#no regrets though I'll catch him later I'm sure

[allfillernothriller]

Oh wow I didn't realise! Wow. Well. That's kind of a lot.

[I feel the need to clarify: Ludwig von 88 are a french punk band and despite what the name might suggest, they are not nazis. They got their name after the founder's aunt whose name was Yvonne (nicknamed 'Vonne'), who was a Beethoven fan and who died at the age of 88. They're a ridiculous band with nonsensical silly songs about crêpes and french road racing cyclist Louison Bobet, who use costumes and pyrotechnics on stage. Not nazis. My dad used to sing some of their tunes to me when I was little, that's the whole reason I went and saw them live.]

I know a handful of people who follow bands/artists around on tour and attend every gig and that's kinda intimidating. I used to feel so small next to them. That certainly puts things in perspective. Sure, I can't afford 12 gigs a year, but 30 concerts at 27 is really nothing to be ashamed of. On the contrary, I'm so privileged.

Maybe one day I'll make a post that's just anecdotes from each of these concerts. Seeing this list had me reminiscing and there sure is a ton of memories to cherish there. ❤️

[ysobelfours]

Lando's First Win — LN4

in which your boyfriend won a grand prix for the first time in his career.

lando norris x fem!reader

warnings; 18+ content !! MINORS DNI !! half of the story is SMUT, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), clubbing, drunk lando, praise, hair pulling, oral both receiving, and etc. word count: 3978

note: not proofread, not edited, will maybe; also, this oneshot has no mentions of y/n!

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i was glued to the tv, watching the race like my life depended on it. man, i wish i could've been there in person, but nope, some last-minute work drama had me stuck at home. so there i was, heart pounding like crazy as i saw lando leading the pack, holding onto that sweet p1 spot with just 10 laps to go.

after a nail-biting ten laps, lando clinched his first-ever grand prix win in miami, crossing the checkered flag with style. bursting with excitement, i immediately sent him a message to offer my heartfelt congratulations. and of course, i had to capture the historic moment, snapping a quick pic of his finish on my tv screen and sharing it with the world on my instagram story.

amidst the interviews, podium celebrations, and photo ops with the mclaren team, lando's mind kept drifting back to one thing: my message. he couldn't shake the anticipation of reading my words of support, knowing that even though i couldn't be there in person, i was cheering him on from afar.

finally, as the chaotic whirlwind of post-race activities began to settle, lando seized the opportunity to check his phone. with a quick swipe, he navigated to his messages, looking for my name. his heart skipped a beat when he saw my name.

"hey baby! can't believe it, i did it!" lando greeted me as soon as i picked up his call. i could tell that he was smiling from the tone of his voice.

"oh my gosh, lan, i knew you could do it! you were incredible out there!" i excitedly responded to him.

"thanks, baby! it feels unreal. i'm just so pumped right now!"

"you should be! you deserve to celebrate this big win. any plans?"

lando pauses, thinking "hmm, not really, just thinking of winding down, you know?"

i frowned upon hearing his response, how could he not celebrate his first win properly?!

“absolutely not! you were on fire out there! you know what? you've got to celebrate this win properly." i rolled my eyes as the words came out of my mouth.

lando laughs, "yeah, baby? you think? got any suggestions?" he asks eagerly.

i started to think and an idea popped up in my gorgeous, genius mind! fortunately, i was done with the work assigned to me.

"hmm, how about a little victory party at the club? you deserve to let loose and enjoy the moment, along with the grid, ya know?!" i giggled, hoping that he would agree so i could push through with my plan.

lando considers it, "you might be right, sweetheart. but i'm not sure…" he sounded sarcastic on the other line, probably just to tease me. i sighed and rolled my eyes, again.

"come on, lan! you've worked so hard for this. make some memories! trust me, you won't regret it." i demanded, hoping that he would agree now.

lando was obviously smiling "alright, you've convinced me! let's do it!"

"that's the spirit! now go have some fun, and i'll catch up with you later, lan, okay?":

“sounds like a plan! love you, baby!”

"love you too! enjoy the celebration!"

as lando hangs up, little does he know that i've already booked a two hour long flight to miami along with a suite, determined to surprise him and celebrate his victory in person. with a mischievous grin, i start packing my bags, thrilled at the thought of seeing the look of surprise on his face when i show up unannounced.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

inside club velocity, the atmosphere pulsed with energy as lando, surrounded by his fellow drivers, basked in the euphoria of his first grand prix victory. the music thumped, mingling with the cheers and laughter of the crowd as they toasted to his success.

lando, wearing a grin that could light up the night sky, raised his glass in a toast, his eyes sparkling with joy and gratitude. around him, his friends and teammates clapped him on the back, their voices blending into a chorus of congratulations.

as the night wore on, the celebration only grew more spirited, with lando at the center of it all, soaking in every moment of his well-deserved triumph. little did he know, an even greater surprise awaited him, one that would make this unforgettable night even more memorable.

as soon as i finished getting ready, i messaged carlos to ask him which club they’re at.

me: "hey carlos! hope you guys are having a blast celebrating lando's win! which club are you all at?"

carlos: "hey! yeah, it's wild here! we're at club velocity on south beach. you should come join us!"

me: "awesome, thanks! see you there!" with carlos's reply in hand, i quickly went inside my rented vehicle, my heart pounding with excitement at the thought of surprising lando and joining in the celebration of his first grand prix victory.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

i got to the club as quickly as possible. still making sure that i wore my signature carol h. good girl scent.

as i approached lando, i noticed his glazed eyes scanning the crowd, seemingly lost in a haze of alcohol. but then, something shifted. his brow furrowed in confusion for a moment before his expression softened, and he inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring slightly.

suddenly, his gaze sharpened, and a spark of recognition ignited in his eyes. "wait… i know that scent," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the music.

a smile spread across my face as i watched him, knowing exactly what he was sensing. then, in an instant, his face lit up with realization, and he turned towards me with newfound clarity.

"it's you, baby! it’s you!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with delight as he lunged forward to envelop me in a warm embrace.

relieved and touched by his recognition, i hugged him back, feeling the tension melt away as he held me close. it was a moment of pure connection amidst the chaos of the club, a reminder of the bond we shared.

as we pulled apart, lando's grin was infectious, his eyes bright with happiness. "i can't believe you're here, baby, you’re really here" he said, his voice filled with genuine surprise and gratitude.

i chuckled, shaking my head fondly. "wouldn't miss celebrating with you, lan. even if you're a little… tipsy."

lando laughed, a sheepish expression crossing his face. "yeah, maybe i went a bit overboard."

"seriously though, you're swaying more than the palm trees outside and your words are starting to sound like a foreign language. i think it's time we got you home, don't you?"

lando slowly nods sheepishly "yeah, you're probably right. i guess i got caught up in the moment." he giggled and pinched my cheek.

“i missed you so much, baby. i love you” he whispered in my ear, lightly biting it. i couldn't help my cheeks from turning hot after what he said.

i struggled to make up my words before i responded, “i missed you too, lan. i love you.” i gave him a peck on the cheek and ruffled his curly hair. he smiled at me, a smile warm enough to melt my heart.

“let’s get you some rest, lan. say goodbye to the grid.” i guided lando to stand up, his hand wrapped around my waist to help him navigate his way through the crowd.

“hey guys, i just wanted to say a huge thank you for being here tonight to celebrate with lando. it means the world to him, and to me."

"of course! lando's victory is something we all wanted to celebrate together!" carlos smiled and gave lando a pat on the back.

"absolutely, it's been an amazing night. but right now, my love needs some rest. take care, everyone!"

as we exchanged farewells and well-wishes, i couldn't help but feel grateful for the support of lando's friends. with smiles and nods all around, lando quickly waved goodbye and thanked his fellow drivers.

as we navigated out the club, lando's whispers filled the air, his words a mixture of adoration and drunken rambling. "you're so beautiful, baby" he murmured, his voice filled with affection. "and i've missed you so much."

i chuckled softly, feeling a wave of warmth wash over me. "i've missed you too, lan. but let's save the sweet talk for when you're a bit more sober, alright?"

lando nodded earnestly, his gaze locking with mine. "yeah, you're right, baby. but seriously, your smell… it's intoxicating. i can't get enough of it."

grinning, i squeezed his hand gently. "thanks, love. i'll take that as a compliment, even if it's coming from a slightly intoxicated mind."

with a sheepish grin, lando leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear. "i mean it, though, my love. you always smell like home to me."

as i opened the door to the shotgun seat, lando stumbled slightly as he climbed in, his movements slowed by the alcohol. with a patient smile, i guided him into the seat, making sure he was settled before reaching for his seatbelt.

as i leaned over to fasten his seatbelt, lando took advantage of the close proximity and planted a quick, sneaky kiss on my neck. the unexpected gesture sent a tingling sensation through me, but i brushed it off with a playful roll of my eyes.

"behave yourself, lan," i teased, my tone lighthearted as i finished securing his seatbelt.

with a mischievous grin, lando giggled and leaned back in his seat, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. i closed the door with a soft chuckle, taking a moment to compose myself before heading around to the driver's side.

as i settled into the driver's seat and started the engine, i couldn't help but smile at the lingering warmth of lando's kiss against my neck. but with a shake of my head, i focused on the road ahead, determined to get us back to our hotel safely.

as lando drifted off to sleep beside me, his face softened into a peaceful expression. i couldn't help but admire him at that moment. here was a guy who'd poured his heart and soul into his passion, and tonight, it had paid off big time.

i thought back on all the blood, sweat, and tears he'd poured into his career, the late nights at the track, the tough races, and the moments of doubt. but through it all, he'd never given up.

now, as he slept, i saw a sense of calm wash over him, like he'd finally achieved what he'd been working towards all this time. it was a pretty amazing feeling to witness.

at that moment, i realized how lucky i was to share this journey with him. and as i stole glances at him sleeping, i couldn't help but feel a wave of pride for everything he'd accomplished.

as i shook lando awake, his sleepy voice sent a blush creeping up my cheeks. "hey, love. did we make it to the hotel already?"

i managed a smile, trying to hide my embarrassment. "yeah, we're here, sleepyhead," i replied softly, guiding him out of the car.

lando leaned heavily on me, his arm draped over my shoulder. it was a struggle to help him towards the elevator, his weight making each step a challenge.

"you're amazing, baby" lando slurred, his words sincere but slightly garbled.

i chuckled, feeling both amused and touched by his compliment. "just doing my best, lan" i replied modestly, navigating us through the lobby.

lando's closeness sent a flutter through me, his arm around my neck, dangling through my breasts as we walked made me feel the way i felt earlier when he kissed me on the neck.

as we reached the suite, i gently guided lando towards the bed, urging him to lie down and get some rest. but to my surprise, he resisted, his eyes pleading as he reached out to me.

"i don't want to sleep yet, baby" he murmured, his voice laced with a hint of longing. "i've missed you so much."

my heart skipped a beat at his words, a rush of warmth flooding through me. despite his drunken state, there was an intensity in his gaze that left me breathless.

"i've missed you too, lan," i whispered, my voice barely above a hush as i met his gaze.

“c’mere, beautiful” lando patted the space next to him in the bed, asking me to sit down beside him.

there was a charged silence between us, the air thick with unspoken desires and yearning. in that moment, it felt as if time stood still, the world narrowing down to just the two of us in the dimly lit room.

and then, almost as if on instinct, lando's hand reached out to cup my cheek, his touch sending a shiver down my spine. the intensity of his gaze held me captive, drawing me closer until our lips were mere inches apart.

without a word, our lips met in a tender, lingering kiss, a silent expression of all the emotions that had been building between us. it was a kiss filled with longing and desire, a silent promise of what was to come.

"so beautiful, my love," lando mumbled in between our kisses, his voice thick with emotion. "you don't know how long i've waited for this."

his words sent a thrill through me, igniting a fire that had been smoldering between us for far too long. with each touch of his lips against mine, i felt myself melting into him, consumed by the heat of our passion.

our kisses deepened, each one more fervent than the last, as if we were trying to convey all the pent-up longing and desire that had been simmering between us for so long. "tastes like heaven, baby" lando murmured between kisses, his voice husky with desire.

"i've missed this so much, lan" i confessed, my breath hitching as his fingers traced patterns along my skin.

lando paused, his touch gentle yet charged with an electric intensity. "i've missed this just as much, baby," he murmured, his voice filled with emotion. "more than words can say."

his hands roamed over to my wet panties that sent shivers down my spine, igniting a hunger that burned hotter with each passing moment. "you're so beautiful, and wet for me, baby" he whispered, his voice filled with reverence as he started to play with my clit.

i arched into his touch, wordlessly urging him closer, craving the delicious friction of our bodies melding together. "don't stop," i pleaded, my voice barely above a whisper as the sensations threatened to overwhelm me.

two of his fingers slipped inside me, and i found myself clutching his hair. “don’t stop, lan. more, please,” i urged, my voice tinged with urgency and longing. and, as always, he delivered without hesitation.

“so wet for me, and only for me, baby,” he murmured against my skin, his tone raw with desire, igniting a primal spark within me.

lando's eyes darkened with hunger as he drew nearer, his breath a tantalizing caress against my ear. "you're mine," he whispered, possessiveness lacing his words, sparking a thrill of excitement in my chest. "all mine."

a shiver of anticipation ran down my spine at his words, a silent agreement to the intensity of our connection. "yes, lan," i responded softly, the words barely escaping my lips, "only yours."

with a shared understanding, he guided me onto his waiting mouth, each movement charged with unspoken longing.

“want to taste you so bad, baby,” he growled softly, his breath warm against my skin as his tongue danced with mine, exploring every curve and crevice with eager reverence.

“tastes damn good, pretty girl,” he rasped, his voice a husky murmur of appreciation as he savored the intimacy of the moment.

with every lick, i felt myself edging closer to the end, our bodies moving in sync, a symphony of pleasure and desire. he quickened the pace, driving me towards the edge until i was teetering on the brink, my senses ablaze with sensation.

"fuck, lan. i’m so fucking close," i moaned, the words tumbling from my lips in a breathless plea for release.

i hit my breaking point, just lost in the moment, riding that wave of pure pleasure, my voice echoing in the silence of the room.

as i caught my breath, i gazed at lando with a sense of wonder, gratitude swelling in my chest for the connection we shared.

“c’mere, pretty. take my pants off for me, will ya?” he said, his voice tinged with anticipation. and without hesitation, i obliged, eager to reciprocate the pleasure he had just given me.

as i removed his pants, his eyes locked onto me, filled with unmistakable desire. when he pulled out his length from his boxers, i was taken aback; it seemed even bigger than before.

lando noticed my gulp as i stared at him, clearly turned on by my reaction.

without warning, he guided himself into my mouth, gently gathering my hair into a makeshift ponytail as he directed my movements.

"i missed this fucking mouth," lando grunted, his hand instinctively moving my head forward and backward until his length reached my throat.

“ah, fuck, baby, your mouth feels incredible,” he moaned, his eyes closing in pleasure as he savored the sensations. releasing his grip on my head, he allowed me full control.

i licked the tip of his shaft teasingly, before gradually taking him deeper until i reached his base. “you're so fucking beautiful like this, love. such a good girl, taking me fully” he struggled to praise, his words punctuated by moans of pleasure.

each sound he made spurred me on, igniting a deeper desire within me. with passion driving me, i gave him my all, the rhythm of my mouth against his cock filling the room.

“so good with your mouth like this, love. fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he thrust his hips, his movements growing more urgent.

“baby, i’m about to cum,” he warned between moans. i yearned for him to finish so we could move on to the next stage; my anticipation palpable.

“i’m cumming, baby. fuck, i’m cumming. you’re so fucking good at this, my love,” he smiled appreciatively as i swallowed, clearly impressed and aroused by my eagerness.

turning me around, he instructed, “on your knees, my love.”

"lando," i breathed, my voice a mix of warning and longing, almost on the edge of a whine. my legs remained spread as i faced away from him, fighting the urge to squirm, my patience wearing thin.

lando's grin widened, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as his hands pushed my legs further apart, positioning himself at the entrance of my wetness.

"you look stunning from this angle, love," he hummed, his voice laced with teasing sweetness. "you need me badly, don’t you, love?" his length traced over my folds teasingly, sending shivers down my spine.

though i hesitated to admit it, i couldn't deny the truth as my hips involuntarily bucked upwards, a strangled moan escaping me when he pinched my clit.

"i need you," i whimpered almost shamefully, my head falling back in surrender. "so bad, lan."

"i need you inside me," i mumbled, making his smirk return.

"missed you so fucking much," he hisses, parting my legs further as my breath got faster.

"missed you too, lan" i assured him, a moan slipping past my lips as i felt his tip pressing against my folds, though he made no further movements. i pushed my hip back to feel his length.

his hand tangling in my hair and creating a makeshift ponytail ─ one he tugged on immediately, forcing my head up.

"use your words, m' love" lando's lips grazed my ear, his cock still lightly pressing against my entrance, causing me to cry out.

"i want you to fuck me," i whined, rushing my words out as my hips pressed backward.

"need you, lan, please," i whimpered, sounding desperate.

he entered me without warning, bottoming out as my walls wrapped around him, our gasps mingling as i gripped the bedsheets below.

"always taking me so well," lando grunted in my ear as his thrusts became rougher, deeper, ensuring i felt every inch of him.

every movement sent pleasure coursing through my body, my moans filling the room as i surrendered to the pleasure.

"you feel amazing, lan," i stumbled out, my eyes rolling back as my body melted under his touch.

lando, too, seemed lost in the sensation, his head thrown back as he moved with purpose, the sound of our bodies colliding filling the room.

"does it feel good?" his question was rhetorical, just a way to chase praise, but i could barely form coherent thoughts, let alone sentences.

i nodded, the only response i could manage in his hold.

"damn, you're just perfect, baby," lando grunted, his kiss on my shoulder was gentle compared to what was happening between my legs.

it was almost too much, the tears and whimpers making it clear i was close to another climax. and just the thought had him reaching his own peak.

"cum on my cock, baby. cum for me," he urged in my ear, sending shivers down my spine as my second orgasm hit. i practically screamed, going limp in his arms.

feeling me tighten around him had him climaxing too, groaning as he leaned against me, both of us catching our breath.

his touches became softer as he pulled away, guiding me to lean against the counter. we fell into a comfortable silence, his hands gentle on my waist.

"wanna hop in the shower?" lando's voice broke the quiet, a grin spreading across his face, and i felt a wave of relief.

i grinned back and nodded, and he chuckled, lifting me effortlessly and carrying me off to the bathroom.

after a relaxing shower together, we dried off and crawled into bed, exhausted yet content. the weight of the day's activities and the intimacy we shared left us feeling pleasantly worn out.

"baby, that was something else," lando chuckled, his arm wrapping around me as he pulled me close. his laughter was infectious, echoing the contentment that filled the room.

"definitely," i agreed, snuggling against him. the warmth of his body against mine was comforting, a tangible reminder of the bond we shared.

in the morning, we woke to the gentle rays of sunlight streaming through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. the tranquility of the moment was almost tangible as we lay intertwined, basking in the quiet stillness of the early hours.

"morning, love," lando greeted me with a smile, his eyes filled with affection as he pressed a tender kiss to my lips. the warmth of his lips against mine was a sweet welcome to the new day.

"morning, sleepyhead," i teased, returning his kiss with a playful grin.

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hope u enjoyed reading my first fan-fic <3 feel free to give prompts and request !! enjoy !

[thatfandomslut]

Puppy Love

Regina George x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Trigger Warnings: there is so much fluff in here that it's crazy, also a puppy is in here so prepare your hearts for a lot of love

Request:

Can I request a Regina George x Fem!reader for Renee rapp? Please anything I'm like in a dry desert with no water, please feed the homosexuals. Thanks so much!

Mean Girls requests are open.

Regina narrowed her eyes at the puppy that was taking (Y/n)'s attention. It was a golden retriever puppy that (Y/n) named Apollo. He was cute, and Regina could admit that. However, it sucked (Y/n)'s attention away entirely from her and to this dog. Regina knew this jealousy was petty and dumb, but Apollo was becoming a problem for Regina. For example, just moments before now, she and (Y/n) had been making out, but when Apollo came crying to the door, scratching on it, (Y/n) was up in seconds. Now, instead of (Y/n) holding her close, she was cradling a puppy who would never truly appreciate her.

"Wait," Cady said, formulating everything Regina was telling the group. (Y/n) hadn't joined them yet because she was too busy showing one of their classmates pictures she had taken of Apollo. "So, let me get this straight. You are jealous of Apollo? Her incredibly adorable golden retriever puppy? I'm not sure I understand why."

Regina's eyes narrowed at Cady when she said this, causing Cady's eyes to look anywhere but towards Regina. Even if the clique system had officially been brought down by the exposure of the Burn Book, Regina was scary. "You don't understand, Cady. I have lost a lot of make-out time because he will come pawing at the door. When we study at her place, it turns into a session where I study and she plays with Apollo. He's not even that cute." Regina stuck up her nose, knowing what she was saying was out of anger. She knew that Apollo was incredibly cute, and at first, so were all of (Y/n)'s interactions with him.

(Y/n) approached the group with a wide smile on her face, kissing Regina's cheek as she sat down. "Hey, everyone," she greeted, not catching on to how everyone but Regina avoided her eye. A tell-tell sign that they were talking about her, but (Y/n) was absolutely oblivious. "Does anyone want to see this video I got of Apollo at his puppy training class yesterday? The teacher said he was her best student. She said he was 'paw-some.'" (Y/n) said with a bright smile, not noticing Regina roll her eyes. Cady was the first to look over, excited to see Apollo, Karen followed, and then the rest of the group was awe-ing over how cute Apollo was. Regina was seething.

"Are you still coming over, princess?" (Y/n) looked over at Regina with a smile, but it quickly dropped when she saw Regina's expression. She looked sour as she stared at her now cold cheese fries in front of her. (Y/n) was trying to figure out if she had that same expression when she sat down earlier, or if she had just missed it. She was hoping that whatever it was, Regina wasn't mad at her. "Hey, Regina, what's wrong, babe? You look upset about something. Is there anything I can help with?"

Regina resisted the urge to say anything that she might regret late. Instead, she kissed (Y/n) with a soft smile. "No, love, just thinking. I'll definitely get over it though. Yes, I will see you later today." Regina promised, and the group looked around at each other quietly. The bell rang, and the group split up. Regina had dropped (Y/n) off at her class, and then she went with Gretchen to their shared math class. "I should've said, the problem is she loves her dog more than me," Regina grumbled to Gretchen, who decided it was best to say nothing. She didn't want to contribute to Regina's anger.

After school, (Y/n) was playing with Regina's hair when she heard the familiar pawing at her door. "There's Apollo, I'm going to let him in." (Y/n) kissed her girlfriend before letting the puppy in. "I'm going to use the bathroom fast, too. Do you think you can watch him?" (Y/n) questioned as she brought the dog over to Regina. The puppy squirmed excitedly as he was placed in front of Regina, running up to her and licking her on the face. (Y/n) patted his head before taking her momentary leave.

"Stop it, stop it," Regina held Apollo away from her as she examined him with a sneer. Letting out a little bark, he attempted to lick Regina again, even if he was at a far distance. Regina didn't realize at first that she smiled at that, but when she did; she looked around quickly to make sure nobody witnessed it. She let go of Apollo and the puppy came bounding over to her, curling up to her side as he allowed her to scratch behind his ear. "Okay, I think I'm starting to get it now… You are kind of cute, I guess."

(Y/n) grinned when she came back to the room, happy to see Regina finally warming up to her puppy. She knew she was struggling to share the attention when she came over, but puppies need a lot of attention, too. "Look at these two cuties," she took a picture before lying beside Regina, Apollo resting in the middle. "I'm glad you seem to like him. I thought you couldn't stand him. I was beginning to get worried you might be jealous of him or something." (Y/n) said, addressing how she would never want to make Regina feel that way,

Regina shook her head, hiding the lie between her teeth. "What, no? I was never jealous of Apollo, He's a cute puppy." Regina said simply, hoping she didn't give herself away too easily.

Her comment made (Y/n)'s brow raise, but she said nothing, not wanting to accuse Regina of not telling the truth. Instead, she planted a kiss on Regina's lips. "And you are my cute girlfriend. I love that you love Apollo." (Y/n) said happily, snuggling Regina and Apollo. She couldn't wait to make that picture of Regina snuggled up to Apollo her screensaver later.

[kyokutsu-sama]

Headcanons

"Things they do to apologize after an argument" A/n: I had this idea in my head for some time and seeing these three in a situation like this made me think🤔 The three scenarios below are 100% canon, I swear😅

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Kenpachi :

It's not difficult to get this man out of his mind, but it's also not difficult for him to get someone out of their mind with his personality, especially you, if you two get upset about something. He undoubtedly doesn't act with you in the same way as with others, but if for some reason you argue, he may loosen up a little and say more than he should, something he will regret later when give him the silent treatment. Believe me, he will be a shadow, following you even without knowing how to reach you. He wanted so badly to grab you and take you to his room for just an hour just to "apologize himself"but he had already realized that he was the one in the wrong, so he waited until you "softened up". He looks at you every time you pass by him and it was one of those times when you passed by him that he couldn't contain himself and slapped your ass, the habit he had before you two were upset. You gave him a deadly look back but just continued on your way and he gave a small smile. The fact that you even looked at him was a glimmer of hope for him. He loves a good fight and won't give up until he has you. When the things calm down and he feels it's time to apologize and when you walked past him while he was sitting on the couch in the living room, he pulls you onto his lap, catching you helplessly and hugs you with his strong arms. You didn't react for a moment, seeing that he just wants closeness and your warmth. You interpreted that as an apology from him. "Hey big man! I accept your apology if that's what you're trying to know"You said holding his arms around you "Does this also mean that you won't be pacing around ignoring me?" "Actually, I'm also mad at you for being so big and hard to ignore but yeah, I'll talk to you again" You say and he looks at you sideways making you smile mischievously He can't stay away from you. Even with that size, the softer side of his heart is still calling for you.

Jushiro :

I can't imagine him arguing for some reason, he's a sweetheart and would do anything but argue with you, because he knows you might be offended by something he said. Something he would avoid at all costs. When he sees that you are upset with him and that you are avoiding him, he chooses to give you some space even though it is difficult to do so. Shunsui could relate it, he had to convince him and almost begged him on his knees to give you space for a few days. The friend knew he loved you and that's why he acted like that. He couldn't help but at least exchange glances with you when you two passed each other in the corridors of his division or even inside the house. When things start to calm down a little more, he starts greeting you and even tends to bring sweets and hide them under the blanket on your side of the bed accompanied by flowers. "A true romantic man" You think to yourself after encountering all that. You see this as his apology and that very night, you can be sure, when he turns to your side while you're lying next to him and hugs you from behind and brings you closer to him. When you look back with your eyes still barely open but you can see him looking at you with an innocent and soft expression. "Do you accept my apology? Please Y/n, I'm so sorry" He whispers against the skin of your neck "But only because you brought me flowers and sweets this afternoon" You said and he chuckled placing more kisses on your neck "I will bring it whenever you want" Help, I don't write to him anymore, my heart is melting😫

Shunsui :

Another gentleman who doesn't like to argue with his loved one just like his friend above, but the only difference is that Shunsui is shameless and his sarcasm and jokes can ruin everything sometimes. What he doesn't know is that they also leave him sleeping on the couch for a few days. However, he can't help but keep a silly smile on his face when he sees you leaving the bedroom with a blanket and his pillow. He tries to stop you but you just push him away. "Aren't you overreacting? Y/n, come on ! The bed is big for both of us, you don't need to---" "Fuck you !" You stick out your middle finger and show it to him, returning to the bedroom afterwards and slamming the door with a bang "Yeah, Shunsui... it's your fault again for being an idiot" He muttered after seeing the way you left He can't bear to see you walk past him without saying a word to him, his eyes follow you everywhere in the house and even at work. He wanted so much to come closer to you and hug you and apologize and humiliate himself if he had to just to hear your beautiful voice again. This is no longer the silent treatment but torture for him. He, like Jushiro, also leaves flowers everywhere, especially rose petals scattered across the floor. In the living room, in the kitchen, in the bedroom and even in the bathroom he wants you to see the flowers. When you enter the house you can't help but sigh when you see it, you know immediately that the flowers and petals on the floor speak for themselves. "That idiot" You thought. You went to the bedroom and he was there leaning against the headboard with his bottle of drink in his hand and looking like he wasn't quite sober anymore. "I told you to stay on the couch, didn't I?" You said, approaching the bed and crossing your arms, pretending to still be upset "It's too cold to sleep on the living room and especially without my beautiful Y/n-chan who warms my heart"He said, bringing the bottle to his lips You sat next to him and took the bottle from his hands, placing it on the bedside table. "I accept your apology but first you're going to have to clean up the mess of petals you made all over the house, you hear?" You said and he laughed "I will, but now I just want to hug you" Even with the smell of booze you hugged him and he almost cried hugging you. I will have to write a complete scenario like this later...

[velvetcloxds]

looking for somebody- send me a gif of a character and I'll write a little baby blurb for it

LIPGLOSS | C.S.

word count: 0.9k

warnings: age gap, as always, reader who wears makeup?

summary: you always forget your stuff in charlie's car, but he doesn't mind all that much since it's a good excuse to get some extra kisses before you go

You made it halfway to the door when you realized your lips were uncharacteristically dry, the pause in your steps making Charlie frown from across the parking lot where he was watching and waiting for you to go inside. He wasn't all that fond of his current spot in the first place, he was too far from the door and he didn't like it at all, having to shift around slightly from where he leaned back against the car to see you and he raised a brow when you turned around and started marching right back towards him.

"What's wrong?" he was straight to the point when you were close enough to hear him, adjusting the tote back on your shoulder, regretting that extra book you forced in there now that your quick walk into work would be repeated more than once, Charlie noticed, not even thinking before taking it from you, looking into it with hidden judgment as he saw how much you had in there.

"Nothing's wrong," you smiled, scrunching your nose at his raised brow, gently forcing him to scoot up and away from the door so that you could open it, missing the little loving look of exasperation as he looked around the parking lot and then stole a glance at his watch, he didn't want you to be late. "Forgot my lipgloss," you explained from inside the car, knee digging into his seat as he tried and failed not to steal a glance at the sight in front of him, you looking into the little mirror to apply the sticky goo.

He was always intrigued by that little gesture, amused by the focused look on your face, the little pout to make the job easier, or even the little head movements to move closer and further from the mirror- it was the cutest thing in the world, he'd decided, though that changed daily with you.

"Take it with you," Charlie suggested, hand coming up to cover the frame of the door where you'd move your head through to make sure you didn't bump in. "I'm sure you can find room in here somewhere," you breathed a scoff at that, taking your bag from his hand and throwing the lipgloss right back into the little cup holder by the gearshift.

"I'll lose it if I take it with me," you explained to him and his hand found your waist before he could think about it, lips tilting just slightly, it was considered a smile by his standards. "At least here I'll know it's safe, got a whole policeman to protect it," he hummed, it was a lovely sound, one of your favourites, it forced you to steal a quick kiss from him, thumb instantly coming up to wipe away your gloss from his lips.

"I'm going to bring you lunch," you wanted to object, reminding him that you did in fact pack something to eat later, but then again, you knew it didn't count as lunch for him. "I'll stop by the diner, get you some pie, know you've been craving some," it was a sickeningly sweet offer, you'd mentioned you craving something sweet last night, he was getting ready for bed and you were sure he wasn't listening but then again, Charlie always pays attention when it's you.

"Will you get yourself a piece too? Stay here and eat with me?" he was considering it, didn't know if he'd have time with everything going on in town as of late, but he knew he couldn't say no to you, you knew too.

"I will," he was the one to steal a kiss, right on your forehead, gently guiding you away from the car, telling you it was time to go, and even if you didn't want to, you knew you should. "Have a good day, sweetheart."

"You too, bear, I'll see you later," you were walking backward, he absolutely hated it, instinctively moving forward with every step you took back, wanting to be able to catch you just in case. "Don't lose my lipgloss."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

[macsimagines]

Could I ask for Kisaki, Rindou, and Draken with partners that are insecure? Like they truly believe that their boyfriend/husband could do so much better than them

I've done this one already for Kisaki and Draken here but I can def do one for Rindou!! this is kind of like a part two to my EX! Ran Haitani headcanon set!! also idk why text colors are being weird i'll try to fix it later on

TW: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, MINORS DNI,

Yandere!Rindou Haitani

He loves you, adores you even. You're so soft and kind compared to his hard and mean. Rindou has always taken pride in being who he is. He's a Haitani brother, feared allover Tokyo and a ruler in charge of Roppongi.

But for you? Just you- He's Rin. Your loving boyfriend that is never too busy to spend time with you and never lacking in affection. He'll hold your hand gladly or throw a reassuring arm over your shoulder.

All the love in the world can't stop the thoughts in your head though. He's so much more than you'll ever be. You've seen him in action and his strength and overwhelming capabilities compared to your...to your anything just made you feel so dull in comparison.

Rin is beautiful, he catches the eye of every woman you walk past on the street. Rin is strong, he can beat men without breaking a sweat. Rin is powerful, he has people that flock to him at his beck and call and you are nothing.

"I just... I just think I'm holding you back," you tell him, over the phone because you're too much of coward to say it to his face, "I want... I want what's best for you-!" "What the fuck are you talkin' about, you're what's best for me! Baby-please-!" "I can't! I'm not enough, I'm sorry Rin."

And you hang up the phone, block his number. Its better this way, you're sure by this time next week he'll have moved onto someone else, someone better that could keep up with someone as amazing as him.

But then something unexpected happens. His brother comes looking for you. Rin warned you about him once, said that after a bad breakup with his girlfriend he hadn't been the same.

"I thought they got back together though?" you had asked him confused after he had told you. He never answered you back, just got this weird look on his face before giving you a warning; "Try not to get too close. And try not to piss him off."

Yet here he was, at your doorstep staring you down like you were the scum of the earth. Apparently you hadn't heeded the warning.

"Havin' fun?" he asks, not even blinking while he towers over you, and your voice is caught in your throat, too scared to even make a sound at the older Haitani. "Cause I'm sure fuckin' not."

And suddenly he's grabbing you by the hair so tight you're scared he's going to rip it from your skull, but no, he's dragging you out the door and down the steps of your apartment ignoring your cries and screams for help.

Muttering something the whole way to his car. Something like "...You bitches and the games you like to play. Fuck with our heads, you and my girl always got make fuckin' problems for us-"

Then he's shoving you into the passenger seat making sure you can't get out. One moment you feel like you've found your voice again and then the next it leaves you because Ran has a gun pointed right at you only seconds later.

"Your gonna fix this you ungrateful bitch," he spits, eyes so full of hate it makes you want to curl in on yourself, "Put my baby brother back together and act like you like it. Like you fuckin' love it. Or I'll kill you my damn self and make you regret makin' a fool out of the Haitanis. Do you understand, Y/N?"

You're not sure if you say yes or if you even or in affirmation before he's pulling out of the parking lot and speeding dangeroulsy to some unknown destination.

And you are crying, silently shaking and sobbing because you're so scared of what he's going to do and he's still holding the gun right at your head, muttering to himself yet again.

"I'll make it right- I'll fix him and he'll be ok- fuckin' women making us loose our goddamn minds-,"

Finally you pull into a warehouse, abandoned by the looks of it and new found fear arises in you- Is this where Ran is going to kill you? But no.... This is where Rin is.

You see him first, his eyes are dark and he looks so tired from his usual self, and his expression is so empty, so emotionless that you're worried for a split second but then you see...the man. At least that's what he used to be.

His face is beaten in, and his body is contorted in such a mangled way you're sure his limbs had been broken, and Rin is on top of him. Pummeling away at the already red and mangled face.

You can't help the small gasp that leaves you and you probably would've ran out there screaming had Ran not been holding you by the neck.

But your scream was enough to alert the younger Haitani, and he turns to look at you with eyes wild like an animals. "Y-Y/N?" he whispers standing on shaking legs, "B-baby is that you?"

It didn't matter how hard you tried you couldn't make out a single sound, too shocked by the scenes unfolding around you. Thankfully, Ran wasn't short on words....

"Ya, I brought Y/N here 'cause she has somethin' to say," Ran shoves you forward, making sure that the gun at his side is always within your view. A silent reminder of what he made you promise...

Rin doesn't let you get any words our before he's embracing you with bloodied hands, smearing another persons bodily fluid all over you... "Oh baby, please tell me you're back, please? Its been hell, I can't do this without you, I'm loosin' my fuckin' mind."

Its like your brain suddenly catches up with you. You have to say yes or else... "I-I'm back," you nod, hugging him back with shaking hands, "I'm... I'm sorry Rin."

And suddenly he's sobbing, pulling you away only so he could hold your face in his bloody hands to look into your eyes, "How could you do this to me, I love you so much,"

Ran once again, speaks. "You need to keep her in line," he tells his younger brother, much to your dismay, "Like I keep my girl. Don't worry. I'll teach you."

You could never leave Rin Haitani. Shame on you for even trying.

[insomniac4000]

Change of heart- Part 1

Chris' smile faded quickly when he walked into the pub garden and saw the face of the person he least wanted to see.

"What is she doing here?" He spat causing George to roll his eyes.

"Can't you just be civil for a couple of hours?" The younger man asked and Chris shrugged.

"Only if she doesn't start anything."

No one knew exactly why you and Chris didn't like each other, which was a shame as everybody assumed you two would get along you had a similar sense of humour as well as similar interests but the two of you never really clicked in the way everyone had hoped.

You were a musician and Youtuber, as such you had developed a close friendship with Arthur Hill as you two had toured Europe together. Your career had started on Youtube but like most Youtubers your content now and branched away from just music content, also doing vlogs and other content. You had first met Chris when he had invited you to one of his video shoots, you had played football a little bit in school but that was over fifteen years ago and you weren't particularly great even then. Your rising popularity though made you a requested guest however and at the time Chris thought it a great idea although he would come to regret it later.

You were about ten minutes late but it genuinely wasn't your fault as your train had broken down, you would have been fifteen minutes early if it wasn't for this and you were very apologetic when you arrived. You also made a jab about Chris's height when he was doing the intro, while George, both Arthur's and Harry found it hilarious Chris was not amused in the slightest. It was from that moment on Chris decided you were rude and you thought Chris was full of himself.

"Good evening," George chimed out as him and Chris took their seats on the other side of the bench, you were in a pub garden as it was summer time. Your were in an Arthur sandwich, the boys knowing Chris would want to sit as far away from you as possible.

"Hey," you smiled trying to be polite, at least you could be the bigger person you thought.

"How was the shoot?" Arthur Hill asked, you sat there somewhat awkwardly playing with the rim of your wine glass, here we go you thought, another ten minutes of hearing Chris gloat about his football skills. You love to see him in a real premier league match one day to see if he really would perform in the way he thought he would.

"It was good for George to finally put his big head to good use," Chris joked before he started to talk about a great penalty he made.

"I'm going to get a drink," you announced standing up from your perch.

"Pint of Moretti please," George asked as ArthurTV asked for the same, Arthur Hill lifted his half full pint glass letting you know he was okay.

"No thanks I'll get my own," Chris mumbled before going back to his story.

"Suit yourself," you sighed before making your way up to the bar.

"I thought you said you were going to be civil?" George asked looking at the pair of Arthur's who were also looking tired of everything.

"I spoke to her didn't I? I need a drink," Chris got up and went to search for alcohol. Lauren picked up the two beers and glass of wine carefully balancing them in her two hands before turning around and narrowly missing the person behind her.

"Be careful!" Chris scolded stepping back.

"I was nowhere near you, calm down," you clapped back before going back to your shared friends.

Chris was two things when he was drunk, either very hands on or very mean. To y/n he was always the latter. When you came back from talking to a guy on the next table Chris let out a very audible scoff.

"What's your problem?" You had finally had enough of his snark for one evening.

"Don't get too close to me I don't want to catch whatever diseases you've surely picked up," Chris snapped. You put your tongue to the side of your mouth and crossed your arms over your chest.

"Just what the hell is that supposed to mean?" You asked, everyone else on the table looked at each other, these arguments between you and Chris often got very explosive.

"Judging by your dating record it's a miracle you're not down the clinic every weekend," he replied with a smirk on his face.

"Well next time I'm there I'll be sure to say hi," you retorted picked up your jacket.

"What are you doing?" Arthur Hill asked as you threw the jacket over your shoulders with force.

"I'm not staying somewhere where I'm not wanted," you explained placing your arms through the sleeves of your denim jacket.

"There's no need for that," George was the one who was going to try and calm the situation down.

"There is. I'm sorry but I've put up with the shit for too long. If this tiny little excuse for a man is so insecure and petty that he can't even keep his fat gob shut for one hour then I'm done," you cried before grabbing your bag and walking in the direction of the exit. George and the Arthur's all called after you but you ignored them, as long as he was there you weren't going to have anymore to do with it.

"Just what is your problem with her?" Arthur Hill asked the smaller man.

"The only problem I have is that she has a problem with me!" Chris defended himself before picking up his pint.

"I don't buy that, you've had it our for her since day one!" George replied, the two Arthur's nodded.

"If this were primary school you would have pulled her pigtails and pushed her over," ArthurTV joined in.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Chris asked slamming now empty drink down onto the wooden bench, all he wanted to do tonight was go out with his mates and have a laugh but now he was being ganged up on and he wasn't having fun at all.

"I honestly think you like her, she pissed you off and now you're treating her like shit like the petty little man you are," George explained and again both Arthur's nodded in agreement. They all hoped it was a big misunderstanding and the two would kiss and make up, if only they put their bad first impressions aside for ten minutes they would realise the actually had a lot in common. Chris did not take this comment well at all, he could think of a hundred if not a thousand women he would much rather be with.

"Not if the future of humanity depended on it," the curly haired man replied before sulking off to the bathroom.

"I don't know how much more of this I can take guys, we need to get them to talk," an exhausted ArthurTV cried.

"I know. I honestly think he'll like her music if he gave it a chance, I reckon if we bring him to her London show next month he'll have a new appreciation for her," Arthur Hill surmised. He was also playing at the show so it wouldn't be too difficult to get Chris to attend.

"That and if she's on stage at least they won't be round each other to argue," George added in before sighing. He was getting very sick of this too, everyone was.

"Then it's settled."

[kittievampire]

Okay okay hear me out cheater!satan x mc x Lucifer

basically Satan cheats on mc he doesn’t really regret in the beginning but later on he start regretting it but by now mc has gotten over it and started dating Lucifer (maybe he comforted them when they found out) Satan ends up finding out (probably just like walking in on them kissing or something you’re choice) mc and Lucifer have a pretty fluffy ending but for Satan just angst you can make it nsfw if you want but free to ignore 💗��

Okay, so I SAID that cheating was iffy for me,

Buuuuuuut I like the idea so I'll do it just for you bb 😘

Also, this may have been a bit rushed I'm so sorry

Lemme see what I have in my bag, my dear~

Click here if you wanna request!

Listening to When I Was Your Man while writing this!

Regret

Warnings: Angst (duh), Fluff, Cheating, Cursing, Hurt/Comfort, GN MC, Cheating!Satan x MC, Lucifer x MC, MC is a fuckin unit, MC has anger issues lowkey tho

Enjoy.

When you started dating Satan, you couldn't help but notice a slight shift in his demeanor.

Before the two of you started going out, he loved to spoil you with gifts, play with your hair, read you his favorite stories, and take you to cat cafes. Afterward, however, there was a sudden decline of such acts. You figured it was because he wanted to be more low-key with you while together, maybe he preferred it that way?

You weren't sure. But you didn't want to pester your boyfriend about it.

Though it did bother you a little that he didn't show you any physical affection, you assumed it must've been a personal thing. Maybe he was uncomfortable sharing his personal space with someone. Maybe later on in your relationship, he'd come around and start kissing your forehead or cuddling with you. Really, that was all you'd hoped for out of a relationship. While he wasn't giving you that right now, you concluded that you'd seem demanding if you went to confront him about it, so you remained quiet. There was, however, something else that was bothering you.

Lucifer had started acting odd as well. He'd avoid the two of you quite often, but when confronted about it, he denied such accusations.

"I have no idea what you mean, MC. Perhaps you're imagining things," was a common statement from the eldest.

Again, you decided not to pester.

You were well aware of the friction between the two brothers, but you didn't think entering a relationship with one of them would cause the other to start avoiding you. Occasionally, you'd catch the demon in question casting you small glances of worry whenever you and Satan were in the same room.

You think, now, that perhaps he was trying to warn you.

Maybe he was trying to voice his opinions non-verbally, make you aware of what would happen in the future.

Unfortunately, hapless you couldn't see the signs. The red flags seemed like regular ones, due to the love-tinted glasses you were wearing. And your heart wasn't prepared for the torture it'd soon endure.

_

You returned to the House of Lamentation to the usual chaos. Leviathan yelling at Mammon for selling another one of his figurines, Beelzebub munching on a cheeseburger, Belphegor sleeping beside his twin, and Asmodeus putting on lip gloss. Racing down the hallway and into Satan's room, you set down the little trinket you'd gotten him from Akuzon that had finally arrived.

It was a jade green bookmark with cat faces scattered around it. There was magic within the bookmark that helped it stay in place when threatening to fall out of a book, so you figured it'd help him keep his spot whenever his books got flung around.

Smiling, you flipped over the bookmark, grabbing the marker you had in your pocket, and began to write.

'Hope this helps, love you always — MC'

After dropping off the gift, you noticed the brothers' mayhem bleeding into the hallways and the rooms. You bit your lip for a moment. Usually Lucifer was around to keep them all in check. Where was he?

This wasn't exactly the ideal place for studying. You had an important exam tomorrow, you couldn't afford any distractions during your study time.

Satan had mentioned he was going to be in the library to tutor another student. Perhaps you should join him.

_

Assuming he wouldn't mind, you didn't bother texting him beforehand and entered the library.

Her giggle was what brought you to that position in the library, her hand on his chest was what made you freeze, and his kiss to her forehead was what made your heart drop.

"Satan?"

You called out to him, feeling the world suddenly pause around you. You could practically hear your heart crack slowly like a glass statue had been exposed to high sound frequencies. You tried your best to process the sight before you, sight becoming more and more fuzzy as tears began to well up in them.

Satan turned his head to look at you, green eyes widening in shock. "MC," He responded.

The succubus beside him giggled once more, her pink eyes meeting yours as a grin formed on her face. "Oh, this is your little plaything, baby?" She asked, her index finger tracing a circle along his chest.

"Plaything?" You repeat, one hand clenching into a fist and bringing it to your chest. "Satan, what the is this whore talking about?" You demanded, a tear slipping down your cheek.

The succubus growled. "Who are you calling a whore, you—" "Shut the fuck up, I'm not talking to you," You interrupt, not even giving her a glance. Satan raised his hand. "Hey, hey, there's no need for that, MC, relax." He said softly, feeling your anger rising.

You flinched. Looking deep into his emerald eyes, you could see the joy, the pleasure. Of course.

He wanted to see you angry.

He wanted to feed off of your anger, that's what he wanted.

That's why he was with you, because it was so easy to push your buttons.

Soon enough, the succubus was standing in front of you, pointing her finger at you, long acrylic nail almost poking at your chest. "You've got some nerve calling me a whore. It's not my fault he prefers me over some rodent like you. If you want him, I'll gladly fight you for him, but I doubt a human like you could put up a fight against me. I bet you don't even impress in bed," The succubus continued babbling in front of you. You glanced behind her, meeting the blond's gaze. His fingers intertwined, elbows pressed into the desk, hands blocking your view of his mouth, but you were almost certain he was smirking at the rising fury in the room.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you, you bastard?!" You shouted, the succubus stepping in front of you once more, pushing her finger into your chest. "Hey, I'm—" "Get your greasy ass finger out of my face!" You pushed her hand away.

The succubus stumbled backward a bit, teeth clenched as she seethed. "How dare you!" She swung her arm forward. Her palm would've struck you across the face, were it not for a red gloved hand to catch her wrist.

"What is the meaning of this?" You turned your head slowly, Lucifer's black wings wrapping around you protectively as his piercing red gaze shifting from the succubus to Satan. The Avatar of Wrath met his eyes, a glare making it's way to the blond's face.

Lucifer's icey stare shifted to you, then back at the succubus. Immediately, it turned into a look of disgust and disappointment. "Leave," He said in a demanding tone, causing the succubus to shudder and run off.

There was a dead silence in the room.

Only the sound of your heart loudly thumping against your chest was heard, ringing in your ears. You swallowed a lump in your throat, eyes flicking downward at the ground as you tried to process everything.

"Don't look down at me like that, Lucifer." Satan finally broke the silence, earning a scoff from the eldest. "I look at trash however I please." Lucifer immediately shot back, earning a slam of Satan's fists against the table. "Trash?! You don't even know what was going on before you walked in!"

Lucifer looked down at your quivering state, your arms wrapped around yourself as another tear slipped down your cheek. "I could only assume..." He murmured out softly, wrapping an arm around you. "Come with me, MC," He spoke softly, guiding you out of the library, leaving a fuming Satan behind.

You heard a loud crash, similar to the sound of a table being thrown across the room, as the library doors slammed shut behind you.

The hallway looked a lot longer than it used to. Probably because you were becoming less and less aware of your surroundings as your vision became even more blurry.

Soon enough, you were seated in a chair in the Student Council room, Lucifer seated next to you.

_

Lucifer wasn't the best when it came to comforting, he was well aware of that. Nonetheless, he was silent when you started sobbing. He knew of Satan's intentions from the beginning, but he was also hoping that perhaps you could change him, make him forget what he originally wanted out of you and fall in love just as you did with him.

The Avatar of Pride was jealous of his brother. He had developed quite an affinity for you, but once you made your feelings for Satan known, he pushed back his thoughts on confessing. He wanted to respect your space, so he tried to push himself away as much as he could in a meager attempt to soothe his aching heart.

He wanted to give the two of you a chance, he really did.

Now he wishes he'd have stepped in sooner. Given you a fighting chance for the upcoming heartbreak he knew you must've been feeling.

Unconsciously, his hand gently grasped your shoulder. This was the most physical comfort he could give you right now.

You froze in your seat, slowly looking up to face him. Tear streaks staining your reddened cheeks, eyes puffy from your crying. Suddenly, you threw yourself into his arms, wrapping yours around his torso and sobbing quietly into his chest.

Lucifer flinched, allowing his mind to process what was happening before tenderly wrapping his arms around you. One of his gloved hands began to gently stroke your hair. His chin rested on the top of your head and he closed his eyes, finding a solitude of sorts in the embrace as you released all of your rage and sadness.

_

Ever since that night, you and Lucifer had grown a lot closer. You'd been staying at the Purgatory Hall with Simeon, Luke, and Solomon, and you didn't interact with Satan almost at all at RAD, seeing as you shared none of your classes together.

That's when you started feeling something toward Lucifer. He'd always check up on you when you had the time, take you to special events as his guest, and give you his shoulder to cry and lean on when you'd ask for it.

The two of you were at Ristorante Six when he asked you to be his. Walking out of the restaurant, Lucifer stopped you by the window, gently holding you by your shoulders, biting his lip as if he was thinking over what he wanted to say.

"I know that what happened with Satan was recent and I understand that this may not be the best time, but, MC, I can't ignore my feelings for you any longer. I think... No, I know that I love you dearly, MC. You have a place in my heart no one else will ever fill. Despite your response, I will continue to love you, even if it has to be platonically," He said, a light blush forming on his cheeks.

You blinked, heart racing in your chest as you brought a hand up and placed it on his cheek. "Lucifer..." You murmured out softly, your eyes flicking to his lips.

Leaning forward, you gently press your lips against his, wrapping your arms around his neck. His arms snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to him to deepen the kiss, even if only by a little.

This, you thought, was what you were looking for.

_

Ever since you moved back in to the House of Lamentation, Satan had been trying to talk to you. When he did, however, he'd only get a scoff and a back turn in response. He'd be lying if he said it infuriated him, but deep down, by this point, he knew he deserved it.

At first, he didn't regret anything. He knew that the only reason he was keeping you close was for his own entertainment. He loved seeing you so angry so often, it fed into his sin.

But after you left him, he couldn't help but feel this ache in his chest. Like something was missing.

And when he saw your little gift sitting on his desk, he couldn't ignore the way his heart thumped heavily within him, only to drop when he remembered that night.

The reason he was trying to approach you was because he wanted to make amends somehow. He wanted to work to earn your trust back, of course, but he also wanted to try again. This time, he knew he'd do better. This time, he'd put his everything into you, into the two of you.

The two of you could maybe achieve happiness, finally.

When he saw you kissing Lucifer in the kitchen late one night, however, he could feel his heart shatter.

The way Lucifer hugged you, the way he smiled at you, cupped your cheek, and gave you forehead kisses, it all infuriated him.

He should've done these things.

That's all you've ever wanted, was his love and affection. You weren't picky with his time, nor were you easily jealous, you were perfect.

And he lost you.

Now, all he can do is clutch on to the bookmark you'd given him, reading the little message in the back over and over in his mind while holed up in his room.

'Hope this helps, love you always — MC'

As tears cascade down his cheeks, he leans his head back against his chair, silently hoping, wishing that this was all a bad dream. Maybe he'd wake up and you'd be in his arms again, loving him once more. Love him always, like you promised.

Satan wishes the best for you and Lucifer. He hopes that Lucifer can do everything he couldn't do when you were his.

He hopes the two of you achieve that happiness that Satan had originally wanted for you and him, but was too ignorant to commit.

Now, you were gone, and he was alone.

Wallowing in regret.

Bro should've bought you flowers, L

Now, if you don't mind, I'm gonna go read some fluff and sweet shit with Satan in it cause I NEED to be able to look at my sweet kitty boy after this pleeaasseeee 😭😭😭

I hope this was to your liking, anon!

[toruro]

hyung line + fighting with them

w/c: 1.7k

a/n: maybe i'll do a maknae line later, we'll see! part two of them making up can be found here! hope u enjoy!

seungcheol

he really tries his best to not get *super* heated because he knows he loses his temper easily. trying to stop small arguments is kind of futile but you both are some what playful when it comes to those petty fights which are unavoidable. it’s the rarer, more serious fights like the one you’re having tonight which he tries to prevent. yelling in each other’s faces is never what you want but it’s inevitable sometimes. you know he doesn’t mean what he’s saying, you’re sure of it, but you can’t help but let the harsh words get to your head. once it’s all catching up to you, you’re finding it hard to bite back, hard to find the voice in you to yell more, hard to find it in you to say anything at all. after seungcheol’s finished with the tangent he’s on, he notices how you’ve stilled. giving you a moment to respond, the silence gives you both a moment to let your emotions to sink in properly. after a few minutes of silence, both of calming down your breathing and tears, seungcheol will talk again. “baby i’m sorry.” you’re quiet for a moment before you take a deep breath. “let’s talk about this in the morning,” you finally say, “i think we’ve both said enough tonight.” he nods in agreement as you turn on your heel to grab a blanket and pillow from your shared room, but he catches on quickly. “don’t sleep on the couch. i’ll sleep on the couch,” he tells you, pulling the pillow from your hands. you pull them back, “no, you hate sleeping there.” his heart nearly melts. “okay, then just sleep on the bed with me,” he reasons, “please?” even if you’re angry, you know you can’t say no.

jeonghan

i believe him and minghao would be the calmest in an argument, no matter how heated it gets. he's a bit goofy and playful at times, but when he notices that this argument is one of Those Arguments he'd switch it up, being very careful with his words and their impact. would have you both sit down at the dinner table or something like that where you guys could face each other and whenever you're talking and he notices you start talking faster, more angrily, more heated, he'll reach out a hand and encourage you to slow down. you're still a bit angry but how can you feel anything but endearment when he's doing everything in his power to understand you? i really can't imagine an argument with jeonghan where you're both yelling and he says anything he regrets, just because he'd be so perceptive and strict with himself about the course of your argument. sometimes though, he understand that some issues take more time to be resolved BUT if you even suggest the idea of you sleeping in a different room, he'll be very against it, insisting that wherever you're sleeping, he's sleeping.

joshua

big arguments with joshua are rare. he tries to diffuse any situation before they get out of hand—out of hand much like this one. after he loses his cool, things will be come very heated very fast. joshua knows you well—too well—and he’ll definitely strike where it hurts, throwing out words he wouldn’t imagine saying if he was in his right mind. you’re not used to joshua like this, and you’re not sure how to handle it, doing your best to not relent. it's when he's spitting out something that you'd never think he'd ever say that you'd go quiet, letting his words sink in to both of your minds. you're wiping away at your cheeks, furiously trying to get your tears to stop because you're mind is just so clouded and scrambled that you can hardly think. "baby, i—" joshua's voice is softer the next time he speaks after realized just exactly what he's said, but you cut him off. "i'm—" you start with a shaky breath, "—i'm gonna sleep on the couch tonight." joshua physically winces at your proposition but he also knows that he brought this upon himself, so he doesn't protest, rather collecting himself and using his time alone tonight to think about how to approach this situation the next morning.

jun

does not shut up in arguments. like he will be so vocal about his emotions and will say everything that he’s feeling and everything that he’s thinking to the point that it's quite literally obnoxious. you'll be trying to get your point across but he's cutting you off with his own words, and it's not even intentional, he just starts spewing out shit when he's angry. it takes you a long few minutes of you being completely silent, trying to take in everything he's saying to you before jun realizes that maybe, just maybe, he's gone overboard and should shut up right about now. it's not the easiest for him to not say everything he's thinking and it's not easy for you comprehend everything he's saying so you're both sort of just standing there before you turn and go to the kitchen to grab yourself a glass of water. jun follows after you quickly but would do his best to try not to say anything. when you propose that you'll sleep on the couch tonight, he isn't sure what to think, and is about to go on another rampage before stopping himself. he's not fond of the idea, but definitely thinks you both need some time to cool down. he'll try to convince you to take the bed but your refuse, insisting that he's too tall to fit on the couch.

soonyoung

he's like jun in the sense that he'll say almost everything that comes to mind except he's much more calculated about it. it's less of him just saying random shit that's going through his head and more of him not having a filter. he won't hold back the mean words that he definitely wouldn't say if even half of his brain was functioning. he'd throw his hands in the air a lot, using his arms to emphasize the words that he's saying and you know he doesn't intent to be scary but with the way he's yelling and you're yelling and everything is so emotional, you're quite frankly intimidated. you know he'd never ever hurt you but in the heat of the moment, you find yourself almost cowering back in the midst of your argument. it takes hoshi a few minutes to even comprehend your figure, let alone realize that you're intimidated—intimidated by him—before it feels like a slap in the fucking face by the universe. he's suddenly thrown into reality, growing quiet as he realizes just how the past hour has escalated into something neither of you wanted. it's hard for him to calm down—he's just always so emotional, and you love that about him, but it's a lot. eventually, it'll just be quiet as you look at each other, and after a few moments he'll reach out a hand and you'd immediately hold his. he'd say something about talking about this in the morning and you'd just nod along as you both make your way to the bedroom.

wonwoo

thinks A LOT so all of his responses are thought through. well, almost all. i can imagine wonwoo trying to becalm and collected in any argument with you just because he hates conflict and will do his best to make sure this doesn't get out of hand. despite this, you are his weakness in like every way possible, not excluding this one. something about the way both of your voices are being raised steadily and the words you're both saying are starting to become less thought through and god does wonwoo try to keep his composure, he really does, but when things get heated he'd start yelling and then you'd start yelling and you'd both be crying until some point where he realizes enough is enough and that you guys can't hold up a proper conversation like this. he knows this argument will get you nowhere if you continue on like this, so he takes it upon himself to step down and propose that you talk about this in the morning. when you silently agree and go to your shared bedroom to grab a pillow and blanket, he catches on all too quickly, grabbing your wrist before you can set up on the couch. "don't," he pleads, and while you're still upset and heated, you can't ignore the raw emotion in his voice, sighing as you return to your bed, crawling with wonwoo by your side.

jihoon

petty arguments are normal. real ones like these are not. woozi prides himself for being generally composed in your relationship, hardly every losing his cool in situations like these. usually he's good at taming both your and his emotions, so it's not natural for things to end up like this. but in this case, both of you are pent up with so much frustration from god knows what and you just happen to be taking it out on each other. it's not okay, you both know that, but you're too stubborn to quit this battle of yelling you've got going on, and it's only when you find it harder for you to raise your voice that you begin to falter. you don't even realize that you've been yelling so much that your throat begins to hurt until you're taking a deep breath, being hit by a need for water. you leave the room in the middle of his response to you, going to the kitchen to grab yourself some water, which causes him to follow you afterwards, not halting his words. you've already been crying and you can tell his eyes are glossy too, and this is your moment of epiphany��this needs to stop. you don't let him say another word before putting your hand up tiredly, saying something along the lines of, "i can't do this right now and i don't think you can either." he'll shut his mouth real tight when he hears how hoarse your voice has gotten. "let's just talk in the morning," you suggest, trudging your way to your bed as he follows you, nodding in agreement as he crawls in next to you without a word.

[vshthestmpede]

Could you please write something where reader has feelings for Vash but thinks he’s in love with Meryl. And though they feel a bit sad they try to help him, seeing as they think they both deserve the world. For Vash, he just takes this as an opportunity to spend time with them and take notes from them. When it finally comes to it, they tell him, he should confess when he’s ready. Only for him to turn and confess his love for them! Thank you!

misplaced beliefs

word count; 1031

warnings; jealousy (mild)

notes; ooo we love a little subversion, especially one that works in our favor am i right? haha but i do appreciate all your requests, thank you for keeping my creative mind going!! <3

cross-posted to ao3

“hey, (name), what do you do when you get this weird feeling in your stomach and chest when you see someone?”

your heart dropped almost as fast as you dropped your fork, a piece of waffle falling to the floor. vash looked at your shell shocked face with a raised eyebrow, concerned at your reaction to his question.

"are you okay?" vash followed up as you collected yourself, snagging the fork off the floor and putting it off to the side.

"no, yeah, totally fine," you reassured. "so, let me get this straight: you've got a crush?"

vash scratched at his temple. "i guess so. got any ideas on what i should do?"

you leaned your elbows on the table, fighting down the venomous feelings that threatened to spill out of your mouth as you said, "well, if you're trying to confront them about these feelings, you gotta time it correctly."

"aim for something more on the intimate side, i'm sure they'll love having some sort of private, thoughtful confession," you continued as he silently nodded. "you just gotta be upfront, honest, and hope for the best."

"upfront, honest, hope for the best," vash echoed thoughtfully as he stood from the table. "thank you, (name), i really appreciate your input. i'm going to go talk to meryl and the rest about the next stretch of driving, i'll catch you later!"

you responded with a quiet 'yeah' and vash ruffled your hair as he passed by on his way out of your room. as soon as your door closed, you sighed and pushed your food away before heading over to your bed and flopping down.

staring at the ceiling, your mind raced on how exactly vash planned to confess to meryl. your chest tightened at the thoughts of how he could hold her hands in his, look at her with those beautiful eyes of his, and tell her how much he cared for her.

you wanted to be happy for your friends, you really did, but the claws of jealousy dug deep into your heart at the idea of vash having these feelings for meryl when you desperately wished it was you.

"(name)? it's time to go!"

meryl's chipper voice accompanied by the quick knock at your door stirred you from your thoughts. you sat up and looked out the window, surprised to see the sun beginning to dip.

"alright, i'm coming," you called back as she knocked again, pushing yourself out of the bed and discarding the cold waffles before grabbing your belongings and trudging out to the car.

"here, let me grab that." vash took your suitcase from you and secured it to the top of the van while you wordlessly climbed into the backseat, keeping your gaze out the window as everyone got into their spots.

the drive was quiet, which wasn't out of the ordinary. wolfwood and vash slept, the blonde's head resting on your shoulder as per usual. meryl and roberto talked in hushed tones and the radio broadcasted quietly. you would steal glances at vash but spent most of the time watching the desert speed by, passing time by counting wanderers you spotted until meryl stopped the car.

"alright, let's set up camp before it gets too dark," she announced, waking the two men. "vash and (name), it's your turn to stay in the car tonight."

you hummed and got out quickly, a pang of regret striking you as you let vash's head fall forward too quickly. he sat up and rubbed the back of his neck, watching you as you started to help roberto unload the sleeping gear. as soon as everything was set up and the fire was started, you headed back to the car and settled on the roof of it, staring up into the starry sky.

"so." oblivious as ever, vash joined you, laying right next to you and crossing his arms behind his head. "you think now is a good time to confess to someone? like, do i just -"

"i don't really care, vash," you interrupted, your tone a bit harsher than you had intended it to be. "i'm sure she'd love to hear you tell her how much you love her at any given time."

the silence that you were met with made your heart sink and you instantly felt awful for snapping at him like that.

"look, vash, i'm sorry." you sat up but still refused to look at him, still a bit apprehensive. "i guess i just, i don't know. yeah. now would be a great time."

"i'm in love with you."

you nodded, eyes still looking at the stars to hold back your tears, "yeah, just like that. honest and upfront. so go on, go tell meryl and -"

"meryl?" vash sat up quickly, putting two and two together. "oh, (name), this was never about meryl."

you blinked and finally looked at him, tears rolling down your cheeks. "what do you mean this was never about meryl?"

"(name), i'm in love with you," vash stressed the last word, reaching towrds you and brushing the tears away from your face. "is this why you've been so out of it?"

you laughed. "out of it? you slept the entire car ride and this is the first time we're talking since this morning, you dork. i'll admit i was a bit jealous, yes, but can we circle back to the whole confession you just dropped on me?"

"what about it?" vash questioned, his hand resting on your face. "did i do it right at least?"

"i dunno," you teased, scooching closer to him until your noses brushed with how close you got. "do you think you did it right?"

"w-well." vash swallowed but didn't dare to move an inch. "i was upfront and honest, just like you said, and -"

you swiftly pressed your lips to his, effectively taking him by surprise. vash practically melted as you wrapped your arms around his neck and kept him close, even as you pulled back and pressed your forehead to his.

"you did it just right," you assured. "c'mon, let's get some rest. today's been a little exhausting with the emotional rollercoaster i've been on."

[sports-on-sundays]

can you plssss make a part 3 for arguments w Marc guiu plsssss😭

arguments / Marc Guiu / Part 3

Summary: Marc x female!reader - The writing is on the wall, and you don't know if there's a way to change this. Or if you even want to.

Author's Note: I'm a sucker for happy endings✌️✌️✌️Link to Part 1 Link to Part 2

Requested?: Yes

For a guy that you hate, that hurt you, that you never, ever want to see again, you think about him an awful lot.

Gavi thinks you messed up. That you're in the wrong, too. That it was a two-way street.

Well, what does Gavi know?

You're not sure, but in the past, it figures, most of the time, he's right.

And ever since you saw Marc...

He looked broken up. Not the handsome, upbeat, encouraging Marc who you just had one too many nasty arguments with. He wasn't even Marc at all. He was empty. Anxiety and confusion radiated off of him.

And the more you think about that, the more it makes you feel guilty.

Maybe Gavi is right. Maybe you weren't being a good girlfriend. Maybe Marc only lashed out, which was wrong, at you because you weren't treating him correctly.

Perhaps he was a bit too jealous, but maybe you weren't giving him enough attention.

You sigh. You would've just let it go, but after seeing Marc? Now you've begun to feel guilty yourself.

Maybe you should just try to have a conversation with him, like Gavi said.

"Man, this isn't doing any good, is it?" Héctor sighs. He's hanging out with Marc, going for a stroll, but Marc hasn't opened his mouth once, and his eyes remain trained on the sidewalk they're walking on.

Finally, the eighteen-year-old looks up at his friend. "What isn't?" he speaks.

"You're devastated over her. You can't keep going on like this. You've got to find a way out. I miss you."

"I'm right here..." Marc begins.

"I miss the old Marc. Come on."

Marc's jaw clenches. "I just got to get over it. I'm working on it, okay?"

"You're working on it, but it hasn't been working, has it?"

Marc exhales slowly, with no answer to his friend but, "I'm trying. Trust me, I don't like me like this either."

"Maybe there is a solution, though, and you're just not seeing it."

"That's nice," Marc snorts. "Doesn't help if I'm not seeing it."

But Héctor flashes a grin at his friend. "But what if I'm seeing it?"

Marc rolls his eyes, and just the smallest hint of a smile creeps up on his lips. "Well, what are you seeing?"

But then the younger male grows more serious again as he says, "You should just talk to her."

"I- no-!" Marc says, eyes wide and eyebrows exasperated.

"Man- just hear me out, okay?! I know you're terrified of doing that for some reason. For some reason, you're terrified of her. What, because of your regret? You're scared of what she'll say? If you want to fix it, you've got to overcome it. Just talk to her. Get it straight. Make sure you both understood why it ended. Building up to it, I'm sure your head will be spinning, but afterwards, I know you'll feel more relief. Y/n isn't a bad person. She'll hear you out, as long as it's a conversation, and not an argument. I'm sure of it."

Marc stares ahead. Just his friend's words cause him low-grade anxiety, but he slowly nods. "I'll... I'll think about it."

When he thought about it, Marc decided on an adamant 'no.' But today, when he looks up to see you walking towards him, down the hall, after he's washed up after training, chattering with Pedri and Gavi, his emotions flare up, and he acts on a whim.

He reaches out from the doorway to grasp your arm. You look up in surprise, stopping mid-sentence, as you rest your eyes on your ex.

"Y/n," he gasps.

Your breath gets caught in your throat.

"Can we- can we talk?"

Immediately, Gavi says, "Me and Pedri have got to get going. Catch you later!" and the two skitter away.

Great. Now you're all alone.

"Sure..." you sigh.

And then Marc starts rambling. "I'm so sorry for being so controlling. I can't stand this heartache any longer and I need you to know how much I miss you and I feel bad and I know I ruined it all and... I just want you for myself but that wasn't fair... I shouldn't have yelled at you... I shouldn't have gotten so worked up. I should have let you do your own thing and-" Suddenly, his voice cracks, and you see his eyes begin to water. "I can't think... I feel so bad, I've been nothing like myself... I was so anxious to even talk to you... I don't want to upset you... I just want you to know I'm sorry, and that I see what I did wrong and I- I want to fix it."

You let out a shaky sigh as your caring emotions for him that you pushed out begin to flood back in. You hastily wipe a stray tear rolling down his cheek. "Oh, Marc," you whisper. "Get yourself together."

"I'm sorry..." his voice cracks higher.

You sigh again. "It's okay... But you expect me to let you fix it now, then?"

His Adam's apple bobs as he gulps.

"Well, first, I want to apologize, too," you begin.

"No, no, you didn't do anything wr-"

"I think I did," you cut in with a huff. "Though I don't like how harsh you could be, and how jealous you could act, in some respects, you were right. If I'm going to date someone, I can't be hanging out with my male friends more than the guy I'm actually dating. And out of all the guys I know, you're the only one I'd want to date."

He inhales sharply at that. "So, you...?"

"I'll work on change, as long as you do, too."

He swallows. "Of course. I've had hours of lying in bed going insane over this."

You nod and take both his hands in his. "Maybe we can try this again, then? Yeah? I can't stand to see you like this any longer."

It's like a huge weight is lifted off his shoulders as he gasps and immediately wraps you in the biggest bear hug you've ever experienced. "Yeah," he whispers softly, close to your ear. "I'd love that."

[writtenjewels]

Night Watch part 3

Part One, Part Two

Salim arrived with his son's backpack across his shoulders. It felt a little silly to do this, but he couldn't carry his books and the two coffees he bought. He was a little disappointed to see that Jason wasn't at his post yet. Salim headed for his customary table and started unpacking the study material. Every now and then he would look around hoping to spot the night guard.

He'd been coming here to study ever since he decided to earn his college degree. Zain was very supportive of the idea and even helped his father settle on a major. Salim soon discovered he ironically had difficulty concentrating on homework while he was at home. It was too tempting to take frequent breaks to smoke or listen to music or tend to his vegetable garden. In this place, the distractions were minimal.

In truth, there was only one.

Jason entered from a side door. Salim tried to catch the night guard's eye, but Jason seemed focused on his job for the moment. Salim took no offense at this; it was a while before the last night guard warmed up to him, too. He hadn't figured Jason out yet. When they met, Jason acted professional, almost coldly so. But after a while he came by Salim's table and was very friendly. Which left Salim wondering how Jason was going to greet him tonight.

Jason spotted him and headed toward Salim's table. Salim watched him approach, a smile growing with every step. Jason stopped beside him and glanced at the coffee. Salim wasn't sure what the man drank, so he went for a basic order and hoped for the best.

“No drinks allowed in here,” Jason said. Salim's smile dropped. He felt a brief heaviness of disappointed that quickly spiked into annoyance.

“Since when? There are no signs anywhere.” Jason didn't respond. He had his head cocked to one side, and as Salim stared he saw the man smiling at him. “Oh.” Salim's eyes went wide as it hit him. “You're messing with me again.” The smile turned into a full smirk and Jason touched the brim of his cap. “I'm starting to regret buying you coffee,” Salim complained, though he wasn't that upset.

“One of these is for me?” Jason looked surprised. “I figured you just had a rough day.” He reached over and picked up one of the coffees.

“Actually, Jason, that--” Too late; Jason already took a sip. He gagged and nearly spat out the drink. “That's mine,” Salim finished.

“You actually drink that?! That shit needs to come with a fuckin' warning label!”

“In my defense, I didn't think you were going to drink it!” Salim wrapped both hands around the cup and pulled it toward him protectively. Jason eyed the remaining cup with suspicion. “It has sugar,” Salim told him. Jason still looked skeptical, but he drank it anyway.

“It's a little better.”

“I'm glad to hear it.” Salim opened one of his textbooks at random and readied pencil and paper to take notes. He sipped his coffee, aware Jason was still hovering. It went on like this for the next two minutes, with Salim studying while Jason stood nearby keeping him company. At first Salim found the man distracting, but after a while he liked having Jason there. He was a good focus for whenever Salim's mind started to drift.

“Thanks for the coffee,” Jason said abruptly. He held out a hand and Salim realized the guard was offering to throw Salim's cup away.

“I'm not done with mine yet.”

“All right, then.” Jason retracted his hand and fidgeted with his cap instead. Salim was starting to pick up on this as a nervous habit. “I'll come back later,” Jason said, tipping his hat in goodbye.

Salim watched him go, and couldn't manage to concentrate on his work until the guard was out of sight

[allmoshnobrain]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 29 of 35 | masterpost

word count: 2563 | ao3 link | fic's playlist

I wasn't ready for any of that. The wounds from losing Dave were still too raw, to the point that acknowledging the desire I felt for James made my heart tighten with regret. What the hell was I thinking? I'd chosen Dave. And yet, he’d left me. What I wanted didn't mean shit in changing anything. How could I want anything from James when the very feeling I had for him had wrecked everything I held dear?

✦ summary: After reuniting with her friends, Nore is compelled to confront the conflicting feelings she still harbors for James.

✦ on this chapter: dave mustaine x female!oc, james hetfield x female! oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, angst, love triangle

✦ a/n: Hello! I've talked about this previously on my blog, but as we're headed into the last stretch of the story, I would like everyone to know: while the next few chapters are gonna dive into James and Nore's feelings a bit more, Dave will be back! His story with Nore isn't over yet. Also, we'll have an epilogue that is still on the works. I've wrapped up the main part of the story and I'm hosting a poll to see if you guys prefer I keep posting new chapters once a week or if you're up for me posting them twice a week. If anyone wants to vote, here's the link. Hope you enjoyed the read, any feedback is welcome! 🖤

✧ There's something hanging in the air, I won't say shit 'cause I'm too scared / I'll just pretend we're two lovers not destroying each other / And you don't want me to go, and I just can't say no ✧

I met with Cliff and the guys at Los Angeles airport a few days later. I have to admit, the idea of reuniting with my friends after all those weeks left me a bit on edge, and not fully in a good way. However, catching up with Cliff and Leanne, and then with Kirk and Lars, did ease some of that tension. On the flip side, seeing Pat and James hanging out together didn't really help my state of mind. I couldn't help but wonder how, in just two months, they had become so close that she got an invitation to join the tour. Then it hit me with a pang in my heart that I hadn't needed much more than that to fall completely in love with Dave after meeting him.

I didn't really chat it up much with James. Seeing him with Pat kinda brought back all the wounds from that rainy weekend a few months back. But, he did give me a hug the moment he spotted me, holding onto me for maybe a beat longer than needed before whispering, his lips right by my ear:

"Missed you so much."

Hearing that sure didn't make things easier.

Seeing the guys all pumped up about the trip gave my mood a little boost. None of them, except Lars and me, had done the whole international travel thing before. The flight to Amsterdam was gonna be a marathon, so I had plenty of time to catch up with Leanne, who picked the seat next to mine. We mainly talked about everything that had happened in San Francisco during my absence; Leanne didn't ask much about me, which I was genuinely thankful for. It was nice having her around, but I wasn't really up for diving into how the last few months had been a rough ride. We kept the chatter going deep into the night until fatigue finally caught up with us, and we crashed.

We rolled into Amsterdam about twelve hours later, and man, we were wiped. Headed straight to the hotel, and lucky for us, the producers only snagged double rooms. Since we had an odd number and sharing a bed with Kirk or Lars wasn't my jam, I lucked out with a double bed all to myself. Honestly, better than I thought it'd be.

When night crept in, the guys and Leanne hit the town for some drinks and city exploring. Pat and I, though, opted for a chill night in, catching a few movies on the TV. Not that I wasn't up for hitting the streets, but all the hours spent on the plane did a number on me, more than I expected. Pat called it a night and went back to her room early, but I left the TV humming in the background, not really paying much attention to what was on.

It was well past midnight when I heard some heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway. My curiosity kicked in as a few deliberate knocks hit my door, and I pondered for a moment, debating whether I should bother answering. But the knocks persisted, and my curiosity won out. With a sigh, I rose from my spot and opened the door. My heart quickened when I found James leaning casually against the door frame.

"Mind if I come in?" he asked, a faint smile playing on his lips, though his voice betrayed a touch of uncertainty. I sighed, feeling warmth spread across my face. Having him so close made my heart flutter in a way I hadn't experienced in a while.

"This isn't your room," I mumbled, stupidly, my ability to think straight suddenly on vacation. He chuckled softly, a quick, dry laugh.

"If you hadn't said anything, I would never have guessed. Can I come in or not?"

I hesitated but eventually stepped aside, letting him in and closing the door. He stretched, shrugged off his jacket, and tossed it on my bed before settling down, kicking off his shoes. I furrowed my brow.

"You should head back to your room. Pat's probably waiting for you."

"She can wait," he said, finishing up with his shoes and pulling out a hair tie from his pocket, using it to secure his hair into a ponytail. Oddly, the sight made him even more attractive. I couldn't help but wonder if the hair tie belonged to Pat, who would often wear her hair tied up, and if he was picking up some habits from his new girlfriend. He stood up, seeming totally oblivious to my thoughts, and casually opened the mini-fridge, grabbing a Coke and popping it open. Then, he lifted his serious blue eyes to me. "I wanted to see you."

"Why?" I questioned, feeling my face warm up and my heart race, a million butterflies in my stomach going wild at his words. He sighed, a faint bitter smile playing on his lips.

"I missed you," he said, his voice low. "Last time we met, everything went south. I thought you hated me. Yet, when I saw you today, Nore..."

"James, please stop," I murmured, my voice trembling. He furrowed his brow, looking away, seeming hurt by my words, and I felt my heart squeeze uncomfortably in my chest. "You shouldn't be saying that."

"Oh, really?" He stood up, placing the can he was holding on the table before coming closer. I took a step back, feeling my face burn as I caught the storm brewing in his blue eyes. "And why’s that?"

"You have a girlfriend, don’t you?" I questioned, my voice holding accusation and hurt. "You brought your fucking girlfriend, so maybe you should just head back to her..."

"You make it sound so simple," he growled, taking another step closer, prompting me to lift my head to meet his gaze.

"And isn’t it?" I shot back, my tone bitter. "How aren't you ashamed of this?"

"Ashamed of what? Of bringing the girl I started dating to try forgetting about you?" he scoffed, clearly pissed now. "Tell me, Nore, what was I supposed to do? Just watch you reject me, again, and again, and again, and then act like you loved me just to mess with my head?"

"This isn’t fair to her!" I blurted out, all worked up, my voice getting louder. "This isn’t fair to me!"

"And what about me? Is it fair what you're pulling on me?"

"I don't get why you thought bringing her along was a genius move..."

"It didn't have to be genius. When you bailed on LA, I called you for days. You were the one who wanted nothing to do with me."

"You're such a jerk!" I spat out, my irritation cranking my voice up more than would be okay for past midnight, but honestly, I'd stopped caring about that ages ago.

James growled, getting suddenly closer, gripping my waist with one hand and pulling me against his body, forcing me to look deep into his eyes as he pressed his forehead against mine, his breathing erratic. His other hand cupped my cheek, his thumb tracing my lower lip. All the anger I had seemed to spill over at that moment; I wanted to punch him, to kick him out, to yell I never wanted to see him again, but I couldn't. Not when his lips were inches away from mine, his blue eyes locking onto mine with a fiery passion that made my whole body warm and vibrate inside.

"You fucking love me," he murmured, a smug smile slowly creeping across his lips. "Things would be so much easier if you just admitted it."

"Shut up, James," I growled, my heart doing a sprint in my chest, blood pulsing with fury in my ears, my hands clutching the front of his shirt and yanking him towards me. I needed him to split; I didn't know how much longer I could trust my anger to hold back the temptation of surrendering to his arms.

"Tell me you don't love me, then," he said, throwing in a sarcastic laugh. "Say you don't love me, and I’ll forget all this and leave you alone. You can't, can you? Because you fucking love me, damn it," His words buzzed with almost unrestrained joy, his grip on my waist tightening enough for me to let out a muffled moan from between my lips. Damn, I wanted him to kiss me. For the first time since all that mess had started, I wanted him to kiss me, to touch me, to make me forget my own name.

"Leave," I shot back, the defiance in my voice wavering as I sensed his body against mine. He let out a low chuckle but stepped back, his eyes ablaze, a smug smile on his face. I rested one of my hands on my chest, feeling my heart thudding against my fingertips, and noticed I was shaking. Gripping the doorknob with my other hand, I turned it but hesitated to open the door. "Just... Go, James. Please," I whispered, the adrenaline of the moment wearing off, and the old pain flooding back to fill my chest as my eyes welled up with tears.

I wasn't ready for any of that. The wounds from losing Dave were still too raw, to the point that acknowledging the desire I felt for James made my heart tighten with regret. What the hell was I thinking? I'd chosen Dave. And yet, he’d left me. What I wanted didn't mean shit in changing anything. How could I want anything from James when the very feeling I had for him had wrecked everything I held dear?

James seemed to catch onto my shift in mood, the triumph in his eyes giving way to pity when he noticed my tears building up. That sparked a rage in my chest; I didn't need his pity. I didn't need anyone's pity.

He made a move to come closer, but I just shook my head, turning away as I opened the door. After he left, I leaned against the closed door, letting myself slide down to sit on the floor, hugging my knees to my chest, feeling more alone, confused, and guilty than ever.

I woke up the next morning, feeling like I hadn't caught a wink of sleep. I groaned my way out of bed, pausing only to wash my face, brush my teeth, and swap outfits before heading down to the hotel's restaurant. There, I spotted Kirk, Lars, Cliff and Leanne already posted up at a table, digging into breakfast. I snagged a plate and plopped down next to Lars.

“After breakfast, we'll pack our bags and grab a shower. We're hitting the road after the show for the next city, so tonight, we’re all gonna be sleeping on the bus,” Cliff was laying out the plan when I rolled in.

“Great. Even crashing on a bus is cozier than sharing a bed with Lars,” Kirk griped, ignoring Lars' offended expression before shooting me a grin. “Hey, Nore, fancy bunking with me next time?”

"As if," I scoffed, and Lars burst into laughter.

"Hey, where's James?" Kirk asked, and I shrugged. Leanne bounced up to snag a hot cup of coffee, and Cliff sparked up a cigarette.

"Bet he's sleeping with Pat. Ever since they got together, she's been glued to him," Lars remarked, not looking too thrilled. Cliff snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Jealous, Lars?" I jokingly tossed the question while slathering butter on a piece of toast. He shot me a look, raising his eyebrows with a smirk.

"Hmm, not me. Can't say the same for you, though, huh?" His ironic smile lingered. I let out a frustrated huff, rolling my eyes, feeling the heat rising in my cheeks. Okay, maybe I walked right into that one.

A few minutes later, James and Pat finally strolled in. James, much like me, seemed to have had a rough night, evident in the dark circles under his tired blue eyes. On the flip side, Pat appeared to be the poster child for joy, easy smiles appearing on her lips as she talked to James, occasionally hugging his arm or intertwining her fingers with his. It was like she exuded confidence, as if she knew this was exactly where she belonged. Kind of got on my nerves, but I wasn't ready to dig into why.

The hustle for the show kicked off right after breakfast. We only had a short break to change and pack before heading back to the hotel lobby. A producer-arranged bus was set to pick us up, transporting everyone to a studio for the guys to rehearse the setlist during the day, and later to the venue for the shows. This leg of the journey got us all pumped. It wasn't just the band's inaugural international gig; we were also looking forward to meeting Venom and, naturally, enjoying some complimentary drinks. I must admit, even I was feeling a twinge of excitement and anxiety about the upcoming events.

I sparked up a cigarette while we hung out in front of the hotel, checking out the guys in action. They were teamed up with a couple of roadies, hauling gear that had been lugged up to the rooms the day before. Leanne strolled over.

"Got a light?" she asked, flashing a grin. I nodded, fished out my lighter, and passed it her way. She sparked up her cigarette, taking a few drags till it glowed. "Can I ask you something, Nore?"

"Sure thing, Lea," I replied, all curious. She shot me a look, her usual relaxed vibe getting a bit serious. Her eyes narrowed, like she was attempting to peek into my brain. "Spill it, what's on your mind?"

"How's it all sitting with you? You know, this whole James situation?" she asked, making me feel like there was a spotlight on me. 

"James? What do you mean?" I stammered, feeling the heat hit my face. She let out a soft chuckle at my reaction.

"I'm seriously wondering how she hasn't picked up on it yet." Leanne nodded toward Pat; she was holding James’ hand and talking to Lars, who seemed bored out of his mind, like he'd rather be doing anything else. "The way he looks at you. And the way you look at him."

"What are you getting at?" I whispered, my heart doing a somersault of sorts in my chest.

"You're into him, right? And it's crystal he's into you. Maybe you two should ditch the pride act and just… Allow yourselves to be happy."

"But Pat likes him too," I mumbled, letting a touch of annoyance creep into my voice. And I still don't know if I can allow myself to like anyone again.

"Honestly? I think she's crushing harder on James Hetfield, the Metallica frontman, than our James," she said with a chuckle. "Babe, you and James always clicked so easy. You seriously gonna let that slip away like this?"

I was kind of stumped for a response; right then, the bus rolled up, stealing everyone's focus. Lea crushed her cigarette and shot me a smile, then sauntered over to Cliff, offering a hand with carrying an amp. I took a minute to soak in the sight before joining them, attempting to shove aside the tornado of feelings Leanne's words had kicked up in me.

✧ if you'd like to be tagged on the next parts, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! ❤ ✧

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[blancheludis]

Whumptober 2024, Day 28: CCTV

Prequel to "All the Ways We Rust"

Fandom: Batman Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne Tags: Child Abuse, Dark Bruce Wayne, Hurt Tim, Hurt Jason, Family, Protective Tim, Protective Jason, Isolation Chamber

Summary:

Fear spreads through Jason's insides, sickly cold, familiar in all its ugliness. Still, he says, "I need you to not kill Tim."

And the isolation chamber is slowly killing Tim. Jason is not at all sure how much of Tim will get back out of that dark hole if they keep going like this. Bruce smiles, and that hits harder than the backhand before. "I won't," he says. Not in a don't worry way. More in a I have no intention to give up my newest plaything so quickly way. "Now eat, or he'll stay in there for another day."

---

All throughout his childhood, Tim thought Batman was a hero. He followed him around, both through the news and later with a camera, and thought himself lucky to catch even a glimpse. When Robin - Robin! - tells him to stay away, he takes it as a challenge. Back then, he did not know what desperation looked like on Jason's face. It is one of the first things he learns.

---

Tim never met Alfred, but his ghost lingers everywhere in Wayne Manor.

After Bruce hits Tim for the first time, his cheek burning with shock more than the impact itself, Tim locks himself up in his room, wondering what he did wrong, how he can be better.

That night, Jason sneaks into his room, face white and voice breaking more than it holds steady.

"It's not your fault," he tells Tim solemnly. "It's mine. I killed Alfred."

He did not. It was an accident. But Bruce does not believe in accidents. He believes in guilt and how to punish it.

"I'm sorry," Jason says. "I'll try to protect you, but -"

But.

Alfred left an entire life worth of hollow spaces behind. It is not just that he cooked and cleaned and made sure that the Manor's inhabitants were comfortable and looked after. He also seemed to be the only person still tying Bruce to this pesky little thing called morality, to conscience. With Alfred gone, there is no one to keep Bruce in check anymore.

---

The next morning, Bruce sits Tim down at the breakfast table.

"Let's talk about chores, Timothy." His eyes linger on the faint bruise he left on Tim's cheek. There is no regret, just a mild interest that immediately crushes all of Tim's appetite.

"Yes, sir," he says nonetheless, voice even the way his parents taught him. Manners are important and he can be good.

"Jason grew up basically on the streets. He does not know how certain things are done." The way Bruce does not even look at Jason is more disparaging than his tone itself. "But you do, don't you, Timothy? Your parents must have taught you what is important in a place like this. We have certain standards to uphold."

Tim has grown up with a number of tutors. Languages, music, math. He has been taught how to run a business, how to talk people into doing what he wants from them. He has no idea how to run a household. That, his parents liked to say, is what servants are for, even though they left him without most of the time.

"I will show you," Bruce concludes and manages to make it sound like he is doing Tim a favour.

There is only one answer Tim can give. "Thank you, sir."

He does not yet know Bruce, but he knows these kinds of games. His parents did not physically hurt him, but their expectations were also a noose around his neck.

For a long moment, Bruce watches Tim, dissecting him like a colourful bug. Tim knows better than to hold his gaze, so he drops his eyes and searches for flaws in his body language. When his parents were away on their trips, Tim could do with his life what he wanted. These times, he realizes, are over.

"See," Bruce then calls out to Jason, who is frozen in his seat. "He already knows how to be polite, at least. You should follow his example."

Tim's breath catches at the implied threat, but he does not move. This entire morning is a trap and Tim can do nothing against the way it pulls close around him.

---

The first time Bruce has Tim use the iron cast skillet, he can barely pick it up and keep it even with just one hand.

"You need to hold it steady," Bruce says, looming over Tim from his side, too close, and not in a helpful way.

"I'm trying."

Bruce frowns at him, never happy when Tim dares to talk back. But then his expression smooths over and that is worse. "Here," he says, voice dropping lower. "Steady it with your other arm."

He circles Tim's wrist with his hand, holding it tight enough to be uncomfortable. And then he presses the bare skin of Tim's lower arm against the hot skillet.

Immediate agony shoots through Tim, white hot pain stretching out from that small point of contact. His other hand lets the skillet go instinctively. It clatters to the kitchen counter, sauce flying everywhere.

Bruce, still holding Tim's wrist, pulls the arm closer to himself and inspects the burn. "How clumsy," he muses, pressing a thumb against the aching skin, and then again when Tim instinctively flinches.

Finally, he lets Tim go, leaving behind a faint, red imprint of fingers, which fades while the ugly mark next to it just goes darker.

"Pick up your mess."

---

Tim does not believe in coincidences anymore. Not in this house. Not with someone as pedantic and prepared as Bruce.

So, when Bruce appears silently in the kitchen and then calls out, "Tim," his voice ringing sharply in the empty space, Tim has no doubt that he timed it exactly for the moment Tim was getting the casserole out of the oven. It happens so quickly; one moment he worries about the colour of his dish but decides to take it out anyway, the next he flinches at Bruce's tone and the casserole falls, glass breaking on the kitchen floor, food spilling on the ground.

He does not look up, does not want to see Bruce's face. It does not matter whether he is angry or smug or any of the dozens of other things that spell disaster for Tim.

"How disappointing." Bruce sighs. He sounds quiet, contemplating, as if he has not thought of any way this situation could play out before he ever stepped into the room. "Robin really shouldn't be so clumsy."

That is enough to make the muscles in Tim's back go tense to the point of pain. The days Bruce is in the mood for mind games are always the worst.

"I'm sorry, sir," Tim says, more because it is expected of him, not because he thinks it will actually do something.

He stares at the mess on the floor, feels a sad kind of kinship with the ruined food.

Bruce moves forward until just the tips of his shoes appear at the edge of Tim's vision. 

"Well," he orders, expectant, "Pick it up."

Tim nods and turns to get a rag and dustpan when Bruce clicks his tongue. It stops him immediately, like a well-trained dog. Now, he does look up, expecting a blow coming towards him. Jason always takes them head-on, and Tim has not yet decided whether it makes the pain better or worse to see the hit coming.

"You have two working hands, don't you?" Bruce asks, deceptively gentle. His lips curl up just slightly. On someone else, that might be mistaken for a smile. "And do take care to pick out all the glass. Jason is a growing boy and eats everything, but maybe glass shards are a bit too far."

Nothing seems like it goes too far in this house. But Tim wisely does not say anything. He kneels down to look at the ruined food, locates the biggest pieces of glass still intact. Somehow, he doubts he will be allowed to use a sieve, even for the sauce.

"Mitts," Bruce points out, the first hint of impatience creeping into his voice.

Tim breathes, his face carefully lowered, so that Bruce cannot add disrespect to his list of things Tim did wrong today. Then he pulls off the oven mitts, slowly to stall for a bit more time. Not too slow, of course, because Bruce's wrath is infinitely worse than getting a few burns from the still hot glass dish. It might have been out of the oven long enough that he should be able to handle it if he moves quickly. Either way, he is no stranger to burns anymore.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, Bruce watches, his eyes almost hotter on Tim than the broken glass. Knowing him, he takes note of every wince, every sign of discomfort, every red spot blossoming on Tim's skin.

Working slowly is usually not a good idea in this house, but Tim still meticulously searches through every spoonful of food to not leave any piece of glass in. Perhaps he would, if he knew there was even the slightest chance Bruce would eat any of this. Not with Jason in danger, though. Never that.

He is done, finally, and removes the pile of glass pieces without looking at the sorry remains of their meal. His hands are burning, his fingertips are red, some already forming blisters.

"Sir?" he asks, quietly. Because this is not it. It is never that easy.

"I still need dinner. Something simpler, perhaps," Bruce drawls with the lazy, mocking tone of the unrepentantly guilty. "We can call in Jason for his food when you're done with mine."

The implication that Tim will not get any food, ruined or not, hangs heavy in the air, but Tim does not react to it. This is not the first time he has missed a meal. Will not be the last either. He is more concerned with cooking with burned fingers. He hopes that this, at least, will all the punishment for the day.

---

Bruce keeps Jason busy all day, loading him down with new reports to write or cases to go through every time Jason comes up from the cave. Not once does he see any trace of Tim. Not since dinner the night before, which had consisted of a cold mess of slightly mashed vegetables and halfway congealed sauce for Jason while Bruce had salad and steak. Tim had to stand back to watch them eat and clean the kitchen afterward. His hands were red and blistered, but of course Jason was not allowed to help.

That is the last he has seen of Tim. Several times this day, he has contemplated to go looking for Tim, consequences be damned. It is never just him who would feel those consequences, however, and Tim is more important than him. So, Jason keeps working and pretends his attention is not on the stretched-out silence clogging up the halls, making it impossible to breathe normally.

At dinnertime, there are, once again, only two plates on the table, and only Bruce is waiting for him. 

Doing his best to appear unhurried, Jason sits down in his seat. "Where is Tim?" he asks, although he knows better.

Bruce watches him for a long moment. "He needed a break."

Only practice allows Jason to swallow down the immediate panic. The cabinet Bruce uses to lock Tim up in is cramped and dark and soundproofed. It messes Tim up more than a beating. Shut away with nothing but his own thoughts and his nightmares rising out of the darkness.

"It's been an entire day," he points out and cannot quite keep his voice from breaking.

The backhand comes out of nowhere. It is not unexpected, of course, because Bruce is a master of nonchalant violence. But there is no buildup, not a hint in his expression. No, Bruce's hand connects with Jason's jaw and Bruce does not even look when Jason has to grip the edge of the table to remain in his seat, when a soft sound escapes him as if this is the first time he ever took a hit. Keeping his eyes down, Jason rolls his jaw several times, testing the pain.

Then, stubbornly, he raises his chin. "You need to let him out."

It is never a good idea to demand anything of Bruce. They are utterly dependent on him, and Bruce has made it abundantly clear that their well-being is not much of a concern. They serve a specific purpose here and what they want or need has no impact on that at all.

The corners of Bruce's eyes crinkle the tiniest bit, which is the only sign of his displeasure. "Do you really want to argue with me right now?"

Every last bit of instinct screams at Jason to back down. This is not about him, though.

"He needs food and water," he insists, knowing better than to plead. They have to count themselves lucky that Bruce Wayne is still a public figure and that someone would notice if two of his adopted children simply disappeared. Or starved to death. Jason just has to remind Bruce of this, that he has to be pragmatic about abusing them.

"He has water," Bruce says, void of all empathy. With a raised eyebrow, he adds, "And he would have food if he had not wasted it."

Tim is a meticulous learner. He has taken to cooking like he does to anything else: with relentless discipline and ingrained perfectionism. Most of that, he learned from his parents, but Bruce naturally does his best to push things farther. Jason does not know what happened the day before, but would bet anything that Tim did not mess up dinner on his own.

"Bruce -"

"Do you need my attention, Jason." It is not even a question. Bruce has stopped wrapping his threats up in pretence. Why would he waste energy on that? It is only them in this house, only Bruce's word that counts for anything.

Fear spreads through Jason's insides, sickly cold, familiar in all its ugliness. Still, he says, "I need you to not kill Tim."

Bruce smiles, and that hits harder than the backhand. "I won't," he says. Not in a don't worry way. More in a I have no intention to give up my newest plaything so quickly way. "Now eat, or he'll stay in there for another day."

Jason's hands are moving before the words fully register in his brain.

---

Tim's hands keep trembling until well into the night. The window is wide open, letting in an icy breeze, but Tim relishes the sensation on his skin, desperate for anything after too many hours of nothing. Jason simply puts on another sweater and bullies Tim to put on warmer socks after he bandaged up the bloody scratches Tim left on his own arms, as if breaking himself is a viable alternative to breaking the dark box Bruce likes to lock him up in. Since then, Jason has been reading The Hobbit, his quiet voice a soothing reminder that Tim is out and still alive and not trapped in his own head. He does not hear any of the words, but neither of them minds.

"I'm sorry," Tim says, cutting Jason off abruptly. "We should sleep."

They have school in the morning, and he should really put some effort into pulling himself together if he wants to be able to pretend he feels like a normal person and not like a ghost.

Jason looks up at him, the book open on his knees. He is going to reassure Tim. He is going to pull Tim onto his bed and wrap him up in a hug, the only touch Tim can still tolerate, the only touch that still makes him feel safe.

Instead, Jason says, "We could just leave."

People have told Tim that he is smart and quick all his life. These words, however, bounce in his mind, making no sense, until the implication hits like a punch.

"Do you have a fever?" he asks, getting up quickly.

Perhaps he missed some glass shards in Jason's food. Perhaps he perforated his oesophagus or stomach and is now slipping into sepsis and Tim will have killed his brother and there is truly no more saving either of them.

"I'm serious," Jason says, too steadfast for someone who might be dying. He leans forward, waves Tim closer. And, after a moment of hesitation, Tim does. When it comes down to it, he will always follow Jason.

He sits down gingerly on Jason's bed, lets Jason pick up his hand and hold on for dear life. 

"We're vigilantes. We're trained," Jason says as if that means anything is a world that is controlled by people like Bruce Wayne. "We can go wherever we want."

Tim shakes his head, half in denial, half to not let the words settle inside him. They cannot think about such stupid ideas.

"B has all the resources to find us anywhere," he points out with desperation. "He's not going to let us go."

But Jason is not talking about asking for permission. "There's enough places in this world where there's not a camera every few feet," he says, full of the same stubbornness that lets him get up from the ground time and again, no matter that Bruce will only send him back down.

Pressure builds at the back of Tim's throat. He does not know whether it heralds laughter or tears, but he does not plan on finding out. Concentrating on keeping his breathing even, he asks, "And how do you propose we get there?" He does not manage to sound as dismissive as he was going for.

Jason's mouth curves into a smile that is sharp enough to cut. "Quickly."

"Funny." It gets harder to breathe, the walls closing in around Tim like he is back in the cabinet.

"I'm serious." Jason's hand tightens around Tim's, grounding him in the present. "If he finishes that thing -"

"It can't be that much worse than the cabinet," Tim lies and chokes on it, on the memory of being in the dark, even the sound of his own breathing muffled, unable to get out.

Bruce keeps talking about the isolation chamber he is building and Tim is suffocating at the mere idea of it. Even with the soundproofing, the cabinet is not cutting him off completely. Certainly, Bruce will correct that oversight with how much planning he is putting into this project.

From a distance, he hears Jason talking, hears him dragging the memories closer and closer to the surface. "It's not just dark and small, Tim, it's -"

"I know, Jason," Tim snaps, just barely piercing the suffocating weight settling on his skin. "Believe me. I don't -" He draws in a shuddering breath, keeps his eyes on the warm nightlight so he does not drown in darkness. "I don't ever want to go in there, but we don't really have that many options."

"I'm telling you, we can -"

"Jason." Tim does not manage more than a whisper, but Jason stops himself immediately anyway.

"I'm sorry," Jason says, eyes wide as he takes in Tim. "I don't mean to make things worse. But I can't help you when he puts you in there."

"You're helping." And he does. Without Jason, Tim might have lost himself ages ago. His mind is not the kindest place. Locked in the cabinet, however, he does not have anywhere else to go. After, Jason always helps to draw him back out.

"Not enough," Jason insists, because he has not yet learned that he cannot save everyone, cannot even save the ones closest to him.

Tim would love to offer him reassurances, but he is too worn out for that. Instead, he settles against Jason's side, tugging at the blanket to be let in. Then he asks, "Keep reading?"

And Jason pulls him close and fills the silence once again, taking them far away to a place where monsters can be fought against and defeated.

---

When the sensory deprivation chamber is finished, Bruce makes an entire thing out of it. He has Tim cook a three-course-meal - even without supervising and correcting and accidentally burning Tim - and, after, summons them up to the attic. He looks, Tim thinks, nausea already roiling in his stomach, like a child on Christmas morning, giddy in his excitement for the presents under the tree. Worse, even, he looks like he wants to talk.

"This one is special, boys," he says as he ushers them through the door. "It can also be filled with water, but we'll see how practical that is. We'll test it without for now." Then he shifts, allowing Tim the first glance at his newest prison

It does not look small, at least from the outside, just an unassuming box of sleek wood, strangely fitting in with the rest of the stashed, forgotten things in the attic. It would be tacky if the cage for one of his wards would look out of place amongst his family's keepsakes, after all.

Tim is rooted in place. He knew this was coming. Bruce had certainly kept them updated enough and shared his data, because I know you like your research, Tim.

"Tim," Bruce orders and sounds happy about it.

Next to him, Jason is trembling. Neither of them has ever dealt well with watching the other get hurt. And this is Tim's nightmare. This is being left in an empty house for months at a time or getting accidentally locked in the car and forgotten about - but so much worse. This is specifically created to shut Tim away from the world.

Impatience taking over, Bruce taps his foot. "You're wasting time."

With a shuddering inhale, Tim steps forward. He is not getting out of this. That is one of the first things he learned in this house. Bruce gets what he wants. There is no arguing, no bargaining. There is not even a guarantee that certain behaviour will get specific results. Bruce is clinical and methodical, but he is also hit with strange whims at times, and he is in a position to follow through on them, no questions asked.

The inside of the box is dark. Of course, it is. But even from the outside, there is no telling what is waiting for him. He is not sure what is worse, knowing or not. In the end, it does not matter. He will go in either way.

"Hands," Bruce orders, almost brimming with excitement.

Mechanically, Tim holds out his hands. The mitts are familiar. The first time Bruce left him in the cabinet overnight, Tim scratched up his face and throat and arms, caught in a never-ending panic attack, driven by desperation to just get out, unable to differentiate whether that meant out of the dark or out of his body. After, Bruce fretted over him like he actually cared for the damage, like his eyes were not alit with satisfaction. The next time, he had presented Tim with the mitts. Just a precaution to make sure you don't hurt yourself. No, that is Bruce's prerogative.

A hand presses into the place between his shoulder blades, which is a threat all on its own. He steps forward, unable to look away from that dark hole awaiting him. There is a small noise, almost a sob, and he is not sure whether that came from him or from Jason, but it does not matter. Now that he is moving, Bruce will not let him stop again.

Darkness greets him as he steps through the door. He stops, one foot still outside, bracing himself against the frame. He barely manages to take one more, shaking breath, before Bruce pushes him the rest of the way in.

He falls to his knees, barely feels an impact. The door closes behind him with a quiet hiss.

And then, nothing.

Tim is aware he is breathing heavily but he can barely hear it. Everything is muffled, like wool has been pushed into his ears. Even his heartbeat, erratic and too fast, sounds wrong. The air is thick, filling his lungs only sluggishly. Briefly, he wonders whether fresh oxygen can come in from somewhere or whether Bruce intends for him to suffocate slowly. He pushes the thought down, hard.

Slowly, he situates himself. The ground is made of something almost soft. It does not really give way underneath him, does not shape into him, but it also does not press back. It is almost like he is touching nothing at all, like he is not getting any proper sensory feedback. Which is the point, obviously.

Carefully, he reaches out, tests the boundaries of this new cage in the complete darkness. He cannot stand, cannot stretch out on the ground. He can, however, curl into himself and try to keep the panic at bay for as long as he can manage.

It is a battle he will lose.

---

For long minutes, Bruce simply stands in front of the locked box, almost as if he is waiting for something.

Abruptly, he turns towards Jason. "Do you want to take a look?" he asks and does not wait for an answer.

Bruce leads Jason to his office, lets him stand behind the chair. On the right-hand monitor is a window already open, which punches all the air out of Jason's chest. 

Of course, there is a camera. It is not enough for Bruce to know Tim is losing his mind in the dark. No, he would want to watch.

The quality is not good, but it is enough to see Tim curled up on the ground, face buried between his arms, knees pulled into his chest. His body is fluttering with uneven, too shallow breaths.

A high-pitched, desperate whine claws its way up Jason's throat and he does not manage to swallow it. Usually, Bruce would pounce on such an obvious show of weakness. Now, however, it is like he does not even notice it. His eyes are transfixed on the screen, on Tim. His expression is bright with wonder, almost happy.

Jason's stomach heaves and he barely manages to pull out the bin before he is vomiting out the entire cursed three-course-meal. Bruce does not even react to it.

---

Jason has been sitting outside of the attic for hours when Bruce finally comes.

"Eager?" he asks and sounds excited himself, although for entirely different, entirely wrong reasons. At least he does not send Jason away. At least he did not find something better to occupy Jason's time with instead of waiting around uselessly.

Bruce walks with a spring in his step while Jason can barely keep his knees from shaking enough to get up from the ground. He wants to blame it on fury, but the truth is that this sheer helplessness is hollowing him out.

Without further fanfare, Bruce unlocks the panel set inside the wall of the chamber - this thing seems to be locked up tighter than the entrance to the cave - and then the door finally hisses open.

Nothing happens. No sound makes it out, no movement.

Jason stumbles forward, but Bruce stops him with an arm across his chest. So, he is allowed to watch but not to help.

It takes so long that Jason is ready to throw all caution in the wind - surely, no beating can be worse than being forced to wait, now - when there is finally some movement.

"Tim," Jason calls out. Immediately, Bruce's hand grips Jason's upper arm, tight enough to bruise. A warning.

It was enough, however. Tim uncurls on the ground of the chamber, his breathing becoming more erratic but at least deeper. Almost like sob, but Jason cannot think about that now. He can help to pick up Tim's pieces as soon as they are alone. Because, if he thinks about it right now, he will do something stupid, like hit Bruce. He would not mind the pain that would follow for him, but he has the terrible suspicion that Bruce would simply lock this door again and leave Tim in there until he is done dealing with Jason. Pain is nothing. Sometimes, the pain is even welcome, better than the mind games Bruce plays. But he needs to get Tim out of there as quickly as possible.

In the darkness, Tim raises his head, blinks against the sudden, violent light filtering in. And then he is moving.

The door is not tall enough for him to come out at his full height, but he does not look like his legs are working properly, anyway. Instead, he is crawling more than climbing through the opening, gasping in air like these are the first true breaths he could take in hours. He collapses right outside the box, eyes unseeing.

The hand around Jason's arm tightens, keeping him in place. So, for another, unbearable moment, Jason has to watch. Bruce watches, too, his lips pulled up into some caricature of a smile, drinking in the sight as if there has never been anything more beautiful. It makes Jason sick, bile rising in his already raw throat.

Finally, he cannot take it anymore. He rips himself free from Bruce's hold and steps forward, crouches down by Tim's side.

"You're out," he says, quietly enough that he hopes it will not jar Tim's no doubt strained senses. "I've got you. I've got you."

Bruce does not move as Jason gets the cursed mitts off Tim's hands and gently tries to coax him to his feet, only to realize it will not work and picks him up to carry him instead. No, Bruce does not move, does not stop them. But he watches.

---

That night, Tim alternates between hiding himself away in Jason's hold and pushing Jason away in mad, panicked scrambles. It earns Jason a number of bruises because the switches happen so quickly. He does not mind, of course, but knows he will have to hide them in the morning. On top of everything else, Tim does not need to feel guilty, too. Jason is doing that enough for the both of them. Because he could not protect Tim. Because he cannot truly make things better now.

All throughout the night, he makes sure there are things for Tim to see and smell and hear. He burns some incense he found in a closet down the hall from the kitchen. He holds Tim close or draws circles on his back or runs a hand through his hair. He reads or hums or promises Tim that he is there, that he is not going anywhere.

Somehow, they make it through the night. If only daylight were any safer.

---

"How long?" Tims asks in the morning, looking small and fragile. His skin is glowing red from where he must have scrubbed it raw under the shower.

Jason hesitates, knows the truth will not make anything better, but he owes it to Tim nonetheless. "Four hours."

Tim closes his eyes briefly as he takes a moment to breathe.

It will not stay at four hours, they know. Things always get worse.

---

"We could steal a car," Tim says, completely out of the blue one night, as if he had not shot down Jason's vague thoughts about running away before.

The chamber changes things, however. He feels like he is barely anchored in his own body anymore. He is terrified of losing himself, of leaving Jason behind on his own. There is not much they can do to actually help each other, but they are together, at least.

Jason turns towards him. He looks too grim to have been on his way to falling asleep. Of course, neither of them sleeps well. Sharing a room has made that better, but it does not actually make them safer. 

"Do you really want Bruce to bail us out of jail and keep here on house arrest?" Jason asks, not accusatory but simply pointing out a real danger. "Now he has to at least keep us functioning for school."

Sometimes, Tim wonders whether that is actually a good thing. School is just another place draining their energy. Pretending to be all right, pretending that their family is completely normal, is often an enormous task. Both of them are good liars, but nothing is without cost.

"We could steal one of his cars," Tim insists. There is an entire garage of them right underneath the house.

Jason barely takes any time to contemplate that before pointing out, "He's got too much security."

Most of that is to keep people out, though, so Tim says, "I could get around that, probably."

Looking at him, Jason sits up, pulling the blanket around his shoulders. "And then?"

Reading The Hobbit has filled Tim's subconscious with a number of fantastic ideas. Of simply walking wherever the wind carries them. Of adventure. Of braving mountains and armies and anything getting in their way.

"Well, we'd either have to get somewhere specific fast, or get lost somewhere," he says, unable to meet Jason's eyes. Sometimes, Tim thinks they are already lost. Drowning in this place with its empty halls and rooms, drowning in Bruce's grief-turned-cruelty.

Gentle, despite the clear worry underneath his voice, Jason argues, "It'll get worse when he catches us."

"We can't let him catch us, then." Normally, Tim is more realistic than this. Something is going to give, however, and he desperately does not want it to be either of them.

"Tim." Jason is utterly still, like he is undecided whether to lean in or away and decided to freeze instead. "You were the one who said it won't work."

"So, what? We just let him do whatever he damn pleases?" Tim snaps, although he is not angry at Jason. "We can't - I'm not sure I can keep going like this. I can't keep going back into -"

The box. The cage. The lockable chamber of nothing, specifically designed to hollow him out and drive him insane. It is already working.

Too quickly, Jason says, "All right."

"What?"

Tim knows what Jason is doing, of course. The same thing he always does, getting up and in front of Tim, drawing Bruce's attention, offering the other cheek. He has no sense of self-preservation. Tim loves and hates him for that in equal measure.

"We'll think of something," Jason promises, his face settling in the kind of determined expression that has Tim's stomach fluttering.

"No, Jason," he tries to argue, even knowing this is his fault and there is no going back now. "Don't do anything stupid."

Flashing him a grin, Jason shrugs. "Don't worry about me."

Funny. All they do is worry about each other. Tim sits back and watches Jason with growing worry weighing him down. He has a very bad feeling that he just pushed Jason into doing something reckless, into paying for Tim's cowardice with his own pain. That is not at all what he wanted.

"Jason," he warns, not sure how to stop him now, but Jason shakes his head.

"You think about which car would be best," he says as if this is already a done deal, as if all they have to do is pack their bags and step out the door. "We can't take anything too flashy."

Tim leans forward, holding Jason's gaze. "Promise me."

But Jason does not. Instead, he winks at Tim and lies back down, pulling his blanket up to his ears, pretending he is ready for sleep. Nausea rises in Tim that, for once, has nothing to do with the fact he has not gotten dinner, again. Neiter of them will rest easy this night.

---

Bruce comes to dinner in a suit. It fits him like a second skin. Not a fold out of place, not a wrinkle to be seen. It has taken Tim a while to learn how to iron Bruce's clothes to Alfred's exacting standards. It did not help that Bruce cannot seem to pass by any chance of pressing any burning hot thing he can find against Tim's skin.

Beyond his impeccable clothing, however, Bruce looks winded. He sits down at the table and when he picks up the napkin, Tim catches a glance of his knuckles. They are coloured an angry red and rubbed raw in places.

"Will Jason be joining us, sir?" Tim asks, biting the inside of his cheek to remain calm. Despite everything, Bruce values politeness.

"Training ran long," Bruce responds dismissively, not caring for the picture he paints when he studies his knuckles in clear view of Tim. "You can serve."

The rule is, when Jason is not at the table when food is served, he does not eat. Often, on days Bruce knows Jason will not be on time, when he makes sure of it, he specifies exactly what he wants to eat, measures out exactly what ingredients Tim has to use. He knows Tim sneaks food out whenever he can. He knows how to make it harder for them. Food, after all, is a privilege they have to earn.

---

Bruce takes his time, inspecting each course when Tim brings them out, chewing each bite thoroughly, asking for a second serving. All the while, his knuckles are in plain sight, a mockery and a warning both.

When he is finally done, Tim clears the table in record time, surprised that Bruce is letting him go. This is a lesson, then.

Jason is in their room, lying on one side, curled up but gingerly so. He is breathing and awake, which is enough for fury to win out over worry in Tim. At least for the moment.

"You said you wouldn't do anything stupid," Tim hisses as he steps up to Jason, eyes running over him to find any wounds he has to take care of immediately. His face is clear. Of course, it is. Bruce knows better than to leave marks where everybody might see them.

"Don't flatter yourself, Tim. He's simply neglected me while building that hellhole for you," Jason replies with the kind of bitter cheer that just makes it sound like he is barely hanging on. "This has been long overdue."

It probably has, because Bruce is normally better at keeping his attention equally divided between them. It would not do for either of them to get ideas. 

"And you didn't provoke him? You didn't make things worse just to draw his attention?" Tim asks sharply, not at all satisfied when Jason will not meet his eyes.

"I don't regret it."

And why would he? They are both trying to mitigate whatever damage is coming for the other. Locking Tim up at least does not leave any physical marks, however. It does leave him bleeding through his bedsheets.

"Jason, you can't -"Tim cuts himself off, bites his cheek hard enough to taste iron. "How bad is it?"

Now, Jason looks at him, at once sheepish and dismissive. He shifts a little, testing his own body. "Nothing broken. Nothing's bleeding anymore either," he decrees and has the gall to sound relieved about it.

Tim closes his eyes, wills his lungs to keep breathing even while the rest of his body feels ready to fall apart.

Jason's hand finds his, pats him twice before falling back to the bed. "It's all right, Tim."

"It's not," Tim shoots back with a vehemence that only hollows him out more. "One of these days he'll do permanent damage."

They both know that is unlikely. Bruce does not hurt them in fits of rage. He always remains cold, collected, clinical. He knows exactly how hard he can push them, has never gone too far before. There is still the possibility that he might not want to hold himself back anymore, that he decides to get rid of them.

"I can take it," Jason vows. His eyes burn into Tim, but now it is Tim's turn to avoid him.

"You shouldn't have to," he says, stubbornly.

It is entirely expected, when Jason replies, without hesitation, "Neither do you."

This has nothing to do with what they can take. Probably also not with what they deserve, although Jason's opinion on that changes depending on how much pain he is in, no matter how often Tim tells him that Alfred's death and, more so, Bruce's descent into cruelty are not his fault. They are not asking to be hurt, to be dismantled slowly. All of that is on Bruce and Bruce alone.

Swallowing a sigh, Tim walks around, further into the room. Like the stupid, self-sacrificing idiot Jason is, he has put the bed they dragged in for him closer to the door. As if that would actually make Tim safer. As if it actually makes Tim feel better to watch Jason get hurt in his stead.

As he is getting their cobbled-together first-aid kit out from under his bed, Tim says, aiming for nonchalance, "I've chosen a car."

Immediately, Jason shoots up, unable to hide his grimace as he pulls at bruises and, probably, worse. "What? No, Tim. That was a stupid idea. We can't steal a car from Bruce." He keeps his voice low, but the words tumble all over each other in his hurry to get them out.

Tim looks up at him with a calm he does not feel. "We can't stay here either."

He brings the kit to Jason's bed but does not open it yet, keeps looking at his hands, at the fading burns all over them.

"Where would we even go?" Jason asks, smaller than he should ever sound.

Somehow, Tim finds the energy to smile at him. "You said we could go anywhere we want."

But Jason shakes his head. "You know it's not that easy."

Easy was never what Tim was going for. Nothing in either of their lives has ever been easy, and it is steadily becoming less so with every passing day.

"It's an option," Tim says and leaves it at that.

He tugs at Jason's shirt, revealing the mess underneath, and gets to work.

---

"Are you done with your homework?"

Jason glares up at Bruce, takes in the nonchalance, the perfect three-piece suit. His back is throbbing, raw with pain. But, of course, he is caught up with schoolwork.

"Yes, sir," he bites out, not caring that he cannot keep up even a facade of politeness. Right after a beating, Bruce is often a bit more lenient with Jason's temper.

"Good. I'll be going out," Bruce says, fiddling his cufflinks into place. "The Foundation Gala is tonight and I'll have some things to take care off before then."

"You're -" Jason breathes, listens for the silence in the house. "Where's Tim?"

Bruce watches him, zeroing in on every twitch, every tense muscle, every weakness. Entirely too calm, he answers, "You know where he is."

Of course, Jason does. It takes everything he has not to jump up, not to throw himself at Bruce. "You have to let him out." Just barely, he manages to make that into a plea. 

The Gala will run long and the sun is not even dipping right now. That is too many hours. If Bruce even remembers to let Tim out after. The chamber is worse than the cabinet ever was, and Jason is not at all sure how much of Tim will get back out of that dark hole if they keep going like this.

"Do I, now?" Bruce asks, slightly bemused even as his face hardens. "It seems rather that you need another reminder of where you place is in this house." 

At the very bottom, Jason is aware. He is feeling the echoes of that lesson with every breath he takes, etched into his very skin.

Out of breath, he says, "It's too long."

"We'll see," Bruce says simply. As if this is an experiment. As if he can push and push and push without consequences. As if Tim is not Jason's little brother. As if that thing does not leave Tim close to breaking every time. "Do not wait up."

And then Bruce is gone, out of their room and down the hall, walking with measured steps as if everything is just how it is supposed to be.

Jason cannot breathe. He sits frozen at his desk, mind racing. This is too much. He cannot let this happen. He has to help Tim.

As quietly as he can, he walks down the hall to the grand staircase leading down. He folds himself into the shadows and watches Bruce leave, watches as he gets into the car waiting for him outside, watches as it is driving out of sight. Then, just to be sure, he waits half an hour more.

He has no idea how to get Tim out of the chamber. It has to work, but he knows any manipulation of the system will send an alert directly to Bruce. Once he starts, everything has to go quickly.

Jason goes back to their room and gets out two bags, throwing in things haphazardly. Tim would be better at this. He knows better how to remain calm. But Tim is not here yet, so Jason has to do this by himself.

He gets their bags and fills another with food from the pantry and gets it all down to the garage. He can hotwire a car, at least, if it comes to that. Then he goes back up to Bruce's office. This is risky, he knows. There are cameras everywhere, but especially in this room. It does not matter, though. There is no going back now.

Jason checks the footage from Tim's chamber, swallowing down his nausea when he sees Tim's curled up form. He minimizes the window and then goes through Bruce's drawers, looking for anything useful. Money, their passports, car keys. His hands are shaking but he pushes on. He finds an itinerary and knows exactly when Bruce will get on stage tonight. There, he has their window of opportunity. The too small amount of time in which Bruce will be occupied, no matter if he gets an alert that they are breaking out.

Hours crawl by, driving Jason nearly insane. But then, the old grandfather clock strikes six. Jason has never run so quickly.

Everything is a blur. Getting up to the attic. Getting the chamber open. Helping Tim out and carrying his shaking form downstairs, putting him in the car. He puts the key in the ignition and cannot believe it when the engine actually comes to life. Then, Jason shuts down his brain and just drives.

[odo-apologist]

Smegtober #21: Regret

     It had been quite some time since Rimmer had taken over as Ace, yet even now, after numerous daring adventures and near-death experiences, after developing a semblance of confidence and courage over his period of playing the hero, his hands shook a bit as he confirmed his new course. This was all together a very different act of bravery than the ones he'd recently become accustomed to making.

     There were countless universes out there, too many for Ace–however many versions of him there could ever be–to visit them all. Many of these did not contain versions of the individuals known as Arnold J. Rimmer and Dave Lister. Many of the ones that did held versions of them that would be unrecognizable to each other. In a surprising number of them, their lives become intertwined. Rimmer, this Rimmer, managed to meet some of these Listers. He'd encountered some Spanners, Debs, a couple, even, that were reminiscent of the ones from those High and Low crews from one particular misadventure he'd soon forget. 

     He avoided universes that, according to the Wildfire's calculations of statistical probabilities, very closely resembled his own. Ones that contained Listers a little too similar to the one he left behind.

     Until now.

     In the universe had just jumped into, Dave Lister–neither High nor Low–was the last known human being alive, having been in stasis for over three million years aboard the mining ship Red Dwarf. He was currently on the smaller vessel Starbug, along with a Felis Sapien known as The Cat and a Mechanoid called Kryten.

     According to Wildfire, that was the entire crew. There was no Arnold Judas Rimmer–human or hologram–on board. There were infinite possibilities and reasons for that, but there was one in specific Rimmer feared was the case.

     He breathed an inward sigh of relief when making contact with Starbug; it was during Kryten's shift and Lister was not at his post. “Mister Ace! What a pleasure to see you again!”

     They knew him; he had been here before. Rimmer managed to maintain Ace's voice as he responded, “Right back at you, Kryters! Mind if I drop in for a quick pitstop?”

     “Not at all, sir! I'll let the others know you're here, we'll meet you at the cargo bay.”

     “Looking forward to it, old pal.”

     A few minutes later, he was standing face-to-face with this crew. Kryten and The Cat had looked pleased. So did Lister, but there was something more in his attitude than just the admiration the others expressed.

     “So, how have you lads been since I last saw you?”

     Lister spoke up, “Oh, you know nothing much changes around here Ace, besides getting something other than lichen sorbet for dessert.”

     “I have tried to change up the recipe, sir,” Kryten interjected.

     But then Lister leveled Rimmer with an intent gaze. “It's been hard, though, adjusting to life without Rimmer around.”

     Rimmer's stomach dropped. He wondered if he got noticeably paler.

     “Yeah, I hate to say it, but it's been boring without Billboard Face around. He may have been an uptight coward with no style, but he was a good source of entertainment.” The Cat looked a little put out, as much as he was capable of being. Then, brightening, he continued, “But I have been able to make some more shirts! And with you stopping by, someone here might actually appreciate them.”

     Despite only catching some of Cat's words over the rising anxiety Lister's words brought him, Rimmer replied, “I'm sure I will, Cat, but I've got to take a bit more time to get things settled on Wildfire. I'll meet you chummies in a tick.”

     He turned back to his ship, hearing footsteps departing and a quiet “What a guy!”

     “Rimmer?” In the nearly empty cargo bay, Lister's voice rang loud and clear.

     Yet Rimmer wanted to give them both another out. He looked back, charming grin pasted to his face. “What's that, Davey-Boy?”

     “Is it you?” Of course, Lister didn't take the out. He had spoken softly, nearing Rimmer and looking at him with hope and something that would have clenched Rimmer's heart, were one still beating in his chest.

     He dropped the Ace act, replied in his own voice, “No. Not…not your Rimmer.” Once the words hit him, that hope in Lister's eyes faded. Upon seeing this, Rimmer couldn't help but add, “I'm sorry.”

     “I just…” Lister let out a shaky sigh. “I just never really thought he'd be gone. Ever since he left, this tiny part of me kept on thinking he'd come back.”

     “You don't know that for certain. There may still be some chance that he happened to pass on the legacy without–”

     “I saw the planet. The ring of lightbees.” It was said sharply, harshly. “I know what happens. It's what always happens, what happened to the Ace that showed up here damaged and dying. My Rimmer didn't end up any differently. He didn't break the chain.”

     “No,” Rimmer agreed. There was still a slight tremor through his hands. “He wanted to make you proud.”

     “I wanted him to be proud of himself.” Lister laughed wetly. “I-I never told him…”

     He was within arm's length of Rimmer, and he suddenly reached out his arms and pulled the hologram closer, close enough that their lips met. Lister's hand pressed against his upper back, roving further up. He felt the fingers reach his hair, and Lister suddenly broke off their kiss.

     “Lister, what–?”

     Desperation had supplanted hope when Lister looked at the hologram. Without breaking eye contact, his hand returned; there was a slight tug and a stripping noise and Rimmer looked away from Lister's face to see the man gripping the Ace wig in his fist. “I wanted to see you, Arn. Not Ace.”

     “Hold on.” Rimmer unzipped a pocket on his flight suit, manipulated the remote held inside it; he could sense his projection shift. “Is this-is this alright?”

      Lister stood silent, taking in the blue tunic, the short curls, the “H” on the forehead, then he moved forward and embraced him again.

      A little later, in their–Lister’s–bunkroom, on his other self's former bunk, coming down from post-coital bliss, Rimmer held onto Lister, who had buried his face into the crook of his neck. He felt a bit of wetness against his skin. Despite the tears, his voice was quite steady when he spoke. “I missed you, Rimmer. I dreamed of you.”

     “I did, too,” Rimmer whispers back. “Even during my adventures, I thought of you all of the time.”

     “I wish I hadn't let you go.”

     “He shouldn't have left.” I never should have left.

     “I don't want you to go again.” Lister's arms gripped a bit tighter. “But you have to go back to your Lister.”

     Could he go back, face his Lister with his tail between his legs? Would that make him a failure yet again? “Are you sure he–”

     “I know how much he misses you. Do it for him. Do it for me.”

     He hugged Lister once more when saying his farewells and noticed his shining eyes. Back in Wildfire, taking a deep breath, Rimmer set a new course.

[burning-academia-if]

Morningsssssss!!! (If it's even morning for you.. sure k.. way to assume shit Liz 🤦‍♀️)

I hope you had a very very lovely weekend.

I'm so glad to see all these notifications pop up from you! Even the ones where i know you're gonna make me regret romancing Rooks stubborn ass!

Why do i always go for the tough ROs?? Is it masochism..prolly.

I will still probably come and shout in your asks anyway about how sad you make me (and how much i love it)

Onto my ask. Sorry. I ramble you know this by now. 🫣

School formal time!!!! ✨️ not at all because i got roped in to plan the 7th grade formal at all!

But if MC was too afraid of rejection to ask out an RO to a school dance to their face and instead just slipped them a sweet note with a yes no check box and just walked away right after giving it to them. What would they do?

(Queue lars throwing my fucking note away) 😭😒

It is the opposite of morning for me actually, I'm about to go to bed! Also yeah, this weekend was unexpectedly busy lol. I'm surprised I managed to keep up with everything! Also this is giving BA: teen drama edition so let's pretend this is high school

Rook: He notices you slipped something to him, and he knows what it is. He waits until he's alone to open it up, frowning to himself. Is it better to lie and say he lost it? He can't imagine rejecting you, but he can't imagine this either. He takes a breath and crumples it up. When he sees you next, he apologizes for 'losing it' and asks what was in it, knowing you're too shy to answer

Beck: He also knows what it is, but he waits for the right time to give it back to you. He writes a big 'X' on 'yes' and catches you at a time the both you will be alone. He hands it back, voice soft, "I'll pick you up at 6?" His eyes are twinkling

Rhea: When she sees what it is, she doesn't want to wait. She quickly scribbles in the yes box and rushes after you. When she sees you, she quickly calls out to you, and takes your hand. She presses the note into it, and gives you a bright smile. "I'd love to go to the dance with you."

Zoe: This catches them off guard, but they find it really cute? They're nervous all day, but in a giddy kind of way, and by the time they finally meet up with you their nerves are frayed. They manage to get it together enough to mark yes and slip it back into your locker

Lars: He frowns at it, before folding it back up and putting it back in his bag. When he sees you next he unfolds it and shows it back to you, unmarked. "Really, a note?" When you try to stammer your way out of it, he crumbles it up. "You have better choices then a burn out. If you're serious though, ask me later to my face."

???: They laugh softly to themselves when they see the note. Later, when you're walking down the hall, you feel a tug as they pull you into an empty classroom, like a secret rendezvous. They're so close to you, close enough to slip the note into your bag or your pocket. "I thought I'd return this." They pull away and walk back out into the hall. When you pull at the note, you see the 'yes' has been filled with a heart.