#i know i don’t post much art anymore but yeah i miss this shit

[gillgmesh]

Is it reasonable to rise prices on commissions for stuff you have trouble drawing? Like for instance I’m not good at drawing females so it would take me more time to complete bc I’ll need to look at more references and take more time to refine it than a normal piece. I feel that it should be a reasonable thing to do? Especially since if I do raise the price of it I’ll know anyone who is still interested must really want a drawing of a girl which shows me they don’t care about me possibly fucking up…

[mermaidxatxheart]

Better Together Chapter Twelve

It's been a minute since I've posted a new chapter. I was beginning to think that no one really wanted to read this anymore. If you like it and you want to keep reading it, please please please reblog. I can't stress enough how important it is to reblog creative pieces, writing, art, gifsets, and the things people make here. It spreads awareness to your favorite creators and lets everyone see the talent that people have. It also helps motivate your favorite creators to keep creating. Thanks for coming to my very important Ted Talk.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Word Count: 2858

Warnings: Bryce being an asshole, which I think is a given at this point. Snap being a treasure. Violence as usual. Swearing as usual.

Series Master List

Previous Chapter

Chapter Twelve

Poe

He shifts against his pillow, restless. He wants to be up. He feels fine, flu-speaking. He hasn’t slept properly since being in here. He wants to see you. He needs to hold you. 

“Hey, buddy.” Snap says, taking his usual seat outside the glass. 

“Did you see her?” Poe asks. He hates being stuck here. 

“Yeah, we had breakfast together. She seemed distracted, didn’t eat a ton. She said she was going back to her room to sleep.” He sighs, and Poe turns to look at him. Behind him is Beaumont. 

“Why is that a bad thing?” He asks. 

“Well, a couple hours ago, several people saw Bryce run into the hangar and take Y/N’s ship. No one knows where he went. So when we heard that, Mak and I went to check on her. She was passed out on the floor of her room, shaking.” Beau says carefully. 

Poe’s hands fist in the sheets. He’s going to murder Bryce. Straight kill him. The Resistance won’t miss much. He doesn’t actually do anything. “And then?” He asks through clenched teeth. 

“We woke her up and she flipped shit. Kicked us out, told us to leave her alone, that she doesn’t need anyone checking on her. She bolted from the room a few seconds after we left.”

“Okay. Fuck this. I’m leaving. I’m out of here.” Poe grunts, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. 

“Buddy, are you sure?” Snap asks. 

“Yeah. I gotta find her.” He looks at Beau. “You know she didn’t mean it.” He says and Beaumont nods. 

“I know.”

A medical droid rolls over and beeps at him angrily. “Can it.” He snaps, grabbing his coat. 

“Want help looking for her?” Snap asks. 

“Not currently. You guys better get back to work before Leia has my head. I have a few ideas of where she might be.” Poe says, exiting the quarantine. 

“Alright. We’re here to help if you need us.” Beau says and Poe is so grateful that he’s not mad at you. 

He claps him on the shoulder, taking off down the hallway. He looks in your room, first. Just to be sure. He doesn’t really think he’ll find you there, but better to be safe than sorry. 

Just as he suspects, it’s empty. Okay, maybe you went to your lab to get lost in some work. He heads that way, unable to stop his eyes from darting down every hallway and into every darkened room. 

Your lab, however, is empty. Your work is put away. It doesn’t even smell like you. With a sigh he backs out, turning to face back down the hallway. 

Someone is turning quickly down a hallway about fifteen feet from him. He’d recognize that hair anywhere. He jogs down to the junctions of the hallways, turning to follow you. But he can’t see you anymore. 

There’s nothing down here but cleaning supplies anyway, nothing you would need to be down here for. He frowns to himself. Maybe he imagined it? Maybe it wasn’t you?

He closes his eyes to think for a minute. When you want to avoid people, when you want to get some peace and quiet, you go to the tower. 

He heads that way, his hands itching to hold you. It’s been longer than he can stand and he’s a little worried that if it doesn’t happen soon, he might explode. 

Five hours later

Poe leans against the wall, hands over his face. Snap is across from him, trying, and failing, not to look amused. 

“She’s hiding from me.” He says finally, lowering his hands. 

“You don’t know that.” Snap yawns. It’s late, almost middle of the night. 

“Snap, I literally saw her running away in the mess hall. Someone called my name and she fled.” He sighs. 

“Okay. So, she needs some space. Let her have it for a little bit. If she doesn’t come around tomorrow, have Leia call her into a meeting or something and talk to her there.” He shrugs. 

Except he needs you. He can’t sleep. And he knows you have to be suffering, too. 

“Alright. Thanks for sticking with me this long, buddy.” 

“Hey. I knew what I was getting into.” Snap grins. 

“Go get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” Poe says, pushing away from the wall. Instead of heading for his room, he heads for the garage. Bryce isn’t that good of a pilot. He would have to log his coordinates at some point. 

He scans through the logs, looking for your signature. It pisses him off to no end that Bryce took your ship. That’s personal. You don’t just fly another person’s ship. It’s like using their toothbrush. 

Unfortunately, the idiot hasn’t registered yet, so Poe can’t fly out and kill him. He swings by the tower one more time to find it empty. He sighs and heads back towards your room. If you’re not there, he’s sleeping on your bed. He doesn’t give a fuck anymore about Bryce. That coward isn’t worth his weight in bantha shit.

Your door opens and the room is empty, but it smells like you. He steps inside and kicks off his shoes, laying out on your bed. He pulls your pillow towards his face, breathing in deep. 

***

If droids could look sour, this one does. Probably because it’s sick of having to stitch you back up. It beeps quietly, angrily. The last one is replaced and you pull your shirt back down. 

It was stupid to run from Poe, but you can easily admit what a coward you are. When you found him sleeping in your bed last night, pillow tucked against his chest, you watched for a few minutes. His breathing was even, his sleep deep and easy. 

Good. At least someone got some rest. You slept in the tower, cold and uncomfortable, but no less than what you deserve. 

Bryce, as far as you know, is still gone. Probably getting as far from you as he can. 

The droid beeps again and you get the message. The next time it has to stitch you up, you’re staying in that bed. 

You get up, walking towards the exit when you see Bryce heading right for you. Panic grips you and you dart left into the ladies fresher. He’s more determined than you give him credit for, because he follows you right in, cornering you against the sink. 

“You can’t be in here.” You tell him, face flushing furiously. 

“Well, I need to talk to you.” He hisses. 

The door behind him opens and a woman you only know by sight walks in. “This is for females.” She says bluntly. 

Bryce grabs your arm and drags you out, pulls you down the hall and pushes you into a dark room. The emergency lights click on at the motion and your stomach plummets. 

In the middle of the room is a table with restraints at the ends. An operating table. A cold sweat breaks out on your skin as you look around nervously. 

“Y/N, I need you to come with me.” He starts. “I found a doctor, a cosmetic surgeon. He can fix you. He can get rid of the scars.” He says, smiling softly at you. “I made you an appointment, but we have to go.” 

Your eyes finally land on him as you comprehend what he says. “Fix me? Fix me?” You demand, your voice turning shrill. “How can you even suggest that to me right now? Do you even know? Do you understand what I went through?” You snap. He takes a step forward and you match it backward. 

How can he even suggest letting someone poke and prod at you and cut you open? 

“Fuck off.” You say coldly, shoving past him and out into the hallway. You walk and walk until you find yourself outside the records room, crying. 

No one will ever suspect you’re in here. 

***

“Hey! Y/N! The General wants to see you.” Setti calls to your hiding spot.

You sigh softly, shutting down your holopad. “Where?” You reply. 

“Uh,” you can hear paper crinkle as she checks her note. “Poe’s ship? She wants to ask you about some things.” She says, and you hear her walk away. 

Poe’s ship? Did you miss something when you came back? You checked every inch of that ship for a tracker. Did she find something you hadn’t? Did you put the whole base in trouble? Your heart hammers in your chest as you scramble down and run to the hangar. 

Poe’s ship has the ramp open and you make your way inside, looking for Leia. The ramp closes behind you and you spin around, startled. 

“Y/N,” Poe starts behind you and you clench your fists. “Sweetheart, what’s going on?” He asks softly. 

You turn to face him, working hard to make your expression cold. You don’t want to melt for him, can’t handle his look of disgust. 

“What are you doing?” You snap. 

“Y/N, please? Talk to me. I thought we agreed-“ he starts. 

“I’m fine. I don’t know why everyone keeps asking. I’m fine.” Your hands tremble at your sides and you can only hope he doesn’t notice. 

“Then why have you been avoiding me?” He asks. 

Your mouth opens as you fumble to think of a reason. “I can’t rely on you all the time! You aren’t always going to be here. I have to be able to survive on my own.” Your voice cracks and he steps forward, looking like you’ve just killed him. 

“I promised you I’m not going anywhere. And I mean that.” He takes your hands gently. “But I understand you wanting space. I’ll give you that until you want me again.” He says, your heart tightens painfully in your chest. Oh, how to tell him that it’s not that you don’t want him, it’s that he won’t want you. “You know where to find me. Just don’t push your friends away. We all need people.” He pulls you against him, hugging you tightly. He buries his face in your hair for a moment before he lets you go. He pushes the button for the ramp and you practically run down and out into the sunshine. You walk through the hangar, narrowly avoiding Bryce as he enters. 

Space. You need space to think. You head for the mess hall, planning on grabbing a caf and going somewhere to be alone. 

You round the corner into the hallway outside the hall and the sound of your name stops you dead. Nya is in the middle, with her best friend. 

“Ugh, Y/N. I wish she had stayed on her little vacation. It was so much easier to be with Bryce when he wasn’t all concerned that she would catch us. Don’t get me wrong, sneaking around can be fun. But it was much better when he could really let go. And Y/N is so fucking annoying. Always crying ever since she got back.”

“She was kidnapped and tortured.” Her friend says. 

Nya scoffs. “Whatever. She just needs to get over it. Bryce says he’s gonna break up with her soon since she’s not putting out for him anyway. He doesn’t even really care that she’s been with Dameron a ton since they got back. He just likes to give her grief about it. Wants her to feel guilty.” 

Red colors your vision. Your hands shake. Something fills you, numb and excited, heat and cold at the same time. You whirl around, heading back for the hangar where you last saw Bryce. 

Snap

Beau leans against the hull of his engine as Snap has his arm buried deep in its depths. Poe left as soon as Y/N ran off his ship. Poor guy is so in love with her and Snap isn’t sure she even knows. 

“All I’m saying is, someone should spill the beans.” He says, twirling a screwdriver between his fingers. 

“It’s not really our call. She looks like she needs something stable right now, and if we tell her how he feels, it might be yanking the rug out from under her. Plus, he might get pissed at us.” 

“Yeah, but, Snap, come on.” Beau jerks his head over to where Bryce is standing, flirting with a poor mech who doesn’t look interested at all. “She deserves so much better than that moof milker.” He rolls his eyes. 

“I know.” Snap stretches his fingers, reaching for the part he knows is right there. 

“I mean, look at him. He doesn’t care about her. He’s a sleaze.” 

“I’m aware. And trust me, there’s nothing I would love more than to just go over there and cold clock him into the next galaxy.” 

Beaumont groans, scratching the back of his neck with the screwdriver. “I hate him.”

“Join the club. We still don’t know where he took her ship yesterday.” 

The door that connects the hangar to the rest of the compound hisses open and Y/N marches in. Your face is twisted in rage and Snap pulls his arm free. Without seeming to even look around you, you grab a massive wrench laying on a workbench. You find Bryce in the crowd and aim right for him, never looking anywhere else. 

He doesn’t even see you until the mech scurries away and he turns around. “Hey, babe. Have you thought about what I said?” He asks. 

You heft the wrench and swing hard, the tool crunching across Bryce’s face. He spins away, falling to the ground and there’s a collective intake of air from the witnesses. Snap is pretty sure he sees a tooth go flying. 

“Wow. Good hit.” Beau mutters and Snap grins. 

You toss the wrench over your shoulder and it clatters away loudly. You still haven’t said a word and it’s slightly terrifying. 

“What the fuck?” Bryce groans, pushing himself back. You kick his hand out from under him and then sit on him, your hands balling into fists. You whisper something and his eyes get wide. Then you attack, punching him while keeping a death grip on his shirt. His hands are trapped under your legs and so he can’t fight back. 

Good.

Snap and Beau watch, along with the rest of the people in the hangar as you let out some aggression. Setti comes over next to them, wiping her hands. 

“Aren’t you gonna stop her?” She asks. 

Beau and Snap glance at each other, coming to a unanimous decision immediately. “No.” They both answer at once. 

“She could kill him.” Setti tries. 

“She won’t.” Beau shakes his head. “She’ll get tired first.” They watch for a few more minutes, seeing your swings slow. 

“The General is coming!!” Someone shouts, and that gets Snap and Beau moving. Snap approaches you from the side, catching your hand as it flies towards Bryce’s face. 

“Come on. Let’s get you out of here.” He says gently, picking you up and setting you on your feet. Bryce’s once perfect face is a bloody mess, he slumps backwards, barely conscious. 

Snap wraps his arm around your shoulders and leads you out the big hangar door. “How’s your hand?” He asks, taking your wrist gently. Your knuckles are bloody and bruising, and your hand is shaking. All of you is shaking. Snap leads you to his quarters with Beau following closely. 

“What did he do?” Beau asks gently. 

“What didn’t he do?” You mutter. 

“Want us to get Poe?” Snap asks, guiding you into the chair at his desk and grabbing his medkit. 

“No. He’ll just get in trouble, too. I’ve spent enough time getting him into trouble.” 

“You won’t get in trouble. No one in that hangar will talk.” Beau promises. 

Snap cleans your hand, wrapping it carefully. “Are you sure you don’t want Poe?” He asks. 

“I’m sure I don’t want him to know.” You say specifically and that’s a good sign. Not like he won’t find out, though. While no one will tell Leia, they’re bound to tell everyone else. He’s going to find out eventually. 

You lean back in the chair with your eyes closed and his eyes are drawn to a patch of red blossoming across your abdomen. 

“Did you get hurt?” He asks, panic rising in his chest. Poe’s going to kill him.

Your eyes fly open. “What?”

“You’re bleeding!” He reaches for your shirt, not rushed or angrily, but you still slap his hand away and flinch. “Shit, Y/N-“

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it.” You blurt out. 

“It’s not your fault. But we should get you checked out, let’s get to medical.” He says, holding out his hand for you to take. 

“I can go. I’ll take care of it.” You say, pushing yourself up with a wince, avoiding his hand. 

“You shouldn’t go alone.” Snap says, frowning. “If something happens,” 

“I’ll be fine, Snap. I’m sorry I got you dragged into this.” You shake your head. “Thanks for… everything.” You mutter, heading for the exit. 

Snap looks at Beaumont, standing behind him. “Do you think she’ll go?” He asks. 

“No. No, I do not.”

Chapter Thirteen

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[master-k0hga]

Idk Kohga face HC or something [ He/They/it ]

Black hair ver.

| Idk I never really had a set face reveal design for this fat fuckass, he'd always look NOT the way I picture him- Even this isn't really that close to how I'd want him to be... But guess close enough I s'pose....

Also why does he deepthroat bananas so well in AoC Koei, how do you know thIS KOEI-

But potentially this may be the best design of him I'll do so... Yeah, genderfluid looking aa bish I still have a deep love for him that isn't going away and I am unhealthy with this obsession hhhhhh,,,, Since BotW ofc so he is definitely plaguing my life in a not good way..

... I love my wife- I miss my wife tails, I miss her a lot-

Anyways, not much has changed with him, he (imo Idc) is still a 20 something yr old (120-something in BotW/TotK) shortstack who gives major bitch vibes and is in fact a major bitch hh, is the most secretive lewd artist even to his clan, can't cook for shit and math isn't his strongsuit- But can do the math when it comes to his passion hhhh //cough Sheikah/Zonai neeeeeerd-

The way his pretty ugly ass looks is the only difference and that's it- hfhbf

.. He'll still forever be besties with Zelda after the events in AoC as they become nerds for Sheikah and eventually Zonai tech, and then go "harass" Purah and Robbie (mainly Robbie since Purah is def more chaotic than he is), also Koh loves getting on Impa's nerves since they both share a love interest who's also a grampa (//cough Sooga cuz at least before the DLC, I actually had a proper HC for the "Yiga hubs" that actually works BETTER for them. So I'm sticking to my guns and paying attention to how THEY met and got together,,, to which any 'o ya'll who are interested hmu or spam my inbox so I can get into detail, and no the AU I now scrapped no longer applies anymore so forget about shit ass childhood, scummy step family and killer sister... Well I'mean Koh still has a shit ass dad but this ain't about him so- Oh wait nvm, people never gave a shit before so why would they n o w )

DON'T FORGET TO MENTION ABOUT THE BINDER HE WEARS UNDER HIS UNIFORM SO HIS BIG NATURALS DON'T BOUNCE UP AND DOWN ALL IN HIS BABY FACE

-

Close ups:

White hair alt

Black hair alt

PERSONALLY. The Yiga still have their traditional Sheikah white hair, it's only ever a choice if they dye it black or not aaaaand- The floof on their uniform is just a head piece,,,,, otherwise Sooga has some stupid ass hair

...

I said what I said, you heard me... And I stand by that statement, the floofs on their heads is DECORATION!! It's just easier to call it hair for the "Creating a Champion" book! Also cuz duh, Eng translation!!

.... Anyways, as an avid lover of this loser, my self conscious, thicc ass scrunkly boy with the wide birthing hips since the BotW days,,, He is my wife, my girlfriend, my bestie, my husband, my boyfriend my enemy, my lover, my victim, my babygirl and my family.. All in one-

....

Shut the fuck u-

. Art © Me . DON’T RE-POST .

Also yeah changing my watermarks and @ 's again cuz my older one was kinda hard to see, so I kinda gave 'em more of a colourful design and ngl really liking it a lot!

I was gonna try getting Glaze and Nightshade to work for somewhat extra protection on my art but my laptop is too old and definitely on it's last legs for it to run the programs properly.. So the over watermarking and adding my overdoing my sig for my current OC refs and future art will be enough for now..

Anyways, I'll add OC refs to their bio posts at a later date til I got all of the current refs updated and touched up...

[vesperewrites]

woah. i think i recognize the tone/typing mannerisms of that one weird anon and believe they’ve been in my inbox before, shitting on my fics and art with no real critique behind their insults. just like now, all they’re spewing is pure hate backed up by no real reason and what i think is a sad, unnecessary form of jealousy. i’m guessing from your last post they’ve decided to use up all their cards and rlly drive the message that they’re a bitter loser by perhaps insulting you and your craft in some shape or form (tho if they haven’t and i totally misread, just know the following sentiment is still true lol). i just wanna say— the way you carry yourself and have been giving rlly informed and supportive conversations surrounding certain lucemond topics as well as your writing are rlly, rlly good and important. it showed that most of us still read, support, and appreciate one another and that’s what matters. i feel like the main thing ppl should understand abt ff writers is that this is definitely a hobby for us, as we have real adult life’s. so that being said, anybody having these extreme and emotional issues with fandom and fiction that upsets you so much enough to blindly attack should just take up another way of spending their free time.

also idk if you’re taking up anymore recs but a fandom og who left/deleted their works revealed their last known pseudonym as @aelussy and their fics are just phenomenal. ‘apex predators’ had a really fun approach to lucerys and aemond’s dynamic which i think you’ll appreciate, bc i know i can’t stop thinking abt them.

and it also begs the question: are ppl just so blinded by nostalgia that they don’t even recognize the supposed ‘lucemond peak writing’ even if it’s right in front of them, just under different usernames? idk, it just makes me think all those things that anon supposedly misses (since it truly never rlly left) is just an excuse they tell themselves to justify shitting on ppl.

Yeah, it's truly bizarre. I'm sorry that happened to you :/

Criticism and open discussion is fine. There's nothing I can to say to someone resorting to ad hominem attacks or making a hasty generalization (logical fallacy) argument. At the end of the day, it's just opinions. And agreed with you. It reads as jealousy, insecurity, or attention-seeking. Nothing I can do about that.

Ah, I didn't think they insulted my work at all, but even if someone did, it's honestly fine!! My stuff is very rough/imperfect (I say this with absolute love to myself) and nevertheless I'm proud of it.

Ah, thank you very much! That's very kind of you to say. Disagreements can be healthy, but both parties need to operate underneath good faith as a means and end goal to try to understand one another. Supporting others is very important to me.

Ff is definitely a hobby I do in my free and even then...I'm a slow writer. 💀 anyone taking it this seriously might not have much going on.

I'll check out your rec :] I think I saw that it was an orphan account. I believe I read it a while back, so I'll see.

Yeah, it makes me question, what nostalgia are they speaking about? Nothing I can do about it, since I can't miss what I've never known. Like....I'm sorry...? Lol.

But yeah, plenty of talented people here from the beginning, it seems. So I'm honestly confused by some folks' takes of "the good ones left". That was the only statement I was addressing that started it all. If people want to shit on others, that says more about them than it does about me.

Thank you for your take! I'll check out your work too. :]

[sweetbunanarchy]

LET THERE BE ANARCHYYYY

I can’t make like video essays and continuously make threads on twitter and bc of that I am deciding to ramble about my fav things if I’m not posting art bc ay no word limit so FUCK IT WE RAMBLING ABT ANARCHY BAYBEE

The one game that never leaves my mind and the one that inspired my latest username so lets just talk abt real quick :D

When I was in middle school I would get into a good chunk of things like anime, other games. Bc I didn’t have certain systems like most ppl I would just watch gameplays and cutscenes for them in get into them that way. I stumble across a game called MadWorld and immediately become OBSESSED, the style of black & white with the only color splattered everywhere is RED MWAH BEAUTIFUL MY LITTLE BRAIN WAS EXPLODING and not too long after that I learned that there was a continuation of sorts for it...Anarchy Reigns. You know how you take like your ocs and put them in like a whole ‘nother universe, kinda like an au situation yeah that’s what Anarchy Reigns is GBSJDNJF It’s post post-apocalyptic, chaotic and just hell of a lot fun to just look at. But the main charm of it is the characters themselves and how fun and unique they are just in design alone

While the game isn’t story heavy it still has a plot to follow that works imo! Now you’re probably asking (probably not but) “BUN! This looks cool, but why after so many years as a grown ass man are you still so obsessed with a game you didn’t even get to play?” And to that I say....it’s bc of him-

YES ITS BC IM GAY FOR THIS MAN N HE’S THE BLUEPRINT FOR MY ATTRACTION TWORDS FICTIONAL MEN

Visually his design and how big he is (7′2 LOR D HAVE MERCY), his overall design, how expressive he is, hIS CHAINSAW ARM GOD ITS ALL SO DAMN GOOD!!!!!! In MadWorld he’s passed off as this cold-blooded killer bad ass which is sexy as fuck but in AR they give him more depth by giving him a daughter, Stella, and we see a softer, more kind side to him only to see him lose his daughter and through the campaign he runs on grief and rage wanting to get revenge on the bastards that took the one thing that he cared for. THE CAN’T EVEN SMOKE ANYMORE BC STELLA DIDN’T LIKE HIM SMOKING N ITS AAAAAAAAAUGH It’s something that comes off as simple but still just sweet and sad at the same time. 

And again the other characters are really good as well but just none of them hit me as hard as Jack did bc of this development he got and if we ever got more content for this game I woulda loved to see it for other characters BUT it’s long gone AGHBDJD. As much as I want platinum to bring it back I know they won’t bUT I CAN STILL DREAM DAMNIT...just hoping they don’t mess it up as Bayo3 bc lord that is a whole nother can of worms for another day. BUT ANYWAY Anarchy Reigns overall has a near and dear place in my heart and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t one of the many things that inspires me as an artist, I miss this shit so damn much and still crossing my fingers for something, if not the AR or MW then...just something of Jack PLATINUM PLEASE-

[discotreque]

Disco Season 4 wrap-up post

TL;DR: I enjoyed Season 4 a lot. I don’t know if I necessarily have interesting or original things to say about all of it, but it was a hell of a ride and I’m glad I BitTorrented the ticket. (Also, full disclosure, it’s hard to write funny bullet-point blog posts when you’re glued to the screen crying your eyes out.)

Sure, I could nitpick the scripts—I’ve been a professional writer for 20+ years; boy, could I…—but since nobody’s paying me to, I’m more than happy to turn off the red pen in my brain that wants to fill the margins with things like “Show, don’t tell” and “Try something less cliché” and “Didn’t we do this 2 episodes ago?” and “I know David Ajala is really good at reacting to things but pls give Book some goddamn agency already.”

I heard somewhere a long time ago that unhappiness isn’t always a choice, but happiness always is. The conditions for happiness can be all around you, but you have to opt in. And enjoying something like a TV show is a choice, too. I’ve brought my own shitty baggage to perfectly good art in the past, determined not to enjoy it, and by god I succeeded at having the miserable time I set out to have. Yeah, some things are so deeply flawed that those flaws spoil the experience… but give me a break, Disco’s not that bad.

And it’s not like I had to look hard for things about Season 4 to enjoy. Credit where it’s due: despite the ever-shaky execution, and the miriam myriad things that have changed about this show since Season 1, it’s always had a consistent message at the centre of the mess: “You might win in the short term by sacrificing your principles, but your so-called victory will be hollow, and ultimately not worth the cost.”

This season banged that drum as hard as ever, but added some complementary themes to the mix, like: “becoming vulnerable to connect with other people is difficult, but necessary and deeply rewarding,” and “communication is at the heart of all successful conflict resolution”, and “go the fuck to therapy already.”

And by “complementary themes,” I mean “almost literally actual dialogue spoken by the characters,” because this show left subtlety behind in the 23rd century, and as I said earlier in the season, I’m more than okay with that. I don’t think we’re living in an era for subtlety—our enemies and oppressors sure aren’t subtle—and having grown up in the 90’s, I’m still recovering from near-terminal irony poisoning. At this point in my life and also human history, I fucking crave sincerity, and transparency, and whole-hearted connection. I didn’t realize how much I wanted that in Star Trek specifically (and in Disco specifically!) until I got it, and I got metric fucktonnes of it this season, and I am more than satisfied.

More stuff I liked (and a few tiny nitpicks I just couldn’t resist, haha), including spoilers, after the cut:

President Mommy—sorry, Mommy—sorry, Mommy—sorry—Rillak was a pleasant surprise in every appearance. Star Trek doesn’t exactly have a history of thoughtful, flexible politicians with broad minds and good intentions, you know? But at every turn she was more, and more interesting, than a corrupt figurehead or an obstructionist straw-asshole for Captain Burnham to speechify at. Laira ended up feeling like an actual three-dimensional person, like a whole entire woman and not just her job, and while it would be a little contrived for her to be as involved in Season 5 as she was in Season 4, I hope they find a good-enough contrivance to keep her in play.

Obviously I miss Sylvia Tilly every second she’s not on screen, but the biggest of kudos to the writers for realizing she didn’t really have a place in the story anymore, and writing her out in a way that not only made sense for her character, reflecting and respecting her growth, but kept her close for recurring appearances—like being an unspeakably amazing badass in the finale, holy shit???? Tilly toasting to the end of the world with Admiral Cool Dad was a highlight of the whole season for me; and then at last we see her back where she belongs—in Michael’s arms. (You will pry Mylvia from my cold. dead. hands.) If Tilly and her little crew of cadets are the core of the upcoming Starfleet Academy series, I’m on board already.

The queer found-family stuff with Culber and Stamets and Adira was cute and wholesome and heartwarming as shit (I told you not all my opinions were fascinating and unique). I also appreciated that they wrote Gray off once he didn’t have anything to do on the show anymore, but like with Tilly, in a way that means he can still come back from time to time.

Tarka was a terrific antagonist. He did terribly destructive things for completely selfish reasons, and tried to do even worse, but as a rational adult consumer of fiction, the main thing I care about is that his reasons were more complicated and interesting than “I am a moustache-twirling villain and I must twirl my evil moustache.” They made him sympathetic—and that’s putting it mildly—but never presented his very real and valid suffering as an excuse for his inexcusable behaviour. Nor, though, did they let his increasingly terrible choices erase the nuances of his character and motives. And leaving his fate ambiguous in the end was perfect. I don’t actually want to know if he made it to Kayalise… but I hope he did. I want to hope, despite everything, that he did.

SARU AND T’RINA!!!! Speaking of wholesome and heartwarming, omg. I can’t believe they actually did that—and I called it from her first appearance, but I thought I was joking! (From my notes on “Unification III” last season: “Is a Starfleet captain allowed to smooch the president of a whole planet? Asking for a Kelpian friend…”)

Everything about Species 10-C was incredible. Disco didn’t get enough credit for its visual overhaul last season: they had to take an already distant-future aesthetic and imagine the future of that, and the 32nd century ended up with such a cool and distinct look. And for this season, they had to imagine something that made plug-and-play programmable-matter spore drives look like steampunk—and I think they nailed it again! The DMA controller and the more complex and equally inscrutable Mk II design, the hyperfield and the orbs, the solar system with Dyson rings and three identical, presumably also artificial, gas giants… it’s still technology, not magic—and not omnipotent or invulnerable—but also incomprehensibly advanced compared to what we’re used to, and that’s a hard balance to get right.

Killing and then un-killing Book was, objectively, a cheap shot at our feelings, but “cheap” isn’t always “ineffective.” For one thing, I don’t think I’d trade that Sonequa Martin-Green performance for a less manipulative plot. I also think that for Michael’s arc to feel complete, we had to see that she could lose Book and still finish the mission—but if Book hadn’t been able to confront the 10-C over Kweijian himself, his entire arc would have been an unbearably tragic shaggy dog cat story. And imho, the rules about dei ex machina go out the wormhole once you invoke the Kardashev scale, so fuck it: Michael Burnham can have a little resurrected boyfriend, as a treat.

Other things about the season + finale:

I appreciated that Specialist Zora (!) smoothly integrated into the crew without any more repetitive “rogue AI” stories, but I do hope we spend more time on her next season.

Owosekun silently shaking her head in horror when she thinks Detmer is going on a suicide mission absolutely ended me. Oyin and Emily are carrying this entire ship on their backs and we owe them so much.

Hiro Kanagawa as Dr. Hirai was great. He’s often the only one in the room eating, which is a fun touch, and I really liked the way Rillak explained to him—and idk, maybe some of the audience?—that there’s a time and a place for sarcasm, sass, and snark, and it’s not “everywhere, all the time.”

I don’t think I’ve mentioned how much I love Dr. Pollard’s makeup this season—but that lipstick, omg.

Does anyone else want to ruffle Adira’s buzz cut every time they’re on screen? Just me? Okay then.

Finally: I don’t live in the U.S. and I limit my intake of international political news for the sake of my mental health, so while I’ve heard of Stacey Abrams—and literally heard her on the official Star Trek podcast last year—I had no idea what she actually looks like, and I was pretty hilariously confused the first time through that ending, lol.

But Ms. Abrams has serious and legitimate Trekkie cred, so I’m equal parts delighted for her as a fellow fan, and somewhat spitefully enjoying how much it’s enraged the alt-right scumbags who for some reason have a perpetual hate-boner for this show. Star Trek has never been for fascists and it never will be, and I approve of anything that rubs that permanent and incontrovertible fact in their faces. :) :) :)

Onward to Season 5!

[Screenshots from the fabulous cygnus-x1.net]

[mcmansionhell]

Underground, Part 1

[Author’s Note: A year ago, when waiting for the DC Metro, I came up with an idea for a short story involving two realtors and the infamous Las Vegas Underground House, typed up an outline, and shoved it away in my documents where it sat neglected until this month. The house recently resurfaced on Twitter, and combined with almost a year of quarantine, the story quickly materialized. Though I rarely write fiction, I decided I’d give it a shot as a kind of novelty McMansion Hell post. I’ve peppered the story with photos from the house to break up the walls of text. Hopefully you find it entertaining. I look forward to returning next month with the second installment of this as well as our regularly scheduled McMansion content. Happy New Year!

Warning: there’s lots of swearing in this.]

Underground

Back in 1997, Mathieu Rino, the son of two Finnish mechanical engineers who may or may not have worked intimately with the US State Department, changed his name to Jay Renault in order to sell more houses. It worked wonders.

He gets out of the car, shuts the door harder than he should. Renault wrinkles his nose. It’s a miserable Las Vegas afternoon - a sizzling, dry heat pools in ripples above the asphalt. The desert is a place that is full of interesting and diverse forms of life, but Jay’s the kind of American who sees it all as empty square-footage. He frowns at the dirt dusting up his alligator-skin loafers but then remembers that every lot, after all, has potential. Renault wipes the sweat from his leathery face, slicks back his stringy blond hair and adjusts the aviators on the bridge of his nose. The Breitling diving watch crowding his wrist looks especially big in the afternoon glare. He glances at it.

“Shit,” he says. The door on the other side of the car closes, as though in response. 

If Jay Renault is the consummate rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xer trying to sell houses to other rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xers, then Robert Little is his millennial counterpart. Both are very good at their jobs. Robert adjusts his tie in the reflection of the Porsche window, purses his lips. He’s Vegas-showman attractive, with dark hair, a decent tan, and a too-bright smile - the kind of attractive that ruins marriages but makes for an excellent divorcee. Mildly sleazy.

“Help me with these platters, will you?” Renault gestures, popping the trunk. Robert does not want to sweat too much before an open house, but he obliges anyway. They’re both wearing suits. The heat is unbearable. A spread of charcuterie in one hand, Jay double-checks his pockets for the house keys, presses the button that locks his car. 

Both men sigh, and their eyes slowly trail up to the little stucco house sitting smack dab in the center of an enormous lot, a sea of gravel punctuated by a few sickly palms. The house has the distinct appearance of being made of cardboard, ticky-tacky, a show prop. Burnt orange awnings don its narrow windows, which somehow makes it look even more fake. 

“Here we go again,” Jay mutters, fishing the keys out of his pocket. He jiggles them until the splintered plywood door opens with a croak, revealing a dark and drab interior – dusty, even though the cleaners were here yesterday. Robert kicks the door shut with his foot behind him.

 “Christ,” he swears, eyes trailing over the terrible ecru sponge paint adorning the walls. “This shit is so bleak.”

The surface-level house is mostly empty. There’s nothing for them to see or attend to there, and so the men step through a narrow hallway at the end of which is an elevator. They could take the stairs, but don’t want to risk it with the platters. After all, they were quite expensive. Renault elbows the button and the doors part. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” he says as they step inside. The fluorescent lights above them buzz something awful. A cheery metal sign welcomes them to “Tex’s Hideaway.” Beneath it is an eldritch image of a cave, foreboding. Robert’s stomach’s in knots. Ever since the company assigned him to this property, he’s been terrified of it. He tells himself that the house is, in fact, creepy, that it is completely normal for him to be ill at ease. The elevator’s ding is harsh and mechanical. They step out. Jay flips a switch and the basement is flooded with eerie light. 

It’s famous, this house - The Las Vegas Underground House. The two realtors refer to it simply as “the bunker.” Built by an eccentric millionaire at the height of Cold War hysteria, it’s six-thousand square feet of paranoid, aspirational fantasy. The first thing anyone notices is the carpet – too-green, meant to resemble grass, sprawling out lawn-like, bookmarked by fake trees, each a front for a steel beam. Nothing can grow here. It imitates life, unable to sustain it. The leaves of the ficuses seem particularly plastic.

Bistro sets scatter the ‘yard’ (if one can call it that), and there’s plenty of outdoor activities – a parquet dance floor complete with pole and disco ball, a putt putt course, an outdoor grill made to look like it’s nestled in a rock, but in reality better resembles a baked potato. The pool and hot tub, both sculpted in concrete and fiberglass mimicking a natural rock formation, are less Playboy grotto and more Fred Flintstone. It’s a very seventies idea of fun.

Then, of course, there’s the house. That fucking house. 

A house built underground in 1978 was always meant to be a mansard – the mansard roof was a historical inevitability. The only other option was International Style modernism, but the millionaire and his wife were red-blooded anti-Communists. Hence, the mansard. Robert thinks the house looks like a fast-food restaurant. Jay thinks it looks like a lawn and tennis club he once attended as a child where he took badminton lessons from a swarthy Czech man named Jan. It’s drab and squat, made more open by big floor-to-ceiling windows nestled under fresh-looking cedar shingles. There’s no weather down here to shrivel them up.

“Shall we?” Jay drawls. The two make their way into the kitchen and set the platters down on the white tile countertop. Robert leans up against the island, careful of the oversized hood looming over the electric stovetop. He eyes the white cabinets, accented with Barbie pink trim. The matching linoleum floor squeaks under his Italian loafers. 

“I don’t understand why we bother doing this,” Robert complains. “Nobody’s seriously going to buy this shit, and the company’s out a hundred bucks for party platters.”

“It’s the same every time,” Renault agrees. “The only people who show up are Instagram kids and the crazies - you know, the same kind of freaks who’d pay money to see Chernobyl.” 

“Dark tourism, they call it.”

Jay checks his watch again. Being in here makes him nervous.

“Still an hour until open house,” he mutters. “I wish we could get drunk.”

Robert exhales deeply. He also wishes he could get drunk, but still, a job’s a job.

“I guess we should check to see if everything’s good to go.”

The men head into the living room. The beamed, slanted ceiling gives it a mid-century vibe, but the staging muddles the aura. Jay remembers making the call to the staging company. “Give us your spares,” he told them, “Whatever it is you’re not gonna miss. Nobody’ll ever buy this house anyway.” 

The result is eclectic – a mix of office furniture, neo-Tuscan McMansion garb, and stuffy waiting-room lamps, all scattered atop popcorn-butter shag carpeting. Hideous, Robert thinks. Then there’s the ‘entertaining’ room, which is a particular pain in the ass to them, because the carpet was so disgusting, they had to replace it with that fake wood floor just to be able to stand being in there for more than five minutes. There’s a heady stone fireplace on one wall, the kind they don’t make anymore, a hearth. Next to it, equally hedonistic, a full bar. Through some doors, a red-painted room with a pool table and paintings of girls in fedoras on the wall. It’s all so cheap, really. Jay pulls out a folded piece of paper out of his jacket pocket along with a pen. He ticks some boxes and moves on.

The dining room’s the worst to Robert. Somehow the ugly floral pattern on the curtains stretches up in bloomer-like into a frilly cornice, carried through to the wallpaper and the ceiling, inescapable, suffocating. It smells like mothballs and old fabric. The whole house smells like that. 

The master bedroom’s the most normal – if anything in this house could be called normal. Mismatched art and staging furniture crowd blank walls. When someone comes into a house, Jay told Robert all those years ago, they should be able to picture themselves living in it. That’s the goal of staging. 

There’s two more bedrooms. The men go through them quickly. The first isn’t so bad – claustrophobic, but acceptable – but the saccharine pink tuille wallpaper of the second gives Renault a sympathetic toothache. The pair return to the kitchen to wait.

Both men are itching to check their phones, but there’s no point – there’s no signal in here, none whatsoever. Renault, cynical to the core, thinks about marketing the house to the anti-5G people. It’s unsettlingly quiet. The two men have no choice but to entertain themselves the old-fashioned way, through small talk.

“It’s really fucked up, when you think about it,” Renault muses.

“What is?”

“The house, Bob.”

Robert hates being called Bob. He’s told Jay that hundreds of times, and yet…

“Yeah,” Robert mutters, annoyed.

“No, really. Like, imagine. You’re rich, you founded a major multinational company marketing hairbrushes to stay-at-home moms, and what do you decide to do with your money? Move to Vegas and build a fucking bunker. Like, imagine thinking the end of the world is just around the corner, forcing your poor wife to live there for ten, fifteen years, and then dying, a paranoid old man.” Renault finds the whole thing rather poetic. 

“The Russkies really got to poor ol’ Henderson, didn’t they?” Robert snickers.

“The wife’s more tragic if you ask me,” Renault drawls. “The second that batshit old coot died, she called a guy to build a front house on top of this one, since she already owned the lot. Poor woman probably hadn’t seen sunlight in God knows how long.”

“Surely they had to get groceries.”

Jay frowns. Robert has no sense of drama, he thinks. Bad trait for a realtor.

“Still,” he murmurs. “It’s sad.”

“I would have gotten a divorce, if I were her,” the younger man says, as though it were obvious. It’s Jay’s turn to laugh.

“I’ve had three of those, and trust me, it’s not as easy as you think.”

“You’re seeing some new girl now, aren’t you?” Robert doesn’t really care, he just knows Jay likes to talk about himself, and talking fills the time.  

“Yeah. Casino girl. Twenty-six.”

“And how old are you again?”

“None of your business.”

“Did you see the renderings I emailed to you?” Robert asks briskly, not wanting to discuss Jay’s sex life any further.

“What renderings?”

“Of this house, what it could look like.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Jay has not seen the renderings.

“If it were rezoned,” Robert continues, feeling very smart, “It could be a tourist attraction - put a nice visitor’s center on the lot, make it sleek and modern. Sell trinkets. It’s a nice parcel, close to the Strip - some clever investor could make it into a Museum of Ice Cream-type thing, you know?”

“Museum of Ice Cream?”

“In New York. It’s, not, like, educational or anything. Really, it’s just a bunch of colorful rooms where kids come to take pictures of themselves.”

“Instagram,” Jay mutters. “You know, I just sold a penthouse the other week to an Instagram influencer. Takes pictures of herself on the beach to sell face cream or some shit. Eight-point-two million dollars.”

“Jesus,” Robert whistles. “Fat commission.”

“You’re telling me. My oldest daughter turns sixteen this year. She’s getting a Mazda for Christmas.”

“You ever see that show, My Super Sweet Sixteen? On MTV? Where rich kids got, like, rappers to perform at their birthday parties? Every time at the end, some guy would pull up in, like, an Escalade with a big pink bow on it and all the kids would scream.”

“Sounds stupid,” Jay says.

“It was stupid.”

It’s Robert’s turn to check his watch, a dainty gold Rolex.

“Fuck, still thirty minutes.”

“Time really does stand still in here, doesn’t it?” Jay remarks.

“We should have left the office a little later,” Robert complains. “The charcuterie is going to get –“

A deafening sound roars through the house and a violent, explosive tremor throws both men on the ground, shakes the walls and everything between them. The power’s out for a few seconds before there’s a flicker, and light fills the room again. Two backup generators, reads Jay’s description in the listing - an appeal to the prepper demographic, which trends higher in income than non-preppers. For a moment, the only things either are conscious of are the harsh flourescent lighting and the ringing in their ears. Time slows, everything seems muted and too bright. Robert rubs the side of his face, pulls back his hand and sees blood.

“Christ,” he chokes out. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” Jay breathes, looking at his hands, trying to determine if he’s got a concussion. The results are inconclusive – everything’s slow and fuzzy, but after a moment, he thinks it might just be shock.

“It sounded like a fucking 747 just nosedived on top of us.” 

“Yeah, Jesus.” Jay’s still staring at his fingers in a daze. “You okay?”

“I think so,” Robert grumbles. Jay gives him a cursory examination.

“Nothing that needs stitches,” he reports bluntly. Robert’s relieved. His face sells a lot of houses to a lot of lonely women and a few lonely men. There’s a muffled whine, which the two men soon recognize as a throng of sirens. Both of them try to calm the panic rising in their chests, to no avail.

“Whatever the fuck happened,” Jay says, trying to make light of the situation, “At least we’re in here. The bunker.”

Fear forms in the whites of Robert’s eyes.

“What if we’re stuck in here,” he whispers, afraid to speak such a thing into the world. The fear spreads to his companion.

“Try the elevator,” Jay urges, and Robert gets up, wobbles a little as his head sorts itself out, and leaves. A moment later, Jay hears him swear a blue streak, and from the kitchen window, sees him standing before the closed metal doors, staring at his feet. His pulse racing, Renault jogs out to see for himself.

“It’s dead,” Robert murmurs. 

“Whatever happened,” Jay says cautiously, rubbing the back of his still-sore neck, “It must have been pretty bad. Like, I don’t think we should go up yet. Besides, surely the office knows we’re still down here.”

“Right, right,” the younger man breathes, trying to reassure himself.

“Let’s just wait it out. I’m sure everything’s fine.” The way Jay says it does not make Robert feel any better. 

“Okay,” the younger man grumbles. “I’m getting a fucking drink, though.”

“Yeah, Jesus. That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.” Renault shoves his hands in his suit pocket to keep them from trembling.  

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[tarosin]

the great adventures of y/n and ranboo

this is an extra part to the great adventures series

summary: part two to the angst imagine (the not so great adventures of y/n tommy tubbo jack and ranboo) it’s a happier ‘ending’ please read what is written in bold

this is an “alternative ending” around 15 years into the future this doesn’t mean this is actually how the series is going to end im writing it now and including it as part of series as their friendship is already established i can confirm y/n and the group are going to have a happy ending when the series eventually comes to an end this also does not mean the series is anywhere near the end i plan on continuing the series as vlogs come out, i feel the need to confirm this now love between y/n and ranboo in this imagine is completely platonic

it had been about a month since you last streamed whereas ranboo continued to stream a few days after the fallout as he wanted to make sure you were going to be okay. even though ranboo knew this huge fallout would eventually happen, it still hurt him, especially since he knew there was no way to prevent it, the four of you in the same house mixed with the stress of being some of the most-watched content creators made living rather difficult. it was like walking on eggshells as you didn’t want to interrupt someone's stream, then there was the additional stress of obsessive fans finding out where the four of you lived, you still remember that day very vividly. you were sat in between tubbo and ranboo watching the office whilst Tommy was in an interview when you received a message from your mod.

Chris: hey y/n I received this message earlier I don’t want to scare you, but maybe get the locks changed. someone sent a message claiming this is your address *image of message from ‘fan’*

it didn’t take long for tubbo and ranboo to receive a message from their mods saying the same thing

“holy shit...”

“chances are Tommy has the message too. we shall go check around the house when Tommy is done with the interview.”

luckily no one ever showed up to the house, but the fact some people were so obsessed to the point they found your address was enough to put everyone in the house on edge. and now it was just you and ranboo in the house. you didn’t feel safe as even though ranboo promised to not let anything happen, you didn’t wanna risk it.

“we should move. there’s no point in having such a big house for two people, what are we going to use the extra space for heh? hide and seek with people who have our address. no thank you. I say we move leave this mess behind and start completely over, hell I’d feel safer in the us and that’s saying something”

ranboo agreed the house didn’t have the happiest memories attached to it anymore, it hurt walking past the hallway as it would bring back the memory of him crying into the crook of y/ns neck whilst tubbo left the house.

“let’s do it, I’ll do an early stream then we can look for houses. go take a shower. I’ll stay close to the door so you’re safe, then you can stay in my room whilst I stream, you can join me if you would like.”

“you’re being very protective all of a sudden...let me guess you got the message from our mods announcing the obsessive fans are at it again?”

“go take a shower.”

“no.”

ranboo ended up picking you up, carried you to the bathroom and turned the shower on before putting you on your feet.

“quick shower I’ll see you later.”

and with that he left the room shutting the door behind him, 30 minutes later you got changed and followed ranboo to his room ready to join him whilst he streams

“hey boo, can I join you? I kinda wanna get into streaming again.”

“I'm so glad you asked, I was going to do a face cam stream, if that’s okay?”

“of course.”

you grabbed his mask and glasses whilst he locked the door so you were both safe. “here you go.”

“thank you.”

the pair of you started the stream and it was honestly going well, you were having so much fun you forgot about all the negative things currently going on, you began to understand why ranboo continued streaming as for those 2-4 hours of streaming it felt as though everything was back to normal. 3 hours later the two of you ended stream and Twitter went crazy. tweets ranged from fans talking about how ranboo was streaming with you, how Tommy was in chat, and how tubbo was modding as people who mentioned anything about their address being leaked were banned by tubbo. the one thing that caught ranboos eye was fan art and a picture of you both from the stream captioned ‘they’re platonic soulmates your honour’ ranboo went as far to like, retweet and comment on it.

ranaltboo: glad you liked the stream it was great having y/n back, think I might make them play tattletail next stream

definitelynoty/n: isn’t that the Furby game that terrified you in 2021? bring it on boo!

Twitter went crazy over this interaction, you had finally come back to social media after months of being inactive, and it looked like you were here to stay. a month later you and ranboo moved out of the house and sold it to your aunt and her wife and their three adopted children, you explained the situation and even changed the locks for them all before they moved in.

“Please do tell us if anyone shows up who shouldn’t be. we changed the locks as you were aware- oh hello little one.”

you noticed one of their children decided to cling onto your leg

“I like your hair it’s colourful!”

“Indeed it is.”

“WOAH A GIANT!”

the little girl let go of your leg and ran to ranboo asking to be picked up, unsure of what to do he looked towards you. however, you were too busy laughing about the fact he was compared to a giant.

“I'm so sorry uh if you want to pick her up you can, you don’t have to.”

“pick me up, tall man... I want to be taller!”

ranboo ended up standing next to you with an arm around your waist whilst the child sat on his shoulders happily playing with his hair.

“ranboo do not drop that child.”

“I didn't- I didn't plan on it y/n.”

eventually, it was time to leave and the child reluctantly let go of ranboo.

“bye-bye!! hope to see you soon!”

soon enough you were at a smaller house, far away from the old house, leaving behind the negative feelings. it could only get better, a week later the pair of you had settled into the new house, it finally felt like home. you and ranboo were now streaming full time again, safe to say the two of you were thriving and closer than ever.

“so I’m thinking if I hit the sub-goal today I’ll let chat pick what colour I dye my hair.”

“make it higher, and I’ll let you cut my hair.”

“Are you being serious? oh my god!”

a few minutes later you took to Twitter to announce you were going live.

y/n: kidnapping children in the sims with ranboo psst check the subgoal.

within 20 minutes you had hit the sub-goal, chat ended up picking another random neon colour for your hair.

“right hair dye and the cutting stream will be this weekend, now let’s go back to kidnapping.”

tubbo, tommy, and jack felt awful for what happened and went back to the house where you used to live, hoping to see you there so they could apologise, tubbo knocked on the door only to be met by a young child.

“my sister watches you on twitch!”

“oh that’s lovely.. are y/n and ranboo here?”

an older woman came to the door.

“oh no, I’m sorry dear they both moved out, but they left this box and said to give it to you if you returned.”

“do you know where they moved to?”

“I'm sorry dear, I'm not allowed to tell you that information for safety reasons.”

“I understand, thanks anyway.”

they ended up going back to jacks where the three of them had been staying.

“We should open the box.”

tubbo opened the box and emptied the items onto the floor, inside was the rocks y/n handed tubbo from every trip, photos of the group, a necklace y/n had gifted to Tommy a day before the argument, and a hat y/n had taken from jack during a trip to a zoo.

“what the fuck!”

“holy shit!”

“they really kept all these in hopes we would come back?”

“and now we’re too late.”

it was now the weekend you and ranboo were ready to stream, you stood leaning on ranboo who was significantly smaller than you as you lowered the chair he sat on.

“starting stream...now.”

after the starting soon intro played, you explained what was happening to any new viewers or people who didn’t watch the stream.

“so I’m about to become Edward Scissorhands...I love that film can we watch it later?”

“yeah mhm sure!”

you didn’t know this but your ex best friends were watching and ever so often would show up in the chat.

“so boo, what are we doing with your hair today?”

“just a trim please darling?”

“This is y/ns hairdressers you get what I’m capable of!”

you ended up doing a pretty good job of cutting ranboos hair, even he was impressed.

“I didn’t doubt you for a minute!”

“mhm sure thing please don’t mess up my hair tall one!”

soon enough you had the dye on. 45 minutes later you left to wash it off, leaving ranboo to entertain stream,

“chat I think I missed some of their hair it’s okay, I own scissors, I’ll just cut it.. speaking of they did a great job, didn't they? I honestly expected them to mess up.”

a few minutes later you joined ranboo again and spent the next few hours talking with chat. tubbo, tommy, and jack stayed the entire time. they loved the fact you and ranboo were able to stay close after what happened, Tommy noticed you were still wearing the necklace he got you many years ago and spammed them chat with him tubbo and jack

Tommy: THEYRE WEARING THE NECKLACE!!

jack: so what? they clearly don’t wanna talk to us.

tubbo: shut up listen to them.

“chat why are we spamming platonic soulmates?”

“they’ve been saying it all over Twitter, look on trending y/n.”

you started to blush slightly at all the amazing artwork soon enough the stream came to an end, after saying goodbye the pair of you sat together going through fan art. unfortunately the one that caught your eye was this one twitter post where the artist had created a drawing of a piece of paper with you, ranboo, tommy, tubbo, and jack, however the paper was ripped separating you and ranboo from the others, captioned ‘it was never meant to be’ this clearly upset ranboo as he took off his mask and glasses placing them on the desk before going straight to his bed.

“boo…are you okay?”

“Are you tired of me? are you going to leave next?”

“what? no of course not! I could never get tired of you, why do you ask?”

“everyone else has left..i thought they cared about us, i knew it would happen eventually and i couldn’t stop it, i’m sorry, y/n, please don’t hate me.”

you sat on the edge of the bed looking down at the floor,

“come here.”

you watched him roll over to face you.

“you know there’s no one else who I'd rather spend the rest of my life with, right…if i hated you i wouldn’t have moved house with you. it’s not your job to fix everything and make everything better, you’re a streamer for christ sake not a therapist.”

“i guess so.. can we watch that thing you were on about for ages.”

“edward scissorhands? “

“mhm!”

you could tell he wanted to be distracted, so you agreed and put the film on, towards the end you began to get upset due to how overwhelming everything was.

“Why are you crying?”

“poor Edward.”

“come here.”

ranboo pulled you into a hug you laid there crying into his chest, he knew that wasn’t the reason you were crying, but he wasn’t about to make you tell him, luckily it didn’t take long for you to stop crying as ranboo quickly distracted you.

“ranboo..”

“yeah y/n?”

“I feel bad i didnt realise how much pressure was on you whilst everyone was arguing.”

“Hey, it’s okay, is that what’s upsetting you?”

“mhm.”

“don’t blame yourself, i’d do it all over again to keep you safe and happy..then again i didn’t do a good job on keeping you happy.”

“you did..you were always there for me even when i gave up on social media, you shared your room with me after i started receiving creepy messages from that obsessed fan, hell you even went on adventures with me even though it was clear you hadn’t been sleeping, just so we could spend time together and forget about what was happening. you mean a lot to me boo.”

“i love you.”

“i love you too bud, I’m tired.”

“go to sleep, it’s been a long day.”

“okay.”

“you just staying there?”

“yes.”

“oh, oh okay, goodnight.”

about a year later the two of you were still thriving, ranboo got you a promise ring a few months earlier.

“heh what’s this for?”

“as your best friend i promise to stay by your side and keep you safe and make sure that you’re happy, in other words you're stuck with me till the end of time.”

“boo…i really don’t know what to say.. thank you so much!”

“you don’t have to say anything!”

you ended up going out to buy him a promise ring when he started the stream and decided to take your cousins with you now that they were a little older. ranboo was doing a facecam stream when the door slammed open revealing you covering your three younger cousins ranboo not realising you were hiding them from the camera, instinctively stood up covering the camera

“ranboooooo!”

“yes you three and y/n ,what do you need?”

“we would like to watch a film!”

“Okay, i’ll go put one on, y/n will you entertain chat?”

“sure thing boo boy!”

once they left you sat fixing your hair forgetting you were wearing the ring chat noticed this and went crazy, so did Tommys group with tubbo and jack.

tubbo: that’s a ring, right??

jack: yeah looks like it.

Tommy: holy shit I always thought if anyone was gonna get married it would be tubbo and y/n, they were inseparable.

tubbo: hilarious.

jack: it could just be a ring, no one mentioned marriage tommy!

Tommy: we should congratulate them.

jack: at least let them explain fucking hell.

soon enough ranboo came back into the room,

“sorry one of them found it hilarious to steal my glasses...”

“they’re little shits i swear to god but i love them.”

you both noticed chat going crazy and both looked at each other before laughing.

“i'm sorry, i can’t take you serious in the mask and glasses!”

“i can’t take you serious with neon hair, but here we are!”

“rude!”

you and ranboo quickly put an end to the rumours,

“no we’re not engaged or married, it is a promise ring. no they’re not our children, they’re y/ns cousins they just spend a lot of time here..chat stop calling me and y/n parents and comparing us to phil that’s not..that’s not how it works okay!”

“parent arc!”

“y/n, don’t encourage them!”

“it’s a little bit funny!”

soon enough the bit came to an end and eventually ranboo ended the stream.

“hey boo look what i got you”

you handed him a little black box, inside was a ring similar to yours

“i promise to always stick around and be here for you”

“oh my god”

ranboo tackled you into a hug thanking you several times for his rings. you and ranboo were living your best life meanwhile jack, tommy, and tubbo were stuck dealing with the guilt of what happened, but they’re weren’t giving up that easy. they wanted you both back, that’s when you received a notification, tommyinnit has sent you a message request: hey y/n can we talk..please?

taglist

@dumb-chaotic-bi-energy @uselesssapphickitten @l0ver0fj0y @etheriaaly @xx-smiley-xx @hawarun @kylobensgirl @cawcaw-pretty-thing @reverse-iak @renleicrashed @augustine-is-joy @c1loudee

[90stvshowgoth]

—BREAKING & ENTERING

—ch.1 —ch.2

summary: after dabi was seen leaving your apartment complex last week, the commission has sent a lesser known hero to help guard the building until new cameras are installed. however, no security measures in the world could keep dabi out.

w/c: 5064

tags: dubcon, cuckolding, creampie, voyeurism, humiliation, exhibitionism, arson

a/n: this is the final chapter to this little duology, and the reason why its so much shorter is because the first one was really supposed to stand on its own, but i got so many requests for a sequel i couldn’t help it. so i just took the kinks i didn’t get to use last time and pay off some setup and voila. however, just ‘cause this is the last chapter of this story doesn’t mean i’m not gonna write a fuck ton of other stuff for him. ily burn man. plus i’m working on a huge, multi-chapter fic for him while i post smaller one-shots >:) that being said, enjoy.

The impact Dabi left on your life was far bigger than you thought it would’ve been on the night you snuck him away from the law. As he was running from the cops someone saw him climb through your window, and a different person also saw him climb down the fire escape. With witnesses like that, the other tenants were downright furious.

You almost felt bad for the landlord, it wasn’t his fault you were insane enough to willingly let a villain come inside both you and your apartment.

Your landlord and the police department came up with a solution. The apartment complex would be installing new state-of-the-art locks on all fire-escape adjacent windows free of charge. This wasn’t exactly an issue with seeing Dabi again, since all you had to do was purposefully leave yours unlocked.

It would take two weeks to install all the cameras, but until then, a community-assigned hero would be stationed to guard the complex.

His name was Kao, a middle-ranked hero with bright orange hair and a winning smile framed with dimples. At first you thought he might’ve been one of the better heroes, waving you off to work and walking you there the other day, but recently he’d begun to creep you out. The friendly conversations about a tv show you both enjoyed began to turn into invasive questions about your love life.

A week of lingering glances and uncomfortable prying culminated that Friday as he had flat out asked you to dinner moments prior.

“C’mon, I just— I said that wrong, lemme try again,” He stuttered, keeping pace with you as you marched towards the building.

“No, Kao, look, you’re cool and all, but I’m really not looking to date anyone right now.” You huffed, striding into the doorway and towards the elevator. That might not’ve been the whole truth but you obviously couldn’t tell him that you had the hots for a terrorist.

He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck, “Well you just got off work, right? I remember which room you stay in, maybe I can swing by tonight?”

You whirled on him, your jaw slack in shock at the insensitivity of his words. The reminder that he knew where you lived sending a shiver down your spine, “Kao, this conversation is done. I don’t want you following me around anymore, hero,”

Deep down, your words sounded familiar. If they were raspier and said behind a thin veil of indifference, you might’ve realized that you were talking like Dabi.

“What is that supposed to mean? We’re the good guys!” You slammed your fist down on the close-door button, your mouth a thin line, daring Kao to make a move and stop the doors. He didn’t, and soon the reassuring pull of the elevator set your shaking body at ease.

‘Who does he think he is?’ You were bitter, rightfully so, you think.

You were so frustrated that you had difficulty inserting your keys into the lock, twisting it with a growl and throwing open the door, ready to collapse onto your pillow and vent to whoever was online about your heroic stalker.

When you noticed the scent of cigarettes in the air.

“Hey, doll,” Warmth surged through your chest at the sight of him, the villain’s feet kicked up onto the coffee table.

You were hanging your coat on the hook before moving beside him to the couch, “What took you so long?”

“Not happy to see me? You seem a lot bitchier than I remember,” The crude edge of his humor was a breath of fresh air compared to the stifling niceties of work, and you smiled for what felt like the first time that day.

Shaking your head, you toed out of your boots and made your way to the frayed couch, “I’ll tell you all about him,”

That got his attention, “Him?”

“A hero,” Dabi’s frown worsened, an accusatory look in his eyes, “before you ask, no, you idiot, I hate this guy, there’s not a chance I’d sleep with him.”

The tensity in his shoulders relaxed, bring the half-finished Newport to his lips as you continued, “Since you broke in last week all my neighbors lost their shit. They threatened to sue if my landlord didn’t assign a hero to watch the building for a bit. I thought he was cool, but I’ve just decided that he’s a total prick.”

He hummed, nodding understandingly, “Want me to kill him?”

You gaped, hitting him on the chest, “Wha—No, Dabi, what the hell?”

He just shrugged, the intensity of his words almost funny to you, and as you recounted the last twenty minutes the ashes of Dabi’s cigarette fell to the floor. The dying lights of the sun streamed through your window, the smoke oddly beautiful in the glow as he handed you the last hit of his cheap cigar.

“You know why heroes are like that?” You shook your head, enjoying the numbing calm of tobacco, “It’s cause they’re spoiled. They go their entire lives being praised for everything they do so they don’t know how to take no for a fuckin’ answer,”

Apparently your smoking buddy was feeling talkative, much to your delight. His words made you pause, remembering the relieved faces of your neighbors whenever they’d see the gaudy costume Kao wore as he strode by.

“Shit... guess you’re right,” You mumbled into his side, not minding the ever-present aroma of burnt skin and smoke that clung to Dabi’s coat.

He scoffed, “I’m always right, baby,” His words earning him a pinch on the arm.

“No, you ass, just about the hero stuff,” He grinned, the staples on his dimples taut against his skin as he pulled you closer, his breath hot against your ear.

“Careful, doll, you’re starting to sound like a villain,” The drop in your stomach sent heat down your skin, yet somehow you were still shivering under his predatory gaze.

You shook your head, trying to will away the red that dusted your cheeks, “No way, my quirk isn’t strong enough to be a villain,”

He raised his eyebrow expectantly, broadly gesturing for you to go on.

“Well...” God, why is this embarrassing? “I can give people headaches.”

You didn’t know if he would laugh at you or belittle you for your meaningless quirk, but he did neither.

“Think you could practice it more? Get better at it?” He was serious, staring at you and expecting an answer.

You looked away, unable to hold his gaze, “I mean, maybe? It’s not hard to do, I guess,”

Dabi smirked, pulling you onto his lap. It felt as if the week hadn’t happened at all and you were right back where you started, your face flushing at the memories of that night. He dragged you close, eyes dark as he whispered something into your ear...

“Think you could split someone’s head open with a migraine?”

Your gut wrenched, flinching at the gory idea and making you sit up in Dabi’s lap. The atmosphere in the room hadn’t changed, his stare as menacing as before.

That is, until he started to crack up. Louder than you’d ever heard before, his fit filled the apartment until he had to cup his stomach from laughing too hard; the wheeze in his rough throat echoing around the room as your blush spread all the way down your neck.

“Oh, you asshole!” If anything, your shove against his chest only made him more giddy. The panic-fueled adrenaline was still surging through your body, unwillingly making the wetness between your thighs spread, even as you tried to wrap your head around the fact that Dabi had been fucking with you.

Your legs shook as he held on to you for balance, his cackling dying down but the shit-eating grin never leaving his face, “You were so freaked out, huh?”

“Yeah, no shit!”

He hummed, running a hand through your hair and suddenly yanking you forward, basking in the sharp yelp it brought from you, “You’re cute when you’re scared,”

You’d missed the way his scabbed lips felt on yours more than you’d ever admit. There was something about him that left you breathless, eager and questioning your life choices. Groaning into his mouth before pulling back and laving your slick tongue along his disfigured lower lip, you rolled your aching heat against him to force a truly pornographic moan from his mouth.

“Oh, fuck—” One of his hands slid down your back, grabbing your ass through your jeans, “Fucking hell, you missed me that much?”

You nodded dumbly into his shoulder, pressing chaste kisses along the ragged skin as he slid his finger past the band of your jeans, cupping your dripping sex with wide eyes.

“Goddamn, s’no way you’re this wet for me already,” His eyes were scrutinizing, trying to figure out why you were hiding into his neck, “What’s got you so worked up, doll?”

You couldn’t come up with a good excuse in time, Dabi thinking back to how your thighs had tightened up when he asked if you could kill someone, your eyes were frightened back then, yes, but there was something else. Something you wouldn’t tell him.

When the realization hit him, it hit hard.

“Holy shit, you get off on being scared?” He couldn’t believe his luck, the embarrassed groan you buried into his shoulder confirming his suspicions.

Dabi ran a hand through his hair, a childish wonder over his features, “Aren’t I fuckin’ lucky?” He sneered, pulling you back til you were at eye-level again.

“I’m gonna try something, baby,” there was an edge to his voice as he settled one hand on the small of your back, pressing your tits against his chest as he held your bra strap back with the other.

“What are you… Dabi, what are you doing?” The scent of fire and burning fabric filled the air, the ends of your bralette smoking between his fingertips, embers turning to ash and sprinkling down the couch until it was flimsy enough for Dabi to rip free, teeth sinking into your neck as he held you still to keep your skin safe.

It was jarring and a bit terrifying to be restrained against someone like Dabi without knowing his intentions. But nothing in you could deny the blinding rush of pleasure it ripped down your spine.

“It’s all starting to make sense, doll-face, I guess I was right the first time,” His hands tossed the smoking bra into hallway, reaching between you and torturously pinching and pulling on the rosy blush of your tits, “you do have a thing for villains,”

“Can’t wait to fuck that tight pussy again, doll,” Without warning he shoved your torso forward, your body bouncing against the couch, his hands flying to the button of your jeans.

“—Didn’t have time to take you right last time, didn’t get to taste you,” his words made you whimper in his grasp, keeping your legs somewhat raised as tugged down the tight denim.

You fully expected him to take you rough like before, make you choke on his cock before having his fill, but as he tugged off your black panties he crawled down the trembling body beneath him, slowly moving over your ribs, your stomach, and finally your drooling cunt.

He never broke eye contact with you as he pulled your thighs closer, keeping them spread wide as the hot fan of his breath on your pussy sent a thrill through your neglected nerves.

“I want you to scream my name,” It was an order, not a request. The unhinged tremor in his hands was unsettling, an unspoken threat hanging in the air.

Dabi’s tongue immediately found your clit, mouth wrapping around the glistening bead and sucking all at once, the moan it drew from your lips unholy. He moaned at the taste, hiking up your hips onto his shoulders.

“Christ, you’re sweet, doll, like fuckin’ candy...” He muttered in disbelief, more to himself that to you, licking a wide stripe along your drenched lips, diving into you deep enough to have your limbs spasming around him.

On instinct your hand flew to your mouth to muffle the sharp cry that the villain drew. He didn’t warn you before bringing his hand up high and slapping it into the bare skin of your thigh, a scream echoing through the living room. Distantly, you wondered if your neighbors could hear...

“Don’t you dare hide a single sound from me, slut, or this ends now,” his ultimatum was scary but the insult felt heavy in a way you’d never felt before, and you nodded without a second thought, breathlessly bunching one hand into the arm of the couch above you and the other into the ashy black of his hair.

You nodded down to him, silently saying to continue; the villain fixed on watching as your chest swelled in time with your breathing, a rush of blood going to the heat of his cock.

His pace was hungry, nipping at your thighs whenever he thought you were too comfortable, spinning circles into your clit with his tongue and chuckling at the noises it brought, “You gonna cum, princess?” You could only respond with a scream of his name, the plea music to his ears, but he needed you to be louder if he was to get what he wanted.

“Louder,” Dabi called your name like a prayer, moaning into your cunt as you practically suffocated him between your thighs, “Fuck—Louder, baby, scream it,”

“Dabi!!” Your orgasm was hot against his tongue and he drank in every last drop of your climax until you were wrenching away his greedy mouth, your pussy swollen and red from his care.

Just as you started to compose yourself, a frantic banging sounded on the door. Someone from the hallway was slamming down their fist, screaming your name.

“Hey! Did you just say Dabi?! Are you okay in there?” It was Kao.

Horror clawed away any kind of afterglow as you cupped your hand to your mouth, leaning up on your elbow and whispering, “What do I say?”

Dabi’s voice was just low enough to hide behind the pounding of Kao’s fists, “Do you trust me?”

Before you could answer the hero behind the wall called your name again.

“If you don’t answer me in five seconds I’m breaking this door down!”

Your gaze flickered from the front door to the villain that was wiping your slick from his chin.

“Yes,”

Dabi grinned, grabbing your wrists and holding you against his shirt, one hand wrapped painfully around your tits and the other erupting with blue fire in his palm.

“Come and get her, hero!” You made a confused squeal, thrashing around in his grasp, eyes wide and afraid as Dabi shushed into your ear, trying to calm you down.

‘Like hell if you’d calm down, he’d practically just signed your death sentence!’ you heaved against the fugitive, trying to shake yourself free to no avail.

All you could do was squeeze your eyes shut and imagine you were somewhere else as door was jolted in its hinges, the doorknob falling with a distant clang, and before you could beg Dabi to stop whatever stupid game he was playing, Kao ran into the room, eyes furrowed and fists raised as the door squeaked on the loose hinges behind him, blissfully unaware.

“Where are y—“ Kao’s voice paused mid-sentence, you flinched in Dabi’s hold, the heat of the redhead’s stare washing over you, naked and wet, making you tilt your head down, trying to hide yourself from the world.

“Isn’t she cute, hero?” Dabi rasped against you, the heat of his fire illuminated against the sweaty sheen of your trembling body. Kao didn’t know what to do, flustered and struggling to hide the tent in his latex costume.

You knew fighting back against the villain was pointless, falling limp in the strength of his arms as he chuckled into your neck, looking over at the bump in his pants, “You were right, babe, I think he likes you,”

“Get your filthy hands off of her!” Kao screamed, diving towards the couch with his fist raised back.

Dabi simply grinned, carefully hovering his flame ever closer to your now bare tits, you couldn’t help but scream at the proximity, and whatever plan Kao had in his mind died before his fist could make impact.

His novocaine laced voice spoke calmly beside your ear, “Any closer and she’s dead,” The hot rush down your legs wasn’t due to his flames, as one hand took to rubbing your sensitive sex, the sounds it elicited from you unintentional and mortifying under the presence of Kao in the room.

“What... what do you want, you bastard?” Dabi laughed at that one, tweaking your clit between his fingers and conducting the most beautiful notes from your pillowy lips.

“I think It’s pretty obvious what I want, don’t you think?” Your name on his lips sent you keening against him despite the inferno roaring inches away from your skin. He couldn’t move without Dabi’s flames hovering ever closer to your heaving chest, and to Kao, you were very clearly about to die. Although you didn’t believe Dabi would hurt you, he had asked you to trust him before he got Kao’s attention, after all, the line between foreplay and conflagration was becoming blurry.

Kao backed up into the half wall that separated the living room from the kitchen, barely making an effort to try and hide his erection anymore, “I’ll send you to fucking Tartarus for this, Dabi.”

“Oooo, scary,” His unlit hand trailed down your jawline, tilting you to his side until he could slide his tongue into your open lips, humming into your mouth, “What do you think, doll?

“Dabi, please... wait,“ The strength in your voice wasn’t as heated as before, and even you had to admit it sounded half-assed.

Kao’s quirk must be no good for long range because all he could do was stand there, trying to avert his eyes from your drooling cunt in favor of glaring daggers at the coy villain pulling soft mewls from your lips, “I swear... I’ll see you rot in prison for this. You’ll be fucking executed, you rapist—“

“—woah, woah, that stings, hero. Doll, is that really what I’m doin’?” You groaned, not exactly answering because you couldn’t hear the question, your eyes still shut tight in embarrassment.

The growl in his voice sent another soaking rush towards your pussy, as his hand grabbed you jaw, pulling you up, “Look at me,” Your eyes widened at the sight of Dabi so close to you, his chest warm against your back, the aches of your last orgasm fading into something new.

“Tell me to stop, princess, your call,” Time stood still as Dabi kissed a soft pathway along your neck, weirdly gentle as he listened for your response, his clothed hard-on pressed firmly against your ass.

Too flustered to speak, you merely wrenched your arm free from his grasp, carding you hand through his hair and pulling him to your desperate lips. You could feel him tug into a smirk against you as your hips eagerly ground themselves on him despite the audience.

Kao choked on his own spit, stepping backwards, but stopped when Dabi aimed his ignited hand towards the hero who was having difficulty piecing together your actions in his head. “What,” His voice cracked when he called out your name, “are you...?”

Dabi pulled away, a feral glint in the blue hidden beneath his hair as he licked a disgustingly wet stripe along your cheek, chest rumbling behind you as you squirmed at the gross feeling, “I’m still gonna need you to beg, sweetheart.”

Your dignity was hanging by a thread, hinging on whether or not you followed his lead, but the insane buzz your anxiety had stirred up under Kao’s confused stare and Dabi’s aching cock was impossible to ignore. He rut himself into the dripping curve of your ass, his jeans soaked with your slick as you found the courage to speak.

“Fuh...” Carefully, Dabi pressed a loving kiss to your temple, his stare fixated on Kao’s as you strung the syllables together, “Fuck me, Dabi,”

The hero couldn’t believe his ears. She’d turned him down countless times despite his pursuits, yet she was somehow fine with this? Kao briefly thought that perhaps his crush was a villain this whole time, but that couldn’t make sense with her weak quirk.

You felt Dabi twitch beneath you, the shameless way you showed yourself off was as humiliating as it was hot, and he laughed in lightheaded disbelief against the back of your neck, taking your ass in one hand and slipping the other down his pants, tugging off the painful metal zipper until his boxers were pulled down just enough for his cock to finally be met with the soft warmth of your cunt.

“As the lady commands,” Dabi grinned, reaching around your waist to take his pierced dick in his hand, rubbing and tapping his swollen head deliberately against your clit, pre-cum drenching your pussy as you felt boneless in his arms.

“Ah-! St..S-top tea-sing, Dabi!” You babbled, squirming to try and find an escape from his grasp or maybe trying to force him inside you, but all your struggling did was make him harder. But before you could beg, you froze at the sight of Kao a few feet away, his legs bending into a sprinter’s pose. He was going to run?

Dabi was having none of it, a controlled jet of flame grazing Kao’s knee, scalding the skin beneath the latex. The hero cried out into the bite of his fist, collapsing into the wall a few feet away.

“Nah, hero. You’re not leaving just yet,” The villain rearranged you on his lap, “See, the thought of you jerking off to my girl? It kinda pisses me off, actually,”

The color in Kao’s face drained as he had no choice but to sit and watch as Dabi slowly sunk you down on top of him, one hand drawing soft circles into your stomach as you reveled in the feeling of his piercings hot against every part of you.

“Though, I’m wondering, what did you think about, huh?” Kao sputtered, unable to form words just like you, formless noises falling from your lips.

His scarred hands grasped at the flesh of your thighs, raising you up only to shove you back onto his cock, the flames that still extended to threaten Kao suddenly flared up in time with his thrusts, the weight of him felt so much deeper at this angle and it was hard to breathe, let alone speak.

“I... nothing! I didn’t—“ Another whip of fire cut through the room from Dabi’s fingertips, a cast of blue leaving bubbling skin in its wake, pain flashing across Kao’s face.

“Fuckin’ liar,” You yelped as Dabi shoved you down, moaning into your ear as you squeezed against him, sobbing his name into his chest as he picked up a steady pace in your guts.

Kao cried out, stuttering and gripping along the inflamed line of skin, “I-I thought— thought about her... fuck— I just wanted her to suck me off, alright? There, I said it! Are you happy now?”

He must’ve realized the mistake in his words as soon as he said them, squeezing your eyes shut but having no choice but to smell the stench of burning flesh and hear the sound of muffled screaming as it filled your apartment, “Can’t blame you though, her mouth is God,”

Your hands scrambled for balance against Dabi as the screaming of his victim made him downright feral, filling your tight heat so well it had you crying.

“Damn, you’re soaked for me, doll, I just knew you were a kinky fuck deep down. You’re a slutty little girl for me, aren’t ya?”

As much as it hurt to admit it, he was right. He was painfully right, and you told him so. The unhinged, unstoppable force that was Dabi ignited a passion in you that’d never been fed before. He was torturing the hero you hated all while taking your cunt in deep, harsh thrusts, the metal imbedded into his cock and his chest behind you were blisteringly hot against your skin.

“Tell him, baby,” His question fell on deaf ears, your tongue lolling from your mouth a bit at the pleasure.

It caught you off guard when he drew his hand back and slapped you across the cheek, a blistering red handprint in its wake, saying your name so softly, turning off his quirk to run his hands through your hair, he whispered, “Tell that fucking hero who you belong to,”

The world tipped over as Dabi gripped your shoulders, pushing you onto the wooden coffee table so your ass stuck in the air. In an instant he was on you again, pounding into your cunt with a glazed fervor, your words downright biblical in his ears.

“On-ly... Dabi ca—Ngh, Only Dabi can fuck me this good,” You forced the words from your throat, thankful for the table serving as an impartial shoulder to cry on as Dabi lined himself up with your cunt.

“More, princess,” The snap of his hips had you drooling onto the table, catching sight of Kao’s slumped body in the corner as Dabi’s breath sounded much louder than before.

“Fuck, baby—” You cried, craning your neck back to look at him. Sweat glistened at the crown of his dark hair, steam shading his breath as he took you hard, “Your cock is— shit its so deep in me,”

Your nerves were spent from exhaustion as he railed you, being more vocal than before as he choked at the feeling of your walls tightening around him, his fingernails digging future bruises into your hip dips, “Wanna feel you cum in me, want you to fill me up— Dabi, wanna make you feel good,”

“Fuck, doll, I can’t...” He ground his teeth together, making you squeal as he mounted you from behind, spreading your legs out wide so you had no way to hide yourself, “Gonna fuck’n cum-gonna cum in you- fuck, fuck, fuck—!“

You both hit your highs at the same time, Dabi accidentally digging your face into the wood as he held you as tightly to him as possible, his cum running hot due to his quirk as he pumped you full, that broken cry of yours like music to his ears, humping you a few times to ride out his climax.

You felt warm and safe, Dabi’s weight a comfortable blanket even with your shivering skin pressed naked into the coffee table. However, the quietly groaning hero in the corner made you quickly come back down to earth.

“Dabi... did you kill him?” Your voice was small beneath him, but he just shrugged.

“Nah, not yet, don’t worry,” He kissed your neck one more time, his thumb rubbing circles into your indented stomach, pulling you off the table and back into his arms.

He pulled out of you and grinned at the sight of his release spilling down your thighs, “Damn...” he whispered, taking in the sight with a satisfied whistle, “C’mon Doll, forget about him.”

You were grateful he carried you bridal style to your bedroom, your legs gelatin at this point, and as he laid you down to rest he grabbed one of your discarded shirts that hadn’t made it to the hamper and wiped down the remains of sex from your twitching cunt before leaving the cum-stained top ignored on the ground.

“You doing good, baby? Didn’t go too hard, did I?” His concern was diminished somewhat by the grin on his face, satisfied with the mumbling, love-drunk form he’d reduced you to.

Shaking your head, you burrowed into the warm blankets, peeking your eyes out from beyond the covers in a way that even Dabi couldn’t deny was pretty cute, “No, just... what are you gonna do with Kao?”

His face was unreadable as he leaned closer, “Do you really want to know?”

Truth be told, no, you didn’t, you were just a civilian, far removed from the complex fight between heroes and villains. You were only in this situation because you’d grown to care about Dabi. In some small, sarcastic way, he’d wormed his way into your life, and he hadn’t hurt you so far, only going as close as possible to bring you over the edge again and again.

“No...”

“Good answer,” he stood up, tucking himself back into his jeans as he went back into the living room. You heard a muffled thud and what sounded like Dabi cursing before he reappeared in your bedroom, Kao’s unconscious body slung over his shoulder. For such a wiry guy, Dabi was pretty strong. Moving to the open window he basically threw Kao’s body onto the outside metal grating, his lungs uneven after carrying him.

Just as he swung his leg onto the windowsill you shot up in your bed, hand outstretched, “Wait!”

He turned back to look at you, genuinely confused as to what you could want.

“Kiss me before you go?”

He froze, then grinned, scoffing at the innocent gesture you gave so openly to a murderer like him. There had to be something wrong with his little villain-in-training to make her okay with it, just like him. Dabi ignored that thought for another day, striding forward and finally giving you the goodbye kiss you’d been denied last time, his tongue trying to map out every detail in case he could ever forget before pulling away with a warm softness to his ocean eyes.

“I think I might be starting to like you, Doll,” A feint rush of color fell on his unmarred skin and you’re sure your heart stopped beating for a good three seconds.

His words were a worn record being played over and over in your head long after he crawled down your fire escape, the teasing, sated haze in his voice hidden beneath a rasp of smoke. You weren’t sure how much he meant what he said, but you’re sure that the first thing you said in return was exactly what he wanted to hear; at least judging from the boyish smile that lit up his face when you said it.

“Come back soon, okay?”

“Okay,”

@effmigentlywithachainsaw @touyasfatcock @thicchaikyuuboys @awritersometimes @chey-the-simp

[applerubyy]

Ciao Adios

Summary: When you find your boyfriend cheating on you yo decide to expose him in the pettiest way you can think of.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (some Loki x Reader if you squint)

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Cheating and cursing (I think that’s it?)

A/N: Hi! So this is my first time writing and posting anything here so if its terrible please tell me nicely :). This is some AU where everyone lives and all is happy ok? Also english is not my first language so I apologize in advance for any grammar or spelling mistakes. Anyway, if it turns out that some of you like it I think I’d be willing to do a part 2 if you like. Hope you enjoy it! <3. Btw, the gif is not mine so credit to whoever made it.

Crack. That’s the sound of your heart breaking, ripped to pieces in just a few seconds. And no, you were not exaggerating. Seeing your boyfriend kissing someone else while taking off their clothes would do that to a person. And in his office of all places.

How did you not see that coming? They had a lot in common and they did spend a lot of time together but you were just so naïve thinking that he was the most trust-worthy person ever that you looked the other way and believed him when he told you she was “just a friend”. 

Just a friend my ass you thought as you calmly walked to your room. No running, that would draw attention to you and you didn’t need that. No crying either, because once you started you wouldn’t be able to stop. Walking down the hallway and taking the elevator to your floor feels like it takes forever. 

Time is funny that way. It has that annoying tendency to slow down or speed up at the worst times. Like when you were in college and the clock seemed to literally stop, you would look at the time and it was 10:20 am and check again after what felt like half an hour for it to be 10:25 am. Or like when you are having fun with your friends at a club and you see it’s 12:30 but when you look again a few minutes later it’s 2:40. Right now it feels like the former, time seems to have slowed down. Maybe Dr. Strange did something to it? No, that’s stupid, he wouldn’t play with time that way.

Finally the elevator pings open and you rush to your room. Well, it’s not only your room anymore. You share it with him and everything is a reminder of what you just saw. The art supplies on the desk by the window, the famous shield leaning against the wall near the door, the messy bed where you sleep together every night …

And every single thing brings tears to your eyes until finally, the dam breaks and you let the tears fall down. You bring your hand to your mouth to muffle a sob that brings you to your knees. Crying is the only thing you can do right now because your brain is stuck on a loop. All you can see is Steve kissing her, unbuttoning her shirt with one hand while the other grabbed her ass. And all you can hear are their moans, Sharon’s whimper when he touched her and his groan as he did so. 

And now you are full on crying and choking on air because that scene keeps replaying itself over and over no matter how much you want it to stop. And you do, Gosh you do because there is so much your heart can take and this is too much. It shatters you in more ways than one. It makes you question everything you thought you knew about him, about her, about your relationship and about yourself.

You remember the first time you met him. You were already in college and looking for an internship. Luckily you happened to be the niece of the one and only Pepper Potts. And who wouldn’t want to work near Earth's mightiest heroes? You sure did. You were studying journalism and communications in New York and working with the Avengers was the ultimate dream, one that was about to come true.

Your first day was uneventful, it consisted mainly of coffee runs, delivering files and passing messages along. That was until your third coffee run where you ran straight into a wall, well actually it wasn’t a wall but it felt like it. The coffee spilled everywhere, on your clothes and his, and you were going to fall on your butt if it wasn’t for him grabbing your arms to steady you. Imagine your surprise when you looked up to see Captain America himself.

And that’s the moment your love story started. It seemed like something straight out of a romantic comedy and you loved it. It started with flirting, a date and then another, him asking you to be his girlfriend and finally asking you to move in once you graduated. It felt like a fairytale.

Tony wasn't very happy about you and the Capsicle but he saw how happy you were so he tried to be happy too. Tony was your uncle even if you didn’t share any blood. Growing up you would visit your aunty Pepper in New York and he was always around, you even stayed at his house when Pepper and him had to work. So, you two became really close even before he became Iron Man and started dating your aunt. 

The same thing happened with Rhody. Your close relationship with Tony meant you were close to him too, seeing as he was one of the most important people in his life. Rhody treated you like his niece and was the only one he didn’t make fun of which you took as the ultimate compliment. 

So those three you knew before you started working at the compound and before Steve. But once you started working there you met the rest of the Avengers. Being Pepper and Tony's niece and Steve's girlfriend meant they all wanted to get to know you. 

You met Bruce Banner, the Hulk, and you became really close. But that was thanks to his close relation with Tony and all the time you spent with him working on his social media presence to make sure people saw him as more than just the green monster who smashes things. After a while of working there they promoted you and now you manage the Avengers social media.

Nat and Wanda became your best friends from the moment you met. You just clicked and hung out as much as possible, being the only girls on the team meant they were really happy to have another female added to the mix. As for Vision, he liked you because Wanda did, simple as that.

Bucky and Sam were the funniest people ever, their constant bickering always brought a smile to your face and they welcomed you with open arms. Happy that their friend had finally found someone to be with.

Thor and Clint were like the fun uncles you got to see every once in a while. The God of Thunder was like an excited puppy and would hug you till you couldn’t breath every time he came to Earth and Clint would joke around with you and FaceTime you when he was with his kids because they loved you (“best babysitter ever” that called you).

You met Peter when he started working for your uncle. He was a sweet kid and your love of memes, vines and pop culture made you instant friends. He would ask you for advice on girls and tell you science jokes.

But we all know not all fairytales have a happy ending and this one definitely didn’t. You’re feeling so many things at once. There’s anger, sadness, jealousy and something else you can’t put your finger on. You keep crying and are unable to move from your kneeling position on the floor. Checking the clock you realize you’ve been on the floor crying for an hour so you stand up.

Taking a shower seems like the best thing to do, your head is pounding and your face is all puffy. As you shower it hits you, that other feeling swirling around is inevitability. In a way you always thought he was too good for you, you always thought he would eventually get tired of you and trade you for someone else. 

It just hurt too much that it was her, the woman he shared so much with. The niece of Peggy Carter, his first love. An agent of S. H. I. E. L. D.  Someone who risked their life for the world like he did. Someone prettier. Someone better than you.

Yeah, you were definitely on a self-pity party. But you needed to be miserable for a while, to cry it all out, to hurt so that you could move on to the next stage of grief: anger. And when that came, there was no stopping you.

You weren’t a mean person, or a petty one. You gave everyone countless opportunities and forgave way too easily so you never really got angry. But when you did, when you said enough is enough, yeah, you better watch out. That could be the meanest bitch you ever met and she had no mercy.

So you got out of the shower, dried yourself and started getting ready. Tony was throwing yet another party about who knows what and you were not missing it. You liked parties, they were the perfect excuse for wearing pretty dresses and putting on make up. And tonight you were going all out. 

Your inner bitch was concocting a plan and you were going with it.

You hear the door open and prepare yourself to put on the best acting of your life. You take a deep breath and in the sweetest voice you can muster say: “Steve is that you babe?”

“Yeah doll it’s me” you hear him say. A few second later he pops into the bedroom and gives you a peck on the lips as you continue with your makeup.

“How was your day?” Steve asks as he takes off his clothes, probably to take a shower. “I missed you today, i went by your office but you weren’t there” he says with a small frown between his eyes. You could stare at his blue eyes forever but snap out of it when you remember what he did. 

“Oh not much, i left work earlier to get ready for tonight” you answer. Shit your work. You really did leave like that, but after tonight hopefully they’ll understand. “You should start getting ready, the party starts in thirty minutes”.

He smiles at you and tells you he’s going to take a quick shower before getting dressed. He goes to the bathroom and you feel like breaking the mirror but instead take a few deep breaths and remind yourself he’s getting what he deserves later on. With that in mind you finish applying you makeup and smile at yourself, you look good. Moving on to your hair you decide to do some loose waves and that’s it, you really don’t know how to make those complicated updos.

Steve gets out of the shower and starts putting on his suit. Men really do have it easier you think to yourself when you see all the work you had to do and he just showers and that’s it.

You take your dress out of the closet and admire it. It really is beautiful. It has a deep plunging neckline that shows a lot of cleavage and is skin tight with a slit on one side. The fact that it is silver with sequins makes it even better. Pepper helped you pick this dress. 

You put on the dress and admire yourself in the mirror. You look good. Behind you, you hear a whistle and turn around to see Steve watching you lust in his eyes. He comes closer and grabs you by the waist, pulling you to him.

“You look stunning” he says as he wets his bottom lip. “I can’t wait to take it off of you when we get back”. Lying cheating bastard.

“Can't wait” you lie as you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him. This is just a kiss goodbye you tell yourself. One last kiss before he’s out of your life and probably runs to her. Tears threaten to fill your eyes but you hold them down. Not now.

You break the kiss when the need to breathe is too strong. Grabbing his hand you start walking towards the door and say: “Come on, we’re already late”.

——————————————————————————

The party had already started once you walk in and in true Tony fashion it is elegant and extravagant. Everyone is there: S. H. I. E. L. D. agents, the Avengers themselves, politicians and a few famous people. 

You and Steve walk to the bar and order drinks. A whiskey for him and a strawberry daiquiri for you, yes you are that basic but hey, it tastes awesome. He offers you his arm and with drinks in your hands you start looking for your friends. A lot of people stop you on the way, nobody wants to miss an opportunity to talk to Captain America.

One thing, or rather on person, catches your attention: Loki. He’s sitting on one of the cushions alone with a drink in his hand. It’s weird to see him there. Sure, he was redeeming himself for what he did in 2012 and Thor said he was doing better but he rarely left Asgard (he “hated mortals”) and when he did come to Earth it wasn’t for a party.

As if he could feel you staring he turns his head and locks his eyes with yours. You weren’t going to lie, he was gorgeous. He was incredibly tall, had those charming green eyes and was actually funny (but you’d never admit that to anyone). But you were in love with Steve and never saw him as anything more than Thor's hot brother. And everyone in the Avengers was hot so that’s not saying much.

You turn away from him and see Nat and Wanda on the dance floor and you tell Steve you’ll see him later and to go find his friends. He’ll need them after tonight you think to yourself. You greet the girls and start dancing with them, for a moment forgetting about what you saw today and putting Loki out of your mind.

The three of you decided to take a break and order some more drinks. Once at the bar Wanda orders for you and when your drinks arrive you go back to the dance floor. You spend the next few hours dancing, talking to your friends and pretending that nothing's wrong. Talking to Steve and pretending that nothing's wrong. Hugging Steve and pretending that nothing's wrong. Kissing Steve and pretending that nothing's wrong.

The fact that Sharon is at the party doesn’t help at all. When you see her talking or touching him you feel like you’re gonna lose it but you remain strong. You remind yourself of your plan and try to keep them out of your mind.

There’s a small stage at the far end of the room and you see your uncle Tony step on it and grab the microphone.

“Hello everyone and thank you for coming to another one of my amazing parties. I hope you are having a good time and taking advantage of the free bar over there” he points to the other side of the room and continues, “Now for what we have all been waiting for: karaoke! And yes, i want everyone to sing something because that’s the whole point of this. I'm looking at you Manchurian Candidate, you’re singing”.

With that he gets off the stage and passes the mic to Sam who decided to sing a Marvin Gaye song. He’s pretty good actually but you can’t fully concentrate on him because your mind is going a thousand miles an hour for what it’s going to happen later.

More people go up and sing their songs and you applaud when they’re done. Nobody is talking much, they're all too busy either laughing at the others performance, drinking or actually listening to the songs. You’re sitting with Steve to your right, Bruce to your left and the rest of the Avengers nearby. You’re your own little group.

It’s finally your turn and as you walk to the stage you can hear your friends whistling and cheering you on. Once you’re up on the stage you choose the song and start singing. 

Ask you once, ask you twice now

There's lipstick on your collar

You say she's just a friend now

Then why don't we call her?

So you wanna go home with someone

To do all the things you used to do to me

I swear, I know you do

Used to take me out in your fancy car

And make out in the rain

And when I ring you up

Don't know where you are

'Til I hear her say your name

Used to sing along when you played guitar

That's a distant memory

Hope she treats you better than you treated me, ha

As you continue singing you get more and more confident and take the mic. You walk off the little stage and over to your friends while dancing and you can see them smiling, clapping and having fun. They have no idea how much i mean all of this you think. You look at Steve and he’s completely oblivious. Good, you want to take him by surprise. You arrive at your little circle of friends and start singing the chorus.

I'm onto you, yeah you

I'm not your number one

I saw you with her

Kissing and having fun

If you're giving her all of your money and time

I'm not gonna sit here wasting mine on you, yeah, you

Ciao adios, I'm done

Ciao adios, I'm done

Ciao adios, I'm done

You keep dancing and go back to back with Wanda who’s also singing along. You then turn to Nat and she grabs your hand and makes you do a little spin. 

After three, after four times

Why did I bother?

Tell me how many more times

Does it take to get smarter?

Don't need to deny the hurt and the lies

And all of the things you did to me

I swear, I know you did

And now you take her out in your fancy car

And make out in the rain

And when she rings you up

She know where you are

But I know differently

Now she sings along when you play guitar

Making brand new memories

Hope you treat her better than you treated me

You go up to Tony and he starts dancing around you busting out some dad moves. You laugh and keep on singing and dancing.

I'm onto you, yeah you

I'm not your number one

I saw you with her

Kissing and having fun

If you're giving her all of your money and time

I'm not gonna sit here wasting mine on you, yeah, you

Ciao adios, I'm done (I'm done)

Ciao adios, I'm done (no, no, no, no)

Ciao adios, I'm done

If you're giving her all of your money and time

I'm not gonna sit here wasting mine on you, yeah, you

Ciao adios, I'm done

And now you take her out in your fancy car

And make out in the rain

And when she rings you up

She know where you are

But I know differently

Now she sings along when you play guitar

Making brand new memories

Hope you treat her better than you treated me

You walk back to the stage as you sing and step up. You put the mic back into place and sing the last part of the song.

I'm onto you, yeah you

I'm not your number one

I saw you with her (with her)

Kissing and having fun (and fun)

If you're giving her all of your money and time

I'm not gonna sit here wasting mine on you, yeah, you

Ciao adios, I'm done (I'm done)

Ciao adios, I'm done (you get on with your life, I'll get on with my life)

Ciao adios, I'm done

If you're giving her all of your money and time

I'm not gonna sit here wasting mine on you, yeah, you

Ciao adios, I'm done

When you’re done people are clapping and cheering and you look to your friends to see them all smiling. You look at everyone and make a little mock bow and when you straighten you see Loki sitting on the same couch as before. But this time he’s looking at you and he’s laughing, not smiling and cheering but actually laughing.

You look back at your friends and say “Thank you, thank you” with a smile on your face. You continue , “I wanted to dedicate this song to my boyfriend Steve” you point at him.

“In case it wasn’t clear enough, i wanted to tell you that i saw you with Sharon”. You could hear a pin drop. No one was talking and all eyes were on you. This is what you wanted, to humiliate him as much as he did you. And what better way to do it than publicly? Oh but you weren’t done.

You could see Steve's face going pale and nobody knew where to look, if at you or at him. Tony look ready to murder him as did Rhody, Pepper, Peter and Bruce. Thor, Clint and Vision looked shocked. But Bucky, Sam, Nat and Wanda looked guilty.

Your heart breaks a little more when you realize they knew. You can’t really blame Bucky and Sam for not telling you, they were Steve's friends after all. But you thought the girls were your friends, that they would have told you. Apparently you overestimated that friendship.

You keep on smiling and continue “So… I’m breaking up with you. Hope she was a good fuck and wasn’t uncomfortable with the fact that you were once in love with her aunt”. You do a dramatic pause and make a little disgusted face. “Anyway, if I’m lucky i´ll never see you again. Have a great life!”

And with that, you walk off the stage and make your way to your friends. Steve is rooted to the spot and his face is red with embarrassment. You walk up to him, look him straight in the eye and give him an evil smile. He gulps and opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something and then closes it. He does is two more times and still nothing comes out.

You turn to your group and look at Wand and Nat, who can’t seem to be able to look you in the eye. You sigh and say: “Who want enemies when they can have you as their best friends right?”. They look up then and start talking. Telling you how sorry they are and to please forgive them. You raise your hand to silence them and they do.

You go to your aunt and uncle who look like there should be smoke coming out of their ears and say: “I’m gonna stay in a hotel for the night, can’t stand to be here anymore”. Tony scrunches his eyebrows and look at you like you’re crazy.

“Hell no. You’re staying here. We can find him another room to sleep in but you’re not leaving. If anyone’s leaving is Mr. Star-spangled over there” he practically screams the last part as he points at Steve.  

You take a deep breath and hug him. It takes him by surprise but he puts his arms around you. “I appreciate it uncle Tony but i can’t stay at the compound, it just hurts too much” you say as you let go. Turning to your aunt you hug her as well and say: “Thank you for everything but I quit”.

The moment those words leave your mouth everyone starts talking at the same time telling you how crazy you are and to think about it. You just smile at them and tell them you already made up your mind. “I'm gonna go pack a bag and ask Happy to take me to a hotel nearby. Please make sure he doesn’t follow” you say as you point to a still red-faced Captain America. 

With that you turn around and leave. The room is silent for a few seconds before you hear your friends all screaming at Steve. You look around for a second and notice that Loki is staring at you with a smirk on his face. When you look him in the eye he raises his glass at you ant takes a sip. 

You give him a small smile and walk through the doors towards the elevator.  

[xpeachesncream]

restart | six

[ SEQUEL TO PERFECTLY WRONG ] | [ series masterlist ]

summary: as you and taehyung start to build your life together post graduation, things become more complicated than what you expected it to be. while taehyung struggles with his inner demons, you’ve become the sole supporter, the pillar, juggling different jobs to keep you two afloat. your love for each other has been put to the test as your relationship continues to face hurdles - hurdles that have you questioning whether or not your relationship will make it through.

pairing: reader x fiancé!kth

genre: post grad au, established relationship au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 3.9k

warnings: cussing/mature language, jealousy, lots of insecurities and overthinking, angst, crying, arguments, y/n and tae get really mean with each other honestly, unprotected soft sex in the flashback scene, alcohol consumption, y/n really going above and beyond for her man though

note: taehyung’s one shot for the witchers one series will be coming out.. probably this weekend? i’ll continue taking some breaks in between posting new chapters for bands and restart so i can work on this too!

tags: @enchantaeduniverse​ @thedarkwinterrose​ @sapphirejeon @jwlmnbt​ @bluesharksandfish​ @ra-mun-e @brightcolorsoffendme​ @jungcrookthecookbook​ @sunniejinnie​ (please message me if you would like to be added to the taglist!)

You looked at the new picture hanging on the hall at Jin's café. It was a picture of you, Taehyung and your friends in your graduation caps and gowns. You smiled to yourself seeing how happy you all were to finally overcome the milestone together, how happy you and Taehyung were to have gotten through it together.

It seemed like a distant memory.

"Hey." Jungkook comes behind you, his blonde hair almost covering his eyes.

"Hmm?" He follows your gaze to the picture.

"What time is your shift over?" He asks, trying to change the subject. You turn to him and sigh, checking the time on your phone.

"Mm, in a bit actually. I have to run home and get ready."

"Oh hey, you're meeting that girl today right? To see if you can sell some of your art and merch in her boutique?" You smiled from ear to ear.

"Yeah! She's such a sweetheart, I'm super excited. I hope it works out."

"I'm sure it will." He pinches your cheek. He doesn't say anything else, being that he can tell other things were on your mind but you weren't ready to talk about it yet.

Racing home to the apartment, you decided to hop into a quick shower and throw on some better clothes. You still couldn't believe Brandi had came up to you at the flea market, almost feeling like she was a blessing in disguise. You smiled at yourself in the mirror, the excitement peeking through as the minutes went by.

"Hey! Goodluck today, little one!" You picked up Jin's call as you walked out of your apartment and down to your car. Taehyung, for whatever reason, was nowhere to be found, and you figured he was just out with Namjoon or one of their other friends. You had left him sound asleep earlier, and you didn't think he had any plans today. But, you would just have to see him later and tell him all about the meeting. You were actually excited to, especially after last night.

➤ FLASHBACK

Taehyung gripped onto the headboard as he rolled his hips into you, your clit rubbing against him as his body lowered onto yours. He kept his eyes on you, his lips barely grazing yours as he softly hissed and let out small moans.

“Hmmmfuck.” You softly mewled. For once, the love making felt like old times - the passion. The fire. The feelings. It felt like Taehyung was making love to you like the world was going to end. And the thought of it, the feeling of his body against yours, the warmth - it made you feel complete, and like you never wanted to leave this moment.

"I love you so much, baby." He whispers as he continues to pick up his pace, rolling his hips and working in tandem with yours.

"I love you, too." You softly say as your fingers lock into his hair, his lips pressed gently against your neck as he laid soft kisses along a straight path and nipped at your skin. You arch your back slightly, the pleasure starting to bubble up within your core as you hear Taehyung moan against your neck.

"God, baby I'm gonna cum." He continues to moan. "Cum with me."

"Close." You moan softly, tugging on his hair as he picks up his pace and begins to thrust a little more aggressively. "I-I'm--"

"Uh huh." He nods. "That's it, love."

"I'm gonna cum." Your hands are now gripping his shoulders, nails digging deep and leaving red marks against his honey-dipped skin. It takes a few more rolls before you feel your body trembling under his grip, muffled moans trying to escape as you let the orgasm ripple through you. As you come down from your high, you feel Taehyung fill you up warmly, his body still ontop of yours as he tries to regulate his breathing. He presses his lips against your jaw, to your forehead, to your nose, then back down to your lips before he removes his softening member from within you and plops next to you on the bed. He instantly swoops you into his arms, your head laying on his chest as you ran your finger in circles around his collarbone.

"Baby." He says softly. "You mean everything to me. You know that right? I got you through anything, no matter what." You simply nod before he places another kiss against your head.

➤ END FLASHBACK

"Thank you. I'll tell you all about it later, okay?"

"Sounds good. I know this'll work out. I'm proud of you, you know that right?" Your smile lightly fades. Yeah, it was a big deal, but you still hadn't told anyone a lot of your other plans had been put on pause.

"I know." You softly chuckle. "K, I need to get going. I'll call you later."

"Love you, drive safely." He says before you return the love and hang up. You hopped into your car and began to drive off to the destination downtown. However, as you neared the boutique, another call came through to your car, but from an unknown number.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is this Miss Y/L/N?"

"Yeah, this is she."

"Hey there. Could you come down to Jack's? We have your fiancé here. He's intoxicated and he's been giving the staff a hard time." You sigh and look at your watch. Jack's was on the opposite end of town. You were never going to make it on time for your meeting. You had promised you'd be there to make this work.

"Where is he?" You say as you quickly park your car and make your way to the restaurant. You see him slouched onto the bar, slurring his words to the police men. The bar stools around him were all turned over, glasses broken and flyers from the wall had been ripped off. You couldn't help but begin to cry because you knew this was all Taehyung's doing, and quite frankly, you had so many emotions - you were scared, upset, empty, exhausted. You didn't know what else to do, but you loved him.

And yet here you were again, pushing your goals aside to help the love of your life.

"Tae, baby. Let's get up, okay?" His eyes are glazed as they turn to you. He smiles, but he struggles to get up, the police man helping support him as you both bring him to your car.

"Baby girl." He mumbles.

"Shh. Just stay here." You shush him as you get him situated in the passenger seat, tears streaming down your face.

"I'm sorry sweetie, but this damage needs to be covered." You took the ticket from the police man, showing the restaurant charging over $200 worth of the damages.

"It's fine, I'll take care of this. I'm so sorry."

"If you need anything, please let us know." The cop couldn't help but sympathize looking at you. At this point your cheeks were hot, tears continued to stream down your face and your hair had become a mess having supported Tae back to the car. You silently climbed in, crying to yourself as you drove back to the apartment, Taehyung slumped and asleep in the passenger seat.

You did your best to support him back to your apartment, the security guard offering help but you turned him down. You had been doing good so far and you thought you had this in the bag. As you had exited the elevator, Taehyung stumbled upon his own two feet, bringing the both of you down.

"Babe, get up please." You cried, using all of your force to get him up. He did try his best to stable himself as you stood, but the five steps to the front door ended up being twenty, with a few more stumbles in between. "Please, we're almost there." You continued to cry.

You finally got Taehyung out of his clothes and into the bed, washing his face with a warm towel before you let him sleep peacefully. You made your way to the living room and just broke down. Your meeting was way past its time, and yet you had passed on another great opportunity because you needed to be there for Taehyung. You felt helpless.

You just didn't know how else to do it.

"Hello? How'd it go?" Jungkook asks on the other line.

"Kook, I don't know if I could do this anymore." You cried into the phone. "I can't do it." You cried silently, heavily.

"Y/N." He sighs worriedly. "What happened? Do you want me to come by?"

"No, I-I just—" You cry as you sink to the floor, your back against the wall. "I've given up so many things for him, and he even apologized last night. Saying he'd do better and all this shit, but he hasn't. I knew this would happen and-and I can't—" You ramble on and on, Jungkook worried as he tries to decipher what you're saying through your crying.

"Slow down, and tell me what just happened."

"I didn't even get to meet her, Kook. I was on my way when I got a call from the cops saying he was drunk and giving the staff a hard time at Jack's. Shit was torn up, the stools were turned over, flyers ripped off the walls." You mumbled through your cries. "I told them I'd take care of it and handle the damages. Why would he do this? Why would he do this to me?" Kook sighs heavily.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. I'm sure there's a lot of things going on in his head that can help explain this. And I can help you take care of the damages, it's not a big deal."

"No."

"Stop. Let me help you." He pauses. "Can you text Brandi and just let her know it was an emergency or something? I'm sure she'll understand."

"I'm so humiliated though, like I can't even face her after I stood her up."

"Listen to me. It's not like you meant to. Just text her and explain, she seems like a really nice and understanding person. Don't feel embarrassed. Shit happens."

"You don't get it, bunny." You cried harder, silently, hoping you wouldn't be too loud to wake up Tae. "This was the last chance I had. I-I told Jimin I wouldn't be working on the shop right now. I gave all this shit up for him and I really just can't do this anymore. I've set myself aside to be there for him, only for him to fuck me over in the end. He doesn't realize how much he's been hurting me." You're feeling so many emotions at once that you don't even know if you're making sense. You wanna say so much, but you can't. You wanna get back up on your feet, but you can't.

"It's not gonna be the last chance." He says softly. "You're always welcome to crash with me if you'd like, just to give yourself some space." You sigh, finally able to slow down your crying and regulate your breathing.

"I can't just leave him."

"Y/N. He's gonna have to learn one way or another." Suddenly, you hear some stirring in the room, causing you to frantically wipe your tears and get yourself together.

"I have to go, I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay. Let me know if you need me, I'll be there." You hang up the call and turn your attention to the room when you hear Taehyung give off a small groan. You rush over, seeing him bent over on his knees on the side of the bed, his hands pressed against his face. "You alright?" You ask him softly, already prepping the trash can with a paper bag inserted inside in case he needs to release.

"I don't feel too—" And as you assume correctly, you hold the trash can up to him as he releases, your heart breaking at the sight of him struggling. You were torn - torn between wanting to do everything and wanting to do absolutely nothing at this point. You were spent, you had given him everything and you were left with nothing besides the uncertainty of your relationship and the umpteenth amount of tears you had been shedding.

This wasn't fair to you, and you couldn't let him keep doing this to you.

After he seems to be done being head first into the trash can, you set it aside to clean up later and give his face another good wash up with a warm towel. He seems a bit better and more sober after having vomited, but you get him to go back to sleep while you head into the kitchen to heat up some water and make some tea. You ponder on your thoughts, on your feelings, while waiting for the electric kettle to flip the switch, hinting that the water was done heating. You pour yourself and Tae a cup - green tea for you, while you whipped up some ginger tea with lemon for him. You walk over to the room seeing him asleep, but he slightly opens an eye when he feels your body dip into the edge of the bed.

"Drink this while it's hot." You say as you place the cup on the night stand.

"Thank you, baby." He manages to say raspily. "Stay with me?" You shake your head.

"I need to take care of some stuff outside." And with that, you don't turn to look at him or give him more of your attention before simply walking off. You bite onto your bottom lip as you head back to the kitchen, pulling out your laptop to start organizing the bills and figuring out which ones to pay off first. You almost forgot you had these deadlines to meet.

It's close to 8pm when Taehyung finally gets up and walks out to the kitchen, seeing you still hovering over your laptop. This time though, you had a bowl of ramen ready for him to go, while you had just finished devouring yours. You don't say anything as he comes forward to the kitchen island, but his eyes are locked onto you. You turn to face the sink and start washing your bowl when you feel his arms snake around your hips and his lips pressed against the back of your head. And as much as you wanna sink into his body, you don't.

"Baby, I'm so—"

"Save it." You aggressively throw your spoon down into the sink before turning to face him. "Don't."

"Y/N, please. Just let me explain."

"No, Taehyung. Not anymore. I've heard it way too many times and I'm tired." You say, your eyes starting to water. "I'm so tired. You knew today was the day I had to meet Brandi. Why couldn't you just hold off for a second, Tae? Do I literally have to give up everything for you?"

"Woah, I never said you had to—" You scoff as you cross your arms.

"You didn't have to say it. All this shit you've done, throwing the whole Jimin thing in my face, getting drunk and acting up." You cry. "You don't think I can catch on? I'm not stupid, Taehyung. Don't take me for a fucking dumbass."

"I've been here struggling with my own feelings too okay, Y/N? It's been a fucking shit show for me and I don't think you understand."

"You don't think I understand?!" You yell, appalled at his argument. As much as you didn't wanna play the pointing fingers game, you had no choice but to since Tae didn't seem to get it. He obviously didn't understand you even though he said he did last night, and that's what hits you. "I know you've been struggling and I've been doing my very best to be there every step of the way for you to help support you. I gave up this shit with Jimin and told him to hold off because I knew you were having trouble with it. I fucking went to the school event 10 minutes late and tired out of my goddamn mind, and I just got lucky Dr. Forneo wasn't done with his speech or else I would have been shit out of luck too! And then today, I was on my way to meet Brandi when I got the call that I needed to come get you because you decided trashing Jack's was the perfect way to show how frustrated you've been feeling. Don't tell me I don't fucking understand when I've done it all just to be here for you! I pushed myself aside for you, and quite frankly, I feel like I've just been wasting my life in this relationship." You say harshly, a little taken aback at the words that come out of your mouth, but you have no intentions of bringing it back. He scoffs, tears streaming down his cheeks as he looks at you, expression full of hurt and betrayal.

"If you've been feeling like that, why didn't you tell me sooner so I could have just left you alone? So I wouldn't have wasted all this time for you?"

"I love you so much, and I hate seeing you hurt. I wanted to do everything in my power to help relieve you, help you get rid of this pain you've been feeling, but I've just been hurting myself in the process. You haven't even realized it. I can't do this to myself anymore, Taehyung. I can't." In a quick moment, his expression quickly turns into more hurt and frustration, his brows furrowing as his tears continue to come down.

"Then fucking leave Y/N! Leave, if this shit isn't what you want!" He yells loudly that you're a little startled by his tone.

"You'd just let me go like that?" You ask shakily.

"Go and be like the rest of them, like I give a fuck." He says, sounding exactly like the asshole Taehyung you had dealt with the night of Jin's café party. "You don't know what it's like—" He shakes his head. "To feel so completely useless and unworthy. To have people remind you and throw it in your face constantly how much of a fuck up you really are." He pauses, glaring back at you. "You're just like Hana, you know?" He instantly regrets it the moment it slips, but it's too late for him to take it back. You cry harder at the statement because why in the fuck would he say some dumbass shit like that? You were not her whatsoever. And you'd like to think you've done a hell of a job sticking by him through thick and thin. Not like her.

"Don't ever say that shit to me again. I am not her." You put your foot down. "I know I can't relate but the one thing I do know is that I gave you my everything, and I did nothing but stand by you through thick and thin. As much as I want to do it all, you have to do your part in getting yourself out of this, too. There's only so much I can do for you. Don't tell me you're in this for the long run when you can't even realize that shit. This isn't how you're supposed to treat somebody who loves you, somebody you call your fiancé. This isn't how we get by together. And you know fucking better than that." You spit out, aggressively wiping your tears. "I'm going to stay at Yoongi's until we leave."

"Y/N." He sighs deeply, following you into the room.

"No, don't touch me." You look at him as you break free from his grip. "You said what you said. I'm not doing this shit anymore." You softly cry. "Clearly, we need the space." You began to pile your clothes and necessities into your luggage, removing all attention away from Taehyung.

"Fine." Is all he manages to say before he's grabbing a jacket and heading out of the room. You hear him yell a loud 'fuck!' before glass hits the wall and shatters, followed by the front door slamming shut. You break down onto the ground and cry everything you have left in you. What did this mean for the both of you, you had no idea. After all of this, you still wanted him and you still hoped this would work out. Half of you suddenly didn't want to leave on these terms, but you knew you had to - to give yourself some space and give Taehyung enough space to hopefully learn and snap himself out of it.

But shit, this fucking hurts.

Suddenly you look at your ring and you have no idea what to feel.

By the time you're done packing what you need to pack, you feel so groggy and beat that you can barely make your way to Yoongi's. Your head is pounding and everything around you feels like dull, white noise. Sleep is the only thing on your mind.

"Hey." Yoongi steps aside to let you in. He grabs your luggage from you and sets it aside, following you into his living room space. "You okay?" He asks, knowing damn well you aren't but he figured this is how he could get the conversation started. You simply look at him, silently shake your head and begin to cry into your hands again. You feel Yoongi engulf you in his arms as he sits you down into the couch and brings your body close to his. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. It's gonna be okay. I got you."

"It fucking hurts." You mumble into his chest and he simply nods before slightly pulling away. "He just let me go."

"Let's get you to bed, yeah? You can sleep in mine and I'll stay out here." You nod as you wipe away your tears, Yoongi also doing his best to get rid of the stragglers streaming down your cheeks. He brings your luggage into the room and gives you some space to change and get yourself comfortable. Which, you do, but it takes awhile as your body wants to do absolutely nothing at this point. You shove yourself underneath his covers, a weighted blanket on top providing you with extra warmth. You turn to face the wall, hoping you could fall into a deep sleep soon.

But, you can't, no matter how exhausted you are.

"In here?" You hear Jungkook's voice faintly outside before he gently opens the door. You don't move in your position, even though you've just been blankly staring at the wall. You hear Jungkook gently shut the door before you feel his body weight on the edge of the bed. His fingers are running through your hair, brushing it gently as you continue to stare at the wall. "Y/N."

"Not now, Kook." He sighs.

"I'm worried about you."

"I'll be fine."

"Can I at least do anything for you right now?"

"I just want to sleep." He nods.

"Okay. I'll be hanging out with everyone for a bit outside. Just let me know if you need me." He says, gently caressing your covered arm before heading out of the room. You sighed and closed your eyes once more, hoping you could finally drift off into a deep sleep.

But your thoughts continued to wander to your fiancé and his whereabouts, whether or not he was okay and where he was at. They always wandered to him. It never failed.

And yes, it was the same for Taehyung. It was the same all the time.

He thought about you 24/7, he even thought about you now as he looks down at the notification lighting up on his phone.

The notification that gives him permission to come upstairs to her apartment.

but when i see you it hurts, when i see you it starts to hurt baby; i can see it in your eyes, I can see the pain in your eyes I'm sorry, tell me baby did it feel right to be with you and at the same time lose myself, my soul is burning out so casually

track four: lie 2 me - fern

[latenightsandbrightdyes]

One Way Or Another

Summary: A misunderstanding interrupts a snowy getaway with your boyfriend and his brothers.

Jungkook x reader. 

Angst. Fluff. Some Smutty Activity. Bangtan Shenanigans.

Welcome to a very random drabble that I wrote at some point and just found the courage to post. Thanks to the lovely @xjoonchildx who not only brightens my days with her amazing stories, and witty intellectual lists, but listens to my random nonsense I message her, and answers back with such sweet welcoming encouragement. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you! 

                                 .......................................................

Your heart was racing. Sneakers squeaking out like a beacon on the hardwood floor as you turned a corner, the quick action propelling you forward into a large living room. Your eyes taking in the beautiful room as you mentally curse this gorgeous house in the woods. Feet still moving, trying to find anywhere that could hide you. Hearing his boots on the floor caused your heart to thunder in your chest. Eyes pinging around the room, landing on couches, a glass coffee table, gauze curtains. Nothing that was going to help. Brain apparently on a whole other level, had you exiting the living room. The hallway options were better but still not ideal. You pass up the idea of going upstairs, not wanting to make one of those fatal horror movie cliched decisions. The kitchen was to the left, that was the one place you knew you would be cornered. “This a maze or a house?” You sounded more winded than you actually were, the adrenaline making itself present in the air. His chuckle echoed from behind you somewhere and you squeaked, feet taking off like a rocket to the right. The chuckle got deeper and louder but not closer. He was in no hurry, confident that he would catch you. It wasn’t until the third or fourth slap of your sneakers on stone that you realized you had taken the stairs down. With a shake of your head, you paused unsure of what was down there. It was bright and only got brighter the further down you could see. Your feet slowly and quietly went down another step, then another and another. A noise from above had your head snapping up, as your hand gripped the railing. Your eyes narrowed, “was that...?” The cheeky bastard was whistling One Way Or Another. It felt like your heart was trying to match the beat, and you decided you didn’t care about the echo of your footsteps as you took the stairs quicker than ever. The room was open and brightly lit up with sunlight streaming in through floor to ceiling windows. Only a hot tub in the giant space, currently occupied by two of your friends. “Hey-“ You flapped your arms and aggressively shushed Hoseok, who looked even more startled than he had when you first burst into the room, intruding on his relaxation. “I’m sorry! I-“ Your head snapped up again, hearing boots on the stairs. Your wide eyes scanned the room again before they met Jimin’s amused ones. You hastily whispered “I was never here!” Before running and practically diving behind the hot tub. “What the hell is-“ “SHHH!” You hissed out at Hobi. “Just go about your business, bestie.” The whisper wasn’t as harsh this time, mostly because you felt bad but partly because you were trying to get your breathing under control. As you tucked your legs close and curled into a ball on the floor, you heard his whistling abruptly stop as his boots slapped loudly against the floor, announcing his arrival into the room. Slowly you pulled the hood to your onesie over your head, wishing it was an invisibility cloak. “Hyungs, have you seen my traitor of a girlfriend?” Jungkook’s voice was smooth, too smooth, as the words caused you to shiver. “What... No!” Hobi’s reply was too quick and had you squeezing your eyes shut. Jungkook’s chuckle and mocking “No?” Had you biting your lip. “Funny ‘cause I’m willing to bet you’re hiding the little sneak.” “What’s going on..?” Jimin’s quiet tone was full of confusion as more footsteps could be heard on the stairs causing you to curl into yourself tighter. “C’mon, just accept-“ “Accept what?” JK’s voice lashed out, cutting Jin off. “Accept that my girlfriend played me?” His tone was incredulous and had your heart sinking. “Wait, what’s...what happened?” Hoseok sounded so lost you couldn’t help but tilt your head to the right and look up at him in the hot tub. His hand held out in the air as if indicating Jungkook and Seokjin. A big huff of air was released adding to the already tense atmosphere. “We were just playin-“ “Playing? You and that little temptress were-“ You couldn’t take it anymore and popped up from behind the hot tub. “I couldn’t resist, okay!?” The pleading whine of your voice ricocheted off the walls as all heads snapped to you. Hobi jumped up from his seated position, turning so fast that he hit his knee in the hot tub. “Oh shit!” He hissed. The look on Jungkook’s face as he took a step towards you had you stepping back automatically. His eyes narrowed, “Oh, it’s my fault then?” Your hands flew into the air like you were tossing a pizza, before pointing at him. “YES! Just be glad that I restrained myself. The situation was under control until you-“ “Until I?” Jungkook ripped the beanie off his head, twisting the material with a harsh laugh before yanking it back on. “Nothing is under control if you’re picking anyone over me.” The force of your head shaking had the onesie’s hood falling down. “I didn’t pick anyone over you!” His shoulder lifted as he motioned to the right, “You took Jin hyung up on his offer.” You looked between Jin and Jungkook, “I wasn’t going to... I love Seokjinnie and all, but I love you so much. And you’re so-“ Jungkook scoffed, “But what do you love most, hmm?” Your eyes narrowed, “I do NOT love ice cream more than I love you!” “Ice cream, the fuck?” Ignoring Yoongi, Jungkook took a step, his voice taunting, “Your actions say otherwise...” You almost screamed, “It’s not my fault!” Your hands were moving all around as you ranted. “Jin offered me ice cream if I helped him win, yes, but I wasn’t... I thought about it for like a second. A. SECOND, okay? But then you bent over the pool table in front of me, and your ass was just THERE! I didn’t know where the pool balls were. Or that you were about to hit, and damn sure didn’t know you’d sink the 8ball!” Jungkook mocked your hand motion which had been a bit wide apparently. “Oh, there?” You jabbed your finger in the air at him indignantly, “Your ass looks great in that onesie, so don’t even!” He smiled at you, which is when you finally took notice that he had been slowly moving closer as he provoked you. Eyes narrowed, and head tilted to look for an escape, “Be glad I restrained myself, because I wanted to bite, but instead I only grabbed.” The shift in his body was clear, he hadn’t been expecting that but he sure seemed to like it. A smile played on your lips, “Oh, did you hear something you liked, Jeon?” lightly snapping your teeth at the end. Jungkook suddenly lunged at you, arm out stretched. You squeaked out a laugh as you hopped back and to the right. Your arm reaching the glass doorhandle and yanking it open, before charging out into the cold. The snow under your sneakers made you nervous but you pushed it down as Jungkook’s  boots crunched loudly in the snow. You quickly realized you were more trapped outside surrounded by the frozen forest than you had been in the house. Your foot slid in the snow, causing you to start to fall. Decision made for you, you turned and slid even more landing down on one knee with the other leg stretched out into a half split. With your arms out in the air at your sides for balance, you looked up to face your boyfriend. His handsome face was beaming with a victorious smile, his breath creating puffs in the cold air. All black onesie, beanie, and boots overshadowing all the snowy white. It really wasn’t fair how he looked so good in snow. All you wanted to do was launch yourself into his arms but you refused to give up your little game. You reached down and grabbed a handful of snow, ignoring the cold burn before tossing it at Jungkook. You watched as the snow scattered in the air, a few stray clumps only missing him by inches before they fell to the ground. Laughter bubbles up inside you, and you could feel yourself tipping over. Eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back as your laughter danced with the breeze, you gave in falling back into the snow, only to have a strong arm wind around your shoulders, cushioning your head from impact. “Caught you.” Jungkook’s warm hand on your cheek had your eyes opening, His smile brighter than the sun behind his shoulder. You tilted your head to the side, kissing his palm, as you brought your hand up to rest over his heart  before your eyes met again. “Hi.” His thumb slid along your cheek, touching the corner of your lips. “Hiya sweetheart.” Jungkook leaned down, and touched his nose to yours. “I knew you were there.” You leaned your head up to soak in the warmth of his breath as your other arm came around his back, nails tracing random patterns on his broad shoulder. “Damn, Hobi is a shitty alibi.” Jungkook chuckled, “Nah, babe, well yeah” he leaned closer, his lips ghosting over yours, “but I could see the reflection of your pink onesie in the window.” “Well fuck me and my hiding skills.” You breathed on his lips. He leaned his head back and to the side, “We can’t really call them skills, now can we, love?” Your nose scrunched up, “Excuse you, I am very skilled in the art of hide-“ Jungkook’s hand came up, and pulled lightly at the zipper of your onesie, stopping once he exposed where your cleavage and the cup of your red bra met. “Very skilled, indeed.” The gasp that escaped you had nothing to do with the cold air hitting your exposed flesh, and everything to do with Jungkook’s hips pushing into yours. You licked your lips as you hooked your legs around him. “We’re both very skilled, some may even say blessed.” His smirk was intoxicating, and the mischief in his eyes had your breath stalling in your lungs. If your hand would have been anywhere else, you would not of known he was up to something. But as you felt his back muscles shift slightly, you looked to his side and saw snow in his free hand. “Gguk…” The breathy tone of your voice had his smirk widening, and his nose wrinkling. He brought his snowy hand up, and over your bare chest, holding it there. Your eyes met, before you both watched his still hand, and the slowly melting snow shifting along his fingers. Your hand tightened on his shoulder, nails biting in as soon as the first drop of snow started to fall. It hit your chest with a searing silence as your lungs tried to take in all the air around you at once. Jungkook caused all of that air to rush from your lungs in the next moment, as he leaned down and slowly licked the melted snow off your chest. His dark eyes on yours, he placed open mouthed kisses along to the next snow that fell, before his hot tongue came out again to lick the liquid up. The shiver that rocked your body felt like it would of been felt through the very earth beneath you. His lips feathered lightly over to your galloping heart, resting there, as he brought his wet hand up to your throat. He tilted your chin up, before using his three long fingers to paint down your throat with melted snow. The whimper that managed to escape your throat was desperate and eager. Jungkook’s answering noise rumbled from his chest into yours, animalistic and proud, as he leaned up tongue starting at your collarbone, and slowly gliding up toward your chin. Snow fell as his teeth nipped at your pulse point. Your legs tightening around his hips, head thrown back further as your hands pulled him as close as possible. Snow forcefully hit your hand that was on his back, causing you to let go of Jungkook and had him pulling back looking down at you confused. Your brows furrowed as Jungkook shifted up onto his forearms quickly, covering you, right before the sound of snow hitting could be heard. You stared at his chest, as realization dawned, then brought your hands up to cover his exposed neck. A slow clap could be heard as the snow stopped. “Playing grab ass in the snow like a couple of horny teenagers!”  Jimin’s voice sounded so proud and amused. “Doesn’t feel good having people storm into your private moment, huh?” Hobi taunted as Taehyung’s laugh rang out just before another smash of snow sounded. Jungkook shifted his head to look behind him, your hands tightening around his neck with the movement. “The hell..?” “Just thought you could use some audience feedback,” came Jin’s reply, “Can’t see shit through your big ass head.” Hoseok’s wheeze was unnecessarily loud, and caused your irritation to skyrocket. “That shit’s not cool, bestie!” You called from under Jungkook. “Shit’s not cool to disrupt my down time, AGAIN!” Hobi shot out. “You and Jungkook with your kinky games…” Jin tried to sound disappointed but his laughter was too clear as another snowball hit your boyfriend’s back. “It wasn’t intentional, EX-bestie! This is kinky? Broaden your horizons to match your shoulders, bitch.” Your annoyance had you letting go of Jungkook’s neck to quickly zip up your onesie, then tapping him so he would move off you, which he ignored. As Jimin and Tae’s giggles rang out, you felt Jungkook tighten himself over you just before the thud of more snowballs hitting his back could be heard. Your hands quickly went back up to his neck, only to be met with clumps of erupted snowballs.  You quickly scooped as many pieces as you could and tossed them aside. Jungkook leaned back, his eyes dipping down to see you had zipped up, before looking at you with raised eyebrows. Just as he opened his mouth, you saw a snowball hit the back of his head, the broken pieces scattering around him as his head tipped down with the force. Pushing lightly at Jungkook’s chest, he actually moved back this time into a Half crouch half standing position, amusement written all over his face as he extended his hand to you. Once your hand was in his, he effortlessly pulled you up and into his body, still shielding you. “I’m gonna kick their asses.” You declared fiercely. His hand came up to cup your cheek, fingers tucking some hair behind your ear. “I fucking love you.” Jungkook’s voice was like warm honey sticking to your skin. You leaned up on your tiptoes, hands going to his cold wet neck, “I fucking love you too.” Jungkook’s  thumb slid down to your chin, to bring your lips together in a quick promise filled kiss. He pulled back as another snowball hit his back. Your glare was instantly back and aimed in the direction of the snowball launcher, even though all you could see was your boyfriend’s strong chest. His radiant smile had you looking up and ignited your own. “Seems like a good day for war.” Your smile turned into a massive smirk at his competitive declaration. “That’s what I’ve been saying all day!” “Tonight, we celebrate.” Jungkook winked as he stepped back and turned to face his brothers, missing the way your eyes lit up. “Oh shit, Jiminie woke the beast!” Hoseok called out, your eyes easily finding him further back from Tae and Jimin, a pile of snowballs on the ground as he used his gloved hands to make more at an alarming rate. Tae was also trying to stockpile snowballs, but wasn’t getting very far ahead. “Was that a toucan!?” Jimin yelled while turning quickly, stomping on more than half of Taehyung’s snowball collection, squinting at the trees. “Stop, Jiminah!” Tae grumbled as he hunched over, hurrying to make more. “Did you hear that?” Jimin said seriously as he turned, kicking out his leg taking out the rest of the pile. “Whatcha hearing, Jimin-shi?” Jungkook asked from your left. You looked down to see him squatted in the snow, sleeves of his onesie pulled over his hands making his own ammunition. “Sounds like Jiminie’s trying to save himself.” Jin laughed out. You hid your laughter behind a cold hand, wondering where you could grab some gloves for you and Jungkook, as Taehyung reached down, pulled up an arm full of snow, and dumped it on Jimin’s head. The yell that pierced the air sounded like a quack and actually caused birds to fly from the nearby trees. “Forget this, I’m going inside!” Jimin shouted as he turned toward the house shaking loose as much snow as possible. The chorus of boos we all let out were quickly accompanied by snowballs launching at Jimin’s retreating back. Causing him to tuck and roll to hide behind a pile of wood. “It was his idea, wasn’t it?” You asked no one in particular. Hoseok nodded and pointed at Jin too. The grin on your face was full of mischief and anticipated victory as you bent down to start another pile of snowballs. Jungkook sending your eyes to the pile he had been working on, as he placed a snowball into each of your hands. “Let’s get it, babe!”

[cjsinkythoughts]

Teaser!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Genius!Reader (All my works are fem!Readers)

Series Warnings: Mentions of past abuse/murder, abusive drunk, very shitty dad, Reader had a really bad childhood, Winter Soldier stuff, smut (it’s not explicit as of right now, just implied, but it’s still 18+ only please and thank you), kidnapping, HYDRA being shit, a *cough* spoilers - pregnancy *cough*, there’s lots of angst, but there’s lots of fluff too, cursing, of course, I tend to do a lot of that, half the population dying, alternate Endgame ending, there’s probably more that I’m forgetting, but there will be chapter warnings too, so please please read them just in case! 

A/N: There’s a lot that goes on in this series and I have most of it written, I just have to rewrite it to fit 2nd POV (this snippet isn’t, it’s in 3rd, but the story will be in 2nd). Plus some other stuff I’ve gotta edit. The beginning half or so will follow the MCU - mainly Captain America: The Winter Soldier and Captain America: Civil War - and I don’t know how many parts there will be. I’m excited for this series. I just hope I can actually finish it…

Anyways, here’s a little snippet. Again, this is from the rough draft. It’s not edited to fit the format the actual story will be, and there’s a part from the original missing, but it’s just a teaser. I nearly posted the entire first part, because I didn’t know where to stop, but this is what you get. Also, this was originally an OC, so if there’s ever a descriptive characteristic of the reader, feel free to  (politely) inform me. That’s totally my bad and I’ll gladly change it to make it more inclusive. 

Uh…yeah. So this is the next thing I’m working on. I hope you guys enjoy it. Be kind to yourselves and others. Enjoy the teaser and stay tuned!

CJ’s Masterlist

***

The small cell was dark, the only stream of light coming from the lamp at the desk where a figure hunched over notes and scans. The young woman let out a tired sigh, leaning back in her chair and rubbing her eyes. After three years, she had gotten used to the lack of natural lighting.

Three years.

Three years she had been stuck in the hell hole, witnessing horrible acts; she couldn’t tell if the screams she would hear at night were real anymore. Three years ago she was blissfully unaware of how terrible the world could be - the nightmares underneath every surface, lurking in every shadow, hiding in every corner. Which, she thought, was saying something considering her childhood. She never imagined she could ever long for those nights taking shelter under her bed from her father’s drunken rage, covering her head with her pillows to block out her mother’s pleadings and shouts of pain. Yet, here she was. Longing for the freedom that would grant her.

Then again, it was her father’s fault she was here in the first place.

She looked over, snapping out of her thoughts, at the sound of her cell being unlocked. “He’s back.” The agent at the door growled out.

Raising her eyebrows, she checked her watch; it was late, after midnight, but that wasn’t what she was checking for. He was back quicker than usual. She didn’t think anymore of it, standing up and walking over to the agent. She had lost her curiosity her first year being held there, quickly learning that her only business was the mental state of their soldier.

She followed the agent out into the hall, blinking at the bright hallway lights that flooded her sight. She had memorized the route by this point and could probably walk to the familiar room with her eyes closed. Take a left here, go down the stairs, pass through the hall, right turn, wait…left turn again.

They finally got to the room, which she reluctantly entered. It was large and, like most of the base, was blinding with artificial lighting. There was a room in the back separated by glass with more computers. In the center, surrounded by computer screens, was the cursed machine. If she never saw it again, it would be too soon. She couldn’t help her visible surprise when she saw the man sitting in the chair, agents hooking him up to the machine.

This was the worst part. Studying him. She had to watch - note every minor tick and major squirm. Listening to him was even more heart wrenching.

But it was her job. Her job that she was basically sold to, but her job nonetheless. She couldn’t help him, as much as she wanted to. If she so much as spoke to him without permission, they’d both get in trouble.

She often wished she never got a degree in psychology. It didn’t help that she studied kinesiology and linguistics, either. Maybe if she did music or art she wouldn’t be here. But, then again, she had always been a quick study. She supposed she was doomed to be here one way or another. Being born a genius sucked.

[jwritesandrambles]

“Supposed to Be”

Hi there! Yeah I still barely use tumblr but hey lookit I did the wrote thing down!!!!

I would like to give a bit thank you to @schweeeppess and @dragonsworn05 for editing my messy dyslexic rambles. @noroomforcream and @just-a-little-in-over-my-head  did some really cool art for this! 

(if I missed tagging someone, it’s not personal I appreciate you so much, I’m just posting in a rush mwauh)

Jason was back in Gotham. For the second time since he died, actually.

The last time hadn’t gone well. Technically, it had gone according to plan--for the most part--but Jason was still shambling together the broken pieces of his mind. Back then in December, all that was left of Jason were the shards of hurt and anger. He had been living for nothing but the idea of someone else’s death. Coming back to the real world, away from the sheltered and hidden places of the League of Shadows and the All-Caste, seemed to bring a bit of him back. Seeing Bruce, talking to him…everything that went down, and the reminder that he cared about him--loved him, even--it woke something up in Jason. Something that he thought had died along with him and never came back. 

He had spent a year by himself, taking any mercenary jobs he could get, trying to find something other than the all consuming anger that had fuelled him for the past few years, but his travels didn’t matter now, as he stood in a back alley of Gotham, the protective red helmet tucked under his arm. He wished his replacement, Tim Drake, hadn’t chosen this particular alley to meet up in. 

The balcony and rickety old fire escape were unforgettable to Jason. It was where he had met the Bat, after trying to jack the tires off one of those many damn expensive cars that Bruce had. Not only where it began, but where he once thought it would end. It was only a year ago he had stood, gun trained on Bruce, the man he had, for a time, called father. His voice shook and tears rolled down his cheeks, “it would be so easy to kill you.”

Jason was ripped from his reminiscing as a soft thud signaled that Red Robin had landed behind him. Jason flinched more than he’d like to admit, but fought the urge to draw his weapon. Quick reflexes was a nice way of saying jumpy. 

“Hood,” The teen greeted. 

“Replacement,” Jason said with a nod, echoing Tim’s tone back at him, relaxing. 

“Weren’t you a replacement too?” Tim pointed out, seeming to take no offence. 

Jason shrugged, “True. I’m not denying it. Just as long as you know that’s probably what B expects. Another Grayson,” he mumbled. 

Sure, he was less angry than before, but that didn’t mean Jason wasn’t a bitter son of a bitch. 

Tim bit the inside of his lip, an awkward and slightly uncomfortable look on the visible part of his face. It flickered away and was replaced with a more professional, neutral expression as he cleared his throat. 

“Yes... well... We’re here for a job so let’s focus. You got all the information B sent you?” He was honestly trying his best, but he was hesitant about this mission. Could anyone blame him? Jason Todd had proven himself to be... volatile. The memories of Jason’s violence were all too fresh in Tim’s mind. 

“Yeah, I got it. I read the file over,” he mumbled. He puffed out a weak breath, “Scarecrow set up a chemical mixing shop by the docks, at least one shipment has come in, but we can expect more, right? Anything I missed?” Jason asked, rummaging through his coat pockets. 

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He had been trying to quit, but he didn’t want to be getting distracted with cravings while trying to focus on the mission. 

Tim watched him quietly as he lit off, smelling the tobacco from up on his perch. 

“Um... yes, that’s all,”  the teen dragged his teeth along the edge of his lip. The skin felt slightly raw and sore from his empty minded nibbling. 

Jason started walking off down the alley, leaving a slight trail of lingering smoke in damp air. Tim followed. 

“So,” Jason pulled the cigarette from his lips, careful not to let his helmet slip from under his arm. He held it between his first and second fingers, “Uh.. Why’d you have us meet here instead of anywhere closer to the docks?” He asked, trying to break the awkwardly growing silence.

“Scarecrow has patrols circulating around the docks. We’re less likely to be spotted if we’re not waiting around there to meet up,” Tim explains with a little shrug.

Jason hummed a brief note of understanding, “Oh yeah, that makes sense. I’m, uh, I haven’t worked with anyone in... years,” Jason paused, taking another drag from the smouldering cigarette, “Y’know, really nothing team oriented since working with B. Even then I was a shitty teammate,” he laughed hollowly.

Tim nodded, thinking about what Jason’d just said. Had it really been that long? Maybe… maybe the fact that Jason was even admitting to being a bad teammate didn’t bode well. It could mean trouble for them later. If it was so obvious that even Jason could admit it, perhaps Tim shouldn’t have done this team-up. 

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Tim ran to catch up to Jason quickly, “Wait... how old are you?” He asked upon reaching him. 

“I’m t- uh... hold on, well... how long was I gone?” He asked Tim in return. 

“You were thought to be dead for five years,” Tim told him, in a tone like he was reciting a Wikipedia page written about the formally deceased, wayward Wayne boy. Now that Jason thought of it, he was certain Bruce had a file written up on him now. Bruce had written up for every major criminal in Gotham city. 

Jason let out a low whistle and soft huff, “I must be… twenty one now? Weird.”

“So... you didn't know how old you were till now?” Tim raised a brow, causing the mask to shift.

“Yeaahh,” Jason drew the word out sarcastically, pretending to took him deep thought to reconcile. “Somethin’ about the severe head trauma, dying, comin’ back, and being isolated from the normal world for years, all while being a wreck the whole time seems to have made my memory a lil’ fuzzy,” Jason said with a wry, sarcastic smile.

Tim seethed silently, letting out a series of apologetic mumbles, eyes dropping to ground ahead of him- it was a tactless and rude thing to ask, and Tim should’ve known that! 

Jason laughed weakly, hand quickly coming up towards him and... ruffled Tim’s hair? The boy hadn’t even had a chance to recoil. He was just confused; that was the last thing he’d expect from Jason.

The man stubbed out his cigarette and lumbered on ahead of Tim, dropping it in the trash, “Don’t worry about it, kid. I was just being a bitch, you’re fine.”

Tim opened and closed his mouth, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. A man who tried to kill him only a year ago had just ruffled his hair?! He decided not to comment on it, because-- after all--what the hell could he even say?

Tim cleared his throat again, “We should get into position, we’re almost there. Maybe get your, uh, helmet-thingy on?” He suggested. 

Jason glanced at the helmet- he’d almost forgotten he had it tucked under his arm. 

“Yeah, of course,” Jason said, lifting his helmet and plunking it on his head, “good reminder, Timbers.” His voice became modulated the second the helmet covered his head. His low, gravely, smokers growl of a voice, was nowhere near and deep and gravely as Bruce’s--but sounded like it took a step closer with every box of cigarettes--became a pitch lower still. An odd robotic twang edged his words, giving him a metallic, cyber sound.

Tim adjusted his own mask, making sure it was firmly in place before nodding to Jason. The two silently started up again, approaching a warehouse that was supposed to be locked until the next morning’s shipment. “Supposed to be” being the operative words. Instead, there was muted huffing and shuffling as two of Scarecrow’s workers uncomfortably hauled a large crate into the building.

Both Jason and Tim seemed to shrink into the shadows at the same instant; each becoming one with the wall. Jason drew his weapon quietly, earning a disapproving frown from Tim. “I’m not gonna kill them. Chill,” Jason whispered in that odd robotic voice. 

Tim seemed satisfied enough to quit pouting at Jason. They crept closer, making little dashes between hiding spots when the coast was clear.

Jason let out a breath of curse as his eyes fell about the giant, glass, canister. It was filled with a bubbling, sickly, arsenic green substance.

“No way, that shit is all fear toxin? Fuck! He’s got enough to blast the entire downtown!” His voice came through in a synthesized hiss.

“Worse.” Tim whispered, spying the large pressurizer on top of the glass container. “That’s just the liquid form. When he releases it, it’ll be gaseous. If it’s released from the container from a high vantage point, a small breeze could cover the entire city in minutes.”

The severity of the situation washed over what little of Tim’s features were visible from beneath the mask. 

This wasn’t just a quick little in and out operation anymore. One wrong move and there could have a small, yet very messy, catastrophic outcome.

Tim had to plan this carefully, because there was no way they could afford to mess this up.

He turned to Jason...or, rather, where Jason had just been seconds before. 

Jason had evidently had a similar train of thought to Tim’s. He’d realized this was a serious situation, though, instead of drawing the conclusion to re-evaluate, re-plan, and carry on with caution, or something sensible-- he seemingly forgot any sense of subtlety he had. Oh, God forbid carefully thinking his actions out, like any sane rational person would do. Or calling for backup, like anyone with a vague semblance of self-preservation.  No no, instead, Jason had decided it was best to act now and not waste a second with plans or any ideas of safety. He jumped into action.

Jason was already leaping over the crate the two vigilantes had been hiding behind seconds ago, as Tim let out a quiet imploring hiss of “Wait--oh no-”“ but it was too late.

Jason already had his gun drawn. 

“Scarecrow!” he yelled, “this ends now!” He fired at the box the two workers were carrying, sending it out of their hands and clattering to the floor. A series of shattering followed the initial crash as the contents shattered. Whatever chemicals that had been inside hissed loudly, a faint smoke rising from between the boards of the wooden box.

“Hood!?” The Scarecrow rounded to face who he knew as the ex-criminal, ‘The Red Hood.’

“In the flesh.” Jason kept his gun trained on Scarecrow, while a third worker who had been off to the side started to shuffle his way towards him.

“Thought you moved your little operation away from Gotham when the Bats got the better of you,” Scarecrow commented, not seeming pleased about the interruption at all. 

Scarecrow’s worker lunged at Jason. Tim kicked himself mentally and left hiding, kicking the worker --physically, not mentally this time-- back away from Jason. The third worker scuttled back, apparently deciding this altercation was above his pay grade.

Jason felt something he hadn’t really felt in a long time; it was a feeling akin to camaraderie. He had someone watching his back for once. If the circumstances hadn’t been so dire, he might have even cracked a smile. Or, rather, he might have felt a slight tug at the corner of his lips, at least.

“Well, yeah, the bats did get the best of me. Now I’m tryna give them my best. And that involves bootin’ your sorry ass out of here.”

“Quick witted, aren’t you?” Scarecrow tensed slightly. His eyes darted away from behind his mask for a moment. He was glancing to the side. Tim followed his gaze over to the-

Shit! The canister! If the bullet missed Scarecrow it would-

Tim knew what scarecrow was thinking, but it was too late.

“NO!” Tim shouted, helplessly watching as Scarecrow dove.

As expected, Jason pulled the trigger reflexively, but the Scarecrow had already ducked. The bullet made a resounding bang as it fired, hitting the large gas canister. 

Tim seized up, every nerve buzzing, every muscle tensed, every fibre of his being filled with an awful sinking sensation. The room was deadly-still. It was like something written by the hand of a fool-hardy novelist, who was paid far too much for over-the-top paperbacks; The bullet had embedded itself in the glass, acting like a stopper. A sickening series of cracks emanated from the canisters, as a thin spidery web formed across the glass. All tendrils originating from where the bullet hit.

Jason let out a low whistle, “Well. That coulda been disastrous.”

Tim couldn’t help but feel relieved, a stressed laugh escaping his lips. 

Scarecrow was scampering away, his workers already having pulled a quick disappearing act themselves, because, this wasn’t what he’d planned. 

“Don’t even think about it, Crane,” Jason said as he turned, taking a heavy step.

Said heavy step was apparently too much. The glass gave a shuttering groan, followed by a small hiss as gas began to leak.

Tim made an involuntary distressed sound. Something akin to an exhausted sigh mixed with a whimper. 

The one word that ever so eloquently graced Jason’s lips was, “Fuck.”

And the canister...

Burst.

The pressure placed on the glass had built up and could no longer hold.

Jason’s final step had been the breaking point, the spider work of cracks along the glass giving way with a great shatter.

Shards of the canister flung themselves across the room. The liquid that had been held within instantly began vaporizing into a thick, sickening gas. To anyone that had the misfortune of inhaling it, it felt as though the gas was trying --with every atom of its existence-- to choke the life out of its victim. It reached into their lungs, clawed at their insides, grabbing at their desperately beating hearts, and squeezed. It forced their brain to fill their body with adrenaline and hallucinogens. Tim knew this. 

He’d studied the Scarecrow’s fear toxin many times. He’d been exposed to it before, too. Tim knew this fear and knew he was helpless to do anything about it.

Tim was helpless to stop this. He had failed. He’d failed Bruce. He’d failed this mission. Because he was weak. He was weak, helpless, hopeless, a failure, a burden, unwanted. He was nothing more than a replaceable replacement. No one would care if he was gone, God, it’s not like anyone would ever notice! He was a forgettable nothing. Tim coughed and wheezed. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe!

Tim staggered. He tripped over his feet trying to get away from the intense fear that gripped his throat. Tim realized something physical was gripping his neck. The thing dragged him back roughly, towards what he could only assume was something horrid. Tim clawed at the thing gripping his throat. As he gasped for shuddering breath, he couldn’t help but begin to sob. He was going to die. He would die and no one would care. No one would even try to find him when he didn’t come home, they wouldn’t even notice because he was worthless, replaceable, weak, failure, helpless!

A new level of fear washed over Tim as he felt something cover his face, it encased his head. Tim could feel it squeeze his skull, he swore the pressure felt tight enough to crush his cranium like a tin can. It was claustrophobic. He felt his own shallow breath bounce back against his lips, because it had nowhere else to go. He was trapped and suffocating.

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t BREATHE! OH--oh, oh no... no? Wait a moment... he COULD breathe.

Tim took a moment to try to get his bearings. He needed to remember how his lungs worked. He awkwardly sucked in a breath of filtered, recycled air. It tasted tinny on his tongue. Tim blinked the tears from his eyes. They rolled down his cheeks, and he became aware of the taste of salt too. There was the faint scent of stale tobacco and smoke. His mind was reeling as he processed each detail. He dragged tongue over his lips nervously, and began to chew at his bottom lip. Tim’s heart was still pounding and his hands were shaking. He raised his hands to feel his head, glancing at his twitching fingers as they passed in front of his face, confusedly. Everything had a red tinge to it. He pressed his hands to his head, feeling a hard smooth surface.

Tim’s brain felt slow and groggy, taking a moment to clue into what was on his head. Was it Jason’s helmet? Yes, yes it was Jason’s helmet, that was certain, but where was Jason? 

The thick gas still hung in a green fog, but the helmet seemed to be filtering the worst of it out. Tim swept his arm though the air, watching the gas clear slightly, before swooping in to fill the gaps. Tim knew he needed to thin this stuff out if he wanted to have any hope in finding Jason before tripping over him. He rushed through the room, feeling his way over to the door. Scarecrow’s men had closed it, containing them --and more importantly the gas--  inside. Small mercy the fear toxin wasn’t being released on the city though. 

Tim dragged his fingers along the wall. His senses were so heightened that it was almost overstimulating. It was likely due to the toxin, Tim guessed. He could still feel the rough brick as he scraped along, even through the tips of his gloves. It was oddly reassuring. A steady constant he could focus on until -thunk-  His hand bumped into a smooth metallic protrusion from the wall. Exactly what Tim had been looking for. 

“Bingo.”

Tim swept his other arm through the air again, doing his best to fan the gass away for him to get a bit of a better view of what he was hoping to see. A metal switch box, old and slightly rusted around the edges. Tim had been counting on any wearhouse by the docks having a ventilation system to keep the products safe from humidity. Of course, he was right. With some difficulty, Tim wrenched the switch box open. After straining to read faded, dusty labels through the gas in the air, he flipped what he hoped was the right switch.

There was a small whine of aching metal that hadn’t moved in a long time and Tim cracked into a grin underneath the helmet. 

He’d done it!

The fans kicked into a regular pace. The smooth ‘whoomp whoomp whoomp’ of turning blades filled Tim with a sense of muted triumph. The foggy haze of fear gas began to thin as the building began to filter it out, mixing it with the humid air. Tim figured it would be condensed and drip out to puddle with the dirty water in the alley behind the warehouse. If Tim was right, which he usually was, it wouldn’t harm anyone unless they decided to drink from the puddle water. Which was unlikely, but not impossible. It was Gotham after all.

Tim looked around the room as the gas dissipated. His gaze found its way to a shaking heap on the floor next to the shattered remains of the canister he had been standing before. The proud grin faded from Tim’s lips. 

That... that wasn’t a good sign at all.

“Hey, um, hood? Red hood, status?” He asked, the words felt strange as they left his mouth. Hearing his own modulated voice echo slightly in the room felt vaguely surreal. 

The heap of muscle and leather known as Jason didn’t reply. 

Seeing Jason’s twitching body on the floor emptied a hollow pit in Tim’s stomach. Jason had never seemed like he was even capable of fear. Capable of rage, capable of hurt, and capable of pain, sure, but fear seemed like something Tim would’ve assumed Jason was beyond. Something so... innate, that the unnatural nature of Jason’s second life would’ve swept it away. 

Tim made his way over, hesitantly rolling the helmet forward off his head. The fear toxin seemed to be thin enough now that it wasn’t harming him.  

“Ja-er, Jason?” Tim’s soft voice seemed thunderously loud in the quiet room. The only other sounds around were the fans quietly whirring away and, far more disturbingly in his opinion, the even quieter shaking breaths and distressed whimpering tumbling from Jason’s lips. 

Jason was not in good shape. He was shaking violently, hands over his head. His whimpers were punctuated by violent spasms that racked his body every few seconds, accompanied with a louder more pronounced cry. 

Tim felt the colour drain from his face. He quickly kneeled down, setting the helmet on the concrete floor next to them both with a slight clink. Tim grabbed Jason’s arm, trying to turn him on to his back. Jason heftily flailed the arm Tim pulled, unintentionally hitting Tim in the face. Tim yelped in surprise as a sharp pain sprung from his nose, warm liquid leaking down his face. The blood pouring down his face didn’t deter Tim much, the blood coursing through him  seeming to do the opposite for pain as it did the rest of his senses. The pain was slightly numbed--or, rather, it had become easy to ignore. He fought to wrangle both of Jason’s arms, quickly scrambling to sit on Jason’s torso, struggling to pin Jason’s arms down with his legs. 

Tim took off his mask. He knew it was against protocol, but an un-obscured face was easier to recognize when the toxin took hold, in Tim’s experience. 

“Jason? Jason, look at me. Can you hear me?” he asked quickly, holding on to Jason’s shoulders. He desperately hoped Jason wouldn’t throw him off. Jason’s eyes were unfocused, spinning around wildly all over the room. 

Tim tried to process Jason’s words, “No, not again, ple--I can’t I--it hurts! Fuck! It hurts,” Jason’s words became incomprehensible for a moment, then his fists clenched tightly. “I don’t want to die! Not again. Not again not again not again! He’s gotta come save me, take me home, he’s gotta! Shit, not again!“ he choked and broke off with a shout and another full body jerk. 

Tim was jostled but didn’t fall off, by some miracle. “Jason!” he tried. “Listen to me!” Tim put his hands on either of Jason’s face. Jason flinched away from Tim’s touch with a sob of “It hurts, it hurts, I can hear all my bones snapping, I’m dying, it’s crushing me, I can’t--I can’t--”

“I know,” Tim cut him off gently, “I know it hurts and--and you’re scared, but you’re not alone, I’m right here. I’m going to help you,” Tim tried to catch Jason’s focus. 

Jason’s roaming eyes stopped dodging around the room, and turned towards Tim. He kept looking from Tim’s shoulders, Tim’s chest, back up to his face and then to his eyes and back to his chest again. Perhaps not the ideal image of calming down but it was a first step. 

“Good,” Tim praised softly in relief. He ran his thumbs over Jason’s cheeks gently. Now more so than ever did Tim take notice of the scars on either side of Jason’s face. On Jason’s left cheek, there was a jagged line that traced from his cheek bone down to his jaw. A similar yet smaller one was mirrored on Jason’s right. Tim could understand why Jason flinched from him. He shook the thought from his mind, “See? We’re okay. Just try to breathe, in and out. You can do that, right, Jason?”

“No! No! I c-can’t, I’m crushed, I can’t. My--my lungs, they’re all full of blood, and mud, and dirt, and fuckin’ I dunno what!” Another violent thrash went through Jason’s body, almost toppling Tim off this time. “I can’t breathe, it hurts! I want it to stop hurting! How do I make it stop!?” 

“Uah--yeah, I know it hurts, but I promise nothing is crushing you. It’s just me, I’m light, and I’m here and I--I know it hurts I’m going to try to make it stop but I need to--” Jason thrashed, but Tim didn’t relinquish his hold on him, “--but I NEED you to stay still!”

Jason’s eyes finally locked on to Tim’s, “M-make it s-stop?” he echoed back to the smaller vigilante.

“Yeah, yeah I’m going to try to make it stop.” Tim slowly pulled his hands away from Jason, sitting back slightly, starting to fish through the many pockets and pouches attached to the strap around his waist.  

He almost always had the antidote on hand. Bruce had trained him and prepared him meticulously, making certain that Tim would be ready with everything they had at all costs. The only issue was it was enough antidote for him; almost seventeen, about a head shorter and ninety pounds lighter--nowhere near enough antitoxin for the two hundred and forty pounds of murder that was the shaking mass of Jason Todd slumped before him.

Jason dropped his head back against the concrete floor, beginning to mutter once again. 

“My fault. All my fault. I can’t--all dead.”

“No one is dead, Jason, everyone is okay,” Tim said, soon after feeling a small surge of triumph as he located his field fear toxin antidote kit. He opened it, quickly pulling out a small vial, and a syringe.

Jason’s eyes snapped to the syringe in Tim’s hand as he filled with antidote. Jason grew quiet for a second before starting to try to fight Tim off of him, “No, no no no no no no! Don’t go! don’t go! Not again, I can’t be alone, can’t be asleep he’s gonna kill us. Dad said he’ll get rid’f his mistakes!” 

Tim knew Bruce wouldn’t have ever threatened Jason like that. He could only assume Jason meant his biological father. 

“Said he would--don’t, don’t! It’s crushing me I can’t be alone!” Jason couldn’t keep hold of his own fears. They ran together, all mixed in to become some dread filled nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. 

Tim was lucky Jason was so sloppy in this state. If he’d had a bit more of his wits about him, Tim figured Jason would’ve easily shaken him off already.

“You aren’t alone!” Tim reminded Jason, struggling to inject Jason without hurting him. “This is going to make it stop, I promise!” Well, that wasn’t fully true. But the dose would reduce it. 

When Jason wouldn’t hold still enough for him to properly gauge where the vein he needed was, Tim unceremoniously jabbed at where he hoped it was instead. 

Jason shouted, thrashing around like a heavy shark in a net being lifted out of water.

Tim pulled the empty syringe away quickly, letting Jason throw him off. He stumbled and crashed back down, landing on the concrete floor a few feet away. Tim only now realized how heavy his breath was as he watched Jason writhe freely on the floor before him. As Tim caught his breath, Jason’s movements gradually began to slow. The mutterings of fear faded into soft whimpers, then into deep breaths like Tim’s. Tim bit at his lip again. “Jason?” he asked, leaning forward slightly.

Jason groaned in response. He took a moment to collect himself as he grew conscious of reality again. Really, reality was a shit hole too, but it was a better shit hole. He shifted slightly, cussing under his breath. 

Tim felt an invisible weight lift from his shoulders; swearing like a sailor was promising in Jason’s case. 

He quickly scooted across the floor to him. 

“Hey,” Tim said in a hushed voice. “Jason? How you feeling?”

Jason--with what felt like the struggle of Sisyphus rolling his boulder for the millionth time--rolled over to face him. The white shock of hair stuck to Jason’s forehead with panic induced sweat. He puffed out a lungful of air in a feeble attempt to blow the hair from his face. Jason swiftly gave up on that and swallowed heavily.

 “I-I... yeah, yeah, I uh... I--okay. I’m feeling okay,” Jason rambled, looking dazed. He took up scanning the room again, hyper-vigilant to any danger.

Tim nodded slowly. He grabbed a water bottle that was shoved in one of his many pouches. He helped Jason sit up, just enough so he could sip at the water, and forced the bottle into Jason’s hands. 

“Drink,” Tim ordered, quietly. 

Jason’s hands still shook lightly, causing him to fumble with the cap in his hands. 

Now that the danger had passed, Tim finally had time to process what had happened; he often found himself acting and only having time to absorb the details afterwards. Details like that Jason had traded his safety and immunity for Tim’s. 

Why did Jason do that?

“Not... that I’m ungrateful,” Tim began hesitantly, “but that was a stupid thing to do, just… now- today,” he stumbled out awkwardly.

“I know,” gasped Jason after a long chug of water, a weak smile on his lips. 

“I mean--it’s like in those before flight messages on planes. Put your mask on before the baby’s or whatever,” Tim joked slightly. Tim’s nose wrinkled slightly, cringing just the tiniest bit as he realized he implied he was the baby in this situation, “Well, you know what I’m getting at…”

Jason seemed to only take even more amusement out of the teen’s regret. Tim never thought he’d see the day where he felt tension draining at the sigh of Jason Todd, a man that tried to kill him and about eighty other people, smiling. 

Jason laughed weakly, though it came out a little haltingly, as the shivering shakes hadn’t yet subsided. “Yeah, well, I d-did have my mask on. I just... gave it to the k-kid before the plane went down,” he mused. He didn’t really believe in his own point, and shook his head. 

“No, no you’re right. It was stupid and I know that.”

They fell into a slightly awkward silence for a second, the burning question still gnawing at Tim’s mind.

“Why?” Tim said, abruptly. “Er, why did you do that? If you knew it was stupid?”

Jason didn’t answer for a long moment. Instead stalling by taking another swig of water. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before answering.

 “I don’t know,” Jason admitted, with a little smile. 

Jason was breathing heavily, but seemed more focused, “I didn’t... really think. Maybe I was just makin’ up for other stuff I f-fucked up or... dunno. I guess I j-just... I knew if one of us was gonna be safe, it had to be y-ou.”

Jason swore he could practically see the little loading sign twirl in Tim’s nerd-brain as the teen processed what he’d said. The mental loading bar filled, and Jason’s words seemed to click. Tim’s eyes dropped away, and he smiled a little shyly. Not an awkward or uncomfortable smile. Just complimented.

“Thanks,” Tim’s voice was just above a whisper, “ that was... really nice of you.” 

“It’s okay, don’t men-ention it. Like literally ever. It’ll ruin my rep,” Jason cracked a teasing smirk once again and Tim got to his feet laughing lightly.

“Annnnddd he’s back to normal,” Tim chuckled and offered Jason a hand. Tim yanked him, not without obvious difficulty, up to stand tall. Jason leaned on him for a moment before straightening, keeping a hand on Tim’s shoulder to steady himself. Tim quickly bent down and scooped up their masks from the floor where he’d set them down.

“Let’s get you home,” Tim hummed, putting Jason’s arm around his shoulders again when he stood.

“Hey, I’m fin-ne, you don’t have to take me back,” Jason argued, but Tim was already starting to lead him away.

“Too bad, I decided I am.”

“Rep-placement Robin number whatever you are--I am fine!”

“Sure you are, that’s why you can’t stand up right by yourself?”

“Shut up!”

“I speak only truth.”

The two bickered all the way back through away from the docks. All the way back through the city. All the way until they reached Jason’s apartment complex. Then they bickered some more. Though neither knew it yet, what had begun forming was the beginning of a close bond. One that nothing would be able to break.

[thejudgingtrash]

Can you explain to me how Rachel was annoying in the series?

Well, I’ll try to keep myself short for this one (lol no, this took an hour to write). Also, let’s not forget that they’re all kids, but I’m basing this off from when I read the series as a fourteen year old because my opinions haven’t changed much (for better or for worse).

I’m not the biggest fan of Rachel. I have to admit that portrayals of her by Simi, Kit, Logan, Apollo and all the others helped to shape her into something cooler than what she had been in my foggy memories but I actually went back to take a look in the books (well, TTC + BOTL so far) to refreshen my mind about events that have happened.

Also, you should browse through @blackjacktheboss's blog as she’s a) hilarious and b) says whatever I say in like a single sentence lol. But your ask is about me and my opinions so here we go:

What I didn’t like about Rachel was that she’s rude and bold (DON’T GET ME WRONG, I love that in female characters!!!), but she doesn’t have Annabeth’s excuse of survival of the fittest (literally running off as a traumatized seven year old) and introducing us into the world of the Riordanverse.

Percy was on his way, had shit to deal with and Rachel pretty much interrupted him from the get-go and thought getting her answers was more important than letting Percy just rush forward. Yes, this is Rachel’s entrance into the series and the net Riordan threw into the sea, to make us little fish adapt to her. But it still didn’t sit right with me, probably because I would never interact that way.

I get why she did that, but it’s the way how she did it that’s just making me go ???

Even if I was seeing weird things, I wouldn’t set out to distract/interrupt someone who is incredibly busy to get my way. Rachel’s dick move seems like a Karen boomer type of thing to pull off, but guess that’s up to you.

If I were her, I’d either film/try to photograph the monsters via phone (if that’s possible) or internet stalk enough to find the other person (note: despite Riordan’s stupid rule of not being able to use phones, demigods still can use computers/the internet, I guess). Percy was national news like a year or two ago in the timeline, so it shouldn’t be that difficult to find more stuff out about him, even in like 2008 or so. Let him have a spot on Perez Hilton's shitty gossip blog, for the OGs reading this.

Annabeth was used as a tool of exposition to introduce us to CHB, the demigod life and how things roll around there. She barged into Percy’s mission as a nuisance first but a necessity second in TLT.

However, in comparison to Rachel, Annabeth was transformed into a fully-fledged protagonist within a span of a chapter or two. Rachel needed another separate book after her first appearance, so we don’t just know Annabeth better, we know that she’s an important constant throughout the story as of Rachel seems… almost random? Is she truly necessary as a character?

This doesn’t come from a shipper perspective, this is coming from a character design perspective and adds to the feeling that the way she has been introduced to me as a reader just seems off.

Yes, BOTL makes sense with her as a reborn Ariadne, but technically Sally could’ve done the job as she’s a clear-sighted mortal as well lol. Then again, Sally is an adult, went to college, had a job, was unfortunately probably working it up with Paul, did the cha cha slide with him and had overall better shit to do.

Then Rachel as the oracle, which is just super weird in general. Wasn’t Apollo himself responsible for issuing prophecies in the OG myths? Or did he both, have the oracle of Delphi as his spokesperson and issue important stuff to Team Olympus? Am I mixing things up? I’m getting sidetracked, my bad.

Either way, this oracle gig might be the only time I’d say Rachel might be important in the future (badum tzz), but Riordan fumbled the bag in the follow ups series so there’s that. Did she even appear in HOO? Can’t remember and also don’t care.

Rachel is used as one out of three choices in regard to his love life that Percy can make. Calypso literally got introduced into BOTL and was admittedly Percy’s biggest what if… But the general gist doesn’t sit right with me. We have three possible routes with Percy and the others:

Rachel: somewhat normality in the mortal realm

Annabeth: the danger and thrill of the demigod life

Calypso: ambrosia and nectar. a hint of immortality

(On one hand, literally why but on the other hand, mad props for Percy who has literally three romantic leads in the same book.) I’d cancel one of them at least out and since Annabeth isn’t going anywhere, I’m taking Rachel. Sally could literally been Percy’s anchor to a normal mortal life as she had intended until it didn’t work out anymore when he became twelve and his monster alerting scent grew stronger.

Calypso and Annabeth would’ve been the perfect opposites where each of them had a strong case. The demigod life within the realms or mortal or the demigod life ascending to Olympus/immortality. Sounds cooler and is way simpler. Three people is way too much, this truly feels like a shonen anime harem thing and it’s defo not my cup of tea (and while some Annabeth sideships aren’t my thing (Lukabeth go cry in the corner, no one likes you, WTF, Connabeth you fugly), it’s super unfair that Annabeth solely has Percy (fuck off Luke) to rely on in regards of romantic endeavors).

Rachel almost feels redundant? The option to walk away from all of that… which isn’t really true as Rachel really tries to push and insert herself into the story the very first time we meet her? But that’s just me, I’m certain that others are saying they’d kill off Annabeth or kick Calypso (I mean yeah) into the curb.

Big ALSO:

Why does Percy need another white and uber-rich love interest?

I semi-joked on Dez’ post (@sawasawako) with this response about Annabeth needing to keep up with powerful Rachel, but the core still stands.

We already have an affluent Annabeth (granted, we don’t know exactly how the Chase’s riches are divided, whereas it’s clear that Rachel can just make anyone drop dead by saying who she is. Annabeth needed that weird lotus casino credit card to make that happen, so Miss Harvard Legacy doesn’t wield that Dare schmoney. Also don’t think Annabeth can just up papa’s money and go…? Idk).

Why do we need another person needing to upstage this?

Like Rachel has to triumph in regards to standard and prestige as if it were a badly written Jane Austen AU. For what reason…? Why not make Percy friends and acquaintances with someone who comes from a normal household for once, not super rich brats (Piper, Annabeth, Rachel, technically the Graces with their TV starlet mother amongst others).

Moreover…

Important question: why should Percy actually be impressed/attracted to that? He’s dirt poor and has been sent to (boarding) schools filled with stupid rich people since he’s been twelve, probably even younger than that. As if that’s the very first thing Percy would look out for or be wowed or something. He’s used to rich douchebags. I think he’s more surprised that someone used their money for his benefit for once and not to crash daddy’s new Mercedes again.

Like seriously… Rachel did that weird art project thing in BOTL with her covered in gold and posing like it’s a super normal thing to do? Even for rich snobbish kids standards? That sounds weird to me. I don’t know, maybe Riordan’s been streaming the new Gossip Girl reboot on HBO Max on repeat and thought this girl is on fiyah (performed by Alicia Keys).

Rachel trying to separate herself from her money just comes off as super hypocritical when she’s using the very same funds to finance her lifestyle. I get it, trying to make amends and make a difference with the damage you have done but... your father still doesn't give a shit about the environment or YOU, sweetie. Kick him in the balls for once! Then you can go out about your art projects.

The concept of Percy having friends in the mortal realm is cool, but why does Rachel almost have to compete with Annabeth with her wealth and art stuff?

No seriously, the comparisons are constantly there, out and about. Roaming freely on the finest grass, needing to be feed delicious locally sourced carrots and stuff.

Annabeth is Athena’s kid. Athena is the goddess of wisdom, weaving, justice, warfare yada yada and arts and crafts. So definitely something which would affect Rachel, right (someone write that Athena messing with Rachel because she can AU and tag me please!)?

Annabeth wants to become an architect which translates to fancy building designer who is driving engineers like Leonardo Eugenio Valdez Cortes insane irl because the maths and physics don't work like that in the working field trust me I'm an engineer, which could/should be considered an art form.

They even shared some common ground while talking about architecture and design in BOTL!

Furthermore, they both share broken homes with absent parents (granted that all demigods go through that). Wealthy families at that as well. Shitty fathers that don’t care about their daughters well-being. Rachel however, is super powerful and influential in an unseen level in the mortal world. She isn’t like Matt Sloan (?) who truly messes up by destroying shit to get his father's attention, but she’s still in that circle and can easily demonstrate that. Making deals with her father and what not. We rarely see Annabeth doing that. Did y’all forget the fucking helicopter Rachel brought along in TLO?

Pan saying Rachel is just as important as her father has multiple meanings to me…

(Sidenote: I do think it’s hilarious that Annabeth is jealous/annoyed of Rachel that her remarks were she’s cute right and Percy went??? Or when Tyson said Rachel’s pretty? Or that time when Annabeth actually defended Luke and his weird behavior (because Kronos was slowly taking over, don’t forget that kids!), because f that rich artist nepotism kid that Rachel seems to be, right?)

Another note: Percy thinks Rachel is annoying in BOTL for a while and it took a while for him to admit that and he spent way more time being annoyed/jealous (for once, Lordy) at Luke for him to even notice lol.

I guess it’s really hard for me to exactly pinpoint what’s bothering me. I believe Rachel's persona just doesn’t seem to hit right, because it feels like a knock-off Annabeth who just simply isn’t a demigod, yet has two cool powers, but in even richer who still needs to be part of the story for exactly what reason?

The jumping around from the richest in the series to the poorest in the series is kinda bothering me as if the middle class doesn’t exist, like I’ve stated earlier. Why didn’t Riordan mix it up with Rachel, giving her more nuance the minute they met, not towards the end? Have her be Percy’s platonic friend from the get go. No weird oh wait she is kinda cute in the middle bullshit.

This kinda drifted more into a Perachel vs Percabeth essay, which really wasn’t my intention. Don’t worry kids, I’m criticizing Annabeth (and her stans) enough already.

And I do think that others in the fandom have softened my views on Rachel as a person like I’ve stated in the beginning. So friendship!Perachel is popping! But I do think that there are some valid points that I’ve made.

Also not gonna lie, Rachel issuing the new prophecy in TLO kinda dampened the end of PJO series but that’s more Riordan’s fault than hers.

TLDR: I’m just not a huge fan of this overbearing, uber-rich, excessively flaunting being that Rachel sometimes displays. She’s flawed, she’s broken at times, has a semi-interesting background story (although it has been done over and over again throughout the series and should be changed up for once) which is great, but it is still annoying.

We don’t need an anti-Annabeth who feels like a weird caricature of the real Annabeth.

Also if this seems super incoherent, repetitive, or whatever, I'm sorry, massive headaches + mental health going down the goo lagoon does this to ya, I hope I made somewhat sense!

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Can’t Get Up- Prompt Fill

See I told you I did both!  Cw dizziness, fainting, fever, head injuries, and canon typical being mean to Jon

Send me more prompts!  (Bingo card by @celosiaa​) The ones with stars are the ones I already have prompts for, the crossed out ones are the ones I have posted!  Send me a character, a prompt, and tell me if you want an art or a fic!!!!!!

This one makes a Lot more sense if you read Too Much by @janekfan​ first, but do as you will, I think it can also stand alone.  

The lingering fever left over from Jon’s (to Martin’s and Tim’s lack of information: mysterious and) hellish few days continued to do just that... linger.  

Burned and bruised.  Concussed and dizzy.   

The fever was never overly dangerous, but it sapped Jon’s already basically nonexistent reserve of energy.  And it just... lingered.  Lingers.  

It's better now that Tim and Jon had some sort of talk, but neither of them really know how they stand with the other.  

Well, it is better for Jon because he has two people who give a shit if he collapses in the hall now.  And better for Martin because one less person is going to actively try to hurt Jon.  And better for Tim because he’s missed his friend.  But it’s still awkward.  

Tim watches Jon drag himself from the cot another morning.  It was Tim that stayed with him last night, Martin's turn tonight.  Jon is scared and confused and shouldn't be left alone.  Not when he screams himself awake every couple hours.  Not when gets so dizzy that he loses track of what he is meant to be doing.  

Jon has been trying to push through.  Trying to work.  To make himself useful.  To help save the world.  To work himself into the ground so he doesn't think about how shitty everything has been for him.  

Tim watches him drag himself up, and crumple right back down again.  Tim managing to break his fall.  Again.  He should text Martin.  He does text Martin.  

Jon blinks up fuzzily at him after just a few seconds.  

"Sorry," Jon slurs.  

"Stop that," Tim says, not unkindly.  Still trying to remember how to be kind with this fragile little man.  

"I need... 'Sira need me to... I should get up."  Jon is still struggling for words, eyes slipping closed, making no move to push himself from Tim's chest, where Tim has been pillowing him.  

Jon might be asleep again.  It's hard to tell.  Tim presses a hand to Jon's forehead, confirming it still too warm, but not worse, and returns to his seemingly endless playing with Jon's hair.  

It is still a bit before hours, so he doesn't expect Martin to appear the next moment, more like in the next half hour, depending on the crowds and the tube.  But, when he hears footsteps approaching he feels relief, until he realizes those aren't Martin's footsteps.  Too sharp.  Still heavy, bit not heavy enough.  Jon did mention needing to get something to Basira.

No one has... talked to Tim about his ....calling it a change of heart sounds stupid.  He isn't going to call it that.  He didn't have a change of heart, per se.  He just realized he had his head up his ass and was honestly just as bad as Jon in some ways.  Not to mention, he couldn't keep blaming Jon when Jon was basically just an unlucky punching bag, now with the added flavor or concussed and feverish.  

"Right," says Basira, pushing open the door after a single, sharp knock.  Pulling Jon from his uneasy sleep. 

He scrambles upright.  Too fast, sending him into a swoon for the second time in just a few minutes.  

"Did you find those files?  I need them if we want to actually stop the circus, and not just have a slumber party."  There is clearly judgement in her eyes.  

Tim, who caught Jon for the second time this morning, has an arm around him protectively.  

Jon is coming around again.  "Mmm wh'?"  He forces his eyes open against the light Basira flipped on upon her entrance, eyes crossing as he tries to bring Basira into focus.  

"Jon, look.  We really don't have time for... whatever this is.  Just get up and do something useful or just leave.  And leave the rest of us to clean up this mess."  It isn't that she is outright mean.  Not like Daisy.  Not hostile like Melanie.  But cold.  Which.... Tim shouldn't begrudge her for, but he wants to.  Was she there when Jon was beaten?  Tim's seen those bruises.  Still dark and angry.  Jon still cries out when handled roughly, or when handled gently but not gently enough.  

Was she there?  Was she complicit in this mess?  And if she was... if she watched Jon get beaten by her partner.  If she was one of the faces that stood over Jon while he dug a grave... and just waltzed back in here demanding Jon to help.  Jon who can't even stay conscious...  Who has been feverish and incoherent... 

Who is she to do that?  

Footsteps.  

Martin.  

Good.  Tim doesn't know what to do.  His instinct is to protect.  To push away.  To fight.  But can he trust that instinct?  When that's what he accused Jon of doing?  What he, himself had done?

"Morning Basira, do you think I can get through?  Jon's been a bit poorly and I rather doubt you looming over him is going to help."  

Martin.  God bless Martin.  

She scowls but stands aside.  

Martin, studiously ignores her.  

Tim would rather like to kiss him.  

Jon is still having trouble following the conversation.  But he visibly brightens when Martin steps into view.  Martin checks his temperature with the inside of his wrist.  He tuts gently at Jon, who still seems too dizzy to sit up on his own.  

"So...?" Basira.  Reminding the three of them that she is, in fact there.  

"Sorry," mumbles Jon, still barely coherent, and certainly not aware of what he was apologizing for this time.  A reflex that makes Tim shudder.  

"I'll do it myself."  She turns on her heal and leaves.  Shutting the door a bit too hardly, and Jon flinches.  

"Hey, Jon.  How are you feeling?"  Tim scoots over as gently as he can so as not to jostle Jon too much.  He makes room for Martin next to them.  

Jon's eyes flicker closed again.  Tim isn't sure if he's lost consciousness again or if he's just closed his eyes against the dizziness.  

Martin watches with worry etched on is face.  "How's he doing?"

Tim pulls a face.  "Not worse, I don't think... but not better.  Still getting nightmares.  But he's passed out on me twice, though.  Not sure what to do about that.   Could be the vertigo, could be a panic response, could be the fever, hell it could be dehydration or hunger.  We haven't gotten much food in him."  Tim yawns.  It has been a painfully long few days.  And he's only gotten the chance to sleep every other night.  

"Maybe... one of us should take him home?"  Martin has lost some of that self confidence that he managed to put up around Basira.  Probably because Tim know's Martin's flat wouldn't be comfortable for two or three people.  Probably because Martin isn't sure just how far Tim is willing to be put out on Jon's behalf.  

Then again.  It is a bit too late not to be involved.  Because Jon cannot seem to get up without passing out and so Tim has just been cuddling him for hours.  

"I can take him to mine.  I have more space."  He offers a tired smile, sparing Martin the halting questions, and Tim the hurt of knowing he isn't fully trusted anymore.  Not that he blames Martin for that.  He made his bed, now he'll lay in it.  Shit, did he make his bed?  Well they are about to find out.  "You call a cab, I'll see if I can wake him?"

Martin nods, and makes to do that.  Exiting the room to spare Jon the extra volume.  

"Hey Jon?"  Tim runs his free hand through Jon's hair for a few moments.  Watching Jon's eyes slowly flicker open.  

"Mmmmm."  Jon's bandaged hands holding on to his shirt.  Too-warm forehead pressed against his chest.  

"Is it alright if I take you home?"

"What 'bout work?"  Jon's mouth barely able to form the words.  Can't see straight enough to read anything.  

"Bud, how exactly did you plan to do any work?"  

Jon tries to focus his eyes.  And his words.  He only manages to squint slightly.  

"We tried letting you work, but you aren't getting better, how about you take a couple days to get better, then you can come back and we can save the world?  Besides.  Shouldn't do work with a concussion.  Don't want brain damage, do you?"  Tim starts slowly easing Jon upright, only to have Jon's eyes roll back.  Again.  "Shit!"

"You both okay?"  Martin's back.  Good.  Tim doesn't know what to do.  

"Well I woke him up, but when I tried sitting him up, he fainted on me again."

Martin tuts again, and sits back next to them to check on Jon for himself.  "Maybe we should move him while he's out to spare him the trip.  The cab will be here soon."  

Tim shrugs and slowly gets to his feet.  Maneuvering Jon into a bridal carry as he does so.  "Now we just gotta make sure that the cabbie doesn't think we are kidnapping him."  

Matin flutters around, wanting to make sure the position will be comfortable enough for Jon when he eventually comes around.  "It'll be fine.  He should be conscious by then."

"Yeah and what do we say, our boss had a bit too much to drink at..."  He searches for the wall clock.  "9:30 in the morning."  

"We say we're from the Magnus Institute, and they will ignore everything about us, Tim."  

Tim... still needs to get used to this side of Martin.  He kind of loves it when the bitterness isn't aimed at him.  

Jon comes around again and they pass the others in the bullpen, clinging tightly to Tim's shirt until the sudden change of level of the stairs makes him dizzier and his head ache, if the small, fragile sounds he is making are any indication.  

Martin is right.  The cabbie doesn't a single question once he sees the building they are standing in front of.  

Martin makes tea.  Tim makes soup.  And Jon is tucked tightly in Tim's bed for the first time in over a year.