lipgloss too? You grumble into your drink. He was too pretty for his own good.

At first the sparring was fun. There was an attraction there, on your part at least. It was spicy, something hot and fast, a way to see how compatible you were. Maybe you had some feelings for him. Possibly, potentially.

But over time it devolved. It felt like he'd say things just to get a rise out of you, to draw your attention into a battle with him. And now here you were, bitterly avoiding the man's existence.

"God, why is it so hot here?" Jin gasps, blotting his face with his sleeve.

"Probably haven't got the air con on." Jimin shrugs, taking a swig from his glass.

"It's on-" You start, eyes flicking to where you thought you could see a vent in the ceiling. It was open, so you assumed it would be on - it had to be.

"I highly doubt that."

Jimin gives you the look he always does - where he tilts his head back and stares into your soul. His plump lips part, tongue pressed behind his teeth, goading you into his trap. He gets his way every time.

"Why would they not have it on? It's burning hot even without a house full of people."

"Then it's clearly a crappy unit." He shrugs, but his words are quick and his eyes are still intensely focused on you.

"Jimin have you seen the rest of this house? Don't be dumb-"

"Shut up!"

You and Jimin spin to your friends who had all shouted in unison. The ones who could still stand to be around you both arguing, anyway. Several of the dancers that were nearby stopped to look at the exclamation but slowly drifted back into the music - albeit before taking a step further away from your group.

"Enough. I'm gonna put an end to this once and for all." Namjoon gets to his feet and strides away with purpose, standing a head above nearly everyone in the crowd.

You shiftily look at Jimin before silently waiting for Namjoon to return, confusion thick in your brain. You awkwardly chewed on your lip as the seconds ticked by, before finally he stalks back, his bag under his arm.

He throws himself back into his seat, flips open the top of his bag and rifles through.

Finally he pulls out a heap of bright yellow material, and with a small noise, he dumps his bag beside him before bolting up. He unravels the material and holds it up to you, grin growing on his face.

It takes you a few seconds to focus on what he is holding out to you and Jimin - but when you realise, you gasp.

"'Our get along shirt'? Namjoon you've gotta be joking." you splutter, scanning the shirt.

It was a sickly yellow, 'our get along shirt' printed on it in what appeared to be black glitter. It could probably fit both you and Jimin in it, maybe Yoongi could slip in too. It looked somewhat roomy, but that was not the point.

"What?" Jimin asks, lips parted as he stares into the glitter.

"You're both gonna wear it and get over whatever bullshit is going on here." Namjoon says so casually, as if he was asking the time or giving directions. But you saw the seriousness in the minute movements of his face. The clench on his jaw, the hardiness of his eyes.

"We're adults Namjoon, you can't expect us to wear that." Jimin's face had gone into a full blush, but his frown was deep as he stared at Namjoon.

"You are both gonna wear it."

"No-" You shout, but Namjoon pointedly huffs at you, and you take the hint.

"Put the shirt on. By the end of the night, either one of you will have killed the other or you have this sorted out. Because if not, you'll end up pushing us all away. For good." Namjoon finishes with a sigh, the depth of his gaze so severe it confirms that he isn’t playing with you.

You look behind him at Jin and Hoseok, and the direction in which Jungkook had walked away. Jin and Hoseok looked deadly serious, no hint of a smile or a cackle of laughter like you'd expect.

He had a point. You knew it. But it was so hard - Jimin couldn't let things lie, and you couldn't back away from a fight when it was him you were fighting. But to see others dropping out from around you...

"Hand over the shirt."

You spin to stare at Jimin. His face was tight, jaw set and eyebrows drawn. It had dawned on him too, just how far this had gone. But he obviously didn't like the idea of it, and neither did you.

"Fine but if I do kill him I’m taking you all down with me as accessories." You sigh, reaching forward and taking the shirt from Namjoon.

“How long have you had this, Joon?” Jimin asks, fiddling with the rings on his fingers.

“Long enough.”

You turn it in your hands and with a deep breath, you pull the shirt over your head, sticking your arm through the sleeve and head through the collar. Your left arm hangs loosely in the shirt, and you begin to fret about what you should do with it. Maybe you should just stick it in your pocket? You don't wanna brush anything-

Before you could follow that train of thought, Jimin tugs you and the shirt towards him. You follow, gulping thickly. He casts one last look at Namjoon before putting his head under the bottom of the shirt. within seconds his head is through the collar, his shoulder bumping yours as he tries to get comfortable.

The air is thick around you, the extra warmth of him being so close to you making the heat rise on your face. You were strongly aware of every microscopic move he makes, your senses keenly aware of his proximity. He lets out a harsh sigh, and you feel the breath ripple over the collar and down the shirt. A pout settles on his lips, glossy and wholly enticing - and entirely too close.

His face was inches from yours, shoulders stuck rigidly together as you subtly wrestle for space. The shirt was obviously made for kids, and much smaller than you had originally anticipated. Two kids would be able to almost comfortably stand side by side. You and Jimin had barely enough excess shirt, but the collar was far too small. His hand grazes mercilessly across your thigh, the hardness of his rings pressing into the material of your jeans.

You hear a click of a camera, and your attention snaps up to see Hoseok taking a photo of you both on his phone. With both you and Jimin glaring at him, he snaps another and giggles.

"One for Jungkook." He grins, before flipping his phone to you.

Instinctively you step forward to look, but the lack of space drags Jimin along with you. He crashes into your back, a steadying hand reaching out for your hip, a strangled grunt by your ear. You choke on your breath, and weakly tug at the collar as if it was the cause of your shock.

His hand is warm, the heat pulsating from his palm across your hip. If you weren't sweating before, you definitely were now. You shuffle back a little, easing the tension in the shirt that tugged tightly against you. Jimin brings up a hand and anxiously pushes his hair back from his face, his jaw set so sharply you could cut your finger on it.

"Well, there's bound to be a few teething problems but I'm sure you'll both work it out." Namjoon smiles, eyes bright and full of mischief. "Come on boys, let's give them some space."

You give Namjoon the fiercest glare you could muster before he walks away, but all he does is chuckle at you. Hoseok waves brightly whilst Jin merely winks - until soon all that remained was you and Jimin, hot, flustered and already tired of it all.

"Okay, now that they're gone-" Jimin mutters, twisting in the shirt so that his back was against you. You shuffle back as not to touch him, your mind a hazy hot mess.

Your hand dances threateningly close to his ass so you snatch it up to your chest, staring at the ceiling and holding back an agonised groan.

He brings his hands up and after a few seconds you hear a loud rip.

You snap your head to him to see that he'd ripped the collar almost to the end of the shoulder, giving you more space. You let out a breath and you both adapted to the space, but his shoulder was still brushing you. At least his face was at a less dangerous distance from yours now.

"Do... you wanna sit?" He asks quietly, A faint pinky blush crossing his cheeks. You forced your eyes away, determined not to be distracted.

"Jimin, Namjoon's gonna flip about the shirt."

"No he won't-"

"Yes, he will-"

"Ah, can we just sit?."

You huff, weighing his words before silently nodding, moving forward slowly to give him time to get his brain in gear. He stepped behind you and you shuffled around so that you wouldn't be sat under him.

"Okay sit." You order, and to your surprise he followed your words. You both crash back into the couch, his arms pressing back against you, his legs spread and pressed against yours.

You sit, the silence stretching. You finally get the smell of his cologne, the silk of his shirt sleeve brushing against your arm. It was filling your senses, and though it had only been seconds, this was stretching for an eternity.

And there were all those emotions you felt towards him, rushing to the surface, bubbling beneath your skin.

"Okay this is dumb, why are we doing this?" You grumble, slamming your head back against the cushions, desperate to be away from his heady scent.

He looks at you out of the corner of his eyes, so you pointedly avoid meeting his gaze.

"Because we don't want to lose our friends." His voice is low, the cogs turning in his head.

"Yes I know that, but why do we have to 'sort our problems' from inside the same damn t-shirt?" You snap.

"I... don't know. But I'm not gonna lose friends. Them or you - so get used to being stuck in this shirt with me."He purses his lips in thought, but you’re struck by his words.

"Well it's you who's stuck in here with me." You snark, unable to stop yourself before you say it.

He huffs out a laugh through his nose, and you can’t help but smile. You finally meet his eyes, and like a kid caught doing something he shouldn’t, he snaps his eyes away.

“So we have to like… work on our problems?”

“Apparently.” He murmurs, throwing himself back into the seat.  

The temperature feels ten times hotter than when you weren’t sharing clothing. Your hair sticks to your skin and you shift uncomfortably. Everywhere you touched him felt like it was on fire, every sensor in your body and edge and firing. You force yourself to breathe, in and out. Park Jimin was not going to get the better of you.

But he seemed affected too.

His swallows are thick, adam’s apple bobbing with each gulp. You could see his ringed finger tapping in his leg whilst his other hand was pushing back his hair a little more aggressively than usual.

“So uh…” He starts, but tapers off when you look at him.

“Yeah?”

The seconds tick on, the gap between you non-existent. You avert your eyes and try to focus on the crowd that swirls around you.

You couldn’t help but notice the fact that things were going well. No issues were being resolved per se, but you hadn’t fought properly for a few minutes. And for you both, that was progress. Even if every word that comes to your mind flights away, leaving the silence to stretch.

“Maybe-”

“How about-”

You both blurt words at the same time, letting out an embarrassed laugh as you squarely avoid looking at each other. The music seems louder, making it harder to think about anything that wasn’t directly in your senses. Essentially you were stuck in a Jimin lockdown.

“You go.”

“Oh, I was just going to say I’m gonna need a drink or two for this.” you confess, heat burning across your face.

“That’s… Not a bad idea actually. Let’s go to the kitchen.” Jimin rushes, a little too enthusiastically. It seems like he’s a little on edge too.

Without thinking he tries to stand up, causing you to get ruffled inside the shirt as he staggers to his feet. You’re ripped through the collar of the shirt, your face getting knocked into his hip. Your eyes widen and your breath catches in your throat as he’s slingshotted back into the chair beside you. Your head reemerges through the hole, leaving your hair vigorously disheveled.

“I-, I’m sorry!” He grits, a reddish blush bursting across his cheeks.

You bring up your hand inside the shirt to touch it to your face whilst the other tries to right whatever mess your hair had become.

“It’s fine, just, we gotta move as one.” You mumble, flicking your gaze at him.

“Agh, this isn’t gonna be easy.” He sighs, shuffling to the edge of the chair.

You take a deep breath and follow his lead. You put a tentative hand on the couch to shuffle yourself to the edge, but jimin had the same idea. He puts his hands on top of yours, but instantly snatches it back. He mumbles to himself before turning and giving you a nod. With a steadying breath you both move, almost effortlessly getting off the couch together. It takes you by surprise at how straightforward that was, until the clatter of a noise reaches your ears over the din of the music.

Following the rattle of the noise you look down, only to watch your phone skittering across the floor.

“Oh, shit.” You murmur, watching it stop out of reach. “Jimin, my phone!”

He follows your gaze to where it lays on the floor, narrowly avoiding being stepped on by dancers. Your heart flutters as people step around it, totally unaware.

“Go, go!” He mutters, placing the palm of his hand at the bottom of your back, steering you towards it.

You flush as you’re pushed through, stopping just above it. You’re both jostled by the people around you as you stand guard above your phone. People were dancing dangerously close to it,and all it would take is one drunken fool to stamp on it or you for this to end in disaster.

“Okay let’s drop, carefully this time!” you order, but Jimin scoffs at you.

“I’m trying to be careful!”

“Just don't thrash me about again, that would be nice-”

“I’m not doing it on purpose! I can if you want me to-”

“Oh my god, stop, just bend over and help me!”

“That sounds dirt-”

He starts, but before you let him manifest that in your mind you start to crouch, the force pulling him down to bump his chest into your back. The heat of him crashing into you is instant, an insatiable warmth that spreads in contact. He puts a stabilising hand on your hips as his breath rolls across the back of your neck. A shiver trickles down your body despite trying to hold it back.

“What did you do that for?” He grunts, his mouth closer to your ear as he tries to rebalance himself.

“Y- you’re taking too long trying to argue!”

He presses himself off your back and shuffles down beside you. You finally get crouched on the floor, tentative hands placed on the sticky surface to stop you from toppling over. Jimin crouches next to you, his body facing yours with his leg behind you, tight against your back. It was hard to stay focused with him pressed against you like that, but you know he was just trying to stay stable. So why were you blushing so hard?

Carefully you reach out, your fingers just brushing the edge of the phone. You’re just able to get your fingers over the edge when you’re slammed from the side. Your phone is knocked out of your reach once more as you’re thrown onto Jimin, both of you landing in a tangled heap.

You let out a yelp as you’re falling, the impact to the side of you bristling with shock. His back hits the floor and you land awkwardly, right on top of him.

“Watch what you’re doing, you moron!” Jimin snaps after your head slaps onto his shoulder.

Your heart slams erratically against your chest, his words stinging. You’d come to blows many more times than you can imagine, but he’d never spoken to you in that way, not ever.

“God, I’m sorry.” you murmur, pressing yourself up off his chest, your face practically aflame.

“What? Oh, no no, not you! Whichever idiot smacked into you. Are you alright?“ He asks, his fingers gently gripping your chin and turning you gently in his hands.

Your eyes are wide as he stares at you, your fingers twitching on the silk covering his chest. Once he’s satisfied that you’re okay, he softly releases you. You bring your gaze back to his, beads of sweat rolling down your face.

Jimin looks down to his hand and back up to you after realising what he had just done, before he clenches his fist closed and puts it down to his side. His forehead is creased, his face burning bright.

“We should… ah, should get your phone.” His voice is low, barely audible above the music. But you hear him all the same, stealing your hand back from his chest.

You swallow thickly, stabilizing yourself as you crouched back on your own two feet. Your phone isn’t too far out of reach, but just beyond the touch of your fingertips. You strain, tugging Jimin along behind you. His throat is pulled against your shoulder, but it was no good, you still needed the stretch.

“Hold on.” You mumble, slipping your head out from underneath the collar.

You keep your arm inside the shirt sleeve for plausible deniability - you’d never be able to lie to Namjoon if he asks if you stayed in. But you pull your head out from the bottom of the shirt and reach out, gripping your phone and snatching it up. You shove it in your deepest pocket of your jeans and pat it, relieved.

You crawl back to Jimin and try to climb back into the shirt. He throws the bottom over your head and you push it through - only to slam your head into his arm.

“Ah, sorry!” You yelp, trying to push yourself past him.

He tries to guide your head back up through the collar but manages to get his rings caught in your hair. You yelp at the tug, your hands flying up to untangle him.

“Sorry, sorry!” He shouts, bringing his other hands up to slide his rings off altogether.

Once they’re off his fingers it’s easier to free your hair. With the rings tucked safely in his pocket and with gentle easing, Jimin moves your head up to the collar of the shirt. You rapidly brush your hair out of your face and look at him out of the corner of your eye.

He’s flustered, roughly pushing the hair that sticks to his sweaty forehead back. His lips are parted and his eyes are fixed away from you.

Briefly, the thought of just running away from him crossed your mind. There’d be no more issues if you never saw his face again. No more embarrassment! Of course it was a silly idea, but it would be better than getting the opportunity to make yourself look like an idiot again.

You huff out a breath, blotting your damp forehead with the back of your hand. Your brush with the floor had left your clothes feeling sticky, and your brush against Jimin had set everything else on fire. You needed some fresh ai-

“It’s too hot for this, I need some air.” Jimin shifts in his spot, gesturing to the backdoor that was through the kitchen and blocked by a thick group of party goers. You follow the direction he points and nod enthusiastically.

“I wanna grab some water too.” You murmur. Ignoring his presence.

The people that stood between the cloying heat that you and Jimin were trapped in and the cooler climate outside were dense. You’d have to fight through, but the reward of fresher air to clear your head of Jimin was too tantalising.

With a look at Jimin, he motions with his hand for you to proceed. You roll your eyes at the gesture but you take a cautious step forward, slow and deliberate.

You started pushing your way through, bodies warm and fluid as you tried to champion the way. Jimin got ganged much closer to you, practically pressing into your back as you moved. You focus on finding a path ahead, ignoring the beads of sweat that form in your hairline.

Something had changed between you. This is the closest you had been together, the most you had touched, the longest you had been alone. And you wanted to hate it. You certainly hated how messy he must think you are. But you didn’t. A trickle of something different slides down your body, all your attention focused on his hand on you.

The music changes to something even louder and riles the crowd up. With a swell of movements in the dancers you’re sent flying, knocked by some erratic dancer’s elbow. With the force of the shirt Jimin is dragged with you, crashing into your back and pinballing you against another person.

Subconsciously you turn back to him - but as soon as you’re pressed together, you realise how big a mistake that was.

Stomach to stomach, his face is barely an inch or two from yours. His fingers wrap around your wrist, chest rising and falling as you stare at him.

The sweat that had rolled down his face had reached his throat, dropping down the column and hovering at his apple. The minutest of smirks pulls at his lips, and you realise you’ve been caught.  

He swallows, purposely. The bead rolls the rest of the way down his throat, dropping below his necklace before disappearing down the neckline of his shirt. The silk was clinging to his skin in the heat, and it took every ounce of dignity you had not to look down. You could see in your periphery, and that was more than enough. The man was hot, in every sense.

Your eyes flick back up, a different kind of heat burning up your face. You anxiously lick your lips, eyes finally meeting his. He has an eyebrow propped, a smugness radiating that let your blood boil. But his gaze drops to your mouth, watching your tongue gloss across your lip before looking back up. You can feel his breath hit your chest as his cheeks flushed more than they ever had. Now you were the one to have an audience.

Maybe this was it - the answer. You just needed a moment for everything to click, you could reach an understanding! It had nothing to do with how his stare left you feeling like you could burst in every way possible. Or that his pupils seemed to be blown wide, big enough for you to swim in. His fingers were hot against your wrist, and it felt almost as if his pinky was tracing the tiniest circles into your skin-

“I need the bathroom.”

The words are blurted loudly in your face, and for a moment you forget what reality is.

“I- what?”

“Bathroom. Gotta go. Bathroom stuff.” Jimin splutters.

Before you can respond - not that you knew how to -  he turns from you. His hand still holds your wrist as he pulls you through the crowd, uncaring as to who he pushes aside. All you can do is stare at the back of his hair and be lead.

“Jimin what the hell?!” You yell, ignoring the glares of the nosy partiers.

Your voice is lost, muffled by loud music and Jimin's deaf focus. You finally break free from the throng of people but your journey doesn't end. You're being whipped past busy rooms until you hit the staircase. The odd person watches you in fascination, some even snickering at what was written so plainly in glitter on the shirt. you felt your face burn, and make a silent note to fight Namjoon at the soonest opportunity.

He begins scurrying up the staircase, and with your wrist still firmly in his iron grip, you're soon flying up behind him. He casts a shifty look behind him to check you were still attached, his face flushed but his eyes focused. You have to remember to regulate your breathing.

"God, careful!" You snap, almost stumbling on the top step.

He doesn't acknowledge that he hears you, but then he slows for a second before darting down the winding corridor. He rushes into one of the rooms, a sprawling guest bedroom, before finally letting your wrist drop from his grip. It was almost bigger than your entire place, with an ensuite and even a door leading out to a balcony.

You close the door behind you before Jimin drags you towards the ensuite. Once he's at the open door he pulls his arms through the sleeve and slips out from the shirt. You know you're in the privacy of a bedroom but you suddenly get nervous, eyes turning to the bedroom door.

"We're gonna get in trouble." You murmur. Namjoon is a mind reader, you’d stake your life on it - he'll know you're separated and find you.

"You gotta relax. We're not gonna be spotted through floors and walls. Unless you wanna come in here with me?" He asks, that trademark smirk pulling at his lips. Your stomach flutters, but it is a relief to have a flash of the jimin who pushes your buttons back.

"I -wha- no! Just hurry up, god." You splutter, turning your back to him.

"I won't be long."

With that he saunters back, his cheeks blown out as he sighs, and finally closes the door for some sweet separation. You step back and move to the balcony - the door was unlocked so you push it open and finally breathe.

The air is still warm, but instant relief from being cooped up inside with Jimin washes over you. You close your eyes and soak up the moment of peace, the shirt hanging off your solitary frame.

Your brain was barely processing the situation you were both in. It was enough being stuck in the same item of clothing as someone, but with Jimin? It was hard.

But then again, it was also easy. It was too easy to get wrapped up in him, to be so close, to let yourself be taken with him. It was a place you had hoped to be before, and somewhere you couldn’t go.

You and Jimin were tumultuous. You weren’t sure why it had to be that way. It’s not like either of you were toxic or nasty people - so why did you have to make a stand on everything? Why does every time you stand off with him make the hairs on your neck stand up, make your heart beat so fast in your chest you swear he could hear it?

Maybe it was because you did, after all this time, like him.  

You're snapped out of your thoughts by an erratic knocking at the door. You dart your eyes to it as if you could see through the solid wood, your heart in your throat.

"Y/N? Jimin? You there?" Namjoon calls through the door, and you swear under your breath.

"One second!" You cry, scrambling back from the door and scurry to the ensuite.

"Jimin! Open up!" You whisper at him, your voice a hurried rasp.

"What?"

"I'm coming in!" You wait a few seconds just in case, and then finally throw the door open.

"Y?N!" Jimin yells, scrambling back against the basin.

He was standing with his silk shirt in his hands, His lips parted in shock as he stares at you. His chest was heaving, the faintest glimmer of abs visible behind the thin fabric. Your face was burning almost as much as his, your jaw dropping. His hair was tousled, strands covering his wide eyes as he stared at you.

"Wh... Why are you topless?" Your breath is barely above a whisper as you fight to keep your eyes on his face.

"It's so hot!”

“I’m hot! Do you see me taking my clothes off?” You rush, using every ounce of restraint in your body to not lick your lips.

The thought of you and Jimin taking your clothes off together flashed through your mind and you internally screamed at yourself. This was not the time to unpack that, though you’d be lying if you said the thought hadn’t crossed your mind before.

“Wah- uh, you... I was trying to cool dow- why are you barging in here?!" He rushes, taking a hasty step towards you. To have to sort through your frazzled thoughts before you remember why you were there in the first place.

"Namjoon! He's at the door!" As if to accentuate your point, Namjoon raps on the door again, calling out to you both.

"Agh!" Jimin cries, rushing forward and grabbing the hem of the shirt you still wore.

He begins to get into it as he pushes you towards the door. You could feel the horror fill your veins as the heat of his body slips in beside you, his hand at the small of your back as he guides you. Your arm brushes against his bare hip, the skin hot and smooth. You snatch your arm up and hold it against your chest as if burned and ignore the rapid change in your breathing.

"Why haven't you put your shirt on?!" You whisper, but he just huffs.

"To save time, Now show me your pretty smile and let's get rid of him so I can get dressed." Jimin's hand is on the door, and all you can do is stare at him, eyes wild.

"My wha-"

The door flies open, but you're still staring at Jimin. Pretty...?

"Well hello." Namjoon is leant against the doorframe, arms crossed as he gives you both a crooked grin. His eyes flicker to the room behind you, his eyes landing on the bed just beyond you both.

"Just needed the bathroom." Jimin rushes, hand once again settling in his hair.

"I didn't ask." His voice is light, but his eyes are fierce as he scans you both thoroughly.

"You were thinking about it, though." Jimin mutters. He tries to cross his arms at Namjoon, but with one arm under the shirt and one over he soon drops it. Your gaze was still stuck on him though. Pretty?

"How's the shirt working out, you both talking?" Namjoon asks, and you finally snap your attention to him. He's already watching you and raises an eyebrow. You scramble to stamp down your emotions, despite every nerve in your body sizzling.

"Oh yeah, we’re the best of friends now, right JimJam?" Your voice is bubblegum sweet, giving Jimin the goofiest smile you could muster.

"Totally! We've been braiding our hair and sharing juicy stories. We're basically besties."

Jimin beams at Namjoon, before stepping close and wrapping an arm around your waist to hug you. It was all part of the charade, of course. But as you're pulled back against his chest, you swear your heart could explode. His hand sits lightly on your hip, his every breath rolling down your neck. It didn’t matter that the move was practically hidden under the shirt.

"Yeah..." you laugh, but it's more of a choke as you pat his hand over the shirt and avoid meeting Namjoon's probing gaze.

Jimin clears his throat awkwardly behind you, his finger twitching on your hip. The heat between you swealters, every inch of your skin electric against his body.

Namjoon's eyes flick between you. You could see his thoughts brewing but they never pass his lips. Instead you and Jimin wait, his hands singeing your skin where they rested, his bare chest like fire against you.

"Well, I can see you're obviously working on something. But until you're actually convincing, you can stay in that shirt." He shrugs, grin widening across his face. With a final flick of his eyes, he pushes off the door frame and heads back towards the stairs.

"This is ridiculous Namjoon!" You yell at his back, crossing your arms across your stomach.

"Maybe - but you're both still wearing it." He smirks back over his shoulder.

You yell incoherent words at his back before huffing out a breath. Your fingers twitch in anger, putting a stubborn hand on your hip, the skin hot under your touch.

Faintly you realise the contact isn’t registering on your hip, and it isn’t until Jimin loosens his grip on you that you realise your hand had been resting on his. His hands fall from your body as he shuffles away, swallowing a throaty gulp.

You couldn’t look at him. It was all fun and games to begin with- oh, who were you kidding? This had been sucky, but something had shifted. You needed air, a chance to breathe, to not be tethered to the man that seems to haunt you.

“Need air.” Your voice a rasp as you step back into the room.

Jimin barely shuts the bedroom door before you’re marching to the balcony, not caring about whether you drag him along or not. Once you’re outside you heave in a breath, letting the air fill your lungs.

“That was too close.” You murmur, fiddling with the hem of the shirt.

“How was I supposed to know Namjoon would be keeping tabs?”

“I’m not blaming you Jimin! Why are you making this into an argument too?” You snap, your eyes fixed on the treeline on the edge of the property.

You feel him wriggling aggressively next to you, only to look back and see him climbing out of the shirt. You watch in horror as he slips out from under the sickly yellow material, keeping his bare back to you.

“What are you doing?” You yelp, scanning over the edge of the balcony for any sight of your friends. They couldn’t see you apart, they would never trust either of you again.

“What are we doing?”

“We’re meant to be working this out from inside the same ugly shirt-”

“No not right now. I mean, kind of. I just… Why did we let it get this far?”

You let his words hang in the air, your thoughts scattered. The thump of the music below drifts up to you, the mass of partygoers that stood out in the gardens laughing and chatting loudly. It seemed a world away from the tension that fills the air between you and Jimin.

He turns back to you with a look on his face so intense you can’t place it. But you could tell he was tightly wound - his shoulders were squared and his jaw was tight. He avoids making eye contact with you for as long as he can. But when he finally does, it was too easy to get lost in what you see there.

“We just argue, I guess.” you shrug, averting your eyes from his chest and stomach. This wasn’t the time to be fawning over him. It was hard - he was beautiful, there was no escape from that. It’s one of a million reasons you had liked him in the first place.

“You can't tell me you’re happy with that explanation.” He huffs, crossing his arms.

“Of course I’m not but what do you want me to say? You don’t like me, you’ve made that plain enough. Not everyone gets along.”

You bite your lip, admitting the words you’d been too scared to think out loud. But when you hear a faint gasp, your eyes shoot up to his face. His lips are parted, a look of abject shock written on his delicate features.

I d- I do like you.” His voice is so quiet you can barely hear him. But you do, and the words strike deep.

You can’t open yourself up to this right now. Namjoon will find a way to know that you’re both separated, and the rest of the guys will drift away. You want to be civil with Jimin, not have your entire soul bared open to him. You couldn’t survive that.

“Can you please put your shirt back on?” You mumble, your eyes laser-focused imploringly on his face, but he doesn't hear you, barrelling on.

“It’s not like I enjoy arguing with you!”

“Then why are you making it so difficult?” Your voice cracks, the hurt of your never ending battles threatening to surface.

“Do you know how hard it is to get your attention-“ he starts, his fast flow of words immediately cut off as he gawks at you, delicate fingers slamming over his lips.

“What?” You blurt, processing his words.

“No no, nothing! Forget it.” he shakes his hands at you, eyes wide and face blushing a deep pink.

“Jimin! What do you mean, get my attention?”

“I… yeah. We’re always with the guys, I guess I didn’t know how else to get you to focus on me.”

“Why?” Your voice is faint, a million thoughts crashing in your head.

“No, forget it!”

“Jimin!”

“Ah, I like you, okay?”

The air around you thickens, the distance between you a thousand miles yet still too close. Your heart thumps rapidly in your chest, your eyes wide as saucers and your skin prickled with goosebumps.

“You- huh?”

“I… like you. A lot. It happened pretty quickly.” He sighs, running a shaky hand through his hair.

"Why have you never told me?"

"Because it's humiliating as hell?" He laughs bitterly, his eyes darting to anywhere but you.

"Jimin..."

"No seriously. If I had told you, you'd reject me because why wouldn't you? All we do is argue."

"You think I'd reject you?" You ask, voice quiet as you step closer to him. His gaze finally snaps back to you at your movement.

"I mean, I... yeah?"

He runs a hand roughly over his face, turning his back to you. He looks so flawless in the moonlight. But he always looked flawless to you. Watching him fret like this was something so alien to you, but so human, so Jimin. You couldn’t let him suffer these feelings alone.

"Well, I wouldn't have." You mumble.

“You- what?”

Your brain scrambles, your heart hammering in your throat. He stares at you, wide eyes and chest heaving as if he was winded. Swallowing thickly you press on, despite the fear that churns in your gut.

“I wouldn’t reject you, Jimin. I… uh. I like you too.” You fiddle awkwardly with the hem of the stupid shirt.

The whole scenario had you feeling like a girl going through a childhood crush again. Though last time you had a crush on a boy who was fighting with you, you punched him in the nose. It was doubtful that would work this time around-

“Jimin?” You ask, watching as he shrinks back on himself.

You watch as he breathes, his chest rising and falling, the rapidly cooling night air raising goosebumps across his skin. It was hard to keep your brain on track.

After a moment he meets your gaze with a softness so potent it was enough to choke you.

In two steps he was on you, his lips crashing against yours. Your entire body threatens to shut down, the shock rippling through you. Before you even had a second to comprehend how good his lips felt against yours he pulls back, fear in his eyes as he worries.

You know then what you want. Who you want. You wondered why you wasted so long arguing to get it.

With your blood thrashing violently in your veins you reach your hands out to his face, caressing the smooth skin of his cheek before you surge forwards. The feel of the gloss on his lips smudges as you let yourself be consumed, the slightest hint of cherry seeping in.

Kissing Park Jimin. You. You’re kissing him. Your eyes slam shut as you sink into him, electricity crackling on your skin.

With no doubt in his mind at all Jimin slides his hands to your hips, fingers curling into the shirt as he moves you back, pushing you into the wall. You moan into his kiss, and he smirks against your lips. To trip him up you press the kiss deeper, letting the tip of your tongue dance at his pretty lips, wanting to taste him.

He does you one better, turning the tides and pressing the kiss back to you, tongue flicking to you.

Just like normal, you weren’t one to back down from Jimin.

Letting a hand move into his silken hair, you brush it back the way you’d seen him do a thousand times. But instead of letting your hands fall out of the soft locks, you let the strands wind around your fingers and give it a tug.

Jimin lets out a low groan, breaking the kiss to pant against your lips. Pride flows through you, but so did a sense of admiration - it was something you wanted to hear from that pretty mouth over and over.

“That’s a dangerous game you’re playing, Y/N.” He whispers, tugging sharply on the shirt so that your body was flat against his.

You try to not let the gasp from you come out too loud, the lines of his body startlingly apparent as you’re pressed together.

“You think that scares me?”

At your words he smiles. It spreads slowly, but soon his whole face is alight, brightness shining out of him. With his fingers at the hem of the massive shirt, he gives you a filthy giggle before kneeling and slipping himself inside of the material.

“What are you doing?” You yelp, feeling the familiar sensation of being stuck in the stupid shirt with him again. But it was different too, it wasn’t suffocating like before.

His head popped back up through the ripped collar, grin still annoyingly plastered across his face.

“Shouldn’t you be trying to get me out of this shirt, Park Jimin?” You whisper, breathless as he presses you back against the wall.

“I can’t deny that you have too many clothes on.” He smirks, delicate fingers sliding up your shirt to rest on your hot skin. “But there’s something… ah, satisfying about having you in this shirt.”

“Seriously?”

“What’s the matter Y/N, don’t think you can handle it?” His fingers circle agonisingly slow on your hips, a mischievous glint catching in his eye. He knows you so well.

“You’re gonna be the one who can’t handle it.”

“Prove it.”

You almost growl at him as he presses your buttons, but the burning in you meets the heat in your stomach. You need him more than ever.

You pull him back against you by the hair, crushing your lips together once more. He moans into you, nails pressing into your hips as your lips collide. You roll your hips against him, the fire in your veins white hot as he stutters against you. He breaks your kiss to gasp needily, eyes shut tight as your stomach brushes against the bulge in his tight jeans.

His eyes finally open, unfocused and swimming. But after a second he fixes his gaze on you, determined. A flicker of anticipation fills you, awaiting retribution.

His fingers move from your skin to the hem of your shirt, tugging it up until you have to help him. The shirt you were sharing was making it difficult, and you start to regret ever letting him get his way. But as soon as you are free he presses back into you, his hot skin flush against yours, his fingers idly tracing the straps of your bra.

Just with the gentle brush of his fingertips he nudges the straps down your arms, goosebumps rising along his trail. He presses his lips to your cheek, pecking slow, soft kisses across your cheekbone as he moves towards your ear. You sigh as his mouth moves lower, plump lips pressing dainty kisses down your neck. With you swept up, his hands move behind you and unclip your bra.

A gasp passes your lips while his own are still planted at your neck, sucking on a soft spot there. Your bra slides off your body, landing with a quiet thud on the floor of the balcony.

His fingers find their way back to your hips, slowly caressing their way up. An excited shiver catches you, and you feel him laugh against your skin. His warm hands find your breasts, thumbs rubbing over the soft skin before finding your nipples.

You suck in a breath as he kisses back up your neck. He pauses to capture your lips again, lulling you into him as his thumbs brush out across your nipples.

With your staccato breathing he smirks once more into your skin. Not one to ever be outmanoeuvred by Jimin, you decide it’s time to flip the switch.

You purposefully run your fingers down his stomach, featherlight and teasing. He hitches his breath, mouth detaching from your neck as he waits, anticipating your every move. His hot breath rolls down your neck, rippling off your chest. You hide a smirk in his hair and focus on your goal.

Letting your fingers rest on his belt buckle - no doubt something obnoxiously expensive - you begin to undo him as slow as you possibly could. You slide it off, inching it so little that you could feel him get restless against you.

“You’re a nightmare.” He whispers, looking up at you through his eyelashes.

“I’m just savouring the moment.” You offer softly, the soft clinks of the buckle resting against his thigh.

“You’ll pay if you tease me like this.” His voice is high, airy. The voice of a man in complete control - though you knew that was far from the truth.

“Mm, sure Jimin.” You smirk, bringing a hand up between you to his face.

You angle him back up to kiss you, which he does with ferocity. You smile into him, the power to provoke him rich in your veins.

Your hand sinks back to his belt, and with him distracted you pull it off him fast, dumping it somewhere on the floor and popping the button of his jeans. He gasps into your kiss, fingers automatically flexing across your breasts. You hold your reaction to yourself, intent on giving nothing away until you are ready.

You tug down his zipper, pressing it back onto him so he feels the teeth unclipping against his boxers. You knew they were gonna be some annoyingly expensive brand too, but the thought of getting him to ruin them for you was intoxicating. He leans his forehead against yours, the desperation rising his face palpable.

With a sharp tug you drop his jeans to his mid-thigh before moving your fingers back to him, running teasingly around his waistband. You didn’t have to look under the shirt to know his boxers were tented, his erection straining against the fabric. You dip a finger just below his waistband, tracing along the lines of his hips. He lets out a choked breath, hips subconsciously bucking into you.

“Y/N…”

“What?” You ask sweetly, moving your fingers to brush along his pubic bone. Your knuckles barely graze the base of his shaft, but he lets out a murmur of swear words as his eyes flicker.

Not one to be overshadowed for long, Jimin lets his hands drop to your hips and immediately flies to your zipper. He presses his crotch into you, and you feel just how hard he is for you. With a flapping mouth you watch him, challenging eyebrow raised.

Everything was a game. One that you were intent on winning.

Plucking at your courage, you slide a hand back down, wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock. His hips stutter in your hand, a gush of air forcing out of his lungs.

He felt good in your hand - really good. Firm skin, warm and pulsing in your hand. You experimentally ran a finger along his underside, tracing the vein all the way to his tip. He lets himself go then, head thrown back, eyes tightly clasped. A low groan rumbles from his throat, his fingers stilling on your zip.

“Feel good?” You whisper, pressing your lips to his.

“Ah, mm…” Is all he can manage as his head falls back.

He’s totally lost in your touch, and you’d barely started. A ripple of excitement darts through you, the sight of having Park Jimin needy and in your hands was too powerful to overlook.

A small giggle falls from your lips, the tiniest of noises. But it’s enough to spur him back to reality with his dark eyes finally refocusing on you.

He takes a breath to center himself before pulling down your jeans slowly. You feel the material slide over your hips and sit above your knees. Your panties quickly follow, thrust down faster than you can blink.

He lets a hand drag back up your thigh, running across to where you want his hand the most. Your touch on him falters as anticipation runs through your body. Ever so slowly he lets a finger stroke across your slit, barely grazing your skin. You wrap your free arm over his shoulder, taking a grip of his soft hair.

He smiles at you, and you let your eyes drag across his face. He drags his bottom lip between his teeth at your scrutiny. You can’t help but admire him: the way his lipgloss is smudged up across his cupid’s bow, the sweat that seemed to be dribbling so aesthetically down his sharp jaw, the blown out pupils of his deep eyes. Your breath catches in your throat as you soak him in - and that’s when he decides to strike.

He slips his fingers between your folds, feeling how wet you are for him, before sliding his fingers up to your clit. He applies only the slightest bit of pressure but it’s enough to have you gasping at his touch. He lets out a soft moan as he feels you, letting his fingers move in the tiniest circles.

You slowly rock your hips on his fingers, knotting your own in his hair. You instinctively flex your hand only to have his hips instinctively thrust his cock into your hand.

Deciding to move things on just a little, you move back just enough to see his cock in your hand. His eyes flutter open at your movements, only to blow wide when he sees a trail of spit drop from your lips onto his tip. You catch it with your thumb and rub it into his tip, rolling it down his length.

A low moan leaves him, his free hand coming up to wipe your bottom lip ever so delicately. You meet his eyes, a fire burning there just for you. He drags you into a kiss, his hand scrunching in your hair.

His hand start to move again, circling you and getting into a slow rhythm on your clit. You moan into his kiss, starting your movements too until both of you were breathless messes.

The kisses became scattered and sloppier as you both let your hands work. The delicate touch of his fingers was enough to blur your vision, and your firm grip that was growing in speed on his length rendered him weak in your hands.

His own hand moves deftly, nimble fingers moving between circling your needy clit to running through your wetness. His jaw slackens each time he feels how wet you are for him, pride drifting somewhere in his lust-blown eyes.

Jimin is slick under your grasp, rock hard as you twist up and down his length. Staggered gasps fall from his lips, getting more and more careless as you drag him higher.

His circling gets a little more pressure, and it’s enough to send your head lulling back, barely able to focus on the task literally in hand. You returned his zeal, putting an extra squeeze on his length. The choke that passes his lips sends pride through your already thrashing veins. His face twitches; his forehead creases, pretty lips part slightly further, eyebrows jolt. You know he’s close, and you have the power in your hands.

But he has you, too. The pressure pulsing from your core builds, your eyes slamming shut as you're barely able to form words. You can feel it rising, teetering on the edge of something good-

-until he jerks his fingers from you. You whimper at the loss of his fingers, orgasms skittering disappointingly away from you. Your eyes open as you snap your bereft gaze to him.

“Fuck, Y/N, too quick-“ he murmurs, grabbing hold of your wrist and gently pulling your hand of his throbbing cock.

“Jimin?”

He’s fully flushed, strands of silken hair stuck to his forehead. His chest rises and falls rapidly with his chest, eyes wild.

“I don’t wanna cum just yet.”

“What if I wanted you to-“

“Don’t argue with me on this,” he laughs, pressing a kiss to your lips. But then his voice drops low, lips pulled into a deadly smirk. “I have to make you cum first.”

You barely have a second to swallow down a gasp before you’re pulled from the wall to crash against his lips.

You hold him against you with the collar of the shirt you were still trapped in, matching his energy as he kisses you desperately. Your hands are held tight against his chest, his cock resting teasingly against your stomach.

His hands let go of you to grab your hips, steering your towards the edge of the balcony.

Once you're spun he pushes you gently, bending you over to lean against the railing. Forgetting that you’re stuck in the same damn shirt, he gets yanked down with you, body flush against your back. He lets out a tiny giggle into the back of your neck and it’s as if your heart could stop from the sound.

The cool of the metal railing presses into your chest, hands bracing it through the shirt. You look to the party happening below, guests hovering out in the garden to escape the heat of the sweaty party. You were pretty well out of sight - as long as nobody looked up.

“There’s quite a few people down there.” Jimin’s lips are by your ear, making the hairs on your neck stand on end.

“Don’t think you can make me loud enough? That’s a shame.” You smirk, unable to stop teasing him.

“You’re gonna regret those words baby.”

The pet name strikes deep within you. It’s perfect coming from Jimin, warmth radiating across your body. And you couldn’t blame that one on the heat.

Jimin presses his body onto your back, thick erection settling just above your cheeks. You feel the heat of his hand smooth from your thigh round to the front of you. He takes a few swipes across your clit to make you jerk beneath him before his fingers drift further back.

He swirls a finger around your waiting hole, agonizingly slow. You gasp at him, pushing your hips back into him. His shaft brushes against your cheeks and you can hear him suck in a desperate breath. Spurred on by his own need, he dips his finger gradually inside.

It’s slow, pushing past his knuckle until his finger sits inside you. You feel your walls pulse around him, desperate for more. His hand stills, taking his time to pepper kisses behind your ear. He nips playfully at your lobe, taking his sweet time with each movement.

You know he’s doing it to make you suffer. And god were you suffering, using every ounce of restraint to not whine for him.

Slowly he turns his finger so it sits better inside of you. The graze of his knuckle causes you to moan, and you feel him smirk into your skin.

“That’s what I was waiting for.”

He slowly begins to pump into you. It’s instantly better than his stationary finger, but still agonizingly slow. You needed him, harder and faster.

“Jimin…” you whine, pushing your rear back into him. He tuts into your ear, stilling his fingers.

“You need to let go, Y/N. I’ve got you.” He punctuates his point by kissing a trail along your shoulder.

You bite your lip, his words hitting a little deeper than just him getting you off. You always had to be in control of yourself around Jimin - you had to win, had to be alert. You couldn’t let your emotions get hold of you.

But it was all out in the open now. He knew how you felt - and he feels the same too. Maybe you can let go, just a little. It didn’t mean you had to start losing arguments any time soon, though.

You nod, turning your head to where he was pressing kisses into your skin. He beams at you, eyes scrunching as he surges up to catch your lips.

His movements cause his thumb to brush across your clit, and you moan wantonly into him. He pulls away to peer over the balcony, the loud noise escaping you both. You follow his gaze, but you’d drawn no attention. Not yet anyway-

He looks back at you and winks, the move cheeky and completely Jimin but he silences by pulling his finger almost completely out of you. Your jaw drops at the sensation, but just as quickly he pushes it back inside you, as far as he can go.

You bite the collar of the shirt to muffle your noise. His skin was still hot against yours, a sheen of sweat building on your forehead as you focused on him.

Mercifully he begins to fuck his finger in you, curling inside you. You inhale sharply through your nose, eyes shut tight as you let yourself go.

He carries on for a few more pups before he lets a second finger coat in your wetness. On the next thrust into you, he gently presses in a second finger, and you feel yourself clamp down at the stretch. Jimin keeps pressing kisses against your skin, but he gets breathless, his own erection pressing tauntingly at your back.

He sits his fingers for just a few seconds, letting you get used to him before he works them back out of you. In and out, in and out. He’s slow again, teasing you to the point of madness. You groan in frustration, but it was just what he was waiting for.

He thrusts his fingers deep into you, fucking you fast. Your hips roll to meet his pumps, the drag of him inside you delicious.

He brings up two fingers to your lips, and instinctively you take them into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the digits. You make sure to meet his eye as you run your tip up the crack between his fingers, eliciting a groan from him and a buck of his hips against you.

He pulls them from your mouth and moves them between your legs. His fingers find your clit, and to match the rhythm that he was fingering into you, he begins to circle your needy bud.

It pushes you over the edge, almost literally. You cling onto the balcony as you’re thrust into it, Jimin sucking marks into your neck. You groan, the contact all over your body making you weak. The wet noises that surround you are pure sin, making you bite down on your lip. Jimin groans into your skin, teeth sinking softly into your shoulder as his fingers work fast.

“Fuck!” You yelp as his fingers brush your soft spot inside.

You slap a hand over your mouth as you stare down into the garden below, fear icy in your veins as you hope you’re not spotted.

Jimin doesn’t stop though. He hides his head in your neck, thrusting his fingers faster now that he knows your weak spot.

A few people below scan around them for the source of the swearing, but thankfully none of them think to look up. You bite your lip, eyes closing as you let yourself fall back into Jimin.

“That was a close one, huh?” He whispers, a lilt of a giggle in his voice.

“Shut up.” You murmur, voice cracking as he circles your clit so well you almost see stars.

“That’s no way to talk to the man who’s got two fingers deep in your-“

“Fuck, Jimin please!” You gasp, his next words dancing at the front of your mind.

The circles on your clit get defter, pressure hitting you just right as your hips start to roll uncontrollably. You grip tightly at the railing, unable to stop the flow of moans that echo from you. Being spotted from below is less important as you can feel your orgasm rising, your legs feeling weak underneath you.

Your skin prickles from the heat generating between your bodies, Jimin’s hot breath rolling across your neck as you flush harder.

“I’m gonna...” you whimper, your words lost to pleasure.

“Cum baby, all over my fingers.” His whisper sends shivers through you, a welcome change to the heat that dribbles down your temples.

He curls his fingers on every thrust to bring you closer to the precipice. You push back against him furiously, riding his fingers and your knuckles turn white on the railings. You feel it coil in your stomach, and you know you’re so close.

“Let go Y/N.” He whispers, breath ragged from exertion, but still peppering your marked skin with tiny kisses. You screw your eyes shut as you embody his words, letting yourself give in to the feeling.

“Jimin!”

Your orgasm crashes around you, a litany of swear words moan from your lips. Your walls clench down on Jimin’s fingers, twitching under his fingertips. You slam your hand over your mouth as your moans subside, wide eyes scanning the crowd below.

Heads turn in your direction, and before you can begin to scramble Jimin pulls you back from the balcony to stand flush against him. Your heart pounds in your chest, but the thrill that runs through your veins is undeniable.

He finally pulls his fingers out of you, the gush of wetness and noise make your face heat up. He wraps that arm across your chest and holds you against him, a wide grin wrinkling his eyes. You kiss him, soft and delicate, plump lips locking with yours.

Once you pull back he grins again, before moving the fingers that were in you towards his lips. your mouth parts as you watch him slip the digits inside, taking his time to suck off the taste of you. A light whimper leaves you as you watch him finally slide them out from between your lips with a pop, devilish glint in his eye.

Witha shiver you turn in his grip, pushing him firmly back against the wall.

He hisses lightly as his back hits it, and hisses louder as you're bungied in the shirt against him. He lets out a laugh and you do the same as you right yourself. But you can't keep yourself away from him as your lips are on his again. You flick your tongue at his, the taste of you on him.

“Wanna be inside you...” he whispers between kisses, his hot fingers idling their way up and down your sides. You groan at his words, nodding dreamily at him.

“God, yes please.” you sigh, feeling his lips trace kisses along your jaw.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” He smiles against your skin, grabbing you by the hips and spinning you both.

He pushes you back against the wall, the bite of the wood pressing into your skin.

“I’ve never heard you so passive.” He laughs, thumb and finger coming up to gently grip your chin. You grin at him, a flutter in your stomach.

“Don’t get used to it Park Jimin.”

He tips his head back to laugh, a pinky flush hot on his cheeks. All you can do is watch in awe, soak him in as he glows in the moonlight. But then he looks back down at you with the stars in his eyes and you realise that, yes - this is what you had wanted all along.

You bring his lips crashing back down to yours, letting your fingers knot in his dark hair and you touch him, drink him in. The silken strands flit through your fingers, and you idly think to yourself about him running his own hands through it. You can see why he does it now.

His thumb strokes across your chin, gently pulling your face from his. You open your eyes to look at him, the flush on his face even brighter.

“Ready?”

“Give it your best shot.” you smile, peppering his jaw with kisses.

You’re stopped in your tracks when he hoists one of your legs over his hip, a teasing eyebrow raised at you. Not to be bested, you hook your leg over his ass and pull him against you. You feel his erection sit against your stomach, hard and leaking onto your skin.

He takes hold of himself and strokes across your wet slit, coating himself. A withered sigh escapes your lips as you watch his frown deepen. His face contorts as he concentrates, teasing himself just as much as he was you. You lean forward to let a trail of spit fall from your lips and drip down onto him, coating his cock even more. You don’t know what possessed you to do it again, but the way he stuttered in a gasp made it well worth it.

Then with an agonisingly slow pace, he begins to press himself just inside you. Your mind clears, all that you can see and feel is Jimin. You had waited long enough.

A wimpery sigh strangles from you, Jimin pressing against your walls until he is fully seated in you. He was so warm, stretching you in all the right places, as close to you as he could physically be.

You give him an encouraging squeeze with your leg. He takes the hint and slowly starts to pull out of you, hair flopping in front of his eyes as he looks down to watch himself pull out of you. The drag of him is good, too good, as you let a warble of noises fall out of your mouth. He doesn't seem to mind though, his focus transfixed elsewhere.

"Jimin..." you whisper, fingers digging into his skin as he slowly begins to reach a rhythm.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, any mischievous glint in him gone. He was a man on a mission now, aiming to make you feel as good as possible. You could feel that in every stroke, the way he let you feel the length of him drag almost fully out before he pushes back inside you.

You start to roll your hips back at him, determined to not let him have all the fun. The tentative thrust of your hips had his head snap up to you, a fresh sheen of sweat glowing on his skin. You try to play it off coolly - another attempt to throw him off his game - but he squeezes your ass cheeks and holds himself deep in you, and your resolve melts away.

"Don't start something you can't finish." He smirks, and despite the need to fight him bubbling in you, you tip your head back and laugh.

"I guess that applies to both of us." You smile, pressing forward to kiss his lips softly. "Now fuck me Park Jimin, or we're really gonna have a fight on our hands."

He laughs against your lips, a gentle bubble that rises from his chest. But he takes on your words, pressing you hardest against the wall and hiking your leg higher.

He only goes slow for a few thrusts, getting a feel for you before he decides to ramp it up further. 'Typical Jimin' seems to float through your head, but you just grip him tighter, moving to meet his thrusts. You wanted to savour how full he made you feel for as long as possible.

His speed picks up, a hand moving to the underside of your raised legs and digs in deep. You let your own hands slide to his hair, keeping hold of the soft locks as he starts to hit harder inside you.

The sound of your skin making contact seems to echo loudly, and you barely spare a thought to people below working out what the noise was. You didn't care if they heard any more.

It was so hot inside the shirt together, and you could feel beads of sweat rolling down your chin and down your neck. This definitely wasn't helping the heat problem at all, but there was nothing on earth that would make you stop.  The edges of Jimin's hair were getting damper, and with every tug of his hair he let his head fall back into your touch. His throat was bared to you, salty beads dribbling down his hot skin.

You murmur a series of curses as you watched him, the thrum of him being underneath you almost unbelievable.

But then he pulls out a power move.

With fast thrusts he rolls his hips, his cock dragging almost perfectly across your soft spot inside, and all your senses seem to leave you. He repeatedly manages to hit your spot and you are sure he is planning to end you, it was the only way to explain it. Death by good dick, you could see it now.

"Fuck fuck fuck." you repeat like a mantra, The wet slaps that echoes just adding to the sensation.

"Wanna turn you." He mutters breathlessly, and a part of you is glad he's also feeling so affected.

You can't seem to vocalise an answer so you nod emphatically, unhitching your leg from its vice-like grip around him. He pulls out of you and you almost complain, but then his hands are on your hips.

He spins you and presses you against the wall, lifting your leg up and lining himself back inside you again. You're practically dripping for him, so it doesn't take much for him to push back inside. You push your ass back into his thrusts making his movements stutter, and with a playful squeeze he whines behind you.

A small smirk picks up on your lips as you roll your hips back at him, starting him out of his stupor and back to where you need him.

He pounds his hips into you and you have to steady yourself against the wall. The shirt bunches awkwardly, caught in your grip as the rough wood of the wall digs into your skin. Jimin presses his front against your back, the hotness of his skin pricking against your own.

An arm slides around your waist, guiding you, holding you steady as he ferociously fucks into you. His other arm settles across your chest, his fingers clenching across your collarbone. His mouth is by your ear, ragged breaths blowing across the taut collar of the shirt and hitting the warmth of your body.

“Y/N.” Jimin groans, the lilt in his voice uneven as his hips crash into yours.

Your entire body was tingling, the pleasure from your core and the bite of the wall against your bare skin a fight for your senses. You could feel perspiration form on your forehead making your hair stick to you awkwardly but it didn't matter.

Jimin filled you in every way. The hot touch from his fingertips on your waist and across your chest, the heat of his stomach at the base of your back, the soft moans that he sings by your ears.

"That's it, baby." He groans, his fingers curling onto your skin.

The hand that he has sat on your waist slinks across your stomach to reach between your legs, letting his fingers circle your throbbing clit. The pressure makes your eyes slam shut, letting your head fall back onto Jimin's shoulder behind you.

A small single laugh falls from his lips, but your inevitable clench off your walls around him cuts it short. He thrusts a little harder, rocking you against the wall. You have to brace yourself as he fills you repeatedly, his athletic hips working overtime.

The hand that has been pressed to your chest finds its way to your throat, holding just below your jaw. You let out a moan as you cover his hand with yours, pressing his fingers into your throat.

"Shit..." He gasps, his hips stuttering.

"I bet you've been wanting to strangle me for ages." You rush, voice cracking as he circles your clit a little harder.

"Only when I've thought about fucking you."

The moan that leaves you is barely human. In fact, you were barely human any more. you were turning to putty on his cock and under his fingers. It wasn't going to be long until you reached your peak.

His fingers press into your throat under your guidance, the delicious bite making your vision slowly pool. You gasp, shivers tingling down your body. He lets up his grip a little to let your blood flow one more, your body practically vibrating from stimulation.

"Close, Jimin..." you whine, rocking your ass back into him.

"Let loose for me, Y/N." He whispers, pressing his lips to the shell of your ear.

He lets out one last surge of energy, fucking into you and rubbing your clit with a renewed vigour. you throw yourself back at him without care, chasing the high he was leading to you.

With a few more pumps and circles on your clit, you come undone.

Your body pulses on him, clenching down hard as your orgasm crashes through you. Your fingernails dig into his hand and the wall, a strangled cry of his name bursting from you. You cum hard on him, helping him finally reach his peak too - you could tell by the way his hips stuttered, the way he throbbed inside you.

"Cum, Jimin." you whimper, rocking your throbbing core on him.

He doesn't hold back, pumping a few stuttery thrusts into you as he cums. He fills you, gasping against your ear as your walls milk him dry. He thrusts until he can’t anymore, slowing his hips as the fullness inside of you trickles out past his length.

Both of your movements slowly lull to a stop. Jimin holds your body close against him, ragged breath hot against your ear. Your skin is prickled from the heat but you nestle into him anyway.

He finally pulls his softening length from inside you, a small dribble of your combined juices trickle down causing shivers to cover your body.

Turning your head you smile at him, slightly out of breath and dewy. The sight of him is godly: Messy hair sticking to his damp forehead, a pretty red blush spreading across his cheeks, plushy lips parted and sucking in breaths. He smirks back, a lazy grin growing. He moves closer and kisses you, gentle brushes of his lips against yours.

His hand that sat on your throat moved to stroke your cheek, and you let your hands thread in his hair as your kiss trails off into small pecks.

The air is different around you. It’s still hot, swirling close and untempered. But there’s something else too - a coolness, an understanding. A person behind the battle lines. Someone you could lean on, and someone who could keep up with you in an argument.

You pull back from him and look at him, his eyes slightly starry and his lips swollen from all they had been doing. With a soft smile you rub your thumb across his cupid’s bow, wiping off the last of his lipgloss.

“We should probably go downstairs, right? We don’t want Namjoon sticking that long neck of his out here.” Jimin whispers, his eyes finally focusing on you.

You nod, but not before pressing one last soft kiss to his lips. Now you’ve started, there was nothing in the world that could stop you from peppering him.

“Yeah.” You sigh, voice cracking slightly.

But neither of you move, both unwilling to be the first to break apart.

“I don’t want to leave here either.” He smirks, but it’s softer. Not the smirk he throws out to purposely disarm you, though it still has that effect on you.

“Where do we go from here though?”

“I guess we’ll have to work that out. Maybe we can discuss it if you let me take you out tomorrow?” He asks, eyes darting over your face for an answer.

Excitement crackles through you, electricity rippling through your head to the end of your fingertips. A smile rises on your face, and you can see the relief flow through Jimin.

“I’d love to.”

“Perfect. Now, let’s go and rub in the guy’s faces how well we’re getting on.” He laughs, his eyes crinkling.

He kisses you one last time, hard and fast, satiated for now. With that you finally separate, Pulling your clothes back on before facing each other again.

The shirt felt big now. Too big.

You couldn’t get close enough to him. You both head for the door when you feel Jimin’s fingers interlock with yours. Your entire body flushes as you open the door to the bedroom, the wall of heat from the house hitting you both.

You’re both undeterred though, determined to find your friends. You pull him down the stairs, not caring at who stares at you both in the sickly shirt. The house felt hotter, a visible mist descending over the sea of people.

You find them where they last left you, congregating around the couch. When you stop in front of them with Jimin in tow, they all take it upon themselves to scrutinise you. It was quiet for a long while, and you could feel your resolve buckling. You didn’t want them to see through you, see what happened. But you wanted them to know that things would be okay. For all of you.

You can only imagine how you looked. Out of breath and flustered, both of your hair messy and fully damp. They couldn’t see your hands knotted together inside the shirt, but they didn’t need to. The demeanor change between you both must have been glaringly obvious.

“How’s it going?” Namjoon asks, glaring between you.

“Good, we, uh. We’re getting on. Yeah.” you smile awkwardly, completely lost on why you were being so suspicious. You had more guts than that!

“That was smooth.” Jimin grins. He was worlds away from you, utterly content and calm.

“Oh my god, shut up.” You roll your eyes, but give his hands an extra squeeze under the shirt.

“Where have you guys been? I haven’t seen you all night.” Jungkook asks with wide innocent eyes, and for a moment you feel like if he knew what had just been happening he would have been tainted.

“Oh, just… exploring.” Jimin smirks, and you fight the urge to pinch him. Who knew this would go to his head?

Well, you knew. You shouldn’t be surprised at all.

“About time.” Jin sighs, eyes still glued to his phone. The others laugh and throw in their agreements.

“What?” you and Jimin both yell, eyes scanning your ‘friends’ suspiciously.

“We knew you both liked each other. It got a bit weird towards the end there but we knew you’d work it out - or Namjoon would.” Hoseok shrugs, but his face is bright as he grins at you both.

“The shirt was a bit of a, well… drastic option.” Namjoon's smile was crooked, but his eyes were bright as he grinned at you.

“Oh… I don’t know what to say.” You murmur, heat creeping across your face again.

Jimin, however, throws his head back and laughs, slapping a hand on his chest for good measure. You stare up at him in shock, but you can’t help the smile that grows on your face. He was infectious. And your friends understood. You feel a tightness unfurl in your stomach.

“Well, it worked out. It worked out really well. I mean just so so good-”

“Jimin, shut up!”  You gasp, eyes wide as he winks at Namjoon.

Well, it’s good to know that the fire is still there between you. He was still impossibly infuriating and unendingly Jimin - but it was all for you. And it was only the start.

“Sorry baby.” He whispers as he lets go of your hand to wrap his arm around your waist pulling you into his side. You flush at the move in front of the others, but easily melt into his side. You had been waiting for this, after all.

“I’m glad.” smiles Namjoon, warm eyes flicking over you both in the stained and rumpled ugly item of clothing. “Maybe we should burn the shirt, though. Just for hygienic reasons.”

[axwalker]

AFTER

I’ve never liked the way PB wrote everything that happens after Drake gets shot trying to save MC --they don’t even go to a freaking hospital!! 

I think this might have been done before but I wanted to share my own version of it. I hope you enjoy it!

 This is my contribution for DAY THREE OF TRRAW hosted by @trraw 

This ONE-SHOT belongs to The Walker’s universe but it’s a stand alone. MASTERLIST HERE.

I hope you enjoy it!

Book and Pairing: TRR Drake x Alexis (MC)

Warnings: Shooting, coma. 

ALL MY FICS ARE +18.

Words: 2,868

Disclaimer: All characters and some dialogues and places  belong to Pixelberry. 

Tagging perma:

@mskaneko @drakexwillow @burnsoslow @thegreentwin @kat-tia801

@gkittylove99     @no-one-u-know @twinkle-320 @forallthatitsworth @marshmallowsandfire @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @princessleac1 

@twinkleallnight @tinkie1973 @moneyfordiamonds 

DRAKE

My lungs draw in air, bringing consciousness and chaos rushing back to me. And pain. So much pain. My vision is blurred as if I’m underwater. I can’t move; I can hardly take some shallow breaths. Gunshots, screams, and fire sound through the ringing in my ears. My left arm is heavy with deep, piercing pain. I feel dizzy and disoriented, but I have to make sure where Lexie is. She has to be alive. I remember the gun pointing at her, and terror, as I’ve never known, invades me, carrying adrenaline through my blood.

“Lexie,” I croak. “Lexie!” My gaze darts all over, assessing. A pool of blood, seeping into the floor below me, freeze my veins. Please, God, don’t let it be her. I struggle to sit up, but the sharp pain stops me. Trembling, I turn to see the hole in the skin of my forearm, up to my elbow. The screaming starts again closer, and I realize that Alexis is not hurt.  

My relief is short-lived when I realize Alexis’s crying inconsolably. She seems desperate; her hands are drenched, red. Her dress is soaked up in blood. For a minute, I panic again, but I realize it is my own blood she has all over her. I sigh, relieved, and try to tell her that I’m in fine, but I can’t get the words out of my mouth.

I struggle to stand up, but I feel someone or something trying to keep me pinned where I am. It’s not Lexie because she’s kneeled next to me. Telling me … something. I can’t hear her. Her hands go from my face to my chest and my hair. Huge tears are rolling from her eyes. Suddenly, her soothing touch stop, and I want to scream. Leo is holding her; she seems so broken. I want to take her in my arms, tell her that I’ll be okay, but I can’t speak.

Finally, my eyes fall shut under a wave of dizziness that I can’t avoid. The last thing I see is Alexis’s sad face before blackness comes down.

A thousand stars twinkle in the sky; I’m lying in the middle of the woods. Lexie is next to me, her small hand engulfed by mine. Despite the frosty wind, I feel warm, content for the first time in a long time. I want to stay here, like this, with her forever.

Suddenly, we’re back at the palace, and she’s in my arms. We’re swaying slowly at the rhythm of an old waltz, and I realize it’s the happiest moment of my life. Just moments ago, her warm body was writhing, moaning beneath me. She was mine.

Now she’s here. With me. You have to wake up now, she says. Please, Drake. Wake up, my love. I don’t understand what she’s talking about; I try to hold on to her, but she keeps crying and begging for me to wake up over and over again.

I try to tell her I’m here with her. That I’m never going to let her go. That I regret every second, we wasted because I refused to listen to her. That I can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives together. But I can’t. My eyes refuse to open, my brain to cooperate. She’s so close and so far away from me. This is punishment for chasing after what wasn’t mine. For using Liam’s trust and deceive him. For hurting Lexie. I hurt the woman I loved when I swore I’d never do that. Never love anyone. I shouldn’t love anyone. I know I don’t deserve her, but I just couldn’t help myself.

Her tornado-like personality sweeps people up, and it was so powerful, it drew me in so that I wanted to kiss her and touch her and make her mine.

Please baby, please, stop crying.

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

My eyes flare open, and my body spasms. Terror surge through my veins as I slam into the floor. Not the floor, a bed. My brain registers white sheets, fluorescent lights, incessant beeping—a sharp pain sliced through me. I try to scream, but something in my mouth and down my throat pushed air into my lungs instead.  

“Drake.” A voice in my head. Soft and sweet. “Drake, look at me.” The voice is outside my head. I reach for it. I need it more than air. Lexie? I try to turn my head.

“Easy, now.” A man’s voice. Authoritative. Hands push me down at the shoulders. “Calm down,” he says. “That’s it. Don’t fight the machine.”

I try to inhale and exhale, but I can’t control my breathing. All the while, fluorescent lights come and go—my eyes. I’m opening and closing my eyes. I’m in here. This is me. The pain. Holy fuck, the pain. A red-hot sledgehammer to my right arm.

“Drake,” Lex says. Warm fingers fold around my hand. “It’s all right. Try to lie back.” Slowly my brain put things together. A bed with white sheets and beeping machines. This is a hospital. And Lex is here.

“Lexie,” I say. Or try to. The fucking tube in my mouth and down my throat blocks the word. I gag as more air pushes in.

“I’ll call the attending,” says the man, who must be a nurse. “Just stay with him. Keep talking and help get him oriented.”

Stay with me, my Lexie. Forever. My eyes fight hard to stay open. A plastic tube and white tape obscure my vision, but through and around it, I see her. Standing over me with brown hair falling down around her shoulders. Like a beautiful, peaceful dream after a long, dark night.

“Hey, Walker,” she says softly. Her little fingers intertwine with mine; her other palm runs smoothly over my forehead. “You’re all right. Just listen to my voice.” Her touch is so soft on my head. “You’re on a ventilator. Okay? It’s breathing for you. Try not to fight it. I’m right here. Keep listening to me. The respirator is to help you breathe until you come out of the sedation. That’s all.”

I wink again, unable to do anything else. Lexie reaches out her hand and caresses my cheek. I move my eyes and see Li and Savvy behind her.

My eyes fall shut in intense relief. My best friend and my little sister. Memories of safety and love from my childhood play on fast-forward—scraped knees and the time I fell from the treehouse. They were there for me. Over their shoulders, I see Bertrand and Max smiling. Savvy is here, Lexie is here, and Liam is all right. Everyone is.

“Hey there, Drake.” A tall man in a white coat is at the side of the bed now. “I’m Dr. Lahela. Let’s take a look at you…” He shines a light in my eyes. “You’re a very lucky man, Mr. Walker. You’ll need some physical therapy for your arm, but you’ll be fine.”

Alexis takes my hand and squeezes it. “You better never scare me like this again, Walker.” Her voice finally breaks. “I can’t live without you, Drake. Please, don’t do that again.”

I can’t talk, so I look at her trying to compel everything I feel for her. I treasure every shy smile, every kiss, every single laugh. I love her, and I don’t care if I deserve it or not. I’m never letting her go.

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

One Year Later

The day is finally here. I’m not one for nerves and that bullshit, but there’s no ignoring the tightness in my chest as I walk down the street. Even though I have the address memorized, I recheck my phone to verify that I’m at the correct address. It’s there in my text messages, the location Lexie sent.

We’ve been together for more than a year, and sometimes I’ll get texts like these. Lexie loves to be spontaneous. I never know if I’m going to show up and find some dark bar where she wants me to fuck her in the bathroom… or if it’s going to be this really fucking cool bookshop where we’ll linger for hours, talking about books before she eventually buys both our favorites.

Those dates mean everything to me. I love the sex—fucking love the sex—but Lexie is a world into herself, and I could spend the rest of my life exploring her and still not know everything there is to know.

Today’s different, though

It’s not just any day, not just any date.

It’s been a year since the attack.

I touch the box in my pocket, take a deep breath, and push through the doors and into the restaurant. After a quick word, the hostess leads me up a set of stairs to the roof. I shake my head as I look around.

Lexie does nothing halfway.

The roof isn’t huge, but there is a gazebo in the middle that I’m nearly certain isn’t there during regular events. A small bar has been placed in the side, and the rest of the space is cleared of tables and chairs. It will just be us tonight.

She’s leaning against the railing and looking out across Portavira. We’re high enough to have a decent view of the sea. Personally, I only have eyes for her.

She’s wearing flat sandals and a stunning red dress; it clings to her body all the way down to her knees before flaring out. I will never know how she walks in the damn thing, but I appreciate how good her ass and tiny waist look on it as I walk over and lean against the railing next to her.

“I’m surprised you didn’t have me jumping on a plane to find you this time.” Something she occasionally does. She loves to travel. And I love her: ‘Surprise, I’m in Athenes, come get me’ texts.

“I did consider it.” Lexie turns to me with a grin. Her mouth is painted a crimson shade identical to her dress. Fuck, the woman is so beautiful it makes my chest ache. Not just her face. All of her, inside and out. She bumps me with her elbow. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I love you.”

Her sexy grin turns into a full on smile that lights up her entire face. “You’re such a guy. All it takes is a short dress and a red lipstick.” She teases.

“It’s not that.” I take her hand and tug her toward the table set up for us. As we walk over, I study her expression. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine.” Lexie catches my raised eyebrow and sighs. “Look, this day is never going to be easy for me. I thought I lost you, but I promise I’m okay.” She hesitates. “How are you holding up?”

I answer her honestly. “I’m fine. I know this was a horrible day to you, but I barely remember anything.” I take Lexie’s hand and brush my mouth over her knuckles. “So, why’d you pick this place?”

She looks around, the light wind pulling at her silky hair. “It’s romantic.” She turns her hand in mine to lace our fingers together. “We’ve both been working a lot lately. While I fully intend to take you home, so you fuck my brains out, I thought it’d be a nice change of pace to have a nice Italian dinner first.” She smiles. “And this place has a cool seasonal menu.”

The bartender delivers drinks that Lexie must have ordered for us—both Macallan’s 18 years. We order and then sip in silence for a few moments. I shift the ring box, an ever-present reminder of what I plan for tonight at the beach.

I’m not used to feeling off-center. I sure as fuck have wasted too much time doubting myself. I do not doubt that I love her wildly. That she’s the woman for me. It’s her answer that frightens me.

And I’m still not sure tonight is the night for this.

“Drake.”

I realize I’ve been spacing out and grimace. “Sorry. What did you say?”

Lexie leans in, her expression going playful. “I said, ‘Is that a box in your pocket, or are you happy to see me?’”

I follow her gaze down to where the square is very plainly in view pressed against the slacks of my front pocket. “Well, fuck.”

Her eyes go wide. “Seriously? It’s not earrings or a bracelet or something?”

I pull the box out of my pocket, and I’m fucked up to realize my palms are sweaty. Jesus fuck, this is not how I planned to do this, but here we are. “It’s not earrings or a necklace, no.” I set the box on the table between us and take a breath. This might not be how I planned to go about things, but that doesn’t mean a fucking thing. Very little goes to plan when Lexie is involved; that’s one of the things I love most about her. I’ve learned to roll with the punches.

I take Lexie’s hands and hold her gaze.

“That night, I was terrified. When I saw that gun aimed at you, I thought I might lose you. And I can’t live without you.” Fuck, this is harder than I expected. It’s not the opening myself up that’s so challenging. No subject is off-limits with us. It’s more that I want the perfect words to describe how I feel, and I’m shit at words. I’m not a damn poet. I’m just me, and just me will have to be perfect because she deserves nothing less than perfection. “This year has been really fucking good, O’Brien. Every time I think I can’t love you more, you go and prove me wrong. I love the adventures and shit we get into together, just like I love the long afternoons we spend with takeout and movies and board games and shit. And the lazy mornings in bed. I love it all.”

I release one of her hands to open the box. It’s an heirloom, but it meant so much to my grandmother, I hope she likes it. Lexie deserves perfect. It’s a single ruby against a simple setting that lets the gem stand on its own.

Lexie stares at it for a long moment and then at me. “Drake, that’s so perfect.”

“You’re one hell of a woman.” I don’t move, barely breathe. “Will you marry me, Lexie?”

She screams and throws herself at me. “Of course I will.” Her lower lip quivers a little. “Damn, you’re going to make me cry after saying all those sweet, perfect things.” She holds still while I slip the ring onto her finger. She holds it up, smiling at the way it glints in the city lights. “A perfect fit.”

“Just like us.”

“Just like us,” she repeats. A heartbeat passes. Another as I try to rein myself. Then I lean down, take her face in my hands, and kiss her desperately like she’s the last thing I’ll ever taste. I kiss her with the power surging through my veins, with all the strength of my desire and happiness over this day. With all the want that’s burning through me—want of more than just her body. Everything I long for, everything I hold precious, I pour into her mouth—and my Lex responds beautifully. Her arms twine around my waist, pressing her soft belly against me. I’m so damn hard, I just want to push myself against her until she spreads her legs and lets me in. Instead, I slide my tongue into the softness of her mouth. She gasps. It makes me smile around her lips, knowing that I can make my girl gasp with just a slip of my tongue. I explore her slowly, wrapping an arm around her back and cradling her head, so when I thrust my tongue into the hot, soft sanctuary of her sexy mouth, she doesn’t have to work to stay upright. I kiss her soft and slow, and longer, harder until she’s gasping and my hand is slowly caressing her neck. Her back is pressed against the rail, and I’m thrusting against her. She’s rocking against me, too, and I stop. I see the waitress coming. We’ll have to wait a few hours until we’re together at the cabin, and I have time to explore every inch of her. Even if I know, it will never be enough.  

She’s blushing, and it’s so fucking adorable I want to kiss her all over again. “You know, for a guy who says you’re not good with words, that was one hell of a proposal.”

“I just love you so fucking much, baby.”

“That’s why I’m going to marry you.” She hooks the back of my neck and brings me down for a kiss.

Lexie leans back and meets my gaze. “I don’t suppose you’re thinking what I’m thinking?”

“That we should pay the tab, get the food to go, and take it back to our cabin.”

“A man after my own heart.” She kisses me again, sweeter this time. “I love you, Drake Walker. So fucking much. I can’t wait to marry you.”

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 285: You Looked Like You Needed Saving

Previously on BnHA: Deku was all, “hey guys I’m just gonna fight Tomura one on one and risk my own life rather than risk letting him do the whole Destroying Everything bit again.” Kacchan was all “WAIT NO ARE YOU SERIOUS THAT’S THE EXACT THING I HATE THE MOST” and indignantly launched into his “P.S. I CARE ABOUT DEKU” flashback, which was a revelation in that it proved exactly what Bakugou fans have been saying this whole time, AND YET OUR MINDS WERE STILL BLOWN ANYWAY, BECAUSE HOLY SHIT, HE REALLY WENT AND SAID IT OUT LOUD THOUGH. Anyway, so Deku’s strategy for defeating Tomura is to, you guessed it, break his fucking arms again; and meanwhile a frantic Katsuki is gearing up on the sidelines to do something really awesome and incredibly stupid, probably; and all in all it’s a pretty terrible situation our boys have found themselves in. Terrible for them, but GREAT for me, and I’ve never been so hyped in my life omg.

Today on BnHA: Deku breaks both of his arms like a dozen times over. Like, just pages and pages of arm breaking. Just like in the good old days! Meanwhile Kacchan is all “jesus christ, okay you know what would be a better idea, JUST SETTING HIM ON FIRE AGAIN”, and so he grabs Shouto and Endeavor, and they do a whole Prominence Burn combo thing. The AFO-inside-of-Tomura is all “‘sup it’s me again, but seriously now would be a REALLY good time to let me take over your body”, and so Tomura TOTALLY DOES LET HIM TAKE OVER, WHOOP, and so AFO is all “HELLS YEAH.” And then he STRAIGHT UP STABS MY SON, WHOSE BODY WAS SIMPLY MOVING ON ITS OWN, YOU KNOW, JUST HERO THINGS. Anyway so now Kacchan is fucking dead*, and so if I were AFO I would start putting as much distance as possible between myself and Deku right the fuck now, because boy, IF YOU THOUGHT HE WAS MAD BEFORE? Holy shit. We’re about to see a whole new level aren’t we.

LOL WE’RE OFF TO A GRAND OLD START

Deku’s arms should sue for legal emancipation. I think most of us can agree that they’re probably better off without him. sure they’ll have to buy their own food and stuff, but I think the trade-off is more than fair

oh wow that 100% shit really is something though

too bad it did ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!! spoiler alert. I don’t even have to scroll to the next page, Deku. we already know

OH MY GOD ARE YOU SERIOUS

did Deku really pull off some “three hits in one” bullshit, or is this a mistranslation referring to the fact that Deku’s already hit him twice with his left arm, and so this is now the third 100% hit. kinda hoping for the latter, ngl. either way though, I’m really getting a “Deku’s arms are legitimately done for” vibe from this

ESPECIALLY SINCE:

DEKU YOU SHRUB!!! WAS IT WORTH IT YOU EGG FDKF KKDJ YOU DON’T GET BONUS POINTS FOR BREAKING THEM TWICE

goddammit I’m pretty sure he just Detroit Smashed the last remaining hero brain cell. now they have diddly squat to work with, oh this is bad

...

do you guys remember a few weeks back when I was joking about him breaking the rest of his bones and using Blackwhip to move his shattered body around like a grotesque marionette. do you specifically remember the part where that was a joke

holy shit Deku. it’s like we’re all the way back to square one with you. wasn’t that like the first thing Aizawa taught you, not to break your whole body apart? how are you supposed to fight Tomura if you can’t move?? why didn’t you wait for one of your pals who could hit him with an attack from long range WITHOUT BREAKING EVERY SINGLE BONE IN THEIR BODIES. WHERE DID YOUR BIG HERO BRAIN GO

boy you better pray one of those remaining quirks is a healing factor, or else you’re gonna be on IR for a LONG time. anyway. idk why I’m getting so worked up when I already knew this was going to happen lol. it’s just like Katsuki said; he takes himself out of the equation. it’s worth sacrificing his own body if it means he can take out AFO and prevent Tomura from hurting anyone else again. it’s just that... well. you know that saying about taking calculated risks when you are bad at math?

GUH I REALLY HATE THAT TOMURA IS STILL COMPLETELY FINE KSKWOILWKKJ AT LEAST PRETEND TO BE A LITTLE HURT, WOULD YOU

please ignore all of those worried-sounding thoughts; I think we all know that’s a bunch of bullshit. completely and utterly fine. the only person Deku’s attacks hurt was himself. hip hip hooray

anyway. so now, this!

pretty sure he can’t use Decay or AFO without at least touching SOMETHING, so I’m guessing this is another one of his new quirks. dammit Tomura why are you so fucking invincible

HAHAHA MEANWHILE

if I were you, Deku’s Arms, I would simply detach from his body altogether at this point. cut my losses. mmm

OOF HE HIT HIM WITH THE WHOLE OF TEXAS

spoiler alert: again, it did nothing. SORRY TO KEEP RUINING THE SUSPENSE FOR YOU GUYS. is there a single human being reading this who thought for even for the milliest of seconds that this stood a chance of working though

OH MY GOD

DEKU GET IT TOGETHER YOU’RE STARTING TO LOOK LIKE THE ENIGMA OF AMIGARA FAULT AND I CAN’T STAND THIS ACTUALLY

so Tomura is all “there must be something I can do to stop this fucking kid” and shuffling through his quirk pokedex while he’s tossed around bleeding in the air

hey Tomura I’ll tell you right now that you don’t actually need to do a damn thing except not die for roughly the next thirty seconds or so, and then you’ve got this. the quirk that can stop this kid is called “One for All”, and it just so happens he’s already got you covered bruh

and Katsuki’s realized the same thing, apparently!

SHOUTO YOU’RE NOT EVEN LOOKING?? wow that is some trust right there. focused on cauterizing Gran and Aizawa’s wounds, I guess

MEANWHILE KATSUKI IS PULLING OUT ALL THE STOPS. HE FOUND A NEW BRAIN CELL! A WHOLE DAMN CACHE OF FRESH NEW BRAIN CELLS, LOOK AT THIS

THANKS FOR THAT, PROFESSOR

OH SHIT SON ARE WE MOUNTING A COUNTERATTACK?

I like how Endeavor is just SITTING THERE in the background looking all disgruntled. yes, sorry about that sir, this is now Kacchan’s show. he’s in charge now. time for that long-range attack I was complaining about them not doing earlier?? hopefully?? omg

OH MY GOD YOU GUYS IT’S A BAKUROKI TRIPLE COMBO?!?!

ARE YOU GOING TO YEET THEM A LA GANG ORCA?? ALSO OH MY GOD, HE REALLY IS IN CHARGE. FIRST DEKU TOOK OVER FOR TWO MINUTES UNTIL HE BROKE ALL HIS BONES, AND NOW IT’S KACCHAN’S TIME. I’M SO PROUD OF YOU KIDS

LOL SHOUTO’S GETTING IN ON THIS TOO

THIS JUST IN, THE KIDS HAVE TAKEN OVER THE MANGA, ADULTS OF BNHA IN SHAMBLES

WELL MAYBE NEXT TIME DON’T LET AIZAWA GET SHOT THEN, YOU HAT!!!

WOOP OKAY WE FLYING NOW

Kacchan, tired of sitting back watching Deku invent new ways to die, decides to improvise a few of his own. hmmmmmmm

(ETA: HE LEARNED FROM THE BEST ORZ.)

OKAY WAIT A MINUTE NOW

why does this sound like he’s planning something on his own after the Todorokis have done their part. KACCHAN. EXCUSE ME, KACCHAN

SDLFKJLKJLJ

OKAY HOLD THE FUCKING PHONE

IS THIS LEADING WHERE I THINK IT’S LEADING, HOLY --

-- ooOF

I WASN’T FUCKING READY FOR THAT ONE. BAKUBULLYING FROM HIS OWN NOW-REMORSEFUL POV. SHIT. FUCKING FELT THAT. HERE I THOUGHT YOU WERE BUILDING UP TO AN “ALL FOR ONE FOR ALL” REVEAL, AND THEN YOU GO AND PULL THAT INSTEAD, WHAT’S GOING ON

-- HOLD UP WE’RE NOT DONE WITH THIS ONE YET MAYBE!!

“ONE FOR ALL IS”??!? KDSLFJAKLSJLKJLKJL AND THEN INTERRUPTING ME WITH THE CUTE BABIES WATCHING THE ALL MIGHT FOOTAGE, OH MY GOD. I’M JUST WILDLY REACTING TO EVERYTHING THAT’S BEING THROWN AT ME RIGHT NOW LMAO I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE THIS IS LEADING

OOF THE NOTEBOOK

KACCHAN THIS ISN’T EVEN YOUR MEMORY HONEY, GET IT TOGETHER

OH MY GLOB

THIS IS THE MOST NONSENSICAL SEQUENCE OF PANELS RIGHT NOW. I’M SURE THIS IS ALL SHORTLY GOING TO COME TOGETHER IN SOME PROFOUND WAY THAT’S GOING TO KICK MY EMOTIONS SQUARE IN THE BALLS, BUT RIGHT NOW I’M JUST ALL “OOH AHH” LIKE SOME HAPLESS RUBE ALONG FOR THE RIDE. p.s. this chapter still doesn’t have a title!! p.p.s. Horikoshi is a knave

(ETA: HORIKOSHI IS A FUCKING MALFEASANT!!)

I CAN’T TAKE THIS??

PLEASE STOP BUILDING UP TO WHATEVER IT IS YOU’RE BUILDING UP TO AND JUST SAY IT ALREADY, I’M DYING OMG

...and we’re cutting back to the action. godfuckingdammit it’s gonna be one of those chapters where the entire thing is just buildup to some huge reveal on the very last page isn’t it

(ETA: [sounds of screaming heard in the distance])

anyway so this next page is just Deku flying in the air, and Tomura flying through the air, and Endeavor+Katsuki+Shouto flying through the air, and everyone’s flying through the air, and we’re all just flying. TALK TO ME MORE ABOUT THE CURSE OF OFA DAMN IT

OOHHHHHH

guess if it was good enough for Hood, it’s probably their best shot huh. better than whatever the fuck Deku was trying to pull at any rate

OOP

gotta admit, if I didn’t already know full well that Tomura could not possibly die here, I’d have been pretty convinced he was dying here lol

DSFKJL ENDEAVOR BUDDY YOU MIGHT HAVE POSSIBLY OVERDONE IT JUST A BIT

wait... is that Blackwhip...?? or???

OH SHIT

WHAT EVEN IS THIS CHAPTER, COME ON

-- FMMMJAKAKJDJL, UM

TIME TO SCROLL BACK UP TO THAT PANEL OF TOMURA BEING MELTED, AND READ WHAT AFO WAS SAYING A LITTLE MORE CAREFULLY LMAOOOO. LOL. WHOOPS. OH NO KATSUKI WHAT HAVE YOU DONE

AHHHHHHHH

WHAT’S WITH THE NARRATION SQUARE ALL OF A SUDDEN AHHHHHH

oh my fresh and citrusy lord. this is it isn’t it. all of my theories converge at once. Tomura being possessed by AFO; OFA is AFO/Deku has AFO; Katsuki does something stupid and loses his quirk. THE PERFECT STORM. THEORY SINGULARITY

oh my lord oh my god oh my lord oh my god honey what are you doing, honey, no

his body’s moving before he can think. WHAT ARE THESE FLASHBACKS OF ALL HIS DEKU RELATED MEMORIES. BULLYING DEKU, BEING SAVED FROM THE SLUDGE MONSTER, RECONCILING WITH HIM AT GROUND BETA, OH MY GOD. I’M NOT READY. [WRAPS MYSELF IN A BLANKET BURRITO AND SLOWLY SCROLLS DOWN FROM THE SAFETY OF MY COCOON]

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

HORIKOSHI KOUHEI: [LOADS GUN WITH CHAPTER TITLE AND AIMS DIRECTLY FOR MY HEART]

ME: [SWEATING]

HORIKOSHI: [SMILES, REACHES FOR THE TRIGGER... AND THEN SUCKER PUNCHES ME SQUARE IN THE FACE]

excuse me WHAT. PARDON, THE FUCK. WHY ARE THE FIRST FEW LONE PIANO NOTES OF ADELE’S “SKYFALL” PLAYING. WHAT THE FUCK

excuse me, Horikoshi. excuse me, could I just -- could I get. COULD I JUST GET A WORD WITH YOU FOR A MINUTE. SIR

son of a. ...how am I even supposed to wrap this up. just

sob okay. so let’s just. ...

All for One 100% just took Tomura’s body over. like, he was all “Tomura, you’re fucking dying, just give me your body you muppet”, and Tomura couldn’t really argue on account of he really was dying, and so, YOINK. which is the sound that a body makes when it’s being taken over, I think

All for One then activated his forced activation quirk?? which OF FUCKING COURSE he passed on to Tomura as well. so THAT’S JUST GREAT

Kacchan is seriously the fastest character in the series. the reflexes, the sheer speed necessary to intercept that hit? goddamn

every single one of those BakuDeku flashbacks are now wanted by the FBI for first-degree murder of me

this has nothing to do with Kacchan fucking dying and stuff, but is it just me or were there HUGE “Kacchan as Bakugou’s hero name” vibes earlier on in this chapter with the flashbacks to Deku explaining the meaning behind his own name, HMM

and speaking of, this is the first time we’ve gotten Kacchan narrating in the little box panels, unless I’m completely mistaken somehow. Horikoshi really waited almost 300 whole chapters to do that. and it was worth it. holy shit

fun fact, this moment is something that’s been on my wishlist since chapter 12 lol, you can go back and check the recap if you want. back then I called it a long shot. oh how the times have changed

I DON’T KNOW HOW I’M EVEN SO STUNNED ABOUT THIS, GUYS. this is exactly what I predicted at the end of the last chapter. MY CHILD IS DUMB. THAT’S ALL THERE IS TO IT. HE’S THAT EXACT KIND OF SHOUNEN DUMB. WE’VE KNOWN IT ALL ALONG

oh my god. and now Deku’s gonna go ham, arms or no arms. AND BETS ON WHICH NEW QUIRK HE’S ABOUT TO UNLOCK? because the last time someone so much as insulted Kacchan in his presence, he SPONTANEOUSLY GREW SHADOW TENTACLES OUT OF THE BLUE AND ATTEMPTED TO MURDER THE PERSON. so if this kid has got ANYTHING left up his sleeve, I have to imagine that SEEING HIS PRECIOUS CHILDHOOD FRIEND TAKE A DEADLY ATTACK MEANT FOR HIM is gonna leave him feeling SOME KINDA WAY. I literally have no idea what’s going to happen next but I would not count this angry little broccoli out yet. not as long as he’s still conscious

anyway. so I wonder what’s the world record for continuous screaming, and whether or not I could break said record by doing such nonstop from now until a week from now when I finally get to read the next chapter

...lol apparently the record is only 8 mins and 45 seconds so GOOD NEWS GUYS, WITH THE POWER OF THIS NEW CHAPTER, WE ARE GOING TO MAKE HISTORY. DEEP BREATH. -- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

White Lies (Pt. 14 of 21)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves X Reader

Word count: 2.1 K

Summary: Keanu found the girl almost dead, in the wrecks of what was once her car. While she was in surgery, stuck in a coma, he gathered the best doctors of New York to attend to her. They told him she is likely to have some kind of brain damage, what may lead to memory loss. And this possibility added up wit the fact that she's pregnant, made the council come up with an odd idea. They asked Keanu to pretend to be her husband, since the stress of finding out everything that happened could put the baby in danger. He reluctantly agreed, but only if she does has some kind of memory loss. He still goes she'll wake up soon, with her memories intact.

But when you finally wake up, there's nothing inside. You're quick to find your head is empty, void, like a blank canvas. The only thing that brings you some relief, that makes you feel less lonely is the mention of a husband. And you can't wait to meet him, because you know you can't deal with this by yourself.

<- Previous part (13)

Next part (15)->

{Keanu Reeves Masterlist}

{John Wick Masterlist}

×

The Truth Always Finds A Way

“It's absolutely beautiful. I love it.” Laura says as you walk with her back to the living room. You just showed her Liam's bedroom, which is finally ready.

It's your fault it took so long though because there were a lot of things you couldn't decide on. But now it's ready, right on time thankfully, because it's the beginning of week 39, and you and Keanu are on full alert because it can happen anytime.

“Thanks. We have everything in place.” Gesturing at the door, Laura easily spots the bag lying on the floor. “That's the bag with everything I'll need in case we have to run.”

“So Keanu convinced you on a natural labor then.”

“Google convinced me.” Slowly, you drop to the couch, sighing. “Sweetie, you're making mommy so heavy.” You whisper to the baby, putting your feet up on the coffee table.

“You're almost here, little one.” Laura lowers her head near your belly. “Aunt Laura will spoil you so bad your mom will hate me.” She fell into his aunt role, but you don't mind. Since you don't have any siblings, you're happy Liam will have an aunt on Laura. “We'll pair up to prank your parents, right?”

“God help me.” You dramatically moan, eyes rolling.

“Planning on having more kids?” She asks, a hand caressing your belly.

“Yes. We have spoken about it and we'll have at least one more.” Smiling, you play with the tips of your hair. “Maybe Sophie will come, but if it's another boy it'll be Ethan.”

“I like it.” She says. “Oh, I have to ask. What was it yesterday? Lucia came over?”

“Yes, she did.” Not even on the last days of your pregnancy that woman leaves you alone. “It was fine until Keanu kissed me. Then it became a fight again. She just can't accept Keanu and I are fine. I don't remember him, but I fell for him again. I don't get what's the big deal.” When you look up at Laura, she has a weird expression on her face. “What is it?”

“N-nothing. Nothing.” She stutters, clearing her throat. “That's odd.”

“It is...” Furrowing your eyebrows, you're just about to say something when her phone starts ringing. “That's my alarm. I'll have to go.” She gets up, offering you a hand to pull you up. “But I can call later if you want to talk.”

“Sure, thank you.” Hugging her the best you can, you walk her to the front door, locking it after she leaves.

There isn't much going on today, so you head upstairs to your bedroom, smiling to hear the shower on. Tiptoeing into the bathroom, you see Keanu inside the box, so you silently take your clothes off before sliding the glass open.

That's when he notices you, turning around and smiling. “Is Laura gone?”

“Yeah.” Holding onto his arm, you step inside, feeling the warm water on your skin. “Heard the shower and thought I could join you.” Wrapping your arms around his neck, you kiss him, slow and passionately. In moments like this, the whole world disappears. New York is gone, the busy streets and its people... There's nobody else, no worries, just you and him.

“You know we can't...” He whispers, pulling away from a little.

“I know. I just wanna shower, I promise.” You didn't have any ideas, but now you do. But still, you have to stick with showering only. “Help me, Ke.”

“You're such a teaser.” But despite the dramatic eye roll, Keanu grabs the body wash and starts rubbing it through your body.

Much to your dismay, Keanu has become a master of self-control, and once you're done, you have no choice but to leave, dry, and dress yourself as you wait for him. Back in the bedroom, his phone starts beeping, as many messages come through.

“Ke, your phone is beeping like crazy.” You tell him, raising your voice a little as you finish brushing your hair.

“Can you check if it's Robert?”

“Sure.” Walking around the bed, you sit down as you take his phone, your eyes taking in the notifications.

But it isn't Robert, it's Lucia. Pinching your eyebrows together, you start getting angry. Whatever reasons she's texting Keanu, it's probably not good. Unlocking his phone, you quickly find the messages app, opening it, and reading the texts.

‘You can't possibly think this will go on after the birth.’

‘I will tell her myself.’

‘You're disgusting. Lying to her like that, while she's vulnerable.’

Your heart starts beating so fast it drums in your ears. Her words are a mystery, and you're struggling to bring sense into it.

‘(Y/N) has the right to know about Daniel.’

‘My son. My dead son, her true husband.’

The messages keep coming and you start crying, a hand on your mouth to cover the sobs.

This can't be right. What is she saying? There's a sudden, pounding pain on your head, as your eyes go through the new texts.

‘You can tell yourself whatever you want, but this is all on you.’

‘You're lucky I'm not the type of person to expose celebrities, or else I'm sure your career would be over.’

‘You can't just keep lying to (Y/N) like this, it's not fair to her.’

‘This child isn't yours, it will never be.’

‘You can say this is for her own good, but I don't believe this bullshit.’

Standing up to your feet, you throw the phone away, further into the bed, too far for you to reach. You can't read it anymore. Is she lying?

No. Lucia mentioned Daniel as if he meant something to you. Michael did the same. He didn't seem to understand how you were with Keanu, since you were with Daniel...

Too many things come flooding back. Keanu's first distance, some weird expressions you couldn't read when you made certain questions... But still, you can't bring yourself to believe it. Maybe Lucia just wants to ruin your marriage.

When you hear the bathroom door closing, you turn around, not even trying to hide your tears. Keanu gets worried the moment he looks at you.

“(Y/N)? What happened?”

“Why is Lucia saying Daniel was my true husband?” You burst out, both hands clenched into fists. “That this kid isn't yours, that you're lying to me.” Pointing at the phone, you wipe off some tears. “It was her, not Robert.”

Keanu's face drops, and his whole posture changes. That's how you know it. That's when you realize Lucia is telling the truth.

“No...” You mutter, heart breaking as you bring both hands to cover your face. This can't be real, but his silence, his inability to answer proves your otherwise. “Please, Keanu, say something!” You yell, bending over a little when a sharp pain spreads through your hips. With a hand on the bed, you sustain your weight, standing up straight again.

“I'm so sorry, (Y/N), I–”

“My God.” Cutting him off, you pace around, a lump in your throat. You can only feel, and watch, as your whole world comes crashing down. It feels like you're in a nightmare, under torture, with a knife being put through your heart. “How could you...” It comes out a whisper, so you repeat, yelling this time. “How could you do that?!”

“(Y/N), please listen–” He comes forward, making his way around the bed, but you step back, hands raised.

“I don't wanna listen!” You snap, eager to put some distance between you and him. “I don't wanna listen! We... We slept together!” The memory comes back like a wrecking ball, and you feel violated, betrayed. “I–... I gave myself to you because I thought you were my husband. I–” The wave of pain cuts you short again, and you gasp, using the wall to sustain your weight.

“(Y/N), what are you–”

“Stay away from me!” Shouting, you find the closet door, rushing inside and locking yourself inside.

You're moving even before you notice, grabbing the first baggage you find and searching for your clothes, messily shoving it inside the box. Keanu is saying something, knocking, pleading, but you don't want to hear.

He was everything, and now, you just want him to be nothing.

Your head feels like it could explode as you remember all the moments you shared since you first saw him, in the hospital room. Like an idiot, you felt secure back then to know there was someone to look after you, to guide you in a life you didn't know anything about. When he told you about the pregnancy, you thanked the heavens for having a husband by your side. You were scared, terrified, empty... Just as you are now.

Keanu is nothing to you. The happy, wonderful marriage is just a lie. Your life, the man you love... “Go away!” You shout at him, making a damn mess on his closet, but you don't care. You don't want to love him, not anymore.

With whatever is left of your strength and dignity, you close the baggage and leave, pushing Keanu out of your way, sight blurry with tears. “Siri, call me a cab.” You tell as you walk past Keanu's phone, the change of lighting on the screen showing you it got your command.

“(Y/N), please don't leave.”

“Do you really expect me to stay?” Struggling on the stairs with the baggage and your huge belly, you hold tightly on the railing until you're safe on the floor. “A-after you... Damn it! I don't even know why you did this!” You're yelling again, moving to the front door, hoping the cab will get here soon. “What kind of man are you? What kind of person does this?”

“Let me explain, please. I found you after you crashed the car and–”

“And you decided to take me?! Is that it? You thought I was pretty, and I was in the perfect position for you to take me and play couple?!” A horn makes you sigh, and part of you is relieved that you'll go away from the man, the part that's burning with anger.

But there's another side, probably your heart, that hurts, aches for him. This is what's making you cry, and it yells for you to stay. To listen.

But despite his begging, you leave, pulling the door open and running to the cab.

Keanu isn't the one to cry often. He does feel sad, but tears are something rare.

But today, they come rolling down, like a flood.

How could it be any different? After everything he has done, how could he expect this to have a different end? This is what he deserves.

Pacing around the house, lost, he finds himself in the kitchen. Looking at the table, he sees her there, in her pale blue sweater, beautiful, smiling, putting a strand of hair behind her ear. He can't even count how many meals they had here, instead of using the dining room, because (Y/N) felt it was more intimate. Averting his eyes, he stares at the fridge, and there she is again, in her pink lace gown pajamas, stretching out on her swollen belly, marking down the weeks.

(Y/N) will haunt him for the rest of his life.

Slamming his hands on the island, he takes the small flower pot and throws it across the room, giving vent to his anger. Anger at himself for doing this. He could've said no. He could've told her he truth, that he found her, and that he would stand by her side for as long as she needed him.

But he decided on the lie.

Making his way upstairs, his phone's screen is on. Taking it from the bed, he finds the app tracking where the cab is going. Where she is going... But he closes it, going to the gallery instead, where he starts skipping through the photos they took.

Keanu is heartbroken for the first time in his life. On every photo, it hurts more and more, until he can't take it anymore. The tears are blinding him, so he lies down on his back, eyes on the ceiling. The house feels empty already, cold... But that's good. Because it suits him perfectly, that's exactly how he feels.

×

@multific @inumorph @aestheticallywinchester @bvbwestfall @liviiii98 @allie1804-fan @gian-giannina @playboygeniusphilanthropist @partypoison00 @mariafetamina @fortheloveoffanfic @trin303

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #30 - The Cybertronian Judicial System is a Friggin’ Joke

Have I mentioned that I’m not a huge fan of court case stories? I think they’re pretty boring, on average, so the last couple of issues have been slightly dragging for me.

Anyway, back to Megatron’s trial. 

Our issue opens up with a full back shot of Ultra Magnus.

Artists take note, he really is built like a capital T.

As Magnus reads out Megatron’s statement retracting his “guilty” plea, we get some decent points as to why. See, telling a guy that you’ll stab him in the brain, so his trial can be over as quickly as possible, maybe isn’t such a hot idea. Megatron wasn’t a huge fan of that, or of how those memories they would’ve yanked outta him would have been used to fuel the Autobot propaganda machine. Why, you may ask?

Well, I don’t know if you knew this or not, but Megatron… doesn’t particularly care for the Autobots, nor the rhetoric they uphold.

I know, I was surprised too!

There’s also the fact that Optimus Prime is the judge on this whole thing. You know. Optimus Prime. Off and on leader of the Autobots, whenever it suits him. The guy who fucked off into space for a year after the war. The guy who threw a hissy fit when someone pointed out that he was compromised the last time they did something like this with Megatron. This guy:

Yeah, there might be a slight conflict of interests here. Remind me again why this had to be a military trial?

Anyway, enough of that, it’s time for a fight scene.

A swarm of Decepticons storm the arena, going after Megatron so they can help him escape. Magnus, though acting as Megatron’s defense, cannot abide by this disorder in the court.

Wild to think there’s a tiny little Pringles man with anxiety in there, isn’t it?

Optimus joins the fray, because there really are, just, so many guys to deal with here. A dude goes to collect Megatron, stating that they brought teleport packs for this little shindig. Megatron isn’t super jazzed about that though, not bothering to grab on before the dude gets shot to death. There’s a brief recess, I guess so the janitorial staff can deal with the mess of corpses littering the courtroom.

Meanwhile, in the present day, Rung’s building a model spaceship in Swerve’s, which is a very brave thing to be doing, seeing how sticky and gross bars can be. Brainstorm’s brought a flask to the bar, and proceeds to pour the contents into a funnel sticking out of his arm.

Our bartender for the evening- I’m assuming it’s evening, but I doubt the concept of time has any real weight in space- is Bluestreak. Bluestreak was stationed on Earth for a while, which is some Phase One stuff, and took a liking to human media while he was there. He’s the guy who handles movie night these days, seeing as Rewind’s too busy being dead to do it, and I doubt Chromedome has the emotional bandwidth to take over for his late spouse.

Bluestreak’s favorite movie is Zulu, a film glorifying the colonialism of the English over the native populace of an African kingdom. Make of that what you will.

Whirl wants to watch À Bout de Soufflé, or Breathless, as it was translated for the English-speaking world, which is a French New Wave film about a criminal who shoots a cop, hides from the police in a journalist’s home, who he seduces and likely impregnates. She eventually finds out what he did, reports him to the police, but then has a change of heart and lets him know what she’s done. He runs, but is shot, and dies in the street. The film is notable for its final scene, in which the following dialogue happens, between the dying criminal Michael, his lover Patricia, and an officer.

Of course, any poignancy would almost certainly be lost on the average comic book reader, and is also somewhat nullified by Whirl praising the film with internet lingo.

Then again, I suppose Whirl would be the type to dismantle any deeper reading of his interest in such a film, lest he be subjected to the horrifying ordeal of being known.

Over with Skids and Riptide, it’s revealed that Megatron’s been teaching classes on the Lost Light, specifically on the Knights of Cybertron. Riptide’s getting an education, because he’s been feeling pretty lost since the war ended- we’ll get to the potential whys of that later on. Swerve isn’t a fan of this community college thing that’s going on, stating that Megatron’s using it as a distraction, so he can devise plots most foul.

Back in the past, Autobot high command is having a talk about what Megatron’s demanding, and man is it a doozy— turns out, since the trial’s happening on Luna 2, the trial proceedings are subject to the laws of the moon. One of these moon laws is the right to request being judged by the Knights of Cybertron. Now, this is a problem, seeing as the Knights of Cybertron have been AWOL for the last several million years, but the law is the law, and you can’t just go ignoring it when someone’s pointed it out.

Bro, your SIC just suggested y’all pull the trial so you could slap it on Cybertron, thus negating any need to pay attention to the Knight law. That’s such a gross miscarrying of justice, it’s genuinely baffling. You’ve got bigger issues going on than flouting. My god, Optimus, you were a cop—

Oh wait, that’s right. Carry on, then.

Back on the Lost Light, First Aid’s checking to make sure that the coffin Rodimus they revealed last issue is true and proper dead. Now, this may seem like a given, but you’ve got to remember that Brainstorm was mostly dead for over a year and a half, and nobody fucking noticed, so it’s probably for the best that they’re checking.

First Aid’s been pretty withdrawn since Ambulon died, so this autopsy is really good for him, since it got him out of his room. Pretty fucked up that it would take a dead body to get him out and about. Has Rung checked in on his poor son of a gun, or has he been spending the last six months getting his professional rocks off psychoanalyzing a genocidal warlord?

Our coffin Rodimus died from having parts of his brain removed, and potentially died screaming.

Yes, that is a Furmanism, thank you peanut gallery, moving on—

Ratchet hands the phone over to Ultra Magnus, saying that a call has to be made, and it can’t be by him, because the callee is mighty upset with Ratchet at the moment.

Oh, I guess he’s fine after all. This must be where the sci-fi bullshit really starts kicking in for the series.

Because seeing your own dead body is likely very traumatic and awful, Rodimus is taking a while to string together his thoughts on the matter. Megatron doesn’t particularly care, because he’s not terribly sympathetic to this sort of thing, and the two get into a spat, where it’s revealed that they’re co-captaining the Lost Light.

Because things weren’t chaotic enough on this fucking ship. Need to mix in some peacocking between the McDonalds twunk and the man who killed half of Beijing.

Back in the past, Optimus Prime visited Megatron in prison to have a little chat. It’s not about that little rescue attempt, though the fact that those Decepticons may have been released from the Lost Light’s brig is certainly interesting. No, Optimus is here to sit way too close to his mortal nemesis on the floor of his room and talk about how Megatron is a sneaky bastard.

You remember the Hellraiser puzzle box from a couple issues back? Yeah, that was a communicube, one that was passed to Optimus to suggest that the trial be held on the moon, so the arena there would be able to hold all the people wronged by Megatron. This seems pretty damn convenient in hindsight, but Megatron swears that the legal loophole wasn’t his only intent when he sent the cube.

Because it’s all about you, isn’t it, Megatron? It’s all about how you’re perceived by future generations. Fuck the guys who had to actually deal with what your personal choices caused to happen.

Megatron wants to make amends with all those who were wronged by him. This doesn’t include being acquitted of his crimes, which, y’know, good- at least he’s being slightly realistic about how this is going to turn out for him.

What he wants to do is find Cyberutopia, so the Cybertronians have a replacement planet, since Cybertron kind of sucks now.

Oh, sorry, did I say realistic? I take it back.

In the present, Rodimus is still bummed out about being dead. Still, the day doesn’t stop just because it’s a bad one, and he calls in the experts.

CHROMEDOME YOU PROMISED TO STOP THIS SHIT

Yeah, no, Chromedome’s fallen off the wagon again, and does his thing on the coffin Rodimus. As he does, Megatron suddenly gets squeamish, Brainstorm pulls out his early early-warning device to lean on the fourth wall, and it’s revealed that the coffin that coffin Rodimus was in was built in the fashion of the Spectralist faith.

All Chromedome can suss out of coffin Rodimus’ memories is the really big important stuff, which includes the speech at Rivet’s Field inviting folks to come join the Knight Quest. Aww, that’s sweet.

With the analysis of the innermost energon complete, the results are in— the coffin Rodimus is a Rodimus. A real one, from the near future. Bummer.

I suppose denial is one of the seven stages of grief, isn’t it?

As everyone argues over whether or not Rodimus is going to die, Nightbeat brings up a good point— there aren’t any numbers carved into the coffin Rodimus’ hand. Rodimus is about to reveal some Ratchet-original wisdom, when things start getting really weird; whole sections of the Lost Light are disappearing.

Over at Swerve’s, Tailgate is regaling his peers with the story of his derring-do against Chief Justice Tyrest. Everyone is very impressed, and this includes our good buddy Getaway.

Jeez, think you’ve got enough antagonist shadows on this guy? It’s almost as if the art’s trying to tell us something about him.

Getaway lays it on real thick, saying that Tailgate could totally be the next Prime, with how courageous and awesome he is, all while completely ignoring Tailgate’s personal space and having a weirdly tiny hand. This seems to seriously bother Cyclonus, who is watching this shit go down from the doorway. Our purple space jet leaves once the drinks start being poured and conversation starts happening. God knows he hates talking about his insecurities.

Then the Pipes is Friggin’ Dead alarm goes off. But Pipes has been dead for a while now, so that must mean something else awful is happening.

Back during the trial, I guess because Optimus has a soft spot for Megatron, he allows him to join the Lost Light’s Knight Quest… even as he says that he could keep the guy locked up until Rodimus and pals find the Knights. However, there are rules to this, and one of the rules is that Megatron must publicly denounce the Decepticon cause.

It is a slow and painful experience for everyone involved, as he reads the statement he was given. It’s an immediate call to action- or rather, inaction.

Geez, think they could’ve made it any more obvious that this was being ghostwritten? I can’t wait to see how long it takes for “Megatron was blackmailed into saying this by the Autobots” to be a plotpoint.

Outside the prison, Ratchet and Rodimus are taking in the brand new Rod Pod, which is genuinely ridiculous in how large it is. Rodimus admits to having taken Atomizer’s list, though he knows that trying to use it to keep those who voted him off would be a pretty shitty thing to do.

Also, no one’s told him about Megatron coming along on the trip. As captain.

Or you could, I dunno, lock him up from the start. Or, if you want to give him a chance to prove himself, slap him into a bottom-rung role, like bilge cleaner, or sewage mucker, or whatever the equivalent would be on a spaceship full of giant gay robots. We don’t have to give the guy any power to hold him to scrutiny— any minimum wage worker will tell you that scrutiny comes far harsher for those who actually carry out orders than those who give them.

But what do I know? I’ve never fought in a several million year war, and I don’t plan to.

Getting back to the list, it seems as if Ratchet and Rodimus are on the same wavelength, in that both agree it’s only going to cause trouble and hurt feelings to keep the thing around. Rodimus destroys it with his usual flare, only to be blindsided by the fact that it was fake this entire time. How does Ratchet know this?

Because his name wasn’t on it.

...Man, that’s gotta sting. No wonder Rodimus was upset enough to not take his calls.

In the present, everyone’s in a panic, as they all bolt for the shuttle bay and start pouring into shuttles. The Lost Light is disintegrating around them, which is sort of a problem. Despite this nightmare scenario happening, Rodimus and Megatron still find the time to be assholes to each other. That’s dedication right there.

As the two bicker, multiple shuttles zip away from the rapidly disappearing ship, including the Rod Pod.

Man, now it really is the Lost Light.

[incorrectlumityquotes]

FULL REVIEWS: “Lost In Language”

Lost in language and I don't know much. Was I thinking aloud and fell out of touch? But I'm back on my feet and eager to be what you wanted.

Seriously? Nothing? You guys have never heard Air Supply? I mean, they’re old AF but still. It’s a funny pun. Whatever.

Back in the day (like it was so long ago) I didn’t know what to expect from this episode. The only thing I caught from the description was library, but hoo boy, we got so much more!

I love the cold opens to this show. It always reminds me that Luz is a silly ass hyper fangirl who still wants life to play out like it does on TV. 

“Learning about love and life through the eyes of a child.”

Spoken like a true person who have never done any actual babysitting. The Bat Queen gets her own soft intro for another episode, which I’m noticing more and more re-watching this show. She pays Eda to watch her baby in exchange for a butt-ton of money. Eda, in classic Eda fashion, would rather not split the cash with Luz and gives her an errand to run so she doesn’t have to do it. 

I don’t know about you guys, but liked going to the library when I was a kid. It was the only way I could play computer games or go on the internet. Getting online is the easiest thing in the world today, but when I was a kid, it was a luxury my parents couldn’t afford. And dumb-dumb kid me didn’t know that you can borrow movies and comic for free at the library too. That’s how I saw Jaws for the first time.

The library at The Boiling Isles is almost exactly what I expected. Kinda like the Hogwarts library, but with a lot more teeth and eyes everywhere. Luz has a bunch of fun just messing around, until she stumbles upon the cutest goddamn thing ever!

Amity reading to kids at the public library in her free time. My god.

I’m with Luz here. Holy hell, I did not see that coming. I thought Amity was the rival character, the Draco Malfoy of the show, the reluctant ally, the jerk with the heart of gold DEEP in there somewhere. Instead she’s at the Kid’s Corner reading her favorite childhood classic to toddlers. I didn’t know there were angels in the demon realm.

Stop. Stop! You’re already cute.

Seriously this moment made me go “aw” and laugh at the same time. It was weird. Also how does this library have a manga section? Do they import these books from JAPAN in the HUMAN REALM? Is there a publishing company that acts as the middleman? Or are these just the books that the trash slugs ended up barfing on the beach somewhere? I’m thinking too hard about a throwaway joke in the background. Big brain hurt.

AND back to reality...

Luz tries to extend the hand of friendship to Amity and Amity rejects it. I have...thoughts.

First, they this up with another parallel to Azura in the beginning of the episode. I get it. It’s a theme that they are doing, but I would have rather have Luz try to befriend Amity because she wants to, not because Azura did it. It’s not the only reason she does it, but it does kinda bug me a bit. It kinda goes back to Luz wanting life to play out like a story. 

Also, a part of me thinks that this is something Amity likes to do alone. Her way of getting away from everyone else and just do something that she enjoys and makes her feel good. We have no proof that it gives her extra credit, so she could just use that as a way to save face. She seemed so happy to do it too. 

Finally, you know what this else this reminds me of? The Karate Kid and Cobra Kai. There’s a popular fan theory that has been around since the eighties that if you look at The Karate Kid from the rival’s perspective, the protagonist is the bully. I’m more than sure that’s what going on here. From Amity’s perspective, Luz just gets her into trouble. We’ll get more into that later.

Luz walks off dejected and we get the second big surprise to punch me in the face.

Holy hell, why the fuck are you two so goddamn fucking pretty? I mean, holy shit, look at these two. My god. And ERICA LINDBECK as Emira? Jesus Christ, I’m going to be feeling things I shouldn’t be feeling in places I can’t say!

Joking aside, we get one of our first full introductions that didn’t come with a soft intro from a previous episode. Enter Emira and Emira, Amity’s older siblings who in true sibling fashion like to give Amity a hard time.  

“Hey, mittens!”

This seems normal at first. Siblings always rib each other. No big deal.

Amity storms off. The twins introduce themselves proper to Luz (and the audience) and they mess around for a bit. 

In fact, they have so much fun messing around with Luz that they decide to invite her back afterhours to check out The Wailing Star. Luz thinks that this is a great way to get on Amity’s good side by befriending her siblings. Why she would think this I have no idea.

Meanwhile the B-plot continues its adventures in babysitting. I don’t like using the word filler (so I won’t) but this B-plot is really just for two things: setting up Escape of the Palisman and jokes. It does both. No harm, no foul.

Also the twins said for Luz to meet back at midnight and Luz was at The Owl House for like a hot second. There’s like a huge gap of time there. What did she do until midnight? Whatever. If it was important it would have been animated.

Also also, I love all of Luz’s little saying in this episode. She does it a lot but they cranked it up in this episode. Featuring great hits like:

“This sour lemon drop has a hidden sweet center.”

and

“I thought we were as cool as cucumbers but we’re as sour as pickles.”

and my favorite

“Call me a library book because they were checking me out.”

I hope they keep doing that.

Back at the literal Wailing Star (I laughed so hard), The twins and Luz discover that The Wailing Star brings the content of the books to life. Does that work for all books in The Boiling Isles or just the library? Enough. No more big brain. The three proceed to...mess around some more.

The twins discover offscreen (Really? Really.) that if you edit the contents of the book, you change what comes to life. Then the twins reveal their true objectives. Apparently, Amity has been tattling on the twins whenever they cut class or do whatever it is that they want. They’ve decided to look for her secret little hideaway (that they somehow know is in the library), find her diary and post all the pages all over school to teach her a lesson. 

Um, fucking no.

And here we enter the true lesson of this episode and probably the reason why Hecate is draw with two faces. People being more than just what they appear to be at face value. 

Amity appears to be the bully character of the show, and while she did bully Willow, Luz and King, there’s more to her than that. Amity is lonely. As a fellow person who grew up lonely, trust me. I can tell from a mile away. She puts pressure on herself to be the best at whatever she’s doing and to be the best. She hates that she follows the rules but people like her siblings seem to get rewarded for breaking the rules and doing whatever they want free of consequence. She sees the double standard that they live by and it angers her. But at the same time, everyone seems to give the twins a free pass so she can’t do anything about it. 

Even worse, there’s no one for her to confide in. It wouldn’t make it better but it would make it easier for her to just vent and get the bullshit out of her brain. She doesn’t like her friends and the one friend she did like...that’s for another episode. Hence, the diary. Amity is a big ball of frustration and loneliness. I know because I grew up in a very similar way.

When you’re forced to keep your anger inside you, you lash out at any little thing that bothers you just to ease your frustrations. It doesn’t make it okay but it’s the only way to cope sometimes just to get by.

The twins on the other hand seem like everything you’d want in a friend. They’re fun; they like you; they’re attractive; they’re attentive. But in reality, they live in a world where they believe consequences and accountability don’t apply to them. And they’ll do anything to keep it that way. Even humiliate their sister.

Luz seems like a happy-go-lucky, friends to all things kinda person, but she can also be innocently insensitive. She just does things hoping they turn out the way they would for Azura without considering how the people around her would feel about it.

It doesn’t make any of these characters two-faced. We just are different things to different people.

Amity discovers what’s going down and Luz (being the empathic person that she is) decide to try to go talk to her. 

Then I’m reminded that this is a horror-comedy.

My god, you’re ugly.

One climax later (don’t laugh), and Luz and Amity try to make amends with each other. They both have to think about how they’ve been treating the other, earning the title of bully or not. They’re not friends yet but this is...better.

FINAL SCORE: 5 - Loved it.

Damn, The Owl House is one a roll. That’s what? Three 5 scored episodes already? Hot damn. This episode was fun but it really hit hard with the character work on Amity. She quickly became one of the most interesting characters and a fan favorite. And the third act provided a good amount of horror to call this a horror comedy. The B-plot is fine but probably one of the weakest only saved by several funny jokes. This is one of those episodes I kept coming back to and a favorite to watch.

Could you two please not? I’m gonna get in trouble.

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

Is it just me or do I feel that Hawk would love to listen to female 80's artists? Like Pat Benatar, Laura Branigan and Joan Jett?

Oh yeah, I can totally see that!!! Like initially Hawk tries to listen to hard rock by male bands to impress Johnny and Miguel, and just seem more hardcore and badass in general. But it’s just...not his thing. Like he pretends to enjoy it, especially in front of his Very Cool Cobra Kai Friends, but something about it is just too like...harsh and rough for him, if that makes any sense. But then after falling down an 80s rock rabbithole trying to find yet another soundtrack to impress Johnny with, he stumbles upon Joan Jett and other female rock groups and he’s like “holy shit” because man, it just hits different. And he LOVES it but he gets slightly self-conscious about listening to it in public because what if Johnny thinks music written by girls is for pussies???

Miguel at one point catches him trying to “discreetly” rock out to some on his phone and singing quietly along before practice, and he’s like “Oh what’re you listening to??? It looks lit, dude” and Hawk hardcore PANICS and scrambles to try and close the music app and hide his phone and he’s like “Oh my god PLEASE don’t tell Sensei Lawrence and Sensei Kreese this is so embarrassing” and Miguel just kinda laughs and pats him on the back like “Your secret’s safe with me, bro. But for the record, I think it looks awesome.” Whenever Hawk and Miguel hang out alone together (which I imagine they would a bit more after Hawk and Demetri start falling out and Hawk doesn’t want to invite him along anymore :( ), they like to rock out to 80s girl bands and have absolutely NO shame about it. 

Flash forward to a year later, and Hawk’s past the worst of his macho bullshit and is finally dating the boy of his dreams. One day Hawk pulls up on his motorcycle to pick up Demetri for a joyride, and I Love Rock N Roll is BLASTING out of the speakers at full volume and Hawk is singing along as LOUD as he possibly can (and pretty WELL, Demetri has to admit--boy doesn’t have half bad a voice). Demetri just kind of raises an eyebrow and gives him a skeptical look to cover up the huge, goofy lovesick SMILE that’s about to invade his face and he’s just like “I don’t know, Hawk, what if Sensei Lawrence thinks women bands are for pussies?” and Hawk gets this HUGE shit-eating smirk on his face like “Well, I like pussies. I like you, don’t I?” and Demetri rolls his eyes so far up in his head he can see his damn brain.

Sidenote: Hawk loves really dramatically singing along and dancing to 80s girl rock and doing dumb air guitar riffs. He’s always trying to get Demetri to join in, but Demetri is always too self-conscious, and insists he’ll just look stupid and awkward. He looooooves watching Hawk rock out to it, though, because he thinks it’s fucking adorable as hell. Demetri unironically DOES like the music--it gets him hyped and it gets his adrenaline going, great to listen to while training--but he more just likes watching Hawk get really into it. Basically seeing Hawk get genuinely excited and gleeful about anything makes Demetri just melt inside, especially since he didn’t get to see him be genuinely happy for so long.

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas]

*strokes the amazing Yiga Scribe's ego and offers the best bananas* May I submit a request? I'm neutral on mpreg but I'm HUGE on big belly kink. I got to thinking, what about a scene that takes place in your mpreg AU, where Kohga is 9 months pregnant with the triplets and just... HUGE and Sooga just can't handle how sexy he thinks that is? Love and bananes! 🍌🍌🍌❤️❤️❤️

*sighs in pregnancy kink* let's get Sooga horny as SHIT.

Sooga was a lucky man. He was in a relationship with a man who was as beautiful as bananas were delicious. Nice, beautiful hands, the most incredible looking face, and, most sexy of all; he was baring his children. Boys, and THREE of them.

"Aaand we're done! Wonderful job, Master Kohga!"

"I. Hate. Everything."

Kohga had agreed to do some light work outs, mainly in the form of yoga, and even though he complained every time, his Master hadn't skipped a day. Even if it was a struggle. Sooga saw it as Kohga laid against his front, absolutely exhausted. Sooga kissed his head, absolutely in love with his flushed husband.

"But you did SO well today. I'm so proud of you!"

"Uh huh. Can we fucking EAT now?"

Kohga was ALWAYS hungry, and Sooga couldn’t blame him; growing three, strapping boys was a full time job, no wonder he was so cranky.

"Absolutely you may. What would you like?"

"I want ice cream. Definitely. With nuts. And carmel."

"I think I remember the kitchen making brownies earlier, would you like some?"

"YES. In the ice cream. And banana slices-"

"At the very end, or they'll get soggy. I'm aware, my Master. Do you need to be carried to the room?"

"You ain't gonna let me walk soon as I squeeze these bastards out, might as well get some steps in. I uh, could use some help standing up."

Sooga nodded. His poor husband, so heavy and dependent on him. He reached out his arm, allowing Kohga to hold onto him. He helped walk him to the room, carefully, before he felt Kohga smack at his shoulder.

"What'd I do?"

"You're GROWLING at people, Sooga."

"I am? I didn't even notice. Well, their fault regardless, everyone keeps looking as if they want to touch your stomach."

"YOU touch it?"

"I'm their father. Everyone but me and you have no right to touch them. But, I will try to remain civil."

Sooga opened the door for Kohga, allowing him to walk inside. Sooga made eye contact with Cil, before flipping him the bird. Damn vulture. He shut the door behind him, helping Kohga to the bed, fluffing the pillows as he liked it.

"Ugh...my goddamn feet. I swear this shit hurts."

"Would you like me to rub your feet?"

"I'd like you to get the goddamn ice cream I asked for."

"You're adorable ~"

Such an attitude. He kissed his forehead, before excusing himself to the kitchen. And as usual, EVERYONE working there were excited to get ANY news to spread around the clan (the cooks were such gossips queens)

"Sooga! How's Kohga?"

"Anything new to report?"

"He's doing well. He's hungry. I need ice cream, you know, the sundaes he likes."

They nodded, working together to make quite the pretty sundae. Stuffed to the brim with ice cream, carmel sauce, nuts, thick brownies, whipped cream, and sliced bananas, on the side of course. They handed him the tray, and Sooga was about to leave, when they added something else to the tray; crispy salmon skin. Kohga, much to his anger, had grown to like fish since his pregnancy. Salmon skin was the new banana chip. They gave him a little wave, before he excused himself.

He stepped back into the room, and set the ice cream down before adding the bananas, and presenting it to Kohga.

"FINALLY. These fuckheads are STARVED."

Kohga tucked into his dessert happily, and it warmed Sooga’s heart. He looked so happy.

"Is that all? I'd uhm...like to rest, my feet h-"

"No, they fucking don't, just SAY you wanna cuddle, you fuckshit."

It was true. Sooga never really felt body pains (at least not enough to complain), he just didn't know how to ask for cuddles, especially with grumpy Kohga, but Kohga just. Knew him well enough to know what he wanted, always. Sooga crawled into bed, super careful as he rested his chin on his belly (he would prefer his chest, but Kohga smacked him with a spoon last time, so). He watched lovingly as Kohga helped himself to his cold treat. Cheeks rosey and stuffed, just like his bare belly. The yiga attire was meant to stretch for any size, but Kohga needed a change ever since his six month mark.

A see through robe, thin enough to breathe and move around in. It screamed 'pregnant mom', given the style, but to Sooga, it was INCREDIBLY sexy.

"Are you three liking the ice cream too? Is it too cold? Are you getting brain freeze? Can babies get a brain freeze?"

Kohga swallowed his last bite, before putting his empty cup on the night stand next to them. He sighed, damn near annoyed.

"Dunno. But I know they give ME a headache. AND you. God what if they're like your dumbass?"

"I agree. I sincerely hope they're going be like you. Strong, wonderful, kind, TERRIBLY handsome-"

He stopped once Kohga lightly winced. He panicked for a moment, before settling down.

"Sorry. Little shits are hyper as fuck."

"You DID just give them ice cream, and lots of it. It's adorable. All of it is. Gods you're perfect."

He leaned down to kiss his bare belly (he accidentally pulled up his shirt, believe him), humming in content.

"Sooga?"

"Hmm?"

"Your boner is literally pressing against my leg right now."

Sooga looked down at himself. He was right. He cleared his throat, feeling embarrassed.

"I...sorry. You're just. So big, and voluptuous and beautiful and SO full with my pups-"

"Fucks sake, Sooga, just. Jerk off already."

Suffice to say, this wasn't the first time Sooga had been aroused by the situation, so Kohga was used to his man's bullshit. Sooga would have insisted he didn't need it but his erection proved otherwise. He swung his legs over Kohga, and made his body hold itself up. Wouldn’t want to hurt the little ones, afterall. He pulled himself out of his clothes, slowly starting to pump his cock. And Kohga just. Stared. Stared in a sort of 'I'm above you' mentality that he seemed to gain upon his pregnancy.

And Sooga LOVED it. He was merely tolerating him, gracing him in his grandeur.

"You always take so fucking long with this. You got a nice looking cock, and you do jack shit with it."

Sooga chuckled, pushing the tip of his cock and forcing precum to leak onto his hand. He was careful as he loomed over him, wanting to see every bit of him. His face, his chest, his big, wonderful, incredible, gorgeous stomach. Everything.

"The better to savor you with, my Master. The better to appreciate you with. The better to see the absolute beauty that your womb-"

He was silenced when Kohga leaned up a bit, and pulled his hair tie out of his hair, letting it fall. Sooga wished he could take a picture of this moment. Of Kohga laying there, tired of him, holding his hair tie in his hand as if he were trash. Yet, the smirk at his lips let him subtly know he was loved. The great faeries wished they looked as big and beautiful as he did.

"Sooga. You're a sweetheart, really. But GOD shut the fuck up and just cum on me, I need a nap like, yesterday."

"Of course my Master, sincere apologies on my part. I'll finish, without much grandeur. Provided...I have a little assistance?"

He asked, hopeful. Either he'd get a hand, or a hand to the back of the head. Kohga scoffed in disbelief.

"Fucking hell, stomach kink son of a-FINE."

He offered his hand to him. Just his open hand. That was enough. He took his hand in his own, using his hand to help him stroke his cock. Oh the way it made a shiver run down his spine. It was all he needed. He took no more than a minute or so (too long for Kohga’s taste), before he finally got what he wanted. A hot, creamy load on his belly in plentful ribbons. Oh sweat never felt so good.

"Shit...thank you, Master Kohga. Truly. I needed that."

"Yeah yeah yeah. You done fawning over me?"

"Never. You look like a big, lovely cinnamon roll~"

Kohga wiped his hand on Sooga’s stomach, clicking his tongue.

"You're awful. Lay down with me already, you need a nap too."

Sooga let himself fall on his side, before clinging tightly onto Kohga. Sooga didn't clean up his mess, and it was something they were both okay with.

"...Master Kohga?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you...think they'll like me?"

"They should. I know I do."

"Even when I just can't leave you alone?"

"Yeah, even then. SOMEONE has to fuss over me."

Sooga pressed his lips against his messy, hairy tummy.

"I'll fuss over them as well. Till the end of time. My...family. All mine, to safeguard, and protect with my life."

Kohga rolled his eyes, running his fingers through his hair. It always did help him fall asleep.

"And I'll teach them how to deal with adoring idiots like you."

Sooga lovingly stroked and loved at his plumpness. Beautiful.

"Have we thought of names?"

"They're yours, so Dumb, Dumber, and Dumbfuck."

He was about to interject, when they both felt one of them kick. Kohga laughed, his legs flailing wildly.

"THEY LIKE IT! THAT'S IT, THAT'S THEIR NAMES!"

"Master Kohga please-"

"Listen, I spent nine months with these fucks mooching off of me, the LEAST I can do is give them the funniest fucking names."

"I...love you, Master Kohga."

He didn't know what family life entailed. He just knew he was ready.

[oneweekoneband]

In the first cold hours of a new December morning, Taylor Swift once again revealed herself to be the primary antagonist in my hero’s journey. Weary and woebegone as I am, I will not waste strength on any attempt to deny that this latest attack has knocked me off balance, but I believe it is important that I—we, really, the lot of us who have been bloodied pitiably beneath this most brutal show of force—rebound immediately into a defensive posture so that there might be any hope at all for survival. Taylor’s second pandemic album will be released at midnight tonight, so I guess Shakespeare and his little “play” about elder abuse can get fucked after all. The album is called evermore. It was hubris, I can see in retrospect, which led me to tempt my enemy by writing all these words about her on this, the week of her birthday, knowing as I do that Taylor is one of those especially dangerous adults who make a big deal about both birthdays and lucky numbers. Icarus is my name now, covered in melted wax and tumbling to the sea. So as to steel ourselves for these horrors yet to come, I offer now, with not arrogance but the faith of the foolhardy, my best conjecture as to the content of each detestable track. 

willow - Could be about a tree. Could be about a girl. More likely it is both somehow, which is extremely pervy, and not just because that’s part of the plot of the unspeakably cursed The Raven Cycle novels, which I, a full blown adult with, generally speaking, normal brain function, voluntarily read for the first time this summer because some of us, ma’am, used the pandemic for activities that hurt only ourselves, not others. Well, happy holidays, tree fuckers.

champagne problems - Whatever this is, know that I will be considering it a work after Fall Out Boy’s “Champagne for My Real Friends, Real Pain for My Sham Friends” and I’ll be right to do so and many people will say as much admiringly and they’ll smile at me with pride and doff their caps as I go.

gold rush - If this song is anything but a loving, comprehensive summation of the children’s novel DEAR AMERICA Seeds of Hope: The Gold Rush Diary of Susanna Fairchild then I’m going to walk directly out of my home and, deadly virus be damned, keep walking until I’ve entered Taylor Swift’s instead, at which point I will begin to scream out a litany of complaints at the very top of my voice, ceasing only when her security team kills me or we fall in love.

tis the damn season - Worst case scenario this is a sad Christmas song (the best kind of Christmas song) and it devastates me in the most degrading way possible. Best case scenario it’s really bad and dumb and I can live without pain.

tolerate it - Many possibilities here. Could be about white-knuckling it through a period of depression, or a breakup. Most obviously, it could be about COVID-19 lockdowns keeping us trapped in our homes, disconnected from loved ones, going slow-brained and strange, bowls piling up, and suddenly so desperate for human interaction that even memories of having drinks with somebody from Hinge who quoted Friends twice in an hour are tantalizing in comparison to the touch-starved dreamstate of staying indoors... But I kinda feel like this is Taylor replying “COPE” from on high to my tweets about how I would rather be boiled alive than have to face the existence of this record.

no body, no crime (feat. Haim) - What would be very good is if this is a homosexual romp about Taylor Swift and the one hot Haim guitar girl with the really gay energy doing a murder together a la “Somethin’ Bad” by Miranda Lambert with Carrie Underwood, but honestly, it is probably another song about Gone Girl.

happiness - Impossible to speak on this since, thanks to Taylor Swift, happiness is something with which I have no familiarity. 

dorothea - Have seen chirping on the odious bird application about how perhaps this song title suggests that Taylor has written a song about Middlemarch, titling it for Dorothea Brooke, but I reject this because it implies that Taylor has read Middlemarch, which is a premise I cannot accept. Whether this refusal is out of self-preservation, being unwilling and in fact unable to face a world where Taylor Swift read and was moved to creation by the novel which was my most essential friend the summer I got dumped by a guy who I still had to work feet away from in a candle factory for another month, and about which Emily Dickinson (Emily Dickinson whose birthday it happens to be today, which isn’t to say that this means anything about anything. I am simply trying to batten down all hatches literally and spiritually in light of having been had once again by this numerology obsessed demon) once wrote "What do I think of Middlemarch? What do I think of glory.” or because I just at my core do not believe that Taylor has read a single book since Gone Girl I couldn’t possibly say.

coney island (feat. The National) : Some ungodly americana ass bullshit that is going to ruin my life. The thought of holy terror shaped like a horse girl Taylor Swift and trickster nymph in the body of a tax accountant Matt Berninger, two individuals I have allowed, separately, to cause me grievous psychic harm, having even the barest amount of one to one contact, even digitally, has made me want to peel all my skin off and put it back on flipped inside out so that I might, when I look in the mirror, see a version of myself which approximates how I feel.

ivy - Another song for the plant lesbians. That’s fine, and I’m happy for that community, but what I want to know, looking at this growing pile of songs named after women, is where, Taylor, is the song about loudmouth queen Inez, legendary gossip and, for my money, the star of folklore?  

cowboy like me - Putting it as mildly as humanly possible, to slit my throat would be less cruel. I am drawing a straight line from me writing illegible sequels to perfect film An American Tail: Fievel Goes West (itself a sequel) in crayon as a toddler, to Paula Cole’s “Where Have All the Cowboys Gone?” on the radio in my mom’s two door Honda, to me everyday after school in third grade changing into the cowboy costume my godmother bought, to me at fourteen internalizing a sense of righteous indignation that would take years to even begin to outgrow when Crash beat Brokeback Mountain for Best Picture, to the winter I dropped half my classes out of fear and sickness and read paperback westerns on the twenty third floor of the college library for tens of hours at a go, to the profoundly gay episode of Supernatural called “Tombstone” which is, yes, named for the profoundly gay cowboy film Tombstone, to the inspired and revitalizing pause in “Space Cowboy” by Kacey Musgraves where she’s like, “You can have your space........ cowboy”, to Mitski’s Be the Cowboy, to the perfect boygenius cover of certified classic “Cowboy Take Me Away”, to whatever the hell this is going to be.That line is not to make a point at all. It’s just that there is a line and beside it there is me, incapacitated.

long story short - Just like all the other times anyone has ever invoked this phrase in the entire history of human beings expressing themselves with language, it is going to be a huge lie, because this woman never shuts up.

marjorie - After all that Taylor has put me through over the years, she should have at least named one of these wretched things “ellen” after my dead Sagittarian grandmother, whose birthday is tomorrow, December 11th, which is again, the release date of Taylor Swift’s second album in sixth months, but it’s probably for the best that she didn’t because you simpletons would immediately think it was an homage to George Bush’s friend Dory the fish, and therefore gay, regardless of the actual text of the song, and it’d be the “betty” massacre all over again. That being said, this is almost assuredly another horny song about some mid-century white lady. Only days ago Taylor was telling Entertainment Weekly that she’s been watching a lot of movies in quarantine, and while she didn’t name 1958’s Marjorie Morningstar starring Natalie Wood, I wouldn’t put it past her.

closure - God, I hope this one is another Kaylor classic so we can all act like complete raving lunatics online from the confines of our own plague quarters for a few days. It’s been a hard year.

evermore (feat. Bon Iver) - I’ll be catatonic by this point. Who cares?

right where you left me - Yes, in hell.

it’s time to go - Yes, TO HELL.

[drethanramslay]

Voicemails (part 1)

Pairing: Ethan x mc

Word count: 5.5 K words (damn that's the most I have written

Masterlist

Warning: ANGST

Taglist: @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @openheart12 @sekizincimektup @junggoku @ethandaddyramsey @edith-eggs1 @ethanramseysgirl @samihatuli @loveellamae @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @zeniamiii @binny1985 @an-urban-witch-ig @ramseyegerton @noboundariesplease @mrsdr-ethan-ramsey @newcolonies @theodorepjames4 @unluckygs @choices-love-affair @kaavyaethanramsey  @caseyvalentineramsey @ohramsey @virtualrain202 @squishywizardhq  @junehiratas @lilyvalentine @nooruleman @itsgoingnuts @cordonianbleu @agent-breakdance @jamespotterthefirst @choicesfanaf @temptress-of-death-and-desire @ac27dj @rookiefromedenbrook @gaiusimp @theeccentricbibliophile @oofchoices @hatescapsicum @sanchita012 @edgiestwinter (if you want to be added to the taglist, let me know ☺️)

Author's note: Well I know I said I was going on semi hiatus but, my studies are going great so I decided to post 🤪 also, shout out to @kittykatchoices for helping me in bouncing ideas( she is amazing)

also I went full out and posted screenshots and dividers sike

Songs: Callin by Alec Bailey is my main muse but I made a playlist too

Forgive me if there are any errors

Day 1

Ethan was jolted awake from his slumber as the flight touched down. It continued to speed down the runaway when it eventually reduced to a slow crawl and he saw the glass facade of the airport, glinting in the afternoon sun.

AEROPORTO INTERNACIONAL DE MANAUS EDUARDO GOMES. The banner read and Ethan let the reality sink in that he actually was in the state of Amazonas, South America.

"Welcome to Manaus International Airport. The weather here is partly sunny with 98% chance of precipitation. The temperature is..."

Ethan zoned out. His back was killing him and the need to stretch was becoming unbearable. Even though the WHO team of doctors had settled in comfortably in the plush seats of the private jet, it was a very boring flight.

There is a certain restrictions to the number of boring and wasteful romantic comedies you could watch in a 40 hour flight.

They did have 2 stops for refueling but they weren't allowed to step out of the plane.

God I want to go on a run so bad. He thought mentally as he massaged his spasming neck.

The doctors kicked back and relaxed, ocassionally discussing the cholera epidemic break out in Tefé, a small city on the riverside. It was very productive and they did manage to make a dent in the treatment plan but, when everybody was asleep and it was just him and his thoughts.

And his thoughts mostly revolved around the reason why he volunteered to join these prestigious doctors to battle the epidemic.

It wasn't out of selflessness, or the need to save humanity or for some mindless award.

It was an opportunity.

An opportunity to run from the girl who has invaded his head and heart, and resided there. 

Leah.

You are doing this for her own good. You are doing this for her professional development. You are doing this for her success. Feelings are fleeting, they will fade away. Ethan repeated those sentences like mantra, trying to ingrain it in his mind that he was doing the right thing leaving her behind.

No call, no text. A clean break.

But no matter how much you lie to your brain, you can't lie to your heart.

Ethan you know you are running away from her because she confessed that she loved you, stop lying to yourself. The snarky inside voice spoke up.

But, if he paid attention to it closely, it sounded just like Leah, calling him out in his bullshit.

He shook his head, trying to erase all the thoughts in his head as the aero-bridge connected to the door and they were opened. Standing up, he stretched his sore muscles and took out his duffle bag.

When he reached the exit, the air hostess with a face caked with makeup, gave him a polite smile. "Hope you had a pleasant flight doctor."

Pleasant my ass...

As he walked through the corridors towards the baggage claim area, he switched on his phone.

As he stood there waiting, he saw an influx of messages from Naveen and his dad.

But that was not what caught his eye.

Leah🌞

(3) missed calls (1) voicemail -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was midnight here and around 1 am in Boston.

Ethan walked out of the bathroom, exhausted to the bone. It had been a long day for him. The moment they had landed they had been rushed to Tefé, where they dived straight into work. The hospital was already flooding and there was so much pain and suffering all around.

Ethan has the emotions of a block of granite but, seeing so much misery and sadness, made his energies drop low.

And it did not help that the pocket in which his phone was kept, was weighing him down.

(1) voicemail from Leah🌞.

He wanted to delete it immediately but every time his finger hovered above the delete button, he just could not. So, he let it lay there in his inbox as a heavy reminder.

The moment Ethan's back hit the mattress a huge sigh of relief escaped his lips. He was weary and his body ached.

But, sleep didn't come to him.

He just lay there staring at the ceiling, seeing the different shadows casted by the moonlight. He saw the shadows of the trees swaying and the reflection of the Amazon.

His eyes landed on his phone on the bedside table and he stared at it for a long time, contemplating if listening to the voicemail was worth it or not.

You don't have to respond...

But, then my resolve will weaken...

His logic and conscience went back and forth but there wasn't any clear winner.

If this is what having feelings for someone is like, I don't want it...

But, you would take a 100 leap of faiths for Leah, won't you?

"ARGH!" Ethan threw the comforter off and got up. He started pacing around the room, trying to work off his restlessness. He walked around the room, his eyes trained on the phone as if it was a bomb. He clenched his jaw and tried to not let one insignificant notification affect him, but it was getting harder with every passing minute.

"Ah fuck it." Ethan said as he picked up the phone to listen to the voicemail. Leah's uncertain and raw voice flooded which forced him to lie down because of the emotions which bubbled to the surface.

"Umm.. hey Ethan, Leah here. I..uh heard that you went to the Amazon to fight the cholera epidemic from Naveen today... And I am proud of you but, I know that is not the reason why you ran, is it?

It's because I said 'I love you' three days ago, isn't it?"

Leah's voice cracked as she took a deep breath, before continuing.

"Are those three words that scary?

I had prepared myself that you would ignore my very existence and shut out all the feelings and that would have been painful but bearable, but... You literally ran to another fucking continent?!"

She bitterly chuckled and Ethan's heart squeezed.

"I don't even know what to do at this point. Don't they say that you should confess your feelings the moment you realize them, otherwise you will regret it? But... I can't help but feel regret... Why do I even try? I should have just shut the fuck up and get on with my day but NO! I had to open my mouth and here I am here talking to your answering machine.

I just can't help but feel that I let you slip away from me...

Anyways, it's okay.. I will wait. I promised you I would always wait.

Just...come back to me..okay? Bye."

The phone beeped, signalling the end of the voicemail. Ethan lowered his hand to stare at his phone's screen.

"I love you Ethan. And it's okay if you don't say it back. I know you need time and I will be here waiting for you..."

That's what she had said three days ago. And as much as they lifted him, it pained him. He was confused and just couldn't think straight. He needed some space.

But, he could feel his resolution weakening. The itch to dial that number and talk to her was irresistible.

You made a promise to yourself Ethan. You can't go back on that now.

He let out a deep sigh and ran his hand through his brown locks. His eyes landed on the table on which there was the complementary stationary provided by the b&b. An idea slowly bloomed in his head and he nodded to himself.

Sure I can't call her. But atleast I can write down my reply so that it won't keep on being a burden on my shoulder.

With that being said, Ethan sat down on the desk and poured his heart out on the loose sheets of papers.

DAY 10

For the next ten days, Ethan would keep an eye on the phone for any notification.

And by any notification, it meant a voicemail or a message from that one particular woman who had him in the palm of her hand.

He would get excited whenever his phone would ping but, his hopes would immediately crash when it would just be a message from the telecom company telling him about his telephone bill.

After he got his seventh 'Bem-vindo à Amazônia'(welcome to the Amazons,) he just let out a sigh of disappointment and turned his phone off and got on with his day.

I am such a moron... Look at where the mighty have fallen. The person who hated texting looks forward to a text. Ethan chastised himself as he entered the local hospital for a busy day.

Around noon when he headed to the cafeteria down the street, he turned his phone on to find a notification that made his heart beat faster.

(1) voicemail from Leah🌞

He pressed the button and brought the phone to his ear.

"Hey Ethan, just wanted to update you on the hospital and your patients. Everything is running smoothly and all your patients are alive. Chief Naveen and someone named Dr. Hirata are managing them. Mrs. Rodriguez went home today and she left you some cookies which I may or may not have stolen because well... they might catch fungi and that's sure would be a tragedy. Also, you don't even like anything sweet and would have given it to me anyways."

Ethan could imagine her shrugging as she stuffed her face with a cookie. That mental image was way too cute and Ethan couldn't help but melt a little. He sat down on his designated seat in the cafeteria and Leah continued.

"Also, Mr. Agarwal from room 456 was taken in by Harper for emergency brain surgery. He had an aneurysm and is in recovery. So far, he is showing great scope of a full recovery.

In short, everything is fine and smoothly running in your absence.

To be honest, I don't miss you that much. It just feel like a normal day when you are in one side of the hospital and I am in the opposite side. But... When I cross your office before clocking out, instead of seeing you working on your desk or lounging on the couch in your office, I just see emptiness.

And then that reminds me of the emptiness in my chest... But fuck that, who cares?!

Seriously, I don't miss you at all. But... That doesn't mean it's an invitation to stay in the Amazons indefinitely.

I would very much like it if you come back to me...okay? Bye."

A grin decorated his face and it made him so happy that his cheekbones were hurting. He shook his head as he put his phone down on the wooden table.

I don't miss you at all...

Who are you trying to convince sunshine?

Those words may be biting but he also knew his sunshine pretty well. He knew that she also missed him the way he did but, both of them were stubborn and had their heads all the way up their asses.

Neither of them were going to cave in and confess.

It's a tiring game and Ethan often wondered how long is he going to last.

So with his head full of thoughts, he took out the hotel stationary and began writing his response.

DAY 19

"Put the patients in bed number 4 and 25 in the recovery ward and ask if they are willing to provide blood for plasma therapy. Bed number 20 is going downhill so increase the dosage of the narrow spectrum antibiotics from 100mg to 250 mg every two hours. And..."

Ethan turned around and let his eyes run over the different patients. He was covered from head to toe in scrubs and goggles donned his face. The mask muffled his speech.

"Bed number 40 should move to another ward because it isn't too severe in her case. And can you update me on the patients in the gymnasium?" Ethan asked as he looked up from the clipboard.

"Most of them are infected sir. We have been segregating them from the healthy ones. We made the banquet hall the centre of testing and if anyone tests positive we are either sending that person to the hospital or to the gym. We have even initiated lockdown to prevent the spread of the disease." The doctor spoke with a heavy Portuguese accent.

"Good. Keep me informed about the patients in bed 12, 39, and 26 throughout the night."

"Yes Dr. Ramsey. Boa noite!"

"Good night."

Ethan walked out of the isolation ward and headed into the locker room where he could sterilize himself. Getting out of the numerous layers of scrubs was a task in itself and he felt so suffocated in them.

As he pealed out the layers off his sweaty body and removed the mask he stepped into the shower cubicle and turned the tap on.

He sighed in relief as the cold water washed over him, washing away the day's dirt, grime and sadness. Working in the isolation ward was never easy. It was always filled with fear and despair. Ethan would try his best to make them comfortable but, he never had a knack of people's skills.

If Leah was here she would have them laughing in no time. The thought rushed through his mind.

Leah.

Ethan was missing her terribly. The first few days were easy to handle the absence but now? Good lord, he craved her.

She was his sunshine and she always knew how to lift his spirits up when he had a rough day be it by cracking awful dad jokes, her infamous puns or her just being around him.

He missed those hazel eyes which would fill up with concern the moment she noticed his discomfort. He missed the way she would reach out for his hand and squeeze it twice when they were in broad daylight. He missed the way she would wrap her arms around his waist and lean her head against his chest when it was just them.

He stepped out of the cubicle, water dripping down his toned abs. He slipped on a fresh pair of jeans and a plain tshirt. He was about to pick up his messenger bag when he saw the screen of his phone light up with a notification.

Leah🌞

(1) missed call (1) voicemail

Ethan gave a small smile before pressing the button to hear the message.

"So apparently now I am Jenner's emergency contact, huh?"

Amusement laced her voice and Ethan groaned, hiding his face with hand. He hoped that Leah would never have to know but now the secret is out and all he wanted to do was curl up and hide.

She chuckled before continuing. "Don't be embarassed Ethan. I think that it is cute and I am so glad that you can trust me with your girl. Look at you, growing up and trusting people."

Ethan chuckled and Leah's tinkling laugh joined his.

"Basically, Jenner's dog sitter had to go out on an emergency so she called me to go to your apartment and feed her. Not going to lie but... I am scared."

She sighed before continuing.

"It's just that once I cross the threshold and see the cold empty penthouse shrouded in darkness... It would confirm that you are actually gone and that I can not continue living in the state of denial.

So, if you are getting calls from your neighbours that there is a hobo muttering to herself and pacing in front of your door, that's me."

Nervous laughter resounded on the line followed by another sigh.

"...you know what, fuck it. It's just a door."

Jingling of keys was heard on the line and it was shortly followed by excited barks.

"Oomph!" Leah was cut off by Jenner tackling her. A crash was heard, which might probably be the phone falling down on the ground.

Ethan smiled. He liked seeing his girls interacting.

Leah's coos were heard along with barks and whines from Jenner. Leah's voice sounded faraway as she spoke to Jenner in a baby voice.

"Oh girl... Don't be sad. I know he hurt you by leaving you here all alone. But you are not alone. Well, he hurt me too. So, don't worry we are on the same boat girl."

Those words were like a sucker punch in the gut and Ethan could not help but sit down on the bench as an after effect.

Don't worry... He hurt me too... Those words continue to echo through his head. He knew that Leah didn't say those words intentionally but, it just made him realise just how much of a facade she had put up, to hide her pain.

God, sunshine...

Leah's voice continued. "Well Jenner misses you too. We are okay, aren't we?" An excited bark sounded throught the phone and Leah chuckled.

"Sorry to disturb you. Go back to do your job of saving lives. You are doing a service to humanity Ethan, and I am super proud. You are so brave."

There was a pause before Leah blurted out.

"I- I miss you Ethan. A lot. And it hurts not seeing you here. But don't worry about me, I am a strong cookie and I will stay strong... For you. I just have one request though..

Come back to me soon...okay? Bye."

You have reached the end of the voicemail. If you want to hear agai-

Ethan immediately pressed the button and he heard her voice through the speaker of his phone. As she spoke, Ethan hauled a taxi to take him to his b&b.

You are doing a service to humanity... You are so brave..

Oh sunshine, if only you knew... it wasn't bravery.

I miss you a lot...

I miss you too sunshine...

Ethan sat and stared out of the window of his cab, a turmoil of emotions just running wildly in him as the words of the woman he loved, ran in his mind.

DAY 28

It was 12 am in Tefé and Ethan sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his phone's screen with narrowed gaze.

C'mon Ethan, don't be a pussy. It's just a message.

And that one message will be the breaking point for all of my will power and resolve. Might as well catch a flight home and personally wish her.

You are blowing things out of proportion... His inner voice reasoned.

"Shut the fuck up." Ethan exhaled, clenching his jaw, the muscle ticking as his eyes again landed on the blinking cursor, mocking him.

It was the 29th of April.

His sunshine's birthday.

And Ethan sat, twiddling his thumbs, contemplating what to type and send.

His thoughts went to last year when they were so at ease and could stay up and talk for hours but now, here he was, not able to formulate a single text message for the girl he had feelings for.

What have we come to?

Ethan couldn't help but feel guilty all of a sudden. Doubt clouded his mind and he wondered if running to the Amazon was really a good idea or not.

I needed space to think and figure out this 'love' thing... Right?

Shaking his head, he cleared all those lingering doubts and looked down at his phone again and wrote what came to his mind.

When did the great Ethan Ramsey get so cheesy? His inner voice snickered.

As he continued to read and re-read the message again and again, he started hating what he wrote.

"This is utter garbage. Who in their right mind uses emojis? Fuck this." Ethan muttered as he erased the entire message. He locked his phone and placed it on the bedside table before getting comfortable in the sheets and slipping into a deep slumber.

11:57 am Ethan had finished his rounds and was just taking a five minute break before he headed into the conference room where the team of doctors would discuss their approach.

The condition did improve a bit here on Tefé, but it was a massive outbreak and things were getting harder to control. It was a stress fest 24/7 and Ethan could feel his brown locks greying by the second.

In this five minute break, instead of grabbing something to eat and regroup his thoughts, he stood in the hallway, looking down at his phone. He had typed another message with lesser mixed signals.

Well... This sounds robotic... No wonder Leah called me Dr. Terminator the first time. Ethan snorted as he shook his head, disappointed.

He was about to type more when he heard his name being called by one of his colleagues.

"Dr. Ramsey, we are good to go."

Ethan looked up and curtly nodded. "Yes, I'm coming." He locked his phone and slipped into the pocket of his denim jeans, diving into work again.

7:16 pm Ethan was sat down on the bench outside the hospital and let out a breath of relief. He had been on his feet since the last 5 hours, running between the gymnasium, the hospital and the banquet hall.

The mask and goggles he had worn, had left bruises on his face and he just needed a fresh breath of air. Ethan took big gulps of the humid air which had hints of rain.

The thing about Tefé was that it rained everyday, without doubt. He enjoyed the rain but hated the humidity which was an inconvenient side effect. Though it was relatively cool at night, Ethan's shirt stuck to his chiseled body due to the excessive sweat.

Ethan took his phone out of the pocket and opened the messaging app again. "Short and sweet is better." Ethan mumbled as he started typing again.

He was half way through the message when his phone died due to the low battery. Ethan just looked up at the sky with defeat.

Was this the time to come at me karma?

He was about to head to the locker room to put his phone on charging when he heard panicked voices calling him. "Dr. Ramsey!"

"Yes?" He got up and started jogging to the entrance.

"Five patients in isolation ward CC-23 are deteriorating and they need help ASAP. We are short-handed and-"

"Say no more. We have lives to save."

12:00 am It was a stressful evening to say the least.

The patients kept on flat lining and Ethan and the staff tried bringing them back to life by injecting them with adrenaline. After a giving quite a few scares, they were finally stable and moved to the ICU.

Ethan dropped his duffle bag on to the sofa in his b&b and stretched his arms above his head, cracking his neck to release the tension in his shoulders. He fished his phone out of his pocket and immediately connected it to the charging port.

His screen lit up after sometime and he saw a notification which made his heart sink.

Leah🌞 (1) voicemail

I could not wish her...

Ethan opened his notifications and pressed on the voicemail she left, preparing himself to face the music.

"Uh..hi Ethan. I hope things are going as smooth as they can over there. I have been reading the news and keeping up with the situation there. I ain't worried about that because well... You are Ethan freaking Ramsey, the best diagnostician of your generation!"

Nervous laughter flitted through the phone speaker before it turned into a sigh.

"I know you are busy with the epidemic and all but... You missed my birthday. And- and I don't want to sound like those middle school teenager crying over an unwished birthday but... It hurts when the love of your life doesn't do it.

I have been trying to reason with myself that you could have forgotten but, I know you. I know that you never forget... And I didn't expect an elaborate gesture or anything! Even a small 'happy birthday Leah' message could have made my day... And I know you are caught up in your work but... How long does it take to type three words?"

Leah's voice cracked and Ethan felt regret gripping at his throat.

"Ethan- I am running out of reasons to convince myself. I am running out of those optimistic reinforcing shit. I am running out of the the number of benefits of doubts to give you. I am running out of faith that you feel the same way as me.

The longer I am spending time without any communication from you, the more I am loosing myself into the vicious cycle of doubt and self loathing.

I am angry at you and I hate you so much right now. I want to burn down your sweater in my closet and throw away the sun pendant you gave me. Just forget that you existed and go back to being the old happy me."

Ethan gasped, feeling breathless all of a sudden. The heavy burden of her pain and his self loathing was crushing his chest, making it difficult for him to breathe.

In a soft, broken voice Leah spoke.

"But I won't. I don't have the strength to yank the necklace off me. Even though it burns me and is a reminder of the person who left me, I still wear it. Even though your name hurts me, I still want to hear it...

...I love you Ethan, so damn much that it hurts me. I need you Ethan, I really do and I know it's selfish of me but...

Just come back to me... Please. Bye."

Ethan leaned his elbows on his knees and let out a breath which rattled through his body. He put his head in his hands and let out another breath, trying to breathe through the heart shattering pain.

I am so sorry sunshine...

So fucking sorry...

DAY 36

It had been eight days since the last voicemail and Ethan had been tormented, swimming in gut wrenching guilt.

Most of the times he found himself reaching for the phone to call her, but he would just clench his fist and resume his work. All the words left unsaid, he would just pour it out on to the loose sheets of paper. That was the only thing that prevented him from slipping into insanity.

He was never one to understand the sentimental reason behind having a diary or journal. From a scientific perspective, he knew that it has long lasting effects in mental health and helps get rid of the anxiety.

But now, whenever he felt like he was going to get crushed under the guilt, he often found himself writing.

If he wasn't writing, he would be working. He started staying at the hospital longer and worked for longer hours so that he could tire himself out. That way, when he went to sleep, he would immediately fall asleep.

But still, no matter how much he tried, his thoughts would always go back to her.

Funny how one person could make or break your life.

It was 4:45 am and Ethan was in the lab, checking in on the newest vaccine that they had worked on. The doctors had been utilising the plasma of the recovered patients to formulate vaccines using the antibodies created in defense. And so far, it had been helping them. They were already vaccinating the asymptomatic people and it made a huge impact.

But still, there was a long way to go.

"Dr. Ramsey, why are you still here?" Dr. Batra, a 50 year old woman from India asked, her voice laced with inquisitiveness.

"Just working on the vaccine strains, Dr. Batra."

"You and I both know that those strains are highly effective." She said as she leaned against the door frame.

"Never hurt to be perfect." He shrugged as he leaned back from the microscope.

"But it does hurt when you over work yourself."

Ethan sighed as he took his glasses off. He rubbed his face.

"How long have you been awake Ethan?" Dr. Batra asked, the maternal concern evident in her tone.

Silence.

"Ethan..." She gave him a stern look.

"Yeah, yeah I will go now. After some ti-"

"You do know that avoiding your problems won't make them go away, right?"

Ethan's eyes snapped to her and immediately looked away not able to hold her gaze. She reminded him of Naveen and how he could never hide anything for him.

I wonder how he is doing...

"But I am delaying the inevitable, as most doctors must do."

"Ethan... I have known you for a very short duration but, I know for a fact that you are not a man who gives excuses."

Ethan sighed. "It's complicated."

"As must all the things in this universe."

"It's just... There is this girl, and she confessed her feelings for me. And the intensity of the feelings scared me. So here I am, taking a break. But... There is this small pain in my chest whenever I think about her. She fills me up with euphoria but can also break me down. When I reflect back on all the happy moments, I get light headed, as if I am on drugs. That is why I am here, to analyse and figure out my feelings whilst helping with the epidemic."

"Well... I think you know the answer but, you are just living in a state of denial."

Ethan sighed as he looked down at his hands. "Don't I know that?"

"Well, if you know the answer then what's stopping you?"

"I-" they were interrupted by the shrill ring of Ethan's phone. He saw the name 'Leah🌞' and pressed the silent button immediately.

"You won't take that?" she asked eyeing the phone.

"I don't think I am strong enough to do that."

"Love is for the brave Ethan. Remember that." She got up and patted his shoulder before stepping out. The sun rays filtered through the gigantic windows of the lab, slowly illuminating the clinical set up with its golden rays. Ethan picked up the phone and saw that Leah had left another voicemail.

Picking up the phone, he stood in front of the window, letting the warmth of the sun wash over him. Be brought the phone to his ear and he heard her.

"Hey. Its 6 am here and I was bored so I decided to call you. Or leave a voicemail because you never pick up my call. I was just feeling lonely so here I am! Kinda ironic but meh.”

Ethan could hear her shrug though the phone.

“I have been taking double shifts all week and it's been so productive. The cool cases I have done and solved, the lives I have saved... they have been giving me my quota of serotonin.

Literally nothing interests or makes me happy now. So my job is the only thing which I look forward to. The things I used to enjoy doing, seems like a chore.

Everything seems like a chore.

Sleeping, eating, breathing, everything seems like an exhausting task. I don't even like sleeping anymore. Because whenever I sleep I dream fo you and when I dream of you, it's like I am being stabbed in the heart.

I don't even want to go home, because whenever I am home, I see your sweater and then my mind goes back to the numerous night outs we had, working on our cases.

The hospital is okay but, every corner I turn I think I see you which, I am going to blame on my sleep deprivation. Don't worry, I am not going into self destruct mode. I still force myself to eat three square meals a day and I get around 4 hours of sleep for every 48 hours I am awake.

So it's okay... I am okay.

I maybe a ticking time bomb BUT, I am not a working hazard. I am alert at all times and all my patients are in tip top condition. I think I should give credit to the two energy drinks I downed along with a cup of coffee.

Don't worry, my heartbeat is under the safe limit of 180 BPM.

In short, don't worry. I am golden.

I hope you are taking care of yourself too! I just hope that you come back to me.

Bye. Love you."

"FUCK!" Ethan exclaimed as he threw he phone with a thud on the table. He placed his palms on the cool granite countertop, breathing heavily.

Shit, shit, shit.

He started pacing in the lab, playing with his beard, his mind racing with worry and concern.

This was not supposed to happen.

Ethan stood and gripped the counter again closing his eyes, trying to centre his breathing but it was futile.

I need to do something, anything! His conscience egged him.

He opened his eyes and it landed on his phone.

Well, I guess it's time to make a call.

well, I hope you guys liked it!

do you think Ethan finally caved in and called her?

like, comment, reblog and let me know what do you think :))

[lunar-lair]

More headcanons from my main doc? Why of course.

(God this doc is so long, ple ase help me it's like 6k-)

Remus and Roman eventually thought up getting tattoos. They both have half of a heart on their right and left wrists respectfully. Remus' is red and Roman's is green, so when they hold up their wrists together, it makes a heart that's red on the left and green on the right. Both are outlined with orange, since that's what green and red are mixed together. 

Of course, it wasn't too hard of a decision, since conjuring a tattoo for them is as easy as waving their hand.

The others, though, don't have it that easy, so they end up asking them for their own hearts. All of them are whole, and their own color, and they're on their left wrist, since they're all left handed.

Just as Roman and Remus have nicknames for the others, Janus has his own set. 

For Roman, of course, they have their little two sided thing. He also calls him Sir Roman or My Knight at times, and does the same for Remus.

When the King was around, he called him accordingly, often addressing him as 'My King', sometimes with a bow.

If or when the twins ever fuse again, he may dust off the old name and bow once again, taking his hand and simply saying, "Hello, my new King."

The twins don't mind. (Being called the same name as him is...undesirable, as they aren't him anymore, but...at the same time, together, they are more. And besides, My King is an excellent name, and simply makes them feel royal. And they adore feeling royal.)

For Logan, he sometimes calls him Dr.Who, The Brain, or Mr.Logic.

Logan himself has some rebuttal nicknames, calling him Jekyll or Hyde depending on whether he's being nice or fuckin with him, like Roman and Janus' system.

For Patton, he'll call him Heart or simply Pat.

He's been calling Virgil Stormcloud for ages, same for Little Spider. 

He'll sometimes call Remus Little Rat, because Remus loves rats in general and also really wanted him to call him that when he was younger. Now it's just another nickname, really.

When Roman jokingly asked for a version of it for him, Janus answered seriously with 'Little Lion', and now that's a thing too. 

The others have their own nicknames for Janus, of course; Jan, Snake, Mr.Snake (though that's usually Patton or Remus when they're being Silly), Roman also uses Jekyll and Hyde sometimes, Scar (which is usually Remus, for shits and giggles), and whatever the hell else they end up thinking of.

I like to think the rooms work almost like they do in canon

Like they have the same layout as Thomas' actual apartment

But they can be changed slightly, whether that be certain fixtures like chandeliers or even shifting the layout of the area itself, though the twins are the best as this, of course.

And then there's the extension garden that they can go out the front door to find, too; all it takes is them simply deciding whether they wish to leave their rooms to the halls or to their garden. Though, it's isolated from the others, somehow, even though their rooms are right next to each other. The logic in it all is rather odd, and Logan has been trying to wrench an explanation from the twins for ages.

Roman and Remus themselves made their rooms much more extravagant, with the door to the Imagination being the closet closest to the door instead of...you know, a closet, and their couches much bigger. Even their kitchen is a much more decent size. Both of them made their bedrooms bigger, too, with their own canopy beds and an extra loveseat nestled in there. Not to mention all of the extra decorations they have everywhere. And, of course, they've got their desk, covered head to fucking toe with papers. Remus' looks disorganized, but to him, they are. Roman's are just disorganized.

They also have Balconies, Of Course, with seats and hanging plants and all

Remus really likes hanging off the balcony railing 

Like just hanging himself halfway like a towel out to dry or even just holding on to the bars and swinging around on the outside edge

Roman was a bit 'idk dude :////' at first but eventually he was just like 'ok yeah he just does that' and even sits on the railing every now and then when he's feeling Dangerous

Remus will sit on it, yeah, but he'll also rock back and forth really hard and walk on it precariously for shits and giggles

Roman just holds his hand and waters his/Remus' plants, just to make sure he doesn't fall, cause he doesn't know what's down there or how their rooms really work with these balconies that somehow don't show the other sides' rooms beside them and a long field a story or two below and he does not want to figure out how it does work by watching his brother fall into the abyss, even if he could probably snap himself back up

Janus has absolutely used that balcony to dry clothes before, whether over the railing or with a clothesline

It's rare, but he still uses the twins' balconies for that to this day

Patton made his own kitchen a lot bigger-for baking!!!-and his living room, too-for cuddling!!!!!!-and his bed a bit comfier-for sleeping well!!!!!!!-and overall, the whole place is just. A bit more,,,,,,Homey. And as we know, there are all those old items scattered about, along with a absolute fuck ton of old stuffed animals stacked up in his room.

Logan's room is almost exactly the same as Thomas' apartment, since he didn't see much reason in changing much. There are, however, some more science-y posters and memorabilia, and that damned picture has been changed to one with squares instead of circles, which makes much more sense to him. He also implemented a decently sized desk to work at, but beyond the garden, there isn't much change besides that.

Besides the decorations we've already seen, Virgil's room isn't too much different, mostly cause he thought it was fine and it felt nice and familiar. He made his bed a bit bigger and nicer, though, and made his closets bigger, Just In Case. He also has extra cabinet space and a bigger fridge, for Snack Storing. There's also a blanket and pillow on the couch 24/7 for when he wants to go to sleep w the TV on (mostly for having smth on in the bg), but that's less smth that's part of the room and more somethin Virge set up for himself.

Janus' room isn't much different either, honestly. Bit bigger rooms, just for the sake of the place being less cramped, and a good sized kitchen bc A Bitch Gotta Cook. His closets are a bit deeper, too, for storage reasons. He also has his own washer/dryer/dishwasher for when the ones in the main area get full and things are still a goddamn mess. He'll just snap it to his room to deal with later. He also has piles of laundry scattered about-mostly in his bedroom, so it doesn't clutter up the rest of the place. The Vibe is a bit different, too, with how he's decorated it. It's very...like...classy. I guess. Just...lots of black and gold. Very like...old fashioned, kinda. 

He also has a huge bed, partially for the fun of it, but partially because the other two used to come to him when they felt bad.

Now they do again, and it finally serves a purpose.

Rarely, the other three will even come to him, knowing he has a solution for their problems; they all have so much trouble with caring for themselves properly, and he knows about that, is all.

He's happy to let them come to him, really. It's his job to help them take care of themselves, anyways.

So ik we all write Patton as knowing how to clean and shit

But we all know how he actually is in canon

I'll give him the ability to cook for Family Dinner Purposes but I'm also saying he doesn't know how to clean for shit

The only one that cleaned before Janus came around was Logan, and that was purely because a clean area is better for someone to live in, not for any actual desire for things to be clean 

He was usually too busy doing other Important Logic Shit to clean anyways

So the dumbasses lived in relative dirtyness

Until Janus came along and flIPPED HIS SHIT

Basically, Janus got a good look at the light sides' area and went 'oh my god what the fuck.'

See, he's got all the Cleaning Want, being self preservation and all. Aka, yknow, wanting to keep your area clean so you feel better about shit. 

So even with Remus around, the dark sides' area is usually relatively clean, and when Virgil was still around, he kept his room clean, too.

He tries his best with Remus, but Remus has that kind of chaos where he knows how it works anyways, so he just does his laundry and not much else.

The first time he happened upon the light sides' area, though, he,,,,,yeah, he highkey flipped his shit.

All the others were there, so it was a whole ass show. Remus just laughed his ass off and Virgil just blankly stared, thinking 'yeah, I expected this.'

He flitted around the living room for a good while, cleaning things and saying 'why is this confounded place so dirty? There's laundry everywhere and the couch is a mess and the carpet! The carpet! How are you even living here?!' 

And the others finally found out where every drop of cleanliness went to.

They're at Janus' whims for a couple hours, forced to help him tidy up the area. Virgil and Remus are sent off easily, like trained troops out to war. Jan says 'Remus, dishes, Virgil...check that fucking closet.' (It was filled with random bullshit. No surprise honestly.) And they're off, with salutes and all.

By the end of the session, the living room is clean and Janus is vowing to keep this godforsaken place clean for once. 

"I'll take care of whatever it is you all need me to," he says, sighing as he closes the closet. "Just as long as this place stays clean, and as long as I'm the one that's allowed to handle it." He shrugged, a smile on his face. "It is rather fun after all."

Oh yeah, that's exactly where all the cleanliness went to.

He even asks to be allowed to see about helping the others with tidying their rooms up a bit. Even Remus mentions that his has gotten a little out of hand, surprisingly, and unsurprisingly, Roman is basically worshipping the ground he walks on, because his room is a fucking mess and he just. Doesn't know what to do with it.

(Remus eventually helps Roman figure out a good organization system For Him when Janus' system didn't really...work. They end up with smth super specific based on themes of items and shit.)

Virgil is first, since, with what he represents, he honestly doesn't have the energy for cleaning most of the time. (And yet, a messy area just makes him feel worse.) It's one of the main reasons Janus used to come by and do it for him every now and then; he respects the fact that Virgil simply can't do it himself, and so he doesn't mind helping out a bit.

The mess hadn't gotten too out of hand without Janus around, so they mostly just have a nice chat while Janus makes some piles and finally makes use of the basket Virgil has in there for clothes again. They even trade some old stupid jokes for really specific shit, like saying 'cup' super excitedly when there's a cup. (Janus found one under Virgil's bed one time when he had been missing so fucking many from the kitchen and he got overly excited for a second.)

Remus was second, considering the fact that if he was saying it was getting out of hand, things were really getting bad. 

See, he usually doesn't keep things like dishes or clothes in there, surprisingly; usually the only mess is a hell of a ton of papers and different craft supplies, with some costumes here and there, but not actual clothes. He'd forgotten to haul some of that shit out recently, though, and it was fucking up his Chaos Organization.

Yet again, Janus had to fight off his need to Organize This Shit as he dug through stacks of papers to find the few dishes that were scattered around in the middle of them all.

At least they got to have a bit of conversation on their own again; it had been awhile. As always, they made the classic cup joke that all three of them knew (and would likely soon teach to the others) and generally talked about some other shit. 

Third came Patton. Now, this one's a little...special. Yes, Patton's room is a Whole Ass Mess that needs Organizing, but that organization honestly includes throwing out some...old things.

See, a part of self care is absolutely throwing away things that remind you of bad things or past relationships that you don't need to think of anymore, or even just things that are cluttering up your space.

So after they got the general cleaning out of the way, having a moral debate or two along the way, they had to take a good long couple of hours organizing things, and then a couple more making a 'trash' pile, which took an awful lot of convincing from Janus and even more discussion about what things are good things to keep and what weren't.

Like the difference between all the old guys and dolls pamphlets and the card Virgil gave him on Christmas.

One reminds him of a long gone relationship that needs to be forgotten and the other is a reminder of a great friendship.

There was certainly a small conversation around the second, though, where Janus mentioned all of the little things he had from Virgil and the relationship they used to have, the relationship they finally had back.

And there was certainly a long discussion on the emo they both know and care for almost like a parent.

Fourth was Roman, mostly due to how grateful he seemed at the idea in the first place and how much that worried Janus.

And boy, did he have a right to be.

Roman's room was simply chaos. And not even organized chaos like Remus', no, he has no idea where anything is ever. The whole place was covered head to toe with papers, clothing, dishes, books, any and everything. Walking was a hazard in itself.

Janus just sighed, sat down, and started his piles.

He gathered all the papers around him and said, 'get me a box and grab all the dishes you can find. After that, grab the laundry.

We're making piles.'

Janus ended up doing a 'throw shit away' method with Roman, too, because he had ended up holding on to way too many old ideas and costumes, etc. and it really needed to go. 

He also forced Roman to put some of his papers in binders, because for heaven's sa kes, there was so much loose leaf in that goddamn room that Roman didn't even know of. There were also some really fucked up notebooks they tried their best to salvage.

Lastly, and happily, leastly, was Logan. His room was mostly clean except for like 50 stacks of books and notebooks that he didn't know what to do with. 

He insisted on keeping most of them, surprisingly-'so many of these are informational, or have records of important information!'-and Janus actually let him keep most of them, believing him and his pretty-solid reasoning. He ended up throwing a lot of the notebooks in a box and finding a place for them in one of the closets in his room and fitting in a new bookshelf-he just called in one of the twins to throw one against the wall behind the couch-to fit all of the old books into.

He actually had to force Logan to throw away some stuff, too. Old college textbooks and even age-old children's books tucked away in his closet, rotting away. (He found them while looking for room for the notebooks.) Logan had to finally admit that he was attached to them because...well, Thomas just doesn't learn nearly as much these days, and while he listens to him a lot more now, there was a time when he didn't, and just...he just missed when Thomas listened to him more. He missed when Thomas was striving for something so educational. He still has that old diploma hanging up just above his desk. (It was one of the few old things he let him keep.) 

Janus had to drill it into him that Thomas does listen to him now, and holding on to the past, no matter how much better it may seem, simply isn't good. He ended up making a deal of sorts; "I'll listen to you rant about whatever you like, whenever you like, if you promise to let go of this all. Listening to you talk is usually fascinating anyways."

Janus ended up with a teary Logan in his arms and a whole box of old children's books and college textbooks to throw away, but he certainly didn't mind. (Remus had fun burning it all in a bonfire later anyways.

That was a fun night; all 6 of them at a little bonfire party in the Imagination.)

(Their chess matches were filled with explanations of astronomy and further chemical engineering knowledge after that, and Janus simply smiled and listened, making winning moves while Logan wasn't looking.

Janus wouldn't have it any other way.)

*Stumbles over myself* ok, hear me out here-

Remus and Virgil, one day, started calling Janus 'mom' as a joke in reference to how he was literally the mom friend among them.

Eventually, though, it was revealed that he actually...really liked the nickname. 

It is part of his purpose to keep the others happy and well, after all. And besides, it just...made him feel. Important. Recognized for trying to help them. 

Also it was a fun little in-joke and it gave Janus a reason to make up cute little nicknames like 'little spider', 'little rat', and 'stormcloud'. 

After Virgil left, though, he...stopped calling him that. Remus kept it up, of course, and Janus was grateful, but still…

It simply felt...wrong.

Eventually, Janus and Remus found their way to him again, and Janus began holding out hope...just a little.

The first time Virgil said it again, it was as a flippant joke after Janus had fretted over his lack of sleep, rolling his eyes and snorting. "Sure, Mom."

Janus immediately paused, tearing up, and a great big smile grew over Remus' face. The others simply watched in confusion, unknowing of their little joke.

Janus smiled softly. "Of course, Little Spider."

Virgil was then left with a crying Janus, an explanation that he didn't mean to but that it was probably fine anyway, and a bunch of confused friends who needed an explanation of their own.

This is gonna sound kinda weird but I like,,,,,have my own ideas for how The Dorks look

Like when I'm writing them I go 'yea they look like that, mhm'

Like Virge has a pair headphones around his neck, 24/7

Jan's hat has a yellow ribbon, Of Course

They switch up their outfits sometimes cause I like that idea and it makes writing more exciting cause I get to explain what they're wearing when they go to hang out and stuff uwu

Also....sides. In skirts

Specifically Jan

Lolo in button ups…...yes pls

Same for Jan tbh

If Pat's not wearing lil friendship bracelets, what's the point??

Ro? Green eyes. Rem? Red. That's it, no debate

*Vibrating* I'm listening to 'I Miss My Mum' by Cavetown and I'm only half a minute in, but,,,,,,

Janus leaving post it notes around to help Virge/possibly Remus/maybe eventually the others remember to take care of themselves is an immaculate concept

Like Virge moves in w the lights and he's like 'shit,,,,,I never realized how much l relied on Jan and his damn post it note system' and now he's just always forgettin shit

And it's not like the other dumbasses there are any good at remembering that shit anyways

Then Jan shows up and he starts up his post it note system again by pure habit, not thinking to tell the others

Rem is like 'business as usual', Virge is like 'oh thank god I missed these things', and the others are like '????'

Pat asks Jan if he knows anything abt the weird post it notes that have been showin up a couple days in and he's like 'oh yea, those are mine, sorry I forgot to tell you guys'

And he's got a color coded system, too

Like if it's a note for Virge, it'll be purple, Remus green, etc

And then notes for everyone are yellow

Yet again, you all have been laid bare to my stupid thoughts that I get at random times!! Hope they were at least a little cool.

[iphoenixrising]

hey we haven’t heard anything from you in a while. everything good? How’s life treating you? All my love for one of my favorite batfam writers!💗💗💗

Hi babe.

Ah sorry, I’ve been super busy at work and with kiddo :( I mean, I’m still writing when I can, but it’s just time and motivation. My project has really taken off (reads as: expanded) and most nights I’m chipping away at the massive amount of documentation for not only a Java-based framework, but an entire Platform *sob* So, it’s just such a huge amount of old articles and brainstorming sessions and meeting minutes and just ugh. I mean, it’s kind of interesting to try tracking all these things down and figuring out how they’re going to work together since the developers (from 12 to 50-ish, my God and now they want me to read markdown and do pull requests for comments and shit because this is my fucking life) are still working on the platform services, the development environment, and all these fucking tools I’ve never heard of (Kubernetes, wtf is this thing??) so I’m learning a foreign language almost tbh.

Did I mention *sigh*?

ANYWAY, also some of the things I’m working on that are like Batfam are a little more...I dunno, just things that a bit harder for me I guess, but even if I write just a sentence or two, I still count it as a win.

But like...I said something about a Sentinel / Guide Au, and even though I’m at what would be a good stopping point, I’m not very happy with it :/ So, if you’d like to see kind of what I’ve been doing, I’m going to throw down what I’ve got below the cut. 

Warnings: 

DickTim, Angst

Sentinel/Guide Au

**

After he brings B back from time, send the Dark Knight back to Gotham, he gives in to things long overdue, and trains with Shiva–

–to be an effective Guide.

Years of suppressants made it literally hell without them, trying to keep his shields up, trying to push out the telepathic traffic suffocating him the second he opens up just a crack.

Shiva, of course, had been her cheerfully murderous self, plying him with the full onslaught of a powerful Sentinel.

"You will be drawn to us from now on, Little Bird. You will want to protect us, bring us back from the abyss. If you choose to allow your powers as a Guide rein free, then you must learn to fight against the urges."

The fucked-up part is–

–she's right.

If he wants to stay in the life, wear the cape and cowl under the new name, go back to the Titans (since they've been looking for him again, fly-bys and searches for his tech), then he needs to learn how to deal with what he can do and how to deal with the instincts that come along for the ride.

It's not enough that Shiva is in the middle of hunting down a few former students ("They have made...the wrong choices." 

"That's rich coming from you, you know."

"We all have a code, Little Bird, and I am no different.")

but they managed to run into a few other Sentinels along the way.

He'd like to say he'd taken his ass beating like a pro at this juncture in the vigilante game, but the reality is, they'd had to take shelter in a shitty lean-to, so he could be tragically, metaphysically hung-over.

He gives up the cowl and suit, utility belt and sundries. He goes as a wrecked teenage American boy, changing it up from the last time he trekked behind Lady Shiva and took on her adversaries. He tries not to think about Dick or Jason, Dami or Alfred, tries not to think about the confused look on B's face in his safe house, drying his hair after a long shower, trying to readjust to the current timeline.

("You aren't going back to Gotham?"

"I still have things to do."

"...there's something you aren't telling me."

"There's a lot I'm not telling you."

"Come to me when you're ready, Tim. No matter what, you're always going to be one of my Robins.")

Instead, he learns how to keep himself, and the Sentinels around him, safe and sane while trying to stay two steps ahead of the next fight, the next clue, the next "training."

In Shanghai a few months later, he knows it's time to move on when people part ways for the brightly clad superheroes coming en-masse down the packed street for him.

Well, moving on it is.

Going back to the Tower, away from the Bats and Gotham and the Rogue Gallery (thinking about facing the Joker this raw and open is fucking terrifying), was the best he was going to get considering the circumstances.

Those circumstances being the pointed twitch over Kon's eye and Bart's very intense gaze.

"You were supposed to call, asshole. The OG Batman has been back in Gotham for like months and you've just been, you know, chilling with Lady Shiva?"

Tim, who is so out of bullshit at this juncture, feels better after a hot shower and some old sweats with a Superboy t-shirt, throws up his fucking hands.

"All right, fine. I never told anyone. I...I've been on suppressants since I was a kid, just like my mom. Guides..."

"It's not that bad anymore!" Cassie tries helplessly, the first to actually reach across the table for his hand.

The instant connection makes them both gasp. It’s a shallow one, just a dip under her natural shield (he knows it’s Cissy, the Guide that’s been helping her until now, bringing her back whenever she hits a Zone, recognizes the touch of their Arrowette), just a skim over her immediate emotions  this thing now untried and how utterly calm he makes her just by hands lightly placed. 

"O-ooh," is soft while his fingers tighten, his eyes sharpen, his shields constructing around her, his instinct to protect.

"Not necessary," Gar chimes in, still leaning against the door between the kitchen and communal entertainment room, "we're all good in the Tower, T."

Is what shakes him out of it, hastily pulling away from Cassie's hand.

"Wow." Wonder Girl breathes out, eyes soft and half-mast, looking at him dreamily.

"Nope." Because he can already feel the headache coming on, how her hand tries to grab back at his.

“We could fight better together, Tim!”

“Do you even know how strong a Guide has to be to take care of four Sentinels?”

In one terribly creepy singular move, Bart, Kon, Gar, and Cassie give him that look.

You know, aimed at his face.

"No one," Bart cuts in, eyes wide at the exchange, of Tim's aura warm and inviting suddenly stronger, reaching out... "Tim, T. No one has to know."

The flash of fear, a residual from the tunic, makes him hedge back a subtle step back.

Kon pointedly grips him by the bicep, over his shirt while Bart moves enough that his shoulder bumps into Tim’s ribs, halting the possible escape attempt.

“Okay, okay, backing off. New powers are about a bitch, not like we all haven’t been there once or twice.” Kon soothes over, taking small steps and tugging until Tim is moving with him closer to the communal kitchen where his seat is empty at the island, and they can possibly get proof the guy actually eats.

“Amen,” Cassie throws up a hand and is already digging through the fridge until she finds–

–the last grape Zesti.

Tim’s eyes narrow dangerously on that singular can, his body moving before his brain can take over because he’s sliding on his old chair, the can cold against his fingers, too thirsty for caffeine that he can’t even.

Sure, it’s a trap, but with these guys, at least he knows it.

“I’m very not ready to do anything remotely Guide-like in the field,” the soft ca-saaaa as the can opens. “You want me to sleuth, fight, and strategize, then I’m all for it.”

Bart is just suddenly in Kon’s usual seat beside him, spinning around in tight, fast circles, “you mean you’re thinking about coming back? To the life?” 

“Dude, that would be stellar.”

Tim side-eyes his besties, “it was never in the plan to-to stop.”

“Can’t blame us for assuming, you know,” Gar grins toothily, “no Red Robin for a while, my dude.”

Tim goes quiet, staring down at the can between his hands, shoulders hunched over.

“At least,” Raven’s voice is smooth and soft, comforting, “tell us why now, Tim?”

“Why now?”

“Why begin training as a Guide now?” She clarifies, sliding into the seat across from her, and the coolness of her aura, not a Sentinel, but something purely Raven puts his frayed nerves at ease, makes it easier for him to find the words.

“I turned 18,” and he can’t look at them while he admits to it, “and...and I figured out who my Sentinel is after Ra’s kicked me out the window.” (I was fine going out that way. It was fine. I was saving Wayne Enterprises from the League of Assassins, I was fighting the good fight. It shouldn’t have happened that way...why did it have to happen that way?)

“Oh,” and Cassie’s eyes get huge.

“Ra’s al Ghul is your Sentinel?!” Bart fairly screams.

“No dude,” Tim rolls his eyes and finds his can suddenly fascinating. “It’s...Dick. He’s...yeah. It’s him.”

“I didn’t hear that,” Kon hurries, standing shock-still, “I didn’t hear any of that.”

“Not him,” Bart is gritting his teeth because dammit, why couldn’t Tim have been his Guide? The universe was totally, wholly unfair.

A muscle in Tim’s jaw flexes, his nose pinkening along his upper cheekbones. He blinks watery eyes, takes a deep, deep breath to try and keep himself under control. 

“Yeah,” and Tim sighs a little, the ache in his chest more acutely painful when he thinks about that moment waking up in the Cave, Dick in the Batsuit without the cape/cowl combo smiling down at him, still painfully unaware of the connection drawn tight between them.

(He doesn’t need me. He’s got Babs and Dami. His Guide and his Robin.)

Getting the absolute fuck out of the Manor had been his first order of business once he’d come to, just sprouting whatever placating bullshit Dick needed to hear to let him go without much of a fight (this time).

Finding Bruce and staying the hell out of Gotham hadn’t helped the pull he inexplicably felt, or the pressure of minds around him that had sent him to Shiva in the first damn place. His Guide abilities were overcoming the suppressants, so he was out of time...and out of options. 

Still, even with the training, he occasionally has the dreams at night. Not the usual array of awful nightmares from his real life, Jason shooting him in the chest at point-blank to make sure the job gets done this time, Bruce dying right before his eyes, turning into that skeleton husk Superman brought to them thinking it was the real thing, Damian sneering at him with the katana held high, spitting out how it’s time the real Robin took his rightful place just before bringing the blade down–

No, no, it’s even worse than those.

It’s shadowy hands touching him, the warm wet of a mouth over his skin and scars, gentle voice in his ear telling him how beautiful he is, how much he’s needed, wanted, how it’s not just because of what he is or what tunic he used to wear, it’s all because he’s Tim. He doesn’t wake up when his dream self realizes it’s Dick over him, those blue eyes taking him in, pinning his wrists down to look over every inch of his naked body. He doesn’t wake up when Dick starts preparing him. He doesn’t wake up when Dick kisses him hard and desperate. He doesn’t wake up when the tears dry on his face and their bodies line up.

“Mine,” his dream Sentinel doesn’t even hesitate, “Don’t ever run from me again. Do you understand me, Tim?”

Just before Dick pushes, he wakes up, panting and hard, his instincts going crazy enough that he has to meditate to calm down.

Cassie gently wraps her hand around his shoulder, making sure they don’t have skin-to-skin contact this time. “I’m sorry,” she smiles gently at his frown, “I know you and Dick have had some...issues in the past few years.” But he can read the guilt in her face. Back when everyone thought Bruce was dead and his cape had been yanked out from under him, Dick had sent Cassie to try talking some “sense” into him. She still feels awful for jumping on the same train everyone else had been riding, the ‘that guy is suffering from depression’ instead of believing he might actually be right. 

(It still stings though, doesn’t it?)

He doesn’t say anything back, just looks out one of the big windows and pulls out of her hold to take a drink of his Zesti.

“But,” Gar quickly jumps in, “you’ll stay in the Tower and fight on the team again, right? Like, no more trips with World’s Deadliest Assassins?”

Tim visibly hesitates, pausing with the can up to his mouth. 

Slowly, he lowers it, his eyes taking on a cold calculation that is and isn’t like their old Rob. “Like I said, I can’t be a Guide for anyone, and I mean that. Second, I told you the truth in confidence, so I expect everyone to keep my secret. Third, I’m not anywhere near ready to go to Gotham or face the Bats, so for now, I’m fighting under the radar. If those aren’t acceptable stipulations, I’ll grab some of my clothes from storage and be out of your Tower.”

“Storage?” Kon glances around at the team, “Tim, buddy, why do you think we’d have your stuff in storage?”

“I assumed Dick would already approach you about making Damian part of the team,” his tone is absolutely empty, emotionless. “And there’s no way both of us could be here at the same time, so...” he lets them put it together from there.

The look of utter devastation on Kon’s face makes him feel slightly better.

**

Coming back when Cassie, Bart, and Kon have his back, just like they were closer to the end of their YJ run, makes the transition easier than it realistically should have been.

And it really might just be how low the dose of suppressants are now, or that he feels comfortable stepping into Robin’s role on the team, just with a different name, a different mask. It might just be how Bart has a tendency to hover with that hummingbird energy coming off him even when he’s seemingly standing still, maybe it’s Kon’s TTK pressing at his back even if the guy is across the room, maybe it’s how he and Cassie have leadership meetings where they just binge watch reruns of Gossip Girl and eat ice cream to bemoan their woes. 

But maybe, it’s how he can feel them pulling at his shields unconsciously. Maybe it’s how he can sometimes push back enough, can skim just the edges to get impressions of angry, sad, depressed and gently erect a mental shield without delving deep without permission, can give them the space they need from their intense senses and powers. 

Just another way he can be the regular guy on the team, working under the radar. So much a part of his role in the first damn place. 

He doesn’t realize it becomes something normal until they take the good fight a little too close to Gotham for his liking, but the choices were few and Luthor is such an incredible ass hat that Tim actually plays it down, dresses up as CEO Tim Drake to divert their baddie while the team takes apart his latest weapon of mass destruction on the down-low.

What he absolutely doesn’t expect is to leave the lobby of one of the most posh restaurants in Metropolis–

And walk face-first into Dick Gryson’s chest.

(Technically, it’s Nightwing, but really, this doesn’t make the sitch any better.)

A hand, black with blue fingerstripes, covers his mouth, and the sound of a grapple retracting is a pending oh no that he doesn’t fight the vigilante pretty much kidnapping him off the street in broad daylight. 

He can only thank God it isn’t skin-to-skin contact because his inner senses are flaring this close to the Sentinel, his Sentinel, that he has to grind his back teeth to keep himself in check. He pulls away the second they land it on solid rooftop, shoving his sleeve back to check the team’s status on his hidden wrist computer. 

Mission success! 

“Imagine my surprise,” Nightwing growls, hand on his shoulder to spin him around, “when I find you having lunch with someone like Lex Luthor instead of taking my damn calls, Timmy.”

Stepping out of that hold is subtle because Tim is looking over the side of the roof, adjusting his tie to try putting some distance between them. “I’m undercover. Those are the things people like us do when we’re running an Op, Nightwing.”

Those whiteouts narrow on him, a trick only Dick can really pull off effectively. “None of that tells me where the hell you’ve been for the last year since you left to find Bruce, found him, and didn’t come back.”

His back straightens, eyes looking away when the irritation and heat of anger hits him harder without the nice little cocktail of suppressants and stabilizers, makes his own shields tremble at the burning sear along the edges of his consciousness. 

Instead of saying something he might come to regret, Tim sucks in a breath through his nose and works through the bolt of pain, gathers his shields around himself to keep the Sentinel from unerringly lashing out at him again.

“What the hell are you even doing here? Recon on Luthor? For which nefarious plot?”

A black and blue hand slashes the space between them, “not even important, Tim. So, how about you call your team and tell them you’ve got some Bat business because we? Need to talk.”

“I’m sorry, what now?”

“You heard me. I’ve been trying to get in contact with you for weeks.”

“I sent back your case files, asshole–”

“Not about cape and cowl shit, Tim!”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about right now,” even though he does, he really does. He just doesn’t know why it has to happen now.

Nightwing, however, has had enough of the talk and with a whip of his arm has a bolo out and thrown, his natural speed as a Sentinel might be slower than someone like the Flash, but it still has Tim wrapped up tight faster than he can realistically dodge.

The sight of the vigilante Nightwing swinging through Metropolis with the CEO of Wayne Enterprises over one shoulder would be big news in the city if anyone had been bothered to really look up.

**

The hotel is nice Tim thinks while wiggling around on the bed where Dick pretty much dumped him. His fingers are already getting the bolo loose from around his upper body by the time Dick has the mask off and the Nightwing suit unzipped to flop around his waist.

The Gotham Knights t-shirt underneath is a new one since the old faded one got blown up in that little explosion in the ‘Haven a few years back.

Dick lifts and sets a chair down with a pointed clack, sitting down to watch Tim squirm his way up. He’s got the bolo loose enough to brace his palms.

“What part of I’m in the middle of an OP–”

“Don’t care,” Dick cuts him off ruthlessly, those blue eyes hard and jaw tense. “I honestly don’t give a crap about the Titans right now.”

“Well I sure as hell do thank-you very much,” Tim pulls the bolo off, tosses it across the room with an angry flick, facing his former mentor, former partner, former friend with those old feelings creeping up his throat to make the taste in his mouth coppery and bitter.

“The only thing I care about right now is that I finally caught up to you. The last time I even saw you was that swan dive–”

“I’m aware. Being kicked out of a window is pretty memorable, even for people like us,” he keeps it deadpan, keeps the anger and irritation, the feelings of shit like betrayal and it must have been so easy to throw me the fuck away.

“The point is, smart ass, you left the Cave and haven’t been back. You only answer my emails about cases and bad guys. But when I ask you to come back home, which I have, Tim, I don’t even know how many times, and I get nothing! We need you–”

“Why would I come back to Gotham for you?” Is what spills out of his mouth, something bitter and foul. “You’ve already got a fucking Robin to be your little brother, remember?”

Welp, there goes playing it cool.

But watching Dick jerk back like Tim had landed a physical blow was more satisfying than he wanted to admit.  

“Are you kidding me right now? You’re still angry about that? I’ve explained to you exactly why–”

The irritation in Dick’s tone, obvious disgust when he leans back and crosses his arms over his chest is just about enough.

“You explained it just fine. You made your choice, so everyone just has to deal with it, right? Yeah, that’s really being my equal.” 

Tim makes himself stay deadly calm and cold, moves his legs away from Dick’s to stand and take a few steps away from the seething Sentinel to adjust his tie and try to get his hands to quit trembling. 

“I can’t believe you’re acting this childish, Tim. I’m really disappointed with you right now.”

“Glad we’re on the same page, Dick, disappointed in each other,” but it strikes him anyway in the small, sad place where he held on to the hope they could still work everything out somehow and at least go back to being friends. A small part that’s been slowly dying in degrees, and that last hit is enough to make it so absurdly painful.

(All those years in the R, fighting the good fight, being brothers, having each other’s backs, and it all ends here, doesn’t it?)

“What? I did everything I could do for you! I–”

“If that’s what you want to believe, then that’s fine. I don’t have any reasons to argue with you,” staring at his own reflection in the mirror, seeing the red start to creep over his cheeks, his eyes get overly shiny, Tim Drake straightens his spine and flexes his own shields. 

He keeps himself together enough to turn on a heel and walk calmly to the door.

“Tim, just...okay, just wait. Let’s talk this out–”

He doesn’t even turn, hand already on the knob, just pulls open the door and takes a hasty step through. It’s only the first step, but Dick is still just suddenly there, trying to snatch at Tim’s wrist with a bare hand, managing the brush of fingertips over a pulse.

“Don’t leave like this,” Is the last thing Dick says before the electric shock slides up his spine, the pull to all his senses almost has him on his knees.

The touch has Tim lurching away, jerking his wrist up to cradle against his chest, the red burn of Dick’s emotions beating at his shields harder with just a simple graze.

It ends with Dick still in the doorway, braced against the frame, gaping, and Tim leaning heavily into the wall across the hall, a wince on his face.

Stupid metaphysical connections and shit.

The touch hadn’t been enough to, you know, like bond them or anything, but it’s widely believed True Pairs didn’t even have to touch to get impressions from one another.

“You asshole,” he seethes at that shocked expression. 

“You feel like I betrayed you,” is low and thick, Dick’s eyes a little dazed with what he picked up through the momentary connection, “it hurt you so much when I made Dami my Robin because I didn’t even talk to you, I didn’t trust you. You think I just threw you out of my life. How could I ever do that to you...?”

If Tim was a better Guide, on a higher dose of suppressants, he would have been able to keep himself closed off enough that if they did manage to touch, he could have kept Dick out of his shields, wouldn’t have given him the ability to skim over shitty emotions.

If Tim was a better Guide, he wouldn’t have the urgent need to run.

But welp, here they are.

As the thought takes shape in his brain pan, that he’s in his civilian day-ware and can run down the hall while Dick –still half in Nightwing– is trapped in the doorway, his knees firm and his eyes dart wildly to the side, giving himself away.

And since Dick was Batman, is Nightwing, is a Sentinel, he sees the writing on the wall and absolutely refuses to let it happen. Dick shoves with his arms, darts out into the hallway, makes his suddenly weak knees work enough to shake up Tim’s plan, seizes the apparent Guide, his Guide, in a princess hold and get back before the door even starts to close.

“Put me–!”

But Dick folds his legs to sit with his back against the door, and wraps both arms around the struggling third Robin. He can hold onto Tim better than a bolo anyway. 

The push at Tim’s shields is a pressure he isn’t used to dealing with, and it’s painful to fight against it rather than just let the tentative connection open. His hands curl into fists in his lap, trying to strain against the arms pinning him while concentrating on strengthening his shields. 

He doesn’t realize he’s whispering, “no, no, no,” under his breath. 

“Please,” Dick lays his forehead down on top of Timmy’s head, “please don’t go. Not now. I’m finally...Tim, I get it now. I swear, I get it.”

“...doesn’t matter. Too late.”

“That isn’t fair,” the smallest shift and Dick is breathing against his throat, making him shiver, “I just found out you’re...a Guide. My Guide. We haven’t even started yet. It can’t be too late if we haven’t had a beginning.” It gets worse when Dick breathes in his scent deeply, a noise coming out of his chest.

“We have had a beginning,” he bites out, fists tight, concentrating on keeping his shields strong but flexible, “we’ve had years–”

“And I’m not ready to throw all of that away.”

The pressure against his mental shields finally eases up as Dick raises his head, gives him a little shake to make him look up. 

“You already did, remember?”

“I didn’t... I never threw you away. That’s not what I meant or wanted. Yes, I should have handled things better. I know that now, and I’m sorry I hurt you. I was sorry before, I just didn’t know how to tell you, how to make it better between us.”

Tim’s eyes narrow, and he doesn’t let up in case this is one of those diversionary tactics to put him in a false sense of security. 

(They fight bad guys. Sometimes, they have to cheat, and he wouldn’t put it past Dick to do just that.)

“I don’t know what you think is going to happen here,” he finally tries, staring up into those blue, blue eyes (I trusted you once, and fuck if I’m going to let you do this to me again). “But whatever it is, you’re wrong. I’m not going to come back to Gotham and be your Guide. I’m not going to bond with you because the universe says I’m meant to be some kind of magical counterbalance.”

Dick’s expression crumples, his arms go a little slack. 

“Tim, we’re...we’re a True–”

“I don’t give a fuck about True Pairs, Dick, not anymore. Babs has been your Guide since you both presented. She wants the job, she can damn well have it.”

It’s not a fight to push against Dick’s arms the second time and stand up out of his lap.

“You’ve loved me since the moment you put on the cape, Tim. I know you have.” When what he means is I know now.

“I loved you before that, you asshole, and you betrayed me. You don’t get that chance again.”

Turning away shouldn’t be this easy now that Dick knows the truth, but it is, and the very last parts of him still hoping, still craving, are just as easily–

–wiped out.

Dick’s eyes are watery when the door hisses and creaks upon opening, and it’s an automatic thing, reaching a hand up just expecting Tim to take it.

“Tim. Timmy, please.”

“Good-bye, Dick,” is already fading with rapidly retreating footsteps. At least he can keep some of his dignity because Dick will never know he falls the fuck apart as the elevator goes down.

**

Author’s notes:Here’s why I don’t like this: 1. I want to talk more about why Tim chose Shiva as the Sentinel to teach him how to be a good Guide. Like, I want to explore that dynamic more because I’ve never really had the time or space to write Shiva as we see her in Tim’s Robin run.2. I wanted to go more into the expanded senses of Sentinels and how to - hell, I dunno, make it seem to be a little closer to cannon maybe? Like point out some of Dick’s greatest escapes and be like part of that is due to his Sentinel power. 3. Dick says some shitty things, and I don’t give him any context. Like, at that point, he legit believes he did the right thing at the time, and look! Tim’s Red Robin so everyone wins! But yeah, once he got under those shields, the truth shakes him up. 4. I dunno, this au might not be for me. It doesn’t feel very different from some of my other angsty things I guess but meh. Who knows, I might fix it someday :D