#i still have a few tags from that post memorized because i loved them

[rumblemodels]

not a request, what are your favourite models? :D

probably popplio because it was the post that got like super big. and i LOVED reading the tags on it the tags were so so good. i deleted the post to get rid of the notifs by the time it had like 5k but i miss it......

[lucyandthepen]

last young renegade | jjh

summary: your valentine’s day plans with jaehyun may have gone down the drain just a little. (okay — a lot.)

pairing: jaehyun x reader verse: canon, idol!verse rating: t warnings&tags: reader & jaehyun are in an established relationship, quite frankly there is nothing too out of the ordinary in this fic which is a shocker, it’s a rewritten fic so pls excuse any errors I may not have caught! word count: 5.02k

a/n: happy 2024 friends and family !!!!!! and advanced happy birthday to the man who created valentine’s day, he who is perhaps my first love in nct, jaehyun! this is actually just a fic I’ve been hoping to re-write a bit from before, and since it’s valentine’s themed, what better time to post it!! Enjoy enjoy, and may this year bring more fun, laughs, love (and debauchery) to this blog!

Yᴏᴜ sᴀɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ sɪᴄᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛɪʀᴇᴅ ᴏғ ɪᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ, ɴɪɢʜᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴀʏ.

♡ jaehyunnie ♡ I know I said birthday dinner but practice is running so late ㅠㅠ ♡ jaehyunnie ♡ Can we meet after? I’m sorry ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ How about I call you when we’re done? Maybe 11:30?

At times like this, you often wonder if it’s all worth it.  

You know thinking that way is counterproductive, not to mention a little unfair. You knew exactly what to expect, getting into an under-wraps relationship with an idol, and so far, it’s lived up to most of your assumptions, and then some. It doesn’t help that Jaehyun, even just by name, tends to attract an unbelievable amount of attention. You know you can’t blame him; it’s not like he wants to be high on the radar every time, either. For some reason, though, you seem to be looking for something or someone to blame, which you also know is a dead end. You have no one to pin the blame onto apart from yourself by frequently generating doubts that keep your mind running around in circles.  

It’s not even the sneaking around that gets tiring; it’s the waiting — waiting on calls, waiting on free time, waiting on a good opportunity to do something that doesn’t involve him suddenly getting pulled out to attend to one of many of his celebrity responsibilities. Over the last few years that you’ve dated, NCT has only ever gotten more popular; with that popularity came the fact that the public eye was trained on them, focusing on every microscopic detail of their lives. Jaehyun hates that more than anything, which is why he’s given up on trying to avoid it by practically escaping it altogether, locking himself up in the dorm with you when he has his precious few days off. 

While it’s true that you definitely don’t miss having to play espionage when going out for a cup of coffee with him, you’ve also managed to memorize every single inch of Jaehyun’s room, which isn’t good for your mentality, you’re pretty sure. You have to keep reminding him to open the window whenever the both of you are in there, because all you do is stay in and watch English movies without subtitles to see who can understand the most without asking questions (obviously, he always wins) while eating food he runs up and down the stairs to get every other hour. And while him trying to imitate the British accents on these shows is genuinely funny, you’re starting to suspect even he’s starting to get tired of watching Harry Potter over and over again. Twenty hours sounds like a long time unless you spend every twenty-hour period you have together marathoning the exact same films. Much to both of your disappointment, your suggestion to watch it totally out of order did not make it cooler.

Still, you suppose it’s not all bad. Jaehyun also taught you how to play Fortnite on a couple of his days off back to back, and while you hadn’t been as good a player as you both had hoped, he’d still patiently waited for you every time you got lost on the map. He’d even given you his account’s password with the sentiment that this was him ‘taking things to the next level with you,’ and you get to log into his account and play whenever you want; he doesn’t even get mad when you’ve wasted all the stuff he’s farmed on your subpar gaming skills. And, well, the bigger picture was that you loved him. Based on how much effort he put into the relationship, plus the bonus of his trust in you when it came to his Fortnite account, you could at least be confident in that he returned the sentiment.  

Except, sometimes, you still wonder if it would be easier for the both of you if he flew solo and didn’t have a girlfriend that tanked all of his player’s ammo and health kits and generally made a fool out of his cute little avatar while he was out breaking his back onstage.  

You aren’t sure if Jaehyun’s been noticing the turmoil in you; you’re not that good at hiding how you feel, anyway, but if he has, he hasn’t said anything thus far. You do observe how much more he texts you when he has free time, which makes you feel doubly bad, because you know that he’s spending precious minutes he could be resting with on talking to you instead, which isn’t the best trade-off for someone who’s constantly busy — and thereby constantly tired — like him.  

♡ jaehyunnie♡ ___________ I’m going to practice again, okay? Wait for my call ㅠㅠ You I’ll wait for your call ♡ ♡ jaehyunnie♡ I love you ㅠㅠㅠㅠ ♡ jaehyunnie♡ You love me too — a lot, right? I’ll keep my phone now, but I’ll make sure to check that you said so. ㅋㅋㅋ You Right! ㅎ I love you a lot! ♡

When the clock hits 12:01, and your phone is silent, your mind starts working on overtime again. It’s only when the special ringtone you’ve set for him comes to life at half-past midnight that you break your train of thought and put on your socks so you can meet Jaehyun at your front door.  

You’ve made a rule — sort of like a deal — between the two of you that apologies aren’t necessary when work holds you up. You’ve cashed in on that deal a couple of times, but you’re both aware that it’s more for Jaehyun’s sake than anything else, and he keeps to his word on that much when you open the door and duck into his car. All he does is smile at you, and you smile back, and for the rest of the car ride, everything seems okay.  

He always asks you about your day — unfailingly, at any chance he can. It’s never an off-handed question, either; Jaehyun takes great pride in his memory, and the sweetest thing about him is that he’s dedicated a good deal of it to knowing almost everything about you. Right now is no different. He asks you about your team manager, what you had for lunch; he grills you on if you took your vitamins today and if you got to break in the new shoes you bought online — the ones you’d been pining over for the last three months. He even asks you about the guy from the neighboring department who keeps asking you out for after-work drinks.  

“He wanted to go to Hongdae tonight,” you tell him as he slows for a red light. “There’s some new pub of his friend’s doing a soft opening there tonight.”  

“You could have gone.” He keeps his eyes on the road. “I wouldn’t have minded.”  

“I didn’t want to.”

“Good.” He glances at you, a grin slowly spreading on his lips. “Because I lied. I might have minded a little. Or, you know, a lot.”  

“Don’t tell me after all these years, you’ve turned into the kind of boyfriend that doesn’t let his girlfriend go out without him.”

“That’s impossible for me, and you know that,” he chuckles. “You can do whatever you want, whenever you want. Just not with that guy from the other department.”

“Don’t worry.” You tinker with the little charm dangling on your phone — half of a flat, metal heart dangling from a gold chain that Jaehyun had given you two years back on your birthday. He keeps the other half, but since he can’t freely attach it to any of his belongings, he keeps it wedged between the back of his phone and its case. You like watching him change the backing because he does it so carefully, like he’s worried the other half of the heart is going to break if he rips off the case willy nilly. “I told him my boyfriend and I were going out on a date tonight, so he backed off. Although he did wonder why I keep talking about a boyfriend he’s never seen.”

“And? What did you say?”

“I said it was none of his damn business.”  

Jaehyun laughs loudly, and you go along with him, but you don’t miss how tired he looks when he sobers down, the green light illuminating all the shadows on his face as he steps on the gas again.

Nothing good is open this late at night — that is, nothing you haven’t seen before. You hadn’t even expected to go out at all, but since it was the day before Valentine’s Day as well as his birthday (or it would have been, if you hadn’t waited until midnight), Jaehyun had wanted to do something special without having to run into a huge crowd of couples on the day itself. Your only option is this from-out-of-town carnival that’s set up in tents and even has a medium-sized ferris wheel by the edge of the metal barricade. The parking lot is practically empty when Jaehyun pulls into a slot; you joke that he should break one rule and park in two slots, which he smugly replies to by saying he couldn’t park badly even if he tried.  

He tucks your hair back behind your ears as he loops the strings of a face mask around them, using another one for himself. Between that and the brim of his cap, you can barely see his eyes. The only knowledge that you have that you’re walking next to the man you love is that he takes your hand in his, slender fingers finding their way between yours.  

The carnival is half-closed when you get to the middle of it; there are still a few stragglers, but half the kiosks have their lights off already. There’s a woman dressed in flashy clothes standing on a patch of dead grass a few feet away, and she’s holding a hoop that a ginger cat is jumping through. Jaehyun steers you to them, and you stand there for a good five minute watching the cat roll on the ground and stand on its hind legs, but you can tell it’s been going it at for most of the day because at one point, it just ignores the lady, opting to weave its way between Jaehyun’s and your legs instead. You do have a pretty good time when he picks it up and cradles it in his arms so you can pet it for a second, but it just hisses when its owner approaches and jumps out of his hold, disappearing behind a row of trash bins.  

Jaehyun doesn’t have anything in his wallet apart from his credit cards and 50,000 won, and the coin machine operator says he only has enough coins left to break down 5,000 won for the games, so you end up having to jog back to his car so you can fish out some coins from inside his glove compartment. You come up with a grand total of 1,500 won, and you have to sheepishly go back to the coin machine operator to change four 100 coins and a couple of 50s just to get the last 500. Jaehyun tells you to hold onto the three coins so he doesn’t run off with them entirely and leave you destitute.  

You learn you can only do three things at most — you dedicate 500 won for the Ferris wheel entry tickets, which leaves you with 500 won each. The both of you agree on choosing one kiosk to play in, and with only about five left that are open, you don’t really have that many options. You end up dragging Jaehyun over to a stall with a pond filled with those magnetic toy fish, but 500 won only gets you one fishing rod. Since it’s your choice, Jaehyun lets you play, but you feel kind of stupid doing it on your own with him just watching you. In the end, he decides to stand behind you, his arms around your waist like he thinks closer contact isn’t even more distracting. You do manage to fish out 10 fish and win a small bear on a keychain. It doesn’t even pass through your hands as Jaehyun takes it from the stall operator immediately. 

“That’s mine!” You whine, reaching out in vain to take it from him; he just holds it high over his head. His eyes are twinkling under the shadow his cap casts over his face. “I worked hard for that.”  

“Let me keep this one,” he mimics the pleading lilt in your voice. “I’ll put it on my bag.”

“You know you can’t! Give it back.”

“I’ll win you a bigger one,” he promises. “Let me keep this one. It’s cute. It reminds me of you. I’ll kiss it goodnight before I sleep.” He starts to laugh softly. “And then you’ll feel this weird spirit kissing you at like two in the morning, and you’ll know it’s me.”  

Your arms aren’t long enough to retrieve it, and you don’t really want to, so you settle with twisting his ear. He takes it in stride even if he over-acts, making pained noises while leading you to the kiosk he wants to go to. It’s a shooting range stall, and he pays his own precious 500 won for a dart gun. He’s barely paying attention when the guy starts explaining how many points are assigned to each balloon color, more concerned with talking to the bear keychain in his hand and pretending like he’s cooing at you. You have to hit him across the shoulder to get him to focus.  

“You need to start picking out what prize you want,” he tells you — the actual you, not the animal keychain version — as he lifts the dart gun.  

“I’ll wait for you to finish first.”  

“No way.” He tilts his head, closing one eye to steady his line of sight. “Pick already. Or just go for the biggest one.”

“You know that Fortnite and dart guns aren’t the same thing, right?”  

“Yeah, but I’m well-motivated.” He grins at you, one eye still shut. He looks like a baby pirate. “Go ahead. Pick the biggest one.”

“Why don’t you just shoot, and we’ll see.”  

“Pick it,” he insists. “Tell me you have faith in me. Tell me you love me.”

“Okay, I love you,” you agree. “But I have no faith in you when it comes to this.”  

“One out of two is fine,” he concedes, taking aim.  

All three of you, including the stall operator, let out a disappointed groan when he misses his first shot. His comes with a sheepish laugh as he reloads, suddenly telling you to pick the second biggest prize instead. You can’t even watch him miss over and over, so you pretend to be interested in a bunch of teenage boys playing a game of cups one stall over, trying not to giggle when you hear him get increasingly more frustrated at himself. When you turn back around, you notice he’s holding two small pieces of gummy candy, offering one to you like a kindergartener. He helps you tug your face mask down so you can eat it.  

There’s a food stall nearby that, thankfully, accepts credit and debit; Jaehyun fishes out his card to get you a corndog — only one because he’s watching his weight for the upcoming concert, apparently. This is information you hate hearing but have no say in, and he knows this; you know he does because he says ‘don’t worry about me’ totally out of the blue, like five minutes after the conversation ceases to be relevant.  

His phone starts ringing when the food comes out, and he takes a tiny bite of it — more bread than hotdog — before he answers. You know it’s Taeyong by the way he answers.  

“Hyung, sorry — can we talk later? I’m out with ____________.”  

Taeyong says something loud but indiscernible on the other end. You piece together that it’s about tomorrow’s schedule when Jaehyun speaks again.

“I know. I’ll be home in a bit; don’t worry about it. I haven’t forgotten.”  

There’s more garbled speech on the other line; Jaehyun gestures for you to keep eating, and you do, but you more concerned with the morphing expressions on his face than you are with the act of chewing. He’s making noncommittal noises in response to what seem to be commands and reminders. You’re pretty much done with the corndog by the time he says ‘Okay, hyung. Hyung — I’ll see you later, okay?’

“Taeyong hyung says hi,” he tells you once he’s hung up the phone. “He says you still need to give back that book you borrowed from him last year.”  

“Oh yeah,” you finish off the last of the food. “I’ll drop it off within the week.”  

“Don’t worry about it. He doesn’t actually mean it.”  

Jaehyun watches you snap the stick in half and toss it in the trash bag.  

“We can go home,” you say finally. His eyebrows shoot up. “You’re busy tomorrow. I forgot.”

“I didn’t forget, and it’s fine.”  

“It’s almost two in the morning.” You check your phone to verify. “You probably have to be up in a few hours. You need to sleep, or you’ll die, Jaehyun. I’m too young to be a grieving widow.”

“Let’s at least ride the Ferris wheel,” he suggests. Before you can protest, he tugs you towards the rickety contraption, digging the 500 won out of your pocket and handing it to the bemused operator. He lets you choose what carriage you want because literally no one is on it anymore, and Jaehyun asks for the best carriage. You’re not sure how it differs from the rest, but he makes a show out of guiding you into it, and you don’t miss the corny ‘my lady,’ he mutters under his breath.   

It’s small, clearly meant for either a tiny group of children or couples who want to be as close together as possible. It’s also not air-conditioned, and only one of the windows is open, so you end up sticking to Jaehyun’s arm on the way up. The view is still great, though, and you feel his hand settle on your knee as the carriage makes it slow ascent.  

The ride up is quiet, and you press your face as close to the glass of the carriage as you dare, but Jaehyun doesn’t move an inch. His hand is still heavy on your thigh, but it doesn’t do anything but lay there. When you’re close to the top, you’re hit with the urge to do something romantic — kiss, maybe, tell him happy birthday, or say ‘I love you’ to him in the most sickening way possible — but when you turn to look at him, you have to hold your tongue.

Jaehyun is asleep, leaning against the corner of the carriage, head tilted down a little. His shoulders are rising and falling slowly, and he’s pulled down his face mask a little so he can breathe better; his lips are slightly parted by the slackening of his jaw. His left hand is shoved in his pocket, like he’d passed out halfway through reaching for something in there.  

He doesn’t wake even when you move slightly so you can lean back next to him, rocking the carriage a little — not even when you reach up and adjust his head so he can rest on your shoulder. He breathes deeply, evenly, and you wonder if his ear against your shoulder allows him to hear your heart plummet unfairly to the bottom of your stomach.  

You have to shake him to rouse him when the ride comes to an end; when he opens his eyes and realizes what happened, he looks mortified. Instinctively, he opens his mouth, but you fling the carriage door open and step out before he can apologize.

You have a deal, and he knows what he shouldn’t be doing.

His grip on your hand is much tighter as you walk back to the parking lot, and he doesn’t let go, even on the road. The trip back is quieter, maybe because it’s late, or maybe because there are a ton of things the both of you want to say but can’t.  

He slows down when he gets to your street, but when he stops in front of your building, he doesn’t immediately unlock the doors to let you out. Instead, he turns to you, licking his lips a little nervously.

“Can you…” he clears his throat because his voice cracks a little on the first attempt. “Can you come back with me? To the dorm?”  

“I have work tomorrow, Jaehyun.”  

“It’s still at eleven, isn’t it? I can bring you home before that. You still have some stuff in my room. You can get ready there.”

“Won’t you be too busy?”  

“Just—” he sighs softly. “Can you? Please?”  

You don’t know how to say no to Jaehyun, and tonight isn’t a night you’re willing to try. It’s why fifteen minutes later, you’re walking through the front door of his dorm. Donghyuck, sitting at his computer in his room with the door ajar, greets you sleepily as you pass by.  

Jaehyun steps in the shower with you; you don’t talk, maybe because you’re worried you might wake the others up if you start a full-blown conversation in a bathroom surrounded by other bedrooms. He just passes you what you need, and you do the same for him, and somewhere in between, he kisses you under the spray of the water.  

Later, he falls asleep with a face mask on, and you have to peel it off for him and toss it into the trash. The tip of his nose is shiny, and you want to kiss it, but you know it’ll wake him, and you noticed he’d set his alarm to go off two hours from now. He’s set out a couple of earplugs for you so that you don’t hear it, but you don’t put them in. You want to see him before he leaves, even if it’s in the deadest hours of morning, so you just crawl into bed with him. A minute before you doze off, you feel his damp skin press against your neck, his form curled up against your back.  

The alarm never wakes you; the sun is out when you open your eyes, and when you check your phone, you see that it’s already half-past nine. You also notice that there’s nothing from Jaehyun on your screen, but you try not to dwell on that, considering that you’d been expecting to wake up to an empty bed. His side of the mattress is cold, which means that he’s been gone for some time.  

You don’t know if it’s just because you’re groggy, but your insides still feel like lead when you sit up. The part of you that nags about this relationship is back at full force when you start thinking about Jaehyun going to a pre-recording two hours after spending the last of his energy on you. You start wondering if you’re doing the right thing if it feels like you’re just dragging him down. Your heart clenches tightly when the worst thought hits — maybe, just maybe, he’s tired of you, too.

But you won’t let him go. More to the point — you can’t. He’s the best part of your life; it’d be a cold day in hell if you decided to leave him.

Even the thought of it makes you feel like dying.  

Then again, this isn’t all up to you.  

You’re rubbing the sleep out of your eyes — and maybe a couple of frustrated tears — when the door creaks open. You see two mugs and his hands before you see the rest of him come through the doorway. Jaehyun whispers a careful good morning as he sets the coffee down on his table, making sure to push his keyboard away to avoid accidents, before sitting down next to you. You notice that there’s an envelope next to one of the mugs; the flap is slightly open, and from under it, a flash of red peeks out.  

His hand finds its way back to your knee — it’s his favorite resting place, he’s told you once. Your lap feels like home, he’d joked. Maybe he touches it every so often because it’s like a reset button for him.  

He doesn’t ask if you slept well, or if you want to get ready before having your coffee, or if you’re okay. He just squeezes your knee a little tighter. It’s you that has to start the conversation this time.

“How did it go?”

“It went great. You’ll see it on TV later tonight,” he starts rubbing your thigh idly. “You’ll watch it later, right?”  

“Of course. I’ll call you and tell you how cool you look.”  

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. When you lapse into silence again, it’s because you’re expecting him to say something, but he doesn’t come out with it directly. You try not to let it show that you’re worried, that you’re skeptical, that you’re wondering if he thinks he’s too tired, too busy for this, too.  

You’re expecting him to start how most break-ups start. You know I love you, right? And then the telltale but… would come, and you would have to hold back your tears and smile for him, and tell him you know, and that you understand it isn’t the right time, but maybe one day, someday, when he isn’t everyone’s Jung Jaehyun anymore — only yours.  

“You love me, right?”  

It’s not what you’d been expecting. Nor is it the playful little text he’d sent — no laughs, no jokes. His expression is somber, mouth pressed into a thin line.  

“You know I do.”

“A lot, right?”

“A lot,” you confirm softly.  

“Then whatever it is that you’re thinking about us,” he says quietly. “Don’t. Don’t think it. Don’t do it.”  

“Jaehyun—”

“I know it’s hard,” his fingers dig into your skin a little. “I know I put you through a lot. I know you think that I’m suffering because of this relationship too. I know everything. But whatever you think I’m going to do, I won’t do it — not ever. So if you’re thinking of it too, I’m begging you. Don’t. Please.”  

Maybe he had noticed all this time. A wave of guilt washes over you when you see the pained look on his face; perhaps you were even more transparent than you’d originally thought. You nod slowly to show your understanding, and he continues.  

“I know yesterday wasn’t the best you could have hoped for,” he carefully avoids apologizing, although it’s written all over his features. “For me, too. I… I wanted something different. It’ll be better next time. Do you believe me?”  

You hear him swallow — his nails are biting into your thigh a little, so you have to gently peel his hand off. Your fingers replace it, tightening around his palm as you nod.

“I believe you.”  

“And you trust me, right?”

“With my life.”  

“Then can you put your faith in me right now?” He asks. “Don’t panic. Just — just say yes.”

He pats around his pants, finally deciding to slip his hand into his left-hand pocket. Unlike on the Ferris wheel, he manages to extract something, but he keeps it closed in his fist. It’s shaking a little as he takes your hand in his other one, pressing something small and hard into your palm before he curls your fingers over it. His hold keeps your fist closed as he starts talking.

“It’s not immediate. We’ll figure it out. We’ll tell the right people, and they’ll help us tell everyone else — the public, the press. It doesn’t have to happen right now, or any time soon either— not if you don’t want it to. We can take it slow, or whatever. Anything you want — just as long as it’s with me.”  

“Jaehyun,” you shake your head, a little dizzy. “What are you talking about?”  

He slowly loosens his hold on your fingers, his hand dropping to the same spot on your knee. You’re free to open your fist, and when you do, you can’t help but feel a little stumped.

“I don’t mean now,” he repeats, now sounding doubly worried. “It’s not — It’s just…”  

“You’ll get in trouble. We can’t.”

“I won’t. Not if we do this right. Like I said, we can do it slowly. Months — years, however long it takes to do it well. What it is — it’s just… a promise.”  

“A promise,” you echo. It does have a nice ring to it.  

“That I’m not leaving you. Not ever. And… if you say yes, that you won’t either.”  

Your coffee has probably turned cold. Jaehyun is watching you carefully, looking like he’s trying hard not to bite his lip. You look back down at your hand, and he speaks up again.  

“You know I love you, right?”  

You smile slightly. “No but?”  

“No but,” he agrees.  

The ring fits nicely on your finger; maybe it’s well-measured from the amount of times he’s held your hand tightly in his.  

“Okay, Jaehyun,” you whisper. “I promise.”  

When you place your hand on his, he twists his palm, slender fingers gently twirling the ring around the base of your finger.  

Minutes later, he hands you your coffee. It’s sweet and milky, the way he knows you like it best. When he settles back down on the bed, you notice his eyes travel to your finger again, a small smile playing on his lips.  

Perhaps, in this moment, you finally learn to ask the right questions — not about if it’s worth it, but if he is.  

And in this moment, where he sits in silence with you, the sunlight pouring in from his window hitting the tips of his hair and the end of his nose, with the knowledge that his heart is as full as yours, you come to realize that there can — and never will be — any doubt of that.  

[urf1lterr]

afterglow | pedro pascal [2/3]

"tell me that you're still mine, tell me that we'll be just fine, even when i lose my mind"

previous chapter: [1]

summary: being nominated for an oscar was a dream come true, until you had to spend the rest of the night near your deceitful ex who still loved you.

pairing: actor!pedro x actress!reader

genre: acting world!au, enemies/exes to lovers ?? au | angst, fluff, fighting, mature

word count: 15k

status: 2/3 complete

author's note: SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT LOVES. even though its gonna be three parts lol i still want you to want more. i've been confused on my writing because tbh- i feel like i could do better and keep rushing with these storylines and end up regretting them AFTER they are posted lol. not edited- it really isn't.

"Let's cut the chit-chat and get some real answers, why did y'all breakup?"

"Andrew!"

"Three days have passed, she's fine now," he defended, shrugging as Florence shot him an irritated look by his prying behavior.

It has indeed been a few days since the terrible night that consisted in you meeting your favorite artist, crying beside her, running awkwardly away right after, having a screaming match with your ex, and then passing out in the car.

So, you couldn't deny it wasn't a memorable night.

The past three days could've been better to say the least if your management team stopped spamming you with text messages concerning the fight, maybe even ignoring the loads of pictures of your crying face.

Oh, the pictures. Not a fun sight to see.

Luckily for you, the pictures were only ones inside the party near Andrew- not Pedro. Unfortunately, though, your picture was turned into a 'crying in the club' meme.

You couldn't exactly be mad over it, you loved memes.

Thank the Lords the paparazzi were clueless and never ended up catching your argument with Pedro or you wouldn't know how to cover it up.

You could never get away with the typical 'friends fighting' after he shouted how much he loved you.

And bless the celebrities near you for minding their business.

To clear up your meltdown, you took it upon yourself to send out a quick tweet the next morning with a "i'm sorry i'm an emotional drunk. one second we're talking about 500 days of summer and then...well you already know how THAT ends."

In that moment you couldn't care less if people believed you or not, this was going to pass fast anyway.

Now here you were, sitting in front of your kitchen bar as Andrew and Florence decided to pay you a visit because they missed you- or so they say.

Realistically, they wanted to see if you were still a hot mess.

Which you weren't, obviously.

Shailene would have tagged along, but she was busy doing grown up things, such as working on her latest project Andrew claimed which was a slight bummer. She was the mediator, now who else was going to stop the arguments calmly between your two friends.

Florence disagreed, shaking her head. "You can't just ask her that, it's impolite."

Sighing, Andrew sent you an apologetic glance. "Okay, I am sorry." Not taking his eyes off you, you could feel his curiosity and eagerness from the other side of the kitchen. "But we're all thinking it."

Judging by how unresponsive Florence became, you could tell she wasn't going to fight him on this. And well, she was secretly on his side because your fight with Pedro was seriously excessive.

She just wanted to know what he could've done to make you so angry, it didn't make sense to her if he did cheat. He didn't seem like the type, but some people do the most surprising things- so she couldn't really tell.

"Do you want the last reason or all of them?"

Widening his eyes, Andrew shares a glance with Florence for a swift second before finding your eyes. "Last reason?"

"The last fight we had that led us to finalize our breakup."

"Finalize," he giggled, leaning on the marble counter. "This isn't a divorce process."

"For a person who is so concerned about my relationship crisis, you seem to be catch on to the most irrelevant stuff."

"So you admit you still want to be with him," Andrew declared, giving a smug look as you tried to process his words. "If you're still stressing over him, it means you don't want to let him go."

"I never said I was stressing over hi-"

"Did she or did she not just claim she was undergoing a crisis-," Andrew interrupted, slightly raising his voice. "-a relationship crisis, to be exact."

Florence sheepishly looked your way, capturing your stern expression before slowly nodding.

Your male friend clapped his hands loudly before bursting out a wider grin, happy someone had his back. "There we have it, if he's on your mind that much to turn into a crisis- you still love him!"

Furrowing your brows, you didn't know how to respond. It was true, you had many moments where Pedro agitated you even when you haven't been near him for quite some time.

But isn't being wound up over an ex part of healing?

Truth be told, you knew your feelings for Pedro hadn't completely disappeared, but love? You weren't even sure love existed by your past experiences.

"I do not love him," you hiss, vigorously snatching the water bottle on the counter and aggressively opening it. "How can love be real? It's baffling."

"Questioning the real question with a question," he sneers, making Florence and you become confused as ever. "You're so in love him."

Florence cuts in, squinting her face in puzzlement. "Wait- what's the real question she's supposedly questioning with a question?"

"Love!" he cheers happily before placing his hand on his palm, dreamingly gazing at you. "You have your doubts on what love may be, but without knowing it you're having them because you're questioning your love to Pedro since you're too scared to admit you still love him."

"I don't get it."

Rolling your eyes, you swiftly turn away and head towards your living room to lay on your couch. You were not in the mood to have someone else tell you what your feelings were when they weren't you. "I'm done with this conversation."

Hearing a low slapping noise, following an irritated hiss, you could make out Florence's displeased voice. "See what you did! Now she's not going to tell us."

"So much for moral support, you really are nosy," Andrew fought back, whispering loudly.

A minute or two went by since you couldn't make out what they were saying before rushed footsteps soon made their way near you as your friends awkwardly smiled, hoping they didn't upset you too much.

Because they really wanted to know the drama.

Pushing him roughly from behind, Florence sent you an innocent smile as Andrew landed near your side of the couch, trying his best to hold his composure and not turn back around and start another fight.

Placing a light hand on your shoulder, you blankly glance at it before meeting his attention. "We just wanted you to know we totally understand if you aren't comfortable...expressing your past-"

"Get your hand off me and let's get this over with so you two can leave already."

Florence quickly sat right beside Andrew, both not offended with your statement because they were fully aware of how annoying the were becoming.

Before you could say anything, Florence quickly spoke aloud. "Start from the beginning!" Andrew slowly looking back to her, he sent her a confused look. "So we aren't lost, of course."

Laughing lightly, you nod before adjusting yourself on your seat. It was going to be hard to remember all the details clearly because there really wasn't an exact time issues occurred, it kind of just naturally appeared here and there.

Now that you think of it, majority of the tiny disputes during the earlier days of your relationship were probably on the same level as when you two were splitting, but maybe the dense ones created towards the end really made it hard to continue.

"If I'm being totally honest, we never really had problems when we first started dating. He was really great," you begin, clutching onto a pillow you found right beside you. "And he would always make sure to watch me make it inside my house before leaving, that was when I knew he wasn't some fling."

Andrew smirked, nodding proudly. "Classic move."

Smiling at the thought, you focused your mind to uncover the ugly truths that slowly tore you two apart.

"But then one day, I wanna say a few weeks after our second anniversary, we just started...fighting?"

Tilting your head, you look down as sad memories began pouring through your mind completely. "It wasn't our usual small fights over who left the bathroom floor wet or dropping his ipad in the pool-"

"-you dropped his ipad in the pool?" Florence coughed, bewildered by your scandalous actions.

"He wanted to know if it was waterproof," you defended.

"Was it?"

"No," you nervously reply, avoiding their eyes. "But he had it backed up and I bought him a new one!"

"That was kind of a bitchy move," Andrew muttered, catching your pissed gaze. "But at least you made up for it!"

Maybe it wasn't that great of an idea to just throw it in, but he did say he was really curious and wanted to dump it under the sink.

"Anyway," you start back up again, making Andrew lowly sigh in relief. "Our fights were never that serious, or at least not until he started filming for that new tv series he joined."

Florence spoke up, lightly questioning "The Last of Us?"

Nodding, you shrugged. "I guess it's normal to say the time apart did cause a rift in our relationship, but it wasn't too bad. He always made sure to call and facetime at least once every two days."

"But one day when he was visiting during his week break he just...snapped?" you frowned, not even wanting to visualize the tiny argument.

You had to for your own good.

"He had been home for maybe two days before he suddenly became moody. Like- his attitude was insane, I have never seen him like this ever," you sigh, closing your eyes for a second before continuing. "He didn't want to go out to eat, didn't want me to make him food, and when I offered to have it delivered he slammed the bedroom door on my face and claimed he was going to bed."

"Woah, why would he do that?" Andrew asked, seriousness splattered all over his face.

You wish you knew.

"Not sure, I just thought maybe work was stressing him out so I wanted him to have his alone time to clear his mind."

"Did that work?"

Sitting up straighter, you send a sorrowful smile. "For the rest of that week-yes. He ended up apologizing to me when I tried going to bed and said his manager was being tough on him for some scenes they had done."

You remember the moment you walked inside your bedroom, disappointed that he was awake. Not wanting to cause more tension, you planned to sneak under the covers and deal with the incident in the morning.

But his arms slowly wrapping over your waist as you had your back facing him said otherwise. Pulling you closer, you remember the soft "please don't be mad at me" he whispered near your ear, making sure you felt his tight embrace as if to prove you were his.

That night ended with you turning your body over to face him, accepting his open arms as a way to answer his pleading way of forgiveness.

Like always.

"Once he went back to work, we still talked- but I could tell he wasn't fully engaged like he always was," you sulk, remembering the first time you caught him not listening. "It got to the point where I purposely stopped answering his calls."

Your friends quickly send you a shocked look, you continue before they could intercept. "I couldn't handle his lack of attention, I would rather have him panic from the rejected calls than just tell him why I was upset."

It wasn't your best move, but you were frustrated. It wasn't fair that he was the one who got to treat you poorly and you had to accept it.

You admit, maybe if you communicated with him about these issues you could've prevented many future arguments and even saved your relationship.

But you were human and sometimes humans act human.

"Then what happened?" Andrew asked, a curious appearance plastering his face. "You continued ignoring him?"

Laughing lightly, you shake your head. It was the plan, but plans don't always work out. "Actually, he secretly took a flight back home one weekend and confronted me."

Gasping, Florence jumped up in her seat and moved her leg under her. "No way!"

"Yes, way," you sheepishly reply, embarrassed at the memory. You can still picture the way Pedro stood in your shared bedroom as you stepped out of your bathroom, jumping at the sight of him.

Standing with his arms crossed with his bags thrown by the door, he was determined to figure out what was going on with you.

"I wouldn't say we engaged in a heated argument, but it was surprisingly really emotional."

Andrew leaned his body closer, too interested not to let his questions slide. "Were you guys never emotional? I feel like every couple experiences those moments together- it's what makes them stronger."

It should've made you two stronger, but instead it made you weaker without you realizing it.

"Pedro and I had our minor instances, but it never involved problems we were facing," you began, sighing slightly. "All I remember was finding him standing near the bed with no emotion- none. I couldn't read what he may have been feeling, he just looked so....empty?"

"Empty? That's not good." Florence commented.

"That could mean a lot of things, not necessarily anger," Andrew added, trying to make you feel better.

"I knew deep down he was mad, as he should be- I was the one ignoring him," you defended him, taking full responsibility over your childish actions. "But I could tell he was more hurt that mad."

"What did he say?"

"What's going on?" Pedro questioned, his eyes not daring to leave yours as you freeze- stopping your attempts at brushing your wet hair, extremely confused as to why he was here.

He wasn't supposed to visit for another month, or so he said.

"Pedro?" you squint your eyes, still not sure if he was really in front of you or maybe you were daydreaming. You were high off many shots of espressos, it's finally hitting you. "Is that you?"

Still staring plainly at you, he stays right where he was. In any other circumstances he would have run up and wrapped his arms tightly around you, but this night was different.

He looked disorientated, out of place. His eyes lacked intensity as his body followed, looking as stiff as ever. Even his breathing matched his energy, calm yet unsettled.

You left him confused and he did not like that. "Answer my question."

Batting your eyes faster, you realize what was going on and where he was. Gasping, you do the exact opposite of what he wanted. "What the hell are you doing here?! You're not supposed to be home- you could get fired a-"

Taking a hold of your arms, he stills you and ignores your rambling. "What-" he begins, moving his right hand to the back of your neck and forcing you to focus on him only. "-is going on?"

Freezing, you try to back your head away from his grip but he tightens his grasp, making sure to not be too rough so he doesn't actually hurt you- he would never do such a thing. "I don't understand-"

"You haven't been answering my calls, what else is there to understand?" He sternly recalls, not wanting you to bullshit your way out of this. "So you either have been ignoring me on purpose to be petty or this is your way of hinting you don't want to be with me anymore."

Shaking your head frantically, you try to talk but he cuts you off again. "-And don't say you've been busy. You and I both know I would have figured out if you had added projects to your schedule- your mom tells me everything."

If this were a good time, you would have laughed at his side comment regarding your mother, but it wasn't.

"Not everything," you spit out, causing him to squint his face and release his hands from you.

"Are you trying to tell me something? Are you not happy? Is that why you've been avoiding my calls?" he questions, tilting his head in bewilderment, not liking your attitude at the moment. "Because if you really don't want to be with me you should've told me sooner than leaving me feeling fucking clueless while I'm out in another country working."

"I'm not saying I don't want to be with you-"

"But you aren't denying it," he intercepts, firmly nodding in realization. "I get it, I'm just glad I know now and won't have to wait another month to finally understand how you're feeling."

Walking away from you, Pedro walks towards his bags and reaches down for them. You scoff at his disturbed demeanor. There is no way you should be the only one at fault here- you both made mistakes.

Pushing his backpack off his hands, he watches at it lands on the floor before instantly finding your eyes. "Are you seri-"

"Just because I'm avoiding your calls doesn't mean I want to end our relationship" you shriek, glaring at him as his eyes soften at your hidden truth.

Your angered expression and stiff posture hits him like a brick, there was something really bothering you and he was too oblivious to acknowledged it until you began overlooking him.

Taking a deep breath, you watch as your boyfriend intently examines you as if he's trying to read your impractical mind. Sometimes, he wished you would speak up when something was bothering you, in fact- he has told you many times in the past to do so.

But the idea of patiently waiting until it erupts is what he's sure you've normalized in fear of desertion. Or maybe refusal of reality- the two of you weren't perfect.

"What's going on?" He calmly questions again, dropping any signs of fury and replaces it with worry and concern. Reaching out to you, he softly clasps your shoulder before moving in a few inches. "Am I making you upset?"

Slapping his hand away, you cross your arms over your chest in agitation. "I'm mad at you!"

Blinking a few times, he couldn't believe how fast you spilled and chaotic your energy was. He's never seen you act this hysterical and to be honest, he was really debating asking if you were on your period or not. "Why?"

Pursing your lips together, you release your arms and let them fall on your sides. "You know why!" With that, you turn your back to him and make your way back to your bathroom to hide.

At this point, you felt it was acceptable to act unbearable- he left you feeling insignificant and you weren't going to hold it in anymore.

If you stayed there any longer you knew you would break down into tears. Showing your vulnerable side this early into an argument was too easy, you have to show how bold you were in order to get your point across.

Or anger across.

But it was really hard to hold a grudge, he was just so- loving, despite your recent incidents. Deep down, he did care about you and wanted to validate your feelings- or as best he could.

Grabbing anything you could find near your sink, you begin opening some moisturizer and splatter it around your hands to keep you busy. You could feel Pedro come inside your shared bathroom but you don't dare to peep his way.

"Honey- please," you heard him release a soft sigh as he stood behind you, watching through your huge mirror in front of the two of you. He could make out your distressed appearance and you were absolutely not fine. "You can't just steer clear from this, we need to talk about it-"

Slamming the poor jar on the counter, you swiftly twist your body to his front and feel all the rage taking control. "But did you want to talk all those times I called you?! No, you didn't give one fuck about me or Leia!"

"You named your dog after Princess Leia? That's smart," Andrew butted in, grinning. "You know, since he's in the Mandalorian and Star W-"

"We get it."

Maybe it was wrong to bring your beloved corgi into such a serious topic, but she was abandoned by her father too.

"I did talk to you! I made sure to call you whenever I had time an-"

"I'm glad I made it into your schedule- but maybe if you considered adding some compassion and empathy it wouldn't feel like I'm just another business call you hate!"

Panting, you send daggers his way as his eyes widen. Did you just say he doesn't care about your calls? Impossible- he loves your calls, it makes his days better.

"You aren't a business call and you know that. Honey, please understand- hey!" He cuts himself off once you finally had enough of his poor attempts to defend himself, trying to flee but he ends up being quicker on his feet and yanking you back to his arms.

But once you were wrapped around him, even though it was for pure captivity and not warmth, you instantly broke down. He didn't know you were in tears until he felt his shirt become damp and still then he just thought you were trying to spit on him out of anger.

Hearing your tiny whimpers, he immediately glanced down and lifted you up to catch a clear view of your face, despite your protests and blockings. "Baby, I-I didn't mean to make you cry-"

"You don't mean a lot of things," you spit out, swatting his hands that dared to reach your face. You weren't in the mood to make up, all you wanted to do was sleep your troubles away, especially with the draining work day you had.

Continuing your pulling, Pedro began becoming annoyed with your strong protests against his affection. Isn't this what you wanted? "Why won't you let me hold you? I want to console you, can't I be your boyfriend for the night and tomorrow you can continue hating me?"

"You see my tears and now you want to hold me but admit we'll still be out of place tomorrow? That's acceptable for you?" you laugh ruthlessly, allowing space to be brought in front of you. "Do you hear yourself?"

Groaning, he rubs his face hard before speaking his mind, trying not to sound too furious and scare you. "What do you want me to do? I admit, I did lack some energy-"

"Some?" you snort to yourself, your face still wet.

"Don't interrupt me," he declared, shaking his head at how rude you were becoming. "I wasn't the best partner, okay?! There, I admit it, but you don't understand how it is working constantly and not being able to see family and friends and-"

"It's like you don't even know me at all," you ignorantly chuckle over his nonsense and walk towards your bed.

What a way to dismiss your feelings.

"That's not what I meant," he sighs, following after and stopping you from opening your covers and hiding underneath them. "It's just hard being away from everyone I love, I'm in a different country. It's not like I can drive an hour away and suddenly see them!"

"I can't do that either!"

"Can't you just please, please, please- consider that my mindset is not good right now," he declares, his eyes filling with sadness as his arms slowly find your waist. Taking a deep breath, you watch as he looked up at the ceiling before biting his lip. "I know I am not being the best partner right now- or for the past few months, but I am trying."

As soon as uncertainty flushed your face, his hands tightened as his expression deepened into an emotion you never seen him explore before- dejection.

"I can't promise you I'm suddenly going to wake up and give you 110% every interaction we have," he began, his voice lowering as he tried to keep his emotions in check. "But I confess- I am being a little shit and I am willing to work on that. Just please- please don't push me away. Try to understand my situation."

He wasn't wrong, his life switched around once he accepted the role of Joel Miller and you should've known from the start he would face some difficulties. Maybe you were being too self-centered and invalidated his feeling too, not just him.

Sometimes he wasn't good with words when expressing himself and made you feel as if you weren't as popular as him, but you knew it was never his intention to hurt you like that. He had a heart and loved to use it.

Fighting over work should never be a reason to be miserable especially when it's how you both get your income.

"I-I understand," you lightly speak up, watching as his eyes light up by the sound of your now calm voice filling his ears. "I just want you to know that it didn't make me feel good-"

"Of course it wouldn't make you feel good, I was being horrible," Pedro intercepted, pulling you into a tight hug and landing his face in your neck. "And if I wasn't thousands of miles away I would totally spoil you with kisses and chocolates as my sorry."

"Chocolates are still in favor," you joke and feel him softly swat your bottom in disapproval.

Pulling away, he leans his face closer to yours and plants a sweet kiss upon your lips before backing up an inch and whispering softly, "I love you, you know that right?"

Smiling, you slowly nod and surprise him with a deeper kiss before answering him back with a familiar, "I love you, too."

"You better," he smirks, pulling his body on top of yours, hearing your light squeaks once your back hit the mattress and his lips snuck their way into the crook of your neck.

"Did you end up getting chocolates?" Andrew immediately questioned once you finished your long recollection of memories.

"That's not important," Florence rolled her eyes.

"I mean he did promise her it."

Chuckling at his curiosity, it amused you how focused he was about some candy. "Yes, he did- for like a month and then I got over them."

"Understandable," Andrew replied, looking down at his lap.

Florence jumped over him, making herself sit closer to you as he winced at her sudden movements. "Then what happened?! I mean, there had to be more right?"

"My god woman, I hope you're not working for TMZ," Andrew joked.

She shushed him before leaning closer to you, signaling you to continue on with your memories. "After that fight, things became pretty normal again. We would call each other with far more energy than before and he would even fly back home often to keep our communication strong."

"And how long did that last?"

Frowning, you took a small breath. "Like three months- then we started fighting more."

"Over?"

Rubbing your face, you groaned. "He went back to lacking energy! But that's not even the worst part."

"Please don't tell me he cheated," Andrew begged, covering his eyes with his hands while pulling a sorrow look. "I would never be able to look at him the same."

"I don't know if he did cheat- but I did find out two months before we ended things that he stayed the night at his exes."

Loudly gasping, the company you had began freaking out with their jaws dropping- literally. Florence angrily furrowed her brows, "you've got to be kidding? How is that allowed in a relationship?- It's not!"

Crossing your legs, you shrug as a way to answer her. You really did wonder what was going through his head when he did that. Sadly, you couldn't believe a word he said after you found out what he did.

Maybe that's why you were fine with ending things- because the trust was slowly disappearing.

"Not to mention he would always be with her and ditch plans with me," you form a tight smile, trying not to make things awkward but it was too late.

Who could possible hear this and not feel embarrassed for you? Classic move on his part to follow the 'being friends with my ex is okay' stereotype, but it only left you feeling unwanted and flawed.

Were you not good enough to be in his arms all those times he ditched you for her? And why couldn't he tell you what was really going on- unless he was truly hiding something unspeakable.

"Spill the beans."

Hearing a door slam, you jump up in a daze. You could feel sleep still linger on your body as you crank your neck to the side, capturing the bright '12:47 pm' located on top of your nightstand.

Slowly yanking your body up, you don't stretch as you hurry out of your room to the living room in search of the mysterious person who was either your missing boyfriend or an intruder.

Catching sight of his bright yellow t-shirt as he opens the refrigerator, you could feel your body boil up. "Where have you been? You snuck out last night without even telling me- do you even understand how worried I was?!"

Watching as he gradually turns his head to face yours, Pedro closes the fridge before leaning against the kitchen counter- completely relaxed despite your current state.

"I was out with friends," he declared, grinning to try and take pressure off from you- it didn't work. "I'm sorry, I will tell you next time. I didn't mean to worry you, my love."

Placing your hands on your hips, it pains you that you secretly don't believe a word he's saying. Normally, if this were the case, he would text you if you were sleeping or call you in the morning to inform you with what he'd done.

He did neither one.

Maybe you should test him? Ask him questions and see if he'll freeze up?

"And who were you with?"

He smiled, grabbing a cup from the pantry while easily answering, "Diego and Oscar- we had a couple of drinks and Oscar thought it would be best I stay the night."

Nodding swiftly, you examine him to see if there were any signs of him lying- there weren't. Fuck, you forgot he was an actor. It's literally his job to control his emotions! "And why didn't you call or at least send a simple text?"

After hearing your words, Pedro sends you a small smile before gently placing his cup down. Walking up to you, he opens his arms. "Baby, is that why you're so upset? Because I didn't call?"

Before you could answer, he engulfs you in his arms before swaying you both around. Feeling vibrations as he let out light giggles, you instantly dropped any suspicions you may have had because he had to tell the truth- he would never lie to you.

It's surreal how easily you could throw any convictions out the window when he touched you. It's like he jogged your memory.

"Well, why didn't you at least text?"

Removing his head from your neck, he squeezes you waist and sends you an amused smirk . "Because I was insanely drunk and if I would've used my phone it probably would have resulted in me leaving you hundreds of drunk voicemails confessing my love for you."

"And that's bad?"

He chuckled, shaking his head before pinching your side. "No, but it sure as hell is annoying."

Standing up straighter, you cautiously nod at his answer and watch as he lovingly smiled down at you. "Okay, I believe you."

"Did you really believe him?" Andrew asked.

"I call bullshit," Florence confidently declares, strong on her view that Pedro was not an honest person.

"Let me finish the story!"

Loud footsteps could be heard near your hallway as you stood behind the oven, trying your best to not burn these damn chocolate chip cookies.

Such a basic recipe yet so complex- it was truly aggravating.

"Y/n? Where are you?!" you heard you assistant squeal from a distance.

Trying to properly put your mitten on, you murmur a small "kitchen" before preparing yourself to open the oven. The amount of times you burned yourself thinking it was cool enough not to wear protection-

Point is- always wear protection.

Opening the oven door, you pull the tray of freshly baked cookies towards you as the footsteps became clearly audible. Right when the cookies were in your grip and being lifted, you heard your assistant yelp-

"Pedro was caught leaving his ex's house two days ago."

Throwing yourself up into a standing position, you forget about the tray of cookies until you feel the burning sensation upon your left arm. You accidentally pulled the tray too close to you. "Ow!"

Instantly panicking, your assistant rushes to your side in support and grabs a towel to fill with ice. Pressing downwards on the wound, you wince at the pressure that was building.

"What the hell are you talking about?" you still question, extremely curious to uncover what this situation was.

His ex? That's absurd, he hasn't dated anyone in years when you first met. It's definitely not like he was in contact with them when you made it official, he was always firm when it came with communicating with past relationships.

That was a big no-no, especially when one of your ex's tried reaching out after your last movie dropped. Pedro made it very clear how unhappy he was when he made an appearance at your premiere- your boyfriend not daring to leave your side and even blocking your view whenever your ex had the chance to gawk you up close.

At the time, people thought Pedro only attended because he was close with the director and has always been friendly with other actors. Little did they know he was being extra friendly with you behind the curtains.

"Someone snapped photos of him outside of her door! It looks like he just woke up, too." Grabbing the phone from her hands, you pull it closer to your face and watch what the screen uncovered.

There he was, your boyfriend of two-years smiling brightly as he steps outside her door in the clothes he wore the night before. The same ones he manipulated you with about being with Diego and Oscar that night.

Not just that, but peering on the side of the door was indeed his tall, beautiful ex who definitely aged like fine wine. Hell, she was gorgeous and everybody knew that.

And the fact that they broke up due to their long distance, at the time, did not help this situation. Now that they lived a few cities away, what now? Were you just a doormat he could walk all over and eventually throw away whenever he wanted something new?

Placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, you refuse to take your eyes off the screen as your assistant begins speaking. "Did you know he slept over?" Glancing up, she takes your downcast face as an answer and swiftly pulls you in a tight hug. "Oh no, I'm so sorry."

You were sorry for yourself, too. How could he lie right to your face so easily knowing he was doing it- intentionally. And the most fucked up part was he probably knew you would believe him- just like all the other times you did.

"I saw that picture!" Andrew exclaimed, bewildered at his recollection. "I thought the paparazzi caught him lacking after a hook-up- damn, I wish I would've known you were together sooner."

"Same, I would have unfollowed him," Florence added. "And nobody would've known it was because of you- since you two never been public."

Forcing a smile, you give her a tiny nudge on the arm. "Gee, thanks for being so considerate."

"Continue!"

"Open the god damn door, y/n. You are being overdramatic- it was one night! Nothing happened!" Pedro yelled, pulling the car handle harshly as you searched through your bag that sat on your passenger seat- looking to see if you had everything you needed before your flee.

Let's just say, things were pretty...eventful once you discovered his scheme.

For starters, after bawling your eyes out on your poor assistant's shoulder, she made her departure in order to clean up the spare bedroom she offered you to take if you weren't comfortable staying at your own place.

You accepted.

Once she was out the door, you fled to your bedroom and grabbed any suitcase close by and began stuffing it to the brim, not caring how disorganized it was professing as you reached for more clothes.

You were almost done packing your second bag full of makeup and bathroom necessities when you heard your front door open. Jumping up, you felt your eyes widen once you heard your name being chanted on by your boyfriend. "Y/n?!"

"Fuck," you whispered to yourself, drastically glancing around your now messy bathroom to make changes to your plan- only take things you really need.

Seconds pass and you find yourself zipping your bag and rushing out the door, that was until your body roughly collided with another- causing you to drop your belongings and land on the floor. Groaning, you hesitantly rise, immediately finding your boyfriend's body nearing yours as he pleads to help you off the ground.

"Baby, I'm sorry! I didn't see you coming out," he apologizes, using his fingertips to clasp your forearms to level you. "Look, I need to tell y-"

"Get off of me," you grit, forcibly slapping his palms off you, causing him to cease and stare stunned. He has never seen you once be this aggressive. Sure, you would reject his embrace whenever you two fought here and there, but slap? Not ever.

Brushing roughly past him, you gripped your larger suitcase by its handles and made a beam to the closest exit. You couldn't be around him, not when thoughts of him being unfaithful constantly drowned your head.

A strong tug of your makeup bag made you halt your movements, not by choice, as Pedro made sure to tighten his grip to prevent you from leaving. Glancing down at his now white, clenched hands, you glare. "Let go."

Shaking his head, he stared you down- irritated that you would just pack up and leave so quickly without even hearing his side of the story. Yes, he should have told you what really happened that night- but he knew how you'd react.

It was better to keep it sealed until he was ready to unveil- or so he thought.

"You let go," he hissed, raising one of his hands and smacking yours with it. You hate how much stronger he still was while only using one hand while you had two- fuck his strength and your poor muscles.

Groaning, you dig your feet onto the ground harder as you continue your tug-a-war charade with your selfish boyfriend who didn't seem to believe space was an understandable coping mechanism after he shattered your small heart.

"Fine," you yelp, shoulders falling slightly as he eases his grip- still holding on though. "We both let go on 3."

Tilting his head, he suddenly grew suspicious by your random middle ground. He knew you well enough to know you don't give up that easily, especially when he's fully sure, by your bolting efforts, you saw the picture. "How do I know you won't just run off after?"

"You're faster and stronger than me, you'll catch me eventually."

Internally agreeing, he knew you had a point. Even if you did escape, your little legs weren't going to get you far- he knows from all the times he tackled you down after you countlessly would steal his food.

"1," you begin, eyeing him to see if he would follow.

"2," he stared at you back, cautiously watching your every step.

Taking a deep breath, you count again. "3!" With that, you release your grip from your bag and watch as he still clutches on to the strap. "What the hell- we agreed on 3 we'd both let go!"

Nervously chuckling, he placed the bag on the ground and sheepishly smiled at you. He was glad to see you finally calming down. "Sorry, I didn't think you would actually do it."

Sending him an annoyed glance, he scratches the back of his neck for assuming you wouldn't follow your word. "Trust me, I always tell the truth."

Wincing at your cold tone, he frowns by your hard demeanor. "About that- I was going to tell you-"

Softly placing a hand over your head, you release a sound of discomfort and miss the way his eyes wander in curiosity.

"Can we talk about this after I take my supplements? I am not feeling too good," you cut him off, slowly touching your forehead as you watch his concern grow. "I forgot to take them this morning."

"You know you get bad migraines when you don't take them," he declared, sighing as he raised his hand and began softly rubbing your temple in ease.

He believed you were being serene because you weren't livid and allowed him to stop you from leaving- how wrong he was.

"I know but I had a crammed morning-"

"This is why we need to hire someone to walk Leia, we don't have enough time majority of the week!" he exhales, making you stare at the floor for the point taken. But there was no way you'd hire someone to walk your dog, that's ridiculous and a waste of money. "We'll talk after, let me grab them- stay here."

Sadly nodding, you allow him to flee towards your bathroom in search for your medicine. Peering you head a few inches to the side, you wait till the coast is clear before slowly, but firmly, grabbing your once lost bag and dashing out of your bedroom.

"I almost forgot about Leia," you muttered to yourself, instantly feeling bad at the thought of how quick you were to forget your baby. How terrible of a mother were you.

And what even was more mind blowing was how Pedro didn't catch your innocent acting. Truthfully, he must be trying to be extra helpful so you would believe him. Too late.

Finding your white corgi near the kitchen, you whistle lowly for her to follow as you peddled your way to your garage. "C'mon doggie, if daddy notices our escape plan he won't let us leave that easil-"

"Y/n?!"

Jaw dropping, you shoot a glance of panic to your dog, who only blankly stares back, before rushing to your parked car. "Just like Batman and Robin- now jump in," you hushed, opening the back seat so you could not only throw your bags back there- but also your tiny-legged corgi who struggles at first, but eventually makes it in.

Once you jumped into your seat and turned on the car, you catch a breathless Pedro rushing out through the door to your side. "Fuck."

"You tricked me!"

"You slept with another woman, asshole!" you yell back, glaring as he rolled his eyes- outraged by how unreasonable you were becoming. All he wanted to do was sit you down and have a normal conversation about this, but instead you kept running away.

Once again, he thinks you need to work on your communication skills.

"You used your failing health to your advantage- how sick are you?" he yelped, offended.

"They were gummy supplements!"

Touching your car door, he sternly peers at you as you quickly lock your doors in case he tried opening it. "I did not sleep with another woman," he started, inhaling strongly before releasing it. "Why would I do that when I am in a committed relationship? Huh? Do you think I am capable of cheating?"

Shrugging innocently, you pull a sarcastic face. "Not sure, I do know you're capable of lying- maybe infidelity is the cherry on top?"

Mouth gapping, he sends you a look of hurt and for a second you feel terrible by your choice of words. In your heart, you wanted to take it back- but your head thought otherwise.

"I would never be unfaithful to you- that's not who I am," he firmly states, feeling like absolute shit that you would even accuse him of being with another woman when you were all he thought about every single second of the day.

Dryly chuckling, you nod along to his words. He feels his heart ache, as if hundreds of knives jabbed through the delicate muscle by your painful mien. Did you really think that lowly of him?

"That's who you are to me now."

Once those words flew out of your mouth and he was able to process it clearly, he paused. Whole body turning stiff and cold, he scolded you profoundly before fiercefully charging towards your car door and pounding for entrance.

It was like a nerve was touched and he was not willing to be forgiving anymore. You struck him hard and he knew you meant it out of pure anger- not genuinely, but his awareness soon became replaced with treachery and he so badly wanted you to pay for your foul words.

"Open the god damn door, y/n. You are being overdramatic- it was one night! Nothing happened!" Pedro yelled, pulling the car handle harshly as you searched through your bag that sat on your passenger seat- looking to see if you had everything you needed before fleeing.

Mentally checking off your items before departure, you inhale sharply before lowering down your car's mirror and pressing your garage remote- allowing the door to gradually rise and Pedro to panic.

Cursing in his head, he couldn't let you drive away or else he might never see you for days and he couldn't bear the thought of you moping around in agony without at least hearing from him- the man in the picture- what actually happened that night.

Pressing on the lever and angling down to reverse, you nervously press on the gas and allow your car to drift back as your poor dog watched through the backseat his dad embarrassingly urging you to not go.

You prayed the neighbors couldn't hear a thing, if the cops came you're sure you would never go out in public for at least six months.

Realizing that it was now or never, you see from the corner of your eye a figure running towards the back of your car before a loud thump was heard.

Shakily, pressing on the brakes and putting your car on park, you jump out in horror by the sight of legs near your back tires.

You hit him.

"Shit!" you gasped, involuntarily sprinting- as if your body just knew how to react- and dropping down to your boyfriend's lifeless body-

"You ran him over?!" Andrew and Florence shrieked, interrupting your storytelling, causing you to glare and shush them.

"Shut the fuck up- it's getting to the interesting part!"

Hugging his body tightly, you could feel your face began to fall down and your body slowly begin to tremble. In a matter of seconds, you just knew your garage wasn't going to be a pretty sight to see.

Hitching your breath, you run your hands to your boyfriend's chest and shake him softly in hopes he would open his eyes- he didn't. With tears flushing down your face, you sniff as you grip onto him harder. "Please w-wake up," you begin, trying your best to keep your touch on him but you were a jittering mess. Not being able to stay still, you press your ear over his chest to see his he still had a pulse.

Sighing in relief, he did.

Squeezing his face, you frown as his expressionless face stills. Realizing he might have passed out over a concussion, your lips begin to tremble as you finally breakdown in tears and cradle him.

Leaning over from his side, you bend your body and embrace his head into your neck. "I am such a-a fucking idiot," you squeak, your eyes shutting as you don't have the power to keep them open. "I-I love you- I should've just stayed and t-talked-!"

Cutting yourself off, you ironically feel like the lifeless one despite your literal unconscious boyfriend being in your arms at the moment. Bitch, you really had the nerve. Swiftly kissing his cheek, you plunge yourself into his neck and cushion him with your body- being as fragile as ever when handling him.

Quivering in misery, you keep a strong grip onto him before you felt pressure along your side. "It's been minutes and you still haven't called 911? I could've been dead by now."

Screaming, you instantly drop the figure once on top of you and force your thighs to back up, causing you to sit perplexed on the concrete floor.

Glancing back up, you find your boyfriend brightly grinning your way, using his arms to hold his upper portion up as you looked back in confusion. Didn't you hit him?

"I was my own stunt double for some scenes," he speaks up, smiling to himself proud as you continued staying still, confused as to what had just happened. "As long as you have the right mentality- you can take a pounding."

Registering where he was going with this, you scoff and quickly allow your feet to hit the ground. Following after you, Pedro jumps at your unpleased sight and watches as you cooly open your back door to let your dog jump out before marching towards the door to your house.

"Wait? Are you mad at me for that, too?" He calls out, tilting his head in question and proceeds to get his answer by the slamming of the door behind you. "Never mind."

Angrily storming through your hallway, you accidentally run into the wooden desk placed against the wall. "Ugh!" you scream, turning around and giving it one hard kick before making your way towards your destination- the kitchen.

"What did the desk ever do to you?" Pedro mumbled to himself, stopping right by it once you were out of sight and fixing it back up against the wall, making sure the books settled on top were nested properly before going after you.

"So that's why one of the legs is chipped? I noticed that-"

"Shut up, Andrew."

"Sorry, go on."

Finding you near the blacked marbled kitchen bar, Pedro ceased his movements. To be honest, he was nervous to confront you. Not only did you find out he slept at his ex girlfriend's house, but he made you believe he was dead.

This was not going to end well.

"How could you do this to me?" He hears you ask, you back being in his peripheral view as you leaned your body over the counter, hands gripping the ends roughly.

"Do what?" he idiotically responds back, mentally slapping himself for having the audacity to question something he surely knows.

Slowly turning around, capturing his soft yet worried eyes, he catches onto your tear ones and breaks down on the inside. "Tell me the truth." you gulp, averting your eyes to your feet as you sense him bobble his head. "Did you sleep with her?"

Choking on air, he frantically shakes his head in dismay, not believing you would actually think that despite the past half an hour of him comprehending that you might so. Maybe he just couldn't believe it would ever come out of your mouth- but this whole situation made him nauseous.

Steadily finding his balance, he inched towards your frail body as you kept your contact with the floor strong, not daring to move it even when the sight of his shoes play in your mind. "Honey," he lowly calls out, lifting his fingers to your chin and hastily bringing your vision to his own. "No- I did not sleep or engage in any sexual nor romantic activity with her."

"Then why did you go to her house and not tell me?!" you cried, nudging his hand off your face, him immediately aiming towards your waist to still have you near. "Why would you do this to me? Why would you sleep over when you know how I would feel?"

"I can't tell you," he confesses, whispering softly. Feeling your face fall, you erupt into tears again as you lift up your palms to hide behind them.

Hiccuping, your hands twitch as they support your weight and force you to fall on top of the counter and continue watering your tears there. Everything was unfair and he couldn't seem to realize how bad your fights have progressed throughout the months.

"If you really care about me," you whimper, still behind your hands as he rubs circles on your waist. "You would consider my feelings and understand why I should know what you did with her."

Sighing, he releases you waist and rubs his forehead in frustration. Pedro wasn't the type to hide things in relationships. In fact, he was amazing when it came to expressing feelings and being honest while you were the same- but you typically took longer to reveal your troubles than he did.

But no matter how loyal he was to you, it wasn't his place to share someone else's business no matter who the association may be.

"I know, baby. I know- believe me," he whispers, pulling you in for a hug and lifting you off the counter as your sobs were felt among his chest. It broke his heart. "But I can't betray her, she needed me and trusted me to see her. I can't just deceive her."

"But you can do that to me?" you reply, catching him off guard as he shuts his eyes tightly by how accurate you were being. "It's okay, I understand."

"No," he shakes his head, groaning before staring you down. "You don't understand, hell- I don't understand this either. But what I need you to know is I did not kiss, flirt, wink, tease, or touch her in any sexual way. We did not have sex - there was no removing of any clothing-"

"Then why did you sleepover?!"

"She needed me," he simply replies, causing you to laugh ridiculy.

"I needed you and you left me," you spit out harshly, not believing how he could defend himself and think you would ever fine with it.

Grunting, he runs his hand over his hair before pouring all of his stress onto you. "What do you want me to do? I told you what happened- she needed me, I helped her, it took longer than expected so I fell asleep on the couch- do you want to touch my knotted back for proof? Because you can!"

"Why am I the one being yelled at?" you respond, watching his face fall in disappointment.

Staying in your position for a minute or two, you continued examining him as he did the same, not knowing where this was headed. That was until he motioned with his hand for you to move closer.

"Come here."

Furrowing your brows, you pause at his words. Did he think hugging was going to solve all of your problems- because it wasn't. "No-"

Feeling his arms glide up along your upper body and finally wrapping around your shoulders, he pressed you up against his chest into the warmest bear hug you might have engaged in.

It was...peaceful.

Sighing, he felt your body soften by the touch. Relaxing, you closed your eyes as he made it his mission to not ease up on his grip. "I didn't do anything with her," he whispers, laying his face comfortably on your shoulder. "I promise, I love you."

Sadly, his confession made you break down more as tears flooded your face and your body fell upon his grip. Easily wrapping his palms on the back of your head, he cradled you tightly and never left your sight once the rest of that day and week.

And that's how that fight ended- with you trusting his sweet nothings and letting him take over your body with his hugs and kisses because he somehow made you believe him.

Every single time.

You wish you could have moved on from that topic that night as you allowed him to show you how much he loved you, but unfortunately that wasn't an option.

Especially when paparazzi exploited more pictures with him and his ex the following weeks later.

"And what about your last fight? You know- the one that ended things," Andrew started, making you halt. "What happened then?"

Quickly standing up, you brushed your sweatpants down before sending him a tight smile. Now that you talked about sad memories you hadn't really thought of in months, you knew the mention of your last fight would only break you.

You weren't ready to undergoing the same pain you felt that night.

"I didn't know these talks about my past would take a toll on me, but they have. I don't want to talk about it, but I appreciate the two of you checking up on me- I really do, but I think its time for me to take a shower and maybe nap- it's been a tiring day."

Feeling your discomfort, Florence and Andrew exchanged a weary glance before looking back up to you, hesitantly nodding. Probably an intense memory, they were determined not to mention it again unless you came forward.

"Alright- but give us a call if you ever need a shoulder to cry on or just plain old company!" Florence smiled, wrapping her arms around you for a quick hug before pulling back. "We can even have a sleepover."

"Count me out on that one," Andrew joked, bending down to give you the same hug. "But for real, you can cry on my shoulder any time."

"Thanks," you giggle, soon following them towards your front door as they say goodbye to your dog before departing in their own cars.

What an emotional day it has been.

-

"Do I really have to go? It's no use- I already seen the film. I don't want to rewatch it," you whine as your manager hushes you.

Walking down the side of the theatre, you clutch onto the oversized, black leather jacket you were wearing as your manager and assistant walked on either side of you, directing to to the entrance of a random theatre in the city.

Since the Oscars, nothing has really changed. It's been about three weeks now and there wasn't chaos anymore- it seemed like news about that night had already faded.

Regularly, you did chat with Florence, Shailene, and Andrew on the phone- individually at times throughout your past weeks- but nothing too crazy.

You all had your busy schedules and your manager was still being as hardworking as ever trying to exploit more of you to the press and on the screen. Safe to say, every time she had news it would always be something impressive.

Except for today, when she proudly announced after barging into your house during breakfast that there was a new film premiere you had to attend.

It's not like you opposed the idea- but you watched the film when the production team invited you to their private screening. It would be useless watching it again.

But as persistent as ever, your manager claimed there would be great press and directors attending the public's premiere, following with "an Oscar-nominated actress like you must make themself remembered."

As dramatic as always- but at least she was highly active in your career.

She did everything to make you get noticed, especially when you were at your lowest point mentally after your breakup.

Now onto past relationships, you hadn't heard any news regarding Pedro since you last saw him. Not that you wanted to, but for some reason he was still on your mind. Due to the fact you did sit with your friends ranting about your shared troubles, that's likely the reason.

But all jokes aside, you seriously can't stop thinking about him.

However, you were too scared to admit this to anyone. You tried telling Florence, but every time you mentioned his name she would immediately disregard him, pissed by how he treated you.

Which you loved that she had your back, but you needed someone else to have his own- oddly.

Maybe it was your head deep in thoughts that revealed how you were feeling, but your assistant seemed to notice that you weren't okay- mentally.

After checking in and finding a small crowd, you accepted that maybe most of the audience were in their seats already despite the film starting in almost an hour. Nudging you once your manager left to find one of the producers, you glanced at her as she motioned you to move towards the wall.

"What's up?"

She made a face, practically laughing at your question before continuing on. "Why don't you tell me 'what's up?' The whole ride here you've been silent and I know it's not because you were tired- you slept all afternoon, what's really up?"

Chuckling, you roll her eyes at how nosy she was being- but you knew she only wanted to help you. After working together for years, it was a ritual both of you performed: don't let the other be sad.

Surprisingly, it worked every time. She would hide you from people who upset you while you let her have more vacation days whenever she felt the same.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're thinking about him, huh."

Eyes widening, you shake your head quickly as she laughs at your poor attempt of denying her idea. But she knew right from the moment you got lost in your head that he was the one to blame.

"Don't worry, I won't tell," she whispered loudly, causing you to shove her as she laughed louder.

"Shut up, someone might hear you," you hiss, watching as she tried holding her breath to stop herself from cackling again. She just looked like a fish in need of water.

"Don't think about him then," she teased. "If it's making you lost in your thoughts! Wait- why is he in your head? I thought you hated him?"

Coughing, you shake your head. "I don't hate him- I could never."

"Never?" she raises a brow in shock. "I think we're seeing some progress here. You're falling back in loveeeee with him."

"No way," you scoffed as she grinned heavily. "I'm just thinking about the Oscars since that was the last work-related event I've been to since today and you know- he was there so he ended up in my mind...for a little."

She slowly nods, teasing a smug as makes it pretty clear she did not believe one word you said. Your assistant has seen everything, so she is quite familiar with your thoughts regarding Pedro.

She knows when your happily, sadly, angrily, and crazily daydreaming about him. In this case, she's stuck between happily and crazily- not seeming to find any hints of fury and sorrow through your expressions.

But definitely warmth and frustration- all due to him not being able to leave your head.

"When are you just going to admit you still love him?" She blurts out, causing you to snap your heard towards her. "Everybody sees it, you obviously have a soft spot for him if you let him be near you."

"Near me? He's never near me," you laugh. "And I never show signs I want him back, I don't. I made it clear for months now after perfectly avoiding him at all costs."

"Yeah, but he's still on your mind- that must mean something," she declares, causing your small grin to fall into a tight line.

That must mean something.

Did it?

Shaking that thought away, you reject her idea. "It means he traumatized me."

"It means you're in denial and scared to be with him again," she replied, placing her hands on her hips. "Look, I just know you two are meant to be. Next time you see him, talk to him. Tell him how much you care for him- even if you don't want to admit it in a lovey-dovey way. It can be friendly!"

Giving her a strange look, she lowers her energy quickly before looking around the room, making sure no one saw how enthuastic she became.

"You get the point!" she rolls her eyes. "Just be nice, maybe the both of you can form a friendship or just drift apart knowing there's no hard feelings."

"But there is hard feelings," you declared, pointing out the obvious.

There is a reason why you two broke up, like there is also a reason why you despise him. It all comes down to history and actions, which you've both experienced- which is why, again, you broke up.

"Just..." she started, thinking about it for a second before sending you a sincere glance. "-give it a shot. If you don't hate him, like you said, it wouldn't be terrible to be civil."

Slowly nodding, you understand where she's coming from. This tension between Pedro and you was getting old, and the fact it was only you adding fuel to the non-existent fire since you've broken up is sad.

Especially when all he's been around you was sweet and considerate of your feelings, leaving you alone when he felt your energy- except for that one night, but you have to admit that was your fault for riling him up.

The roughness of heels came marching your way, forcing the both of you to instantly lift your head- finding your manager striking a fake breaming grin with two men beside her. She was trying too hard.

"Girls! This is Greg and Shawn- the writers of the film!" she exclaimed, fluttering her lashes rapidly as both men awkwardly raised a hand, waving it.

Releasing a tiny chuckle, you do the same as your assistant walks closer, sticking out her hand to fully gain their attention and introduce herself.

What can you say- she was a charmer.

Wrapping an arm around your shoulder, your manager slightly pulls you closer to the strangers and strangely bobbles her head- preparing whatever gibberish was about to spit out of her talkative mouth.

"Y/n- the boys thought it would be a great idea to sit in the vip selection among other A-listers- isn't that just lovely? We are very grateful for your offer-"

Boys? Oh god- now she was bonding for her hopeful chances of getting a call for an audition.

Compelling a sweet smile, you feel the only possible response you could give them was a meaningless 'thank you so much' after she literally put you on blast to communicate more. The funniest part about this situation was- you already watched the film!

Clearly you never met these writers- but instead the director himself! Your manager should be satisfied enough with that.

"Would you look at the time,-" Greg- you believe, softly gasps while raising his arm to examine the tiny apple watch planted. "Guests are probably filling up in their seats by now, terribly sorry- but we should probably go."

"I hadn't realized how close we were to showtime- we certainly must continue off our conversation after the film is over!" Shawn proclaims, making your manager nod far too quickly. "I look forward to meeting again."

With that, the two men inclined their motions of farewells before taking off down a dimmed hall, likely finding the exact destination set to premiere their comedic film.

Sighing, you send daggers to your managers who barely blinks before coughing out a swift, "What?"

"You really couldn't wait till after the film was over to sweet talk them?"

Dramatically rolling her eyes at your annoyance, she waves you off by your sudden introversion. It was her job to throw her best compliments about you too them, and she knew you were still too young to understand that everything she did was for a cost.

You.

"C'mon grumpy, let's locate the theatre before you start whining that your feet hurt, too."

Feeling your mouth slightly drop from her remark, you hear your assistant cackle right beside you, using her right palm to hold in her giggles while you mentally prepared for what comeback to throw her way.

You got nothing.

Huffing, your legs followed hers as she guided the two of you towards the same hall the men approached minutes before. The closer you've walked, the larger the capacity gathered around.

For such a low-budget film, it sure did gain quite the crowd.

As the rolling of the ending credits flooded the screen once you sat the last two and a half hours trying to act as if you didn't know what was coming next, you wish you had it in you to say the second time made up for the first- but it didn't.

There we have it, tonight was just not your night and endlessly enough- you couldn't blame it on some silly excuse of watching the same film over again.

Not even your assistant's sneaky offerings of her red licorice lifted your blues- and that speaks enough volume to say the least.

"That wasn't so bad, now was it?" the whole-heartedly voice of your manager's voice filled your ears as the three of you sat in the same lobby as before, still not finding a way to escape a cold room.

Oh how you abominated the sharp hits of the air conditioning- it frankly made coming to the theaters a horror unless layers of clothing and a blanket was tagged along.

"Why can't we leave? The film is done and people are walking out."

"We still have to talk to Shawn and Greg!" your manager declared, presenting a look of pure determination to get her way with their levels of skill.

Groaning, you throw your head in absolute exhaustion. Fairly, if your manager hadn't had made such an early visit during the morning hours you're sure you would've been in a better mood.

It was like the more you interacted, the less energy you had to give.

In order to survive the next few hours, you needed your phone or who knows how your fake laughters will sound.

And you call yourself an actress.

Sliding your hand to the back of your pockets, you wait for the feel of your large iphone to surface- but that moment never comes. Swiftly, you check your leather jacket ones just in case you slipped it there without realizing.

You didn't.

Anxiously glancing towards your assistant, your trembling hands find her arm. "Have you seen my phone? It's not on me."

Examining your hands before meeting your eyes, she shrugs it off. "Relax, no need to have a nervous breakdown- I'm sure you left it in the car with your bag-"

"No, I had it on me during the previews."

"We did go to the bathroom, too- why not just go check those two places?" she suggests. Concerned filled you, hoping nobody was capable of actually stealing your phone- it would be such a hassle getting another one. "I'll check the bathroom, you check our seats."

Agreeing, the two of you sneakily escape your manager when her back was turned, unpleasantly speed walking down the familiar hall before parting ways to your needed locations.

Opening the thick, black doors and striding up the long runway, your eyes are met with the same darkened seating area you were in less than twenty minutes ago.

Then and there, you use this desertion in power- running towards the middle rows consider 'vip' and begin your inspection. Fuck, you wish your had some form of light to help- you couldn't see shit.

Sliding your fingers among the seat, you lift up the cushions in hopes it mysteriously pops up, but all you find is pieces of popcorn and gum glued down.

Gross.

Feeling your eyes begin to water, you were sure you were seconds away from crying like a little kid over the loss of your beloved possession before you heard a deep voice call out for your attention.

"Is this yours? I heard it ringing when I came back in and- uh," the person froze, not having the ability to finish off their sentence as you gradually lifted your body off the floor into their view.

Hopelessly praying the stranger was regarding your phone, your eyes search for their hands first and there it was- your phone!

The corners of your mouth lift up, as well as the creases around your eyes as you internally cheer for your discovery. However, it faltered once you noticed a familiar tattoo laying on one of their palms. Moving your eyes up, you're sure your smile completely disappears once you recognize those brown eyes.

How did you not catch onto his voice from down there?

"Uh- yeah- that's mine," you nervously reply, choking on your words that probably made you sound like you were about to lose consciousness by how strung you were, and hesitantly reach out for the device.

Pedro quietly lets you grab it, not saying one word as your hands collide for a split second before the object was back in your own. You didn't miss the name that appeared on the lit up screen when touched- your assistant must have tried calling you to see if the phone would ring in the bathroom.

Smart.

Avoiding awkward farewells, Pedro swiftly turns around and makes his way down the theatre stairs, not daring to continue on with the barely existing conversation you shared. He's leaving, that fast?

Thinking about all your past interactions, he would always try to chat with you- even when you did give him the coldest shoulder of all time- because that's who he was: kind.

But now he's...walking away?

"Hey- uhm," you begin, following clumsily after him, almost tripping on one of the steps as he reaches his final steps and doubtfully turns your way. Once you stood another step ahead of him, you feel that swirling feeling in your stomach again.

You were nervous- you've never felt this way around him during your breakup- never.

Adjusting your arms inside your jacket, a small smile is extracted out of you as you watch his stay flat. He did not look interested one bit and it frightened you to death. "Thanks for finding my phone- I-I was really scared there for a minute."

Not reacting to your little laugh at the end, he replied- dull. "I didn't know it was yours, I would have given it to guest services if so."

Ouch, you're sure you're hurt expression was recognizable on the outside as much as it pained you on the inside. He really did not want to talk to you, even when you're showing your appreciation.

He really was over you.

"I know," you squeak out, not missing the way his eyes tiredly scanned your own as his body stood there stiff as ever. "I just wanted to thank you, that's all- you saved me a lot of trouble."

Coldly laughing from that, he nods. "I'm sure I have."

Your body tingled with rage as he carelessly ignored your warmth and threw jabs in return. "What's with the attitude? I'm doing nothing wrong here- I'm trying to be friendly."

Inching up, his face presents a sullen one and you immediately feel intimated by the height he owned and used as his advantage. Just the first few seconds before he spoke alone made you feel his displeasure. "And what about all those times I was friendly? I received shit so forgive me for allowing you to experience the same treatment you give others."

Loss for words, you were speechless and didn't know what to say back. For one, you were alarmed by his hard demeanor he gifted to you. Second, humiliation soared throughout as he called out your imperfections.

In other words, he wanted you to know you were a bitch.

"And I take that back but-"

Pedro was about to burst out laughing in front of your face, but he held himself together in sake of your feelings. Can you believe that, despite the misery he still cared for your state of mind. "Taking back isn't apologizing."

Sneering, you cross your arms as his eyebrows furrowed in irritation. "Apologize for what? You were the one who fucked my life over."

Scoffing, he shakes his head in vexation by your lack of empathy- as always. "Countless of times we would contemplate our faults and how we could move on and now you're discounting your wrongdoings- typical."

Pedro did not want to have another unpleasant argument with you, especially in a public setting again, and decided it was best to just walk away. If he kept his mouth shut, he wouldn't make this altercation worse.

Meeting his broad back, you lightly gasp as he ignores you altogether and makes his leave far too early for your liking. Charging towards him, you feel his back solidify once your fingers yank him to a halt.

You were not done with this conversation, but you did know once you got home you were definitely going to regret how toxic you were radiating in the room.

"Typical? What do you mean by that?"

"Knock it off and let me walk away, y/n," Pedro warns, still facing his back towards you after blocking your attempts of moving him. "We both know how badly this will end."

You know, but for some reason you don't want him to leave. Was that so bad?

"No, I wanna hear exactly what you have to say about me- maybe it'll make me recognize the ignorant ego I have."

"You're talking out in anger, you're trying to cause a fire that I won't let you ignite," he simply replies, his eyes still not found by his hidden appearance.

Very poetic.

Scowling profoundly, you don't realize what you're doing until you're finally met with his provoked display after. Stalking around his body, you stand in front of him and jab a finger towards his chest. "You're preventing me from bettering myself, isn't that what you always wanted?"

Leaning down until his face with inches away from yours, you make out his hard features clearly now. His face expressed discomfort as his eyes creased while lifting- even his lips stayed hard as a rock. "I'm going to tell you one more time, let me go."

Ignoring his cold shoulder, he inhaled a sharp breath before taking matters into his own hands. You don't want to listen? Fine. But he wasn't going to let you drag him into this any further.

Right as you push another finger up against him, your wrist was taken and roughly pushed down by your side as Pedro's body practically belted against yours. "Get off me!"

"Not until you stop fucking around," he grunted, immediately widening his eyes in realization. He knows you don't like when he casually curses directly to you- even when he doesn't harm. "Sorry- I-I meant when you stop playing around."

Praying that a smile doesn't escape you, it made you feel some type of way capturing his manners and how even though you two were on rocky terms- he still had some respect for you.

"Why are we even fighting right now?" you sigh, slowly softening your muscles in forfeit.

"You tell me- it sounds like you want my attention," he casually replied, releasing your hands and stepping back an inch. "Considering you won't let me leave."

"I'm just trying to have a normal, polite conversation! Is that so wrong?"

Softly laughing, he shakes his head in disappointment. "You don't get it."

Scrunching your face, you become lost by his words. "Get what?"

Scanning the wall before meeting your eyes again, Pedro motions his hands between the two of you. "What do you think will come out of us having a conversation? Acquaintances? Maybe a friendship?"

Thinking about it for a second, you feel your head eventually nod as he squeezes his eyes shut in return. Was that not what he's been trying to do- end in good terms? "It's what's healthy for us."

"Us?!" Pedro groans, sending you a tired gaze that had you weak to the knees. "There is no 'us' anymore. You made that perfectly clear after causing a scene last month in front of your friends."

"I didn't plan on that happening a-"

"I'm even letting go the bigger scene you caused inside the after party- isn't that enough to understand why I feel this way?" he adds on, frustrated that you would think otherwise.

You were the one who caused the attention and brought a bad look on his name. He should be shouting at you like you would have done to him if the roles were reversed.

"I'm not saying we should get back together, all I want-"

"-is a friendship? Some sort of relation that won't make us strangers?" he interjects, causing you to stay silent. That was all he needed to understand what you really wanted: not to let him go. "Look, we had our history, but I don't think it's good we keep in contact anymore."

You swear you felt all air leave your body as your face felt cold. Was he breaking up with you- in life itself?

"I-uhm don't- I don't understand," you cough, scared to make a bigger fool out of yourself. You're sure you probably look like a ghost by how much color you've lost since his recent reveal and again- you were grateful this room was dim. "Why can't we at least be friends? Not even that- why can't we at least know we have each other in our lives? Why end up as strangers?"

"What do you mean? We hadn't talked to each other in almost a year till last month! We basically are strangers," he exclaimed, causing you to look down at your feet as your heart ached.

He wasn't wrong- you just hadn't realized he's been right. And to blame was you, not him. You pushed him away in the first place, he was only kind enough to oblige.

And it was surely pathetic how now you wanted him back in your life, even if it meant not even talking just to assure yourself he still had your back.

He didn't.

"Y/n..." he sadly muttered, trying his best not to hurt your feelings as you were still continued to stay downwards- not wanting to disclose more hurt. "You didn't even say happy birthday to me, how can you be considered a friend? Friends don't do that, not to me at least."

This caused you to glance back up to him, disagreeing immediately as to what he was trying to get at. Of course you knew it was his birthday, you celebrated two with him in the past! "I didn't want to make things weird-"

"You never do but still avoid me like the plague and breakdown whenever I'm too close to your liking. I'm sorry for trying to do what's best and leave us in the past,-" he explains, closing his eyes in discomfort, "-but I can't keep letting this go on. I'm too old to be going back and forth as if this is some high school relationship- it's not."

High school relationship- you never knew simple three words could have you shrinking in guilt.

"And I know things will be easier for you when the time comes- I won't be around to nag you," Pedro tries to lighten up the mood but you can't break the line upon your lips. You were emotionless and it made Pedro upset.

Why would he be upset? You finally deserved learning your lesson after treating him as if he was nothing to you. But despite all your flaws, he still cared for you.

He cares so much that he's willing to let you go so you can do better things in life- without him.

Trying to find the right words to say, you give up. There isn't much to discuss now that he wants nothing to do with you.

You fucked up- for real this time.

In fact, you shouldn't even be hurt- you wanted this. Or at least that's what you thought before last month when he wasn't on your mind 24/7.

Maybe it was the way he begged for your forgiveness after not seeing each other for so long that made you realize how badly you adored him nearby.

Maybe it was the attention he was giving you after you continuously rejected his pleads, furthering the argument until he stormed off in the end.

And maybe you should've took his concluding estrangement announcement seriously before he left you last month.

But just like they say, you never know what you have until it's gone.

"I see," you quietly respond, slowly nodding as a faint grin forms among Pedro's lips, appreciating your cooperation over this mess. "Maybe it is best if we stray away from each other- you can even delete my number."

"I already have," he accidentally blurts out, not realizing how bad that sounds until he hears it himself and cringes. Your sufferable reaction didn't make things better.

"You know what," you fake a laugh, trying to calm your voice as you feel it about to crack any second. The tears were heading your way- you just knew it. "Fuck you."

Pedro's face falls, taken back by your inappropriate language. "Excuse me?"

Noticing your rushed attitude, he wanted to stop you and tell you everything was alright. That everything was going to be easy and how the two of you would get passed this.

But he knew he'd be lying.

"You heard me, fuck you," you casually slip out, scoffing as his eyes darken. "For someone who's so kind to others, I would have thought you would know what words were right to say."

"You're one to talk, sweetheart," he chuckled, staring at you in repulse. "Every time you talk you always have to neglect someone else, I'm fucking glad I don't have to witness that ever again."

"Me too, my family was right- you are a joke who wasted my time."

With that, you make your leave to have the chance of having the last word. Maybe if you left this room faster he would forget about your comment. You knew it was harsh but you didn't know what else to say.

You wanted him to hurt- but to what extent?

Your arm was instantly tugged as Pedro pulled you back, not letting his grip go as his face was still filled with resentment. "And your team was right, you are a bitch."

Freezing, you stare at him in shock as his face doesn't fall once. What the hell is he talking about? "Get away from me or else-"

"Or else what? Weren't you the one physically blocking me from leaving minutes ago? What has changed?" he tries to smirk, manipulating you into believing how ruthless he could be when really he was dying to tell you the act he was pulling. "Cat got your tongue?"

Your face felt hot with rage as you yanked your arm off his hand, catching him by surprise as you glared at him. "I'm so glad I never took you back, you're fucking pathetic."

"And I'm insanely glad you didn’t, saved thousands returning that fucking ring."

Those twelve words made you halt and even made Pedro speechless. By the staggered look planted on his face, you could tell he didn't mean to say that.

Ring? As in, an engagement ring?

Weakly failing to stand straight, you felt your voice crack. "You were going to propose?"

Shaking his head, he swiftly backed away. "I need to go." Before you could stop him, he was already out of the theatre and probably near larger gatherings of people that would only prevent you from talking about this more.

Holding your face with your hands, you couldn't even cry. You didn't know what to do, you were utterly lost for words.

If he was really going to propose like he hinted at, what meaning did your last fight have? Nothing made sense and you don't know how you could move on from this now that he wanted you out of his life completely.

Hearing doors open, you instantly averted your gaze in hopes he had come back in and planned to properly finish what he started.

Instead, you manager came barging in while gripping onto your assistant's wrist harshly.

"Where the hell have you been?! I've been looking for you everywhere and to find out your stupid assistant-"

"Don't you dare disrespect her," you sternly cut her off, watching as her face falters by your sudden tone. "If you're here to pester us some more, feel free to walk home."

Laughing in shock, your manager tilts her head at your rudeness. "Excuse me? It wasn't my fault your assistant wondered off. After everything I have done to protect you and your career you feel the need to throw me out-"

"Did she hurt you?" you cut her off, focusing on your assistant who has gone quiet. You notice the redness on her small wrists before she slowly nods, looking down in fear your manager would try something else.

"You're fired," you simply state, pushing past your frantic ex- manager as you lightly guide your assistant out the door.

You ignore the rage your ex- manager unveils as you make it back to the lobby. Ignoring the waves random people sent your way in hopes of finding your destined car sooner so you could help your assistant with her injuries and be home already.

And in bed to think about what the fuck just happened tonight.

+

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[nipuni]

I have another DW report! It took a while because we've been hosting friends and family visiting from abroad for a few months now and had a lot of work on top of that so we haven't had much quiet time alone to sit and watch but we made it to the end of S10!!

I'll share our thoughts under the cut because it's a lot!

We adored 12! His run was amazing, one of the best! A lot of episodes became all time favourites for us and Peter Capaldi is now our second favourite Doctor after David. His acting is impeccable and he is a delight to watch. He is so funny and inspiring and everything The Doctor should be, absolutely loved him!!

We enjoyed Clara, her characterization had some inconsistencies with her having several different arcs that felt disjointed at times but she is so memorable and made herself into such an integral part of The Doctor's life. Watching her change and their relationship become more codependent and unhinged as time went on was super interesting. Nardole grew on us. And BILL? Bill!! Oh my god dear Bill managed to outsuffer even Martha and that is saying a lot, I'm still traumatized I was not expecting the finale to go that way for her what the fuck and what a finale that was, devastating, we loved it!! but GOD sweet Bill her fate was brutal, I would have loved to see her go on more adventures and grow 😭

Now, the highlight of these seasons for me was Missy!! I'm obsessed, she's my favourite version of The Master so far and my favourite character after The Doctor, I LOVE HER 🙏 She needs more seasons! (I'm aware of the audios I'll get my ears on those as soon as I can) She's hilarious and clever, mean but soft and so so gorgeous AHHHHH She somehow manages to be terrifying and endearing at the same time and you can feel and share The Doctor's hope for her. Her death broke my heart, what do you mean The Doctor will never find out she stood with him in the end!! The romance, the tragedy!! I didn't dare hope they would take their story there and they went above and beyond. Every second she was on screen I was holding my breath and kicking my feet for real. To the people that said I would love their relationship when I started watching DW you were so right and know me too well 😳

Some of our favourite episodes from 12's run were Listen, Mummy on the Orient express, Heaven Sent and The doctor falls. Though there are a lot of good ones really, all the ones with Missy in them, Deep Breath, Flatline, Oxygen, the heist one, Thin Ice, The pilot, the one with the ghosts underwater, the ones with the pyramid monks, the parts with River, the one with the boxes and Zygons, the last special, all really enjoyable!!

We are also five episodes into S11 and I have to admit that despite our best efforts so far we are not enjoying Chibnall's writing at all 😫 but it's still early so we stay hopeful, maybe it's just a rough start and it will pick up after all the exposition. We will keep going so that we are all caught up by the time the new season starts airing!!

I hope you are all doing well! I am once again apologizing for not replying to asks in ages!! I've been mostly away from social media for months outside of posting every now and then so they keep piling up and it's become intimidating 😫 but I'll get to them soon!!

I also wanted to thank you for all the kind comments and tags on my art and photos, they really keep me going so I'm very grateful!! 😭💖

[eccentricgrace]

allies or enemies || BatFamily

summary: a brief history of jason's experience with panic attacks over the years.

tags: hurt/comfort, panic attacks, bruce wayne's c+ parenting, jason's death & resurrection

wc: 11,043

cross-posted on ao3 under the same name!

twelve

The manor was nicer than his crappy rundown apartment.

Smoke had laid a thick film on the walls, the plaster was cracking and falling further apart with every gust of wind. He covered the faults with posters, the ones they sold at the corner store for cheap— all off-brand copies of movie or album covers, the stars’ faces photoshopped to hell and back.

He had slept on a mattress set on the floor, no sheets, just the one blanket he kept from Mama, torn and tattered and loved.

“Do you live here?” Batman had asked him, as if his little hole-in-the-wall residence was something to be disgusted by. As if Jason didn’t have it a million times better than he had a few months before.

He memorized every spot of mold, every place the floor creaked, every sound and smell, like the back of his hand. It was familiar. It was warmer than outside, and it was home.

Was.

Objectively, the manor was better. The food was good and never ran out (but he kept a stash, just in case), the bed was always warm and he never woke up with a sore neck, and there was never mold or dust or anything. Alfred was really good about that.

It was so safe here, and he did his best to keep it that way. He scrubbed the dishes, he kept his room tidy, he made sure he studied, came home with A grades— but despite it all, he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He felt like he was walking on eggshells all the time, thinking, Well, if it’s going to get bad, might as well be done with it, and he’s being stupid, but he knew that.

So really, in hindsight, it made sense what led them here.

“You spend a lot of time in the library,” Bruce noted.

Which was true. He liked the library. It was quiet— he could hear exactly when someone was walking down the outside hallway. He liked the smell of books, he liked the big red chair next to the fireplace because it was the most comfortable one…

He liked that Bruce didn’t seem to care if he moved the books around. He kept a very close eye every time he would shift something out of place, and every time Bruce hadn’t even blinked.

Yes. He liked the library. He didn't like that Bruce was mentioning it. In his experience, there was always an ulterior motive for that kind of questioning, always an angle.

Kid, you know those sandwiches at the end of Mora Street? I’ll spot you a deal with the owner if you just…

Hiya Scrawny, just turn the other cheek, why don'tcha? I know how much you love a bargain…

Hey, Todd’s boy, right? Listen, I know you’ve been askin’ around for some of the good stuff for ya’ mom…

Jason felt an uncomfortable ripple in his stomach. He fiddled with the book pages carefully. “I like to read.”

Bruce nodded easily. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Are there specific books you’d like?”

Something’s wrong, a voice in his head warned him. His skin felt buzzy. He quickly flashed his eyes over Bruce, trying to pin something down that made sense.

Jason had never asked for anything before. He’d made sure to take everything in small doses and without complaint from the second he stepped foot on the property. He hadn’t even hinted that he wanted anything more, because really, he didn’t need anything— so what was Bruce even asking for, anyway?

Kindness requires a price, Jason. Are you willing to pay?

“No,” Jason said quickly, and he immediately knew he sounded like an asshole. The bout of dread he received from the realization made him nauseous. “The ones you have are fine, alright?”

Bruce’s eyebrows tick up momentarily, and even the slight movement had every hair on Jason’s arms stand up.

“Alright,” Bruce said simply.

Alright what?

“I mean—“ Jason sat up in the library chair. It was too big for him. Everything was too big for him, here. “I just mean, I’m fine. You can leave me alone, you know? I can take care of myself.”

That’s what he meant to say, but that’s not how it was supposed to come out of his mouth. Everything he said sounded like an insult, and he felt like a damn idiot.

His internal struggle must have shown on his face, because Bruce’s expression does a weird twisting thing.

“Okay,” Bruce lifted his hands, and before he could even parse the action, Jason launched back in his seat like he’d already been hit.

It went very quiet.

Jason tilted his head and peeked one eye open. Bruce was still there. His hands still lifted, but held open, unthreatening. Slate blue eyes were calculative, calm, toned with a familiar sympathy.

Jason’s cheeks still burned, but not for the reason he had thought it would. Embarrassment flooded through him and he felt hot and itchy. He shut the book on his lap, scowling.

“Stop looking at me like that!” He snapped. “What, you’ve never seen someone flinch before? It’s not a big deal!”

It was like he had been possessed. He’s yelling at Bruce, but it’s not him. Jason’s in his head begging, ‘What are you doing?! Stop talking!’ and some other, angrier kid has taken over his mouth.

“I know, Jason,” Bruce said placidly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—“

“Stop saying sorry,” Jason said, his breath running far from reach, his vision going blurry. “I don’t want a sorry, or pity, or— or your stupid books!”

An out of body experience followed, in which Jason watched with horror as he threw the book on the ground. What the fuck.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

“What’s wrong with me?” Jason asked out loud, his face red and hot, his chest heaving.

He stared shock-shelled at the cover of The Giver, on the floor, splayed open. He’d never thrown a book before in his life. His hands were tingly and numb, he couldn't think straight, and he was having a tantrum, throwing books like a baby.

“Jason,” Bruce tried. “Calm down, chum. Take a breath.”

And now Bruce was using the victim-voice. He’d really done it now, hadn’t he?

He was perfectly fine ten minutes ago. How could he have gone from fine to pissed off in such a short amount of time, over nothing? It didn’t make sense, and he had to make it make sense, because he was suddenly terrified and he didn’t know why.

“I can’t calm down,” Jason snapped instead, baring his teeth like a dog. “I’m— I don’t know what's wrong with me, I can’t breathe.”

“I know,” Bruce said calmly, his hands held out in front of him. “I know, Jason. Look at me— I’m going to sit down, and I’m going to close my eyes.”

Jason clenched his fists, hard enough to feel his fingernails dig into the meat of his palms. His face screwed up in confusion as he watched Bruce do exactly what he said.

The man shut his eyes and slowly eased himself down to the floor, sitting cross-legged. His hands lay limp and relaxed over his knees.

Bruce cleared his throat. “I’m going to breathe in and out, now. I’ll be counting as I do so.”

“What the hell’re you doing?” Jason rasped, the back of his throat feeling dry. His chest hurt from every beat of his heart, like the damn thing was made of something inhumanly heavy.

“Breathing,” Bruce answered, because he was kind of a dick. He inhaled deeply. “One, two, three…”

Jason blinked a couple of times, just until his eyes were less blurry. He watched Bruce hold his breath for a solid five seconds.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven,” Bruce finished, breathing out. He still hadn’t opened his eyes.

“This is stupid,” Jason said stuffily, tentatively creeping down to join him on the floor. “You already know how to breathe.”

Bruce didn’t answer, except for starting to count again to three. Held for five. Out for seven.

“Shouldn’t you be mad?” Jason pressed, because his hands were still shaking, and even he was pissed at himself for acting out. “I threw your crap, you should be kicking me out.”

His heart stilted, waiting for Bruce to open his eyes, to calmly declare that Jason was right, that he would need to pack his things—

“One, two, three…”

Jason liked living in the manor. He really, truly did. He didn’t want to leave.

“One, two, three, four, five…”

Jason quietly folded his hands in his lap, ducking his head down. He breathed in time with Bruce’s counting, if for nothing else, to cure the complete loss he was at for what to do.

They sat there together for a length of time that Jason couldn’t even count. It was like the numbers slipped away when they were so short, measured out in such small increments.

All he knew was that at some point, the ache in his chest faded, the numbness in his fingers evaporating away. He felt the weight of his shoulders drop, and exhaustion swam over him like the ripples of an ocean.

Bruce’s rhythmic counting suddenly stopped, and Jason’s head lifted. Bruce was looking at him again, but there wasn’t any threat in his eyes. Jason’s not sure there ever really was.

“I’m not mad at you, Jason,” Bruce said softly. “And you’re not being kicked out.”

“Yeah, I know,” he muttered weakly, letting his gaze fall to his hands.

“Are you okay?”

Jason let the question linger, frowning as he tried to come up with an honest answer.

“I don’t know what happened,” Jason answered after a moment. His eyebrows furrowed and he picked at the dead skin on his cuticles. “I haven’t been like this. Not since— well, not in a long time. It’s embarrassing.”

“That’s alright,” Bruce assured calmly, his voice low, a steady baritone that never wavered. “I understand, Jason.”

“I don’t,” Jason laughed breathlessly. “I’ve seen stuff that was worth a freak-out, this wasn’t one of them. It’s stupid.”

Bruce grunted. “It’s more normal than you’d think. Millions of people experience panic attacks everyday. Me included.”

The frustrated retort evaporated in his throat before it could even build steam. Jason tilted his head. “You?”

“You know about my parents,” Bruce supplied, and didn’t say any further.

Jason opened his mouth, and closed it. It wasn’t like he needed to confirm, and it seemed insensitive bringing up the fact that everyone knew about Bruce Wayne’s parents. For some reason, he’s only clicking into place now what it really meant, seeing Bruce in this light, in this moment.

He imagined a smaller Bruce, so young that he was still wide-eyed, bright, shiny— like the kids Jason saw when they first moved to the Row. Just like any other poster child of innocence and willful ignorance. He imagined the tragedy being something more than just a headline article.

…He thought of himself at the same age, still wide-eyed, less shiny, holding his Mama’s hand as delicately as he could. Trying to feel a phantom warmth. Trying to imagine a steady, quiet thrumming against his thumb where her pulse lay.

He thought of the first time he couldn’t catch his breath, and the hatred he spewed at the coroner who covered his Mama’s tired face, and the way adrenaline kicked him out the door the moment social services were mentioned. The first freak-out, and certainly not the last.

He wondered if that was Bruce’s first, too.

“Hm,” Bruce said finally. He uncrossed his legs and stood up, his knee clicking twice in the way it always did. He cleared his throat. “I have a sudden craving for Alfred’s cocoa. Would you like to join me, or would you rather finish your book? I did interrupt your reading session.”

Remembering the book, he looked over at the floor, seeing the tossed thing still sprawled out. Ears red with his own disappointment, he picked it up and smoothed it out, the pages folding back in properly. He gently brushed imaginary lint from the cover with the back of his hand, like the action itself would prove his sincerity to the object.

“I can finish it later,” Jason mumbled, setting the book down on the side table. “Where is Alfred, anyway?”

Bruce hummed. “In my experience, he’s always around somewhere.”

fourteen

This had to be the worst part of being a Wayne.

Two years, and he still was treated like he was some half-formed member of the family. He ate breakfast at their table, he had his own room, his own goddamn legal paperwork, but still— at these galas, he was reduced to nothing more than another one of B’s charity cases.

It wasn’t even like he was in a shared boat, either. Dick had been adopted too, also an orphan, not built from money, and he was still so much better at this. He always knew what to say, always knew how to smile just right, how to charm everyone in a million-mile radius— he wore the Wayne reputation like he was made for it.

Jason was always being teased by stuffy pearl-wearers about the perfect shoes he had to fill. (If only they knew that the shoes were actually pointy and green and stupid-looking, but they didn’t, obviously.)

Jason was not good at being perfect. Not like Dick.

Jason was smaller, and he smiled nervously, and blushed like a tomato when the elderly ladies teased him for being “cute”, and he stuttered over his words to try and say the right kind of things. God forbid he let his street accent slip (which inevitably happens every time) and then they look at him with some twisted-up form of pity.

“Thank the lord he found you,” they would say, clutching their hearts, batting their eyelashes. “All alone on those dangerous, filthy streets…”

Sometimes he literally cannot believe the audacity of privileged rich people.

So yeah, he hated galas.

For this one, he had stayed relatively glued to Bruce’s side, trying not to avoid eye contact with people and trying to seem like he wasn’t wildly uncomfortable. His hands were clasped in front of him, fingers interlocked, because if he let them limp at his sides he was worried they would fidget themselves onto holding Bruce’s sleeve.

Then Bruce had been pulled away by a group of men in suits about fundraising, or something. Jason gave him a desperate expression before he left, his eyes wildly flitting around to the crowds of vultures, and Bruce had responded nonverbally, pressing his lips into a firm line. Be back soon. Bruce subtly nodded once. You’ll be okay.

Jason exhaled through his nose and watched Bruce leave with a massive fake grin for his new audience.

He stayed closer to the walls, the perimeter of the room, where an exit was close if he needed to make his own disappearance. He took a glass of sparkling juice from a passing tray and held it in hands, just for the sake of holding something.

“Mister Wayne! I was hoping to run into you!”

Jason blinked as a younger man in a tweed suit pushed forward, smiling brightly at him. The guy looked like he was in his younger twenties maybe. Scrawny. Jason opened his mouth to tell him that Bruce wasn’t here, and then realized with belated dread that–

“I’ve always wanted a chance to talk to the younger ward of Mr. Wayne,” the man explained, eyes bright. He held a drink from the bar, and sipped at it periodically.

“Well, you found me,” Jason put on his best fake smile. “I’m not really that interesting though. You’d have better luck talking with Dick, probably.”

“I quite disagree, sir!” The man, still grinning like this was the best day of his life (weird), shook his head. “You’re an inspiration to me.”

Jason furrowed his eyebrows, awkward smile still plastered on his face. “Oh. Okay.”

He’s been told that a lot of times, but all of them were when he was in a different suit. At night. With his face covered by a domino. And the people who said it to him were kids. So, it was different. It certainly made a hell of a lot more since when he was Robin.

“See, I grew up right next to Park Row,” the man continued. “It’s just great to see someone make it out of there, you know? Us Alley kids have to stick together.”

There were a lot of things running through his head, but the first and most loud one being that this guy definitely did not grow up in The Alley. It was glaringly obvious, from the way he spoke to the way he walked, and for some reason his false claim made Jason’s skin crawl.

Even if he didn’t live there anymore, he was very protective of his turf. On patrol, he made a conscious effort to add more routes through there, and fought needlessly tooth and nail when B had asked why. The Alley was broken, and dangerous, and violent, but it was also just… home. In a way he couldn’t describe.

“Where did you live?” Jason asked, interrupting his lengthy tangent about “the horrors” of the Alley. “What sector?”

“Well, East End. But I always grew up hearing stories–”

Jason choked, coughing loudly into his fist. “That’s not Crime Alley, that’s literally across the bridge.”

“So?”

“So?” Jason huffed in disbelief. “You can’t call yourself an Alley kid if you aren’t one. That’s an earned title, it's got a culture to it. It’s not that hard to understand.”

“I think that’s very prejudiced of you,” the guy raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. His smile had long faded into something equally forced. “I grew up with hardships, too. My father could hardly afford to pay for my college, my parents almost divorced because of it.”

Jason laughed. Tossed his head back, hand on his stomach, and laughed. He can hardly breathe. He’s in a state of shock. It isn’t funny, but fuck, isn’t it? Imagining a childhood where the hardest thing Jason had to deal with was almosts.

“Are you serious?” He managed to say between bursts of laughter.

The guy’s smile faded completely, and he glared. “It isn’t funny at all. Is this the respect that you’re taught to show other people?”

“I’m sorry,” Jason tried, because he knew he had to keep it together. Even if it was a totally reasonable reaction, this would definitely be frowned-upon as a Wayne. This wasn’t what Dick would do in this situation. He tried to smother his laughter in his sleeve.

“I’m serious,” the man insisted, looking disgusted, now. “Is this really how your mother raised you? She would be very disappointed, I suspect. I know mine would be.”

And just like that, nothing was funny anymore. Like he was doused in ice water. A chill ran down his spine.

“Hey, don’t fucking talk about my mom,” Jason spat out, sticking a finger in his face. “You don’t get to fucking talk about my mom.”

“Fine,” the man raised his hands, scowling. “I’ll be leaving you alone. I have more than enough content to write my article on. I’ll have to change my premise though, since I wasn’t accounting for such a disrespectful young man.”

He stormed off, leaving Jason in a shell shocked state of adrenaline. He couldn’t comprehend what the hell had just happened. He hadn’t clocked that the asshole he was talking to had been a reporter, and he’d just– he didn’t even know what he’d done, just that he’d been so offended in such a short amount of time that he’d blacked out and said something that definitely shouldn’t be in the press.

Fuck, B was going to be so upset.

Jason swallowed thickly and stared at the drink fizzing in his hands. The constant eyes on him were starting to get to him now, and he felt nausea that sunk deep in his bones. He had to make a quick escape. He could argue with B later.

By the time he had snuck into the kitchen, away from the crowds and the noise, his lungs were tight in his chest and his heart was beating like he’d been dosed with some of Crane’s toxin. He rubbed at his eyes with his palms, and sniffled when they came back wet with tears.

Is this really how your mother raised you?

God, no. That was the problem, wasn’t it? That’s why everyone was always so upset by him. He was raised to snarl back at those who bite and to look out for the ones who couldn’t. Who to take a punch from, and who to hit back. He knew where to get the cheapest drugs and which buildings to avoid on each street. He knew he could survive on an empty stomach and a thin blanket.

None of this shit translated to the cushy high-life of the Gotham upper class. He didn’t know how to adapt properly. None of it fit right. He didn’t fit right.

She would be very disappointed, I suspect.

He hoped she wouldn’t be. He sniffled some more, let the hot tears burn their way down his cheeks, and he missed his mom.

For a while, it was just the two of them. All they had was each other. Even with all the shit they went through, he knew when the cold was too sharp at night, and they snuggled together for warmth– he was able to bury his face into her stomach, and she would just hold him. “Cry as long as you need, baby,” she would say, and “I’m so sorry.”

His chest heaved with a sob, and buried his face in his hands. He was gasping in air faster than he could taste it, and his lungs wouldn’t stop burning, and it all just ached.

He hated Gotham. He hated stupid posh reporters who lived in the stupid East End. He hated himself for not thinking enough before he said stupid shit. He hated himself for stealing a car tire that got himself in this stupid position to begin with.

“Master Jason,” a familiar voice said gently behind him. “I wasn’t expecting anyone in the kitchens at this time. Is everything alright, my dear?”

Jason turned around while messily wiping tears and snot off his face. He made an incoherent sound, and then stumbled forward, digging his face right into Alfred’s chest. His arms wrapped around on their own accord, holding him like he would disappear.

There was something about the old man that just made Jason feel like he could be anyone he needed to be, and Alfred still would take care of him like he mattered more than anything else.

“There was a reporter,” Jason hiccuped out, failing to catch his breath. “I didn’t realize, like an idiot, and I said stupid stuff because he really pissed me off.”

“Bother,” Alfred murmured, rubbing circles across Jason’s back. “Did you catch this particular reporter’s name?”

Jason shook his head, guilt pressing at his insides and squeezing them inwards. He held onto Alfred tighter.

“No harm done. Master Bruce has said far more unruly things in his youth, no doubt, and I’ve dealt with them all the same. You mustn't worry.” Alfred pulled away and led him to sit down at the counter. He pulled his handkerchief out and started to dab at the tears. “I’d like you to take some deep breaths for me.”

Jason nodded, breathing in bursts of air through his nose and shakily stuttering them out through his mouth. His lip wobbled, so he bit down on it. “Can—”

“I’ll do the counting, yes.” Alfred gently wiped away the snot from his nose. “One, two, three.”

Jason breathed in, and then held his breath. His chest hiccuped, trying to take in more air, but he held steady until Alfred began counting to seven.

“I feel like a dumb little kid every time I have to do this,” Jason complained miserably.

“I understand that you’re rather bright,” Alfred corrected, raising an eyebrow. “And there is nothing wrong with youthfulness, Master Jason.”

“I guess not,” Jason said, and then breathed in to repeat the process. He held his breath. Breathed out.

The door slid open, and Alfred seemed to grow in size with the way that he had shielded Jason from view. For an old British butler, it was honestly impressive. He couldn’t be luckier to have Alfred on his side.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred greeted. “You seem to have lost your ward again. I distinctly remember suggesting you keep him by your side at these galas.”

Bruce shrunk, looking almost as miserable as Jason. “Jack Drake wanted to speak with me about — well, it doesn’t matter. There’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have left him. Is he alright?”

“A reporter found him,” Alfred said, displeasure permeating every word.

“I’m fine,” Jason spoke up, poking his head out from the side. His eyes are still red, his nose still sniffling, but his lungs reasonably more calm. “I had another freak-out, but Alfred helped.”

“Jason,” Bruce said, his shoulders dropping with relief. “I’m sorry. The reporters aren’t supposed to approach you without me there.”

“And you know how they just love following the rules,” Jason scoffed, kicking his feet.

“I’ll take care of it,” Bruce said, his eyes cold in determination like they were before patrol.

“Master Jason revealed that he may have said some things not suited for media presence,” Alfred said, carefully tucking his now dirty handkerchief into his pocket. He arched an eyebrow at Bruce.

Bruce blinked, and then understanding dawned on his face. He nodded seriously, lips pressed in a firm line. “Hm. Well, I suppose I’ll have to do something about that.”

Bruce Wayne’s definition of ‘doing something about that’ was apparently to publicly declare that he had slept with a member of the Justice League, therefore causing a media frenzy so big that Wayne Tower was flooded with paparazzi for the next four weeks. He never revealed who it was, and nobody had noticed how an entire publication website had been discreetly shut down under their noses.

Even with all his embarrassment, Jason had to admit it was funny.

sixteen

For all his expectations, Sheila Haywood turned out to be everything that his mother wasn’t.

She was tall, she had a healthy weight on her, she had blonde hair that curled at her shoulders. Her nails were well-manicured and her makeup was done with a steady hand, if the straight lines over her eyelids had anything to say about it. Her face was sharp angles and narrowed eyes, serious, firm. There was no love when she looked at him.

“What do we do with him?” She said, as if she were talking about a dead possum on the side of the road.

Robin’s domino cracked, his boots yanked off. His hair limp and matted with sweat and blood. Jason had to be the biggest idiot in the whole wide world for playing right into her hands.

“Something I’ve wanted to do for years,” Joker’s mouth stretched into an awful grin, his teeth crooked and stained with blood. “But unfortunately, you’ve outstayed your welcome. And outlived your use!”

Sheila jerked her head up, her eyes widening. “What?”

The Joker let out a long-lived cackle, his head tossed back as two of his lackeys went to tie her in rope. She fought back, gasping in shock.

“You can’t do this! I helped you! I gave you Robin,” she screeched, kicking uselessly in the air.

“Ah, yes, yes,” Joker giggled maliciously. “You were so helpful! I couldn’t have done it without you! Is that what you wanted to hear? Now tape the bitch’s mouth shut. I don’t want her spoiling my fun.”

Jason struggled against his own restraints, his wrists and ankles burning against the rope. “Batman’s gonna find you, Joker. When he does, you’re done for.”

“Nice try, baby birdie!” Joker let out another stream of lucid giggles. “He’s off across town, miles and miles away. Played right into my little trap. There’s nobody coming to help you, now. Not even your mommy! Aww, how sad...”

“Fuck you!” Jason squirmed.

Joker laughed, and laughed, and then sighed leisurely, his eyes going cold. “Clear out.”

His goons immediately vacate, leaving him and Sheila alone with Joker.

“I’ve thought long and hard about how I’d do this,” Joker smiled, adjusting his gloves. He picked up a crowbar that one of his lackeys had left. “So many good options! Pits of acid, a good dose of gas so we can all laugh together about how funny this all is, or maybe just a big ol’ shove into the Gotham River…”

Jason glared at him, not saying a word back.

“Then I figured, the more personal the better, right?” Joker leaned down, getting real close to his face. He smelt like cigarette smoke and blood and something distinctly bitter, like corroded batteries, like rotten fruit. “After all, it’s not everyday someone gets to kill Batman’s favourite toy.”

Giggles spiraled through the air, turning to roaring peals of shrieking laughter.

The first slash of the crowbar hurt the most. The cold metal slamming into his ribs, his muscles jumping, his fists clenching, his teeth scraping against each other as he flinched. The Joker kept hollering, but Jason refused to scream.

After that, the hits didn’t stop coming. His ears rang, he could hear the blood rushing. Adrenaline was the only thing willing him to stay conscious. B will get here eventually. He had to.

Another hit sent him spinning to the floor. His head hit the concrete.

“Wow…” Joker said mildly. “That looked like it really hurt.”

One. The crowbar whacked against his ribs again.

Two. His knee snapped.

Three. His collarbone cracked.

Jason collapsed to the floor again, grunting with pain, breathing like his airways had been reduced to that of a coffee straw. He was in bad shape, and he knew it– and Joker knew it, too.

“Woah, now, hang on,” Joker trailed off. He smacked the crowbar against the palm of his hand, grinning. “That looked like it hurt a lot more, so let’s try and clear this up. Okay, pumpkin?”

Jason could take a hit. He was born to take a hit. He just needed to hold on until B got his ass over here. He stared at the ceiling of the warehouse while his vision swam in circles.

“What hurts more? A, or B?” Joker began. Two blows against his chest. Another rib cracked.

“Forehand?” The crowbar knocked hard against his stomach. “Or backhand?” A strike across his face, his nose dislodging out of place.

He let out a keening groan before swallowing it down. He exhaled stiffly through his nose, shuddering in pain as the Joker broke into sadistic cackles. He mumbled under his breath, something entirely inarticulate even to himself. His head hurt.

Joker leaned in again, mimicking his choked out gasps and grunts. He chortled, grabbing him by a fistful of hair and lifting his head off the floor. “A little louder, lambchop. I think you may have a collapsed lung. That always impedes the oratory.”

Jason gathered all the blood in his mouth to one side and spit at the fucker’s face. His head immediately was slammed back into the concrete.

“Now, that was rude,” Joker said distantly, heavily annoyed. His voice sounded underwater. “The first boy blunder had some manners.”

Jason grinned back at him, unabashedly proud. Blood in his broken teeth, his eyes swollen so bad that Joker is all blurry in his view.

“I suppose I’m going to have to teach you a lesson so you can better follow in his footsteps,” Joker sniffed, crossing his arms. Then his face split apart with gleefully bared teeth. “…Nah, I’m just gonna keep beating you with this crowbar.”

Joker stomped his foot onto Jason’s cheek, kicking him farther into the blood-splattered floor as he laughed.

He couldn’t help himself, he was starting to doubt. How long did B have to take before it doesn’t matter anymore?

Not that he’d ever admit it, but Joker was right. He had a collapsed lung. Definitely an even longer list of other shit that will definitely kill him if they aren’t solved like, yesterday. Dr. Thompson will probably kill him herself when she finds out. He didn’t even want to think of the disappointed expression on Alfred’s face when B dragged him back home covered in blood, bruises, and broken bones.

As Joker kept hitting him, his mind drifted away and drowned in the sounds of faded laughter, the scrape of metal against concrete, his own blood pumping in his ears. He suddenly really missed Dick, wondered what his reaction would be when he got home from his mission in space and saw his little brother all banged up like this.

He wanted to imagine that he’d take him to get milkshakes, and would guilt B into paying for it. And Jason would laugh and make fun of Dick for getting bubblegum, because it was too sweet and he knew it, and then Dick would shrug and still offer to share.

With every wheezy breath, Jason wanted to believe that he would make it, that he’d beat the odds and come out swinging like the proud streetrat he was. (But he wouldn’t. He knew a lost battle when he saw one.)

Joker sighed heavily, tossing the crowbar off to the side. He straightened the sleeves of his coat. “Okay, kiddo. I gotta go. It’s been fun though, right? Well, maybe a smidge more fun for me than you. I’m just guessing, since you’ve been awful quiet…”

Jason stayed crumpled on the floor, his head forward and blood dripping down from his hair. He inhaled and exhaled shakily, the air rattling through his chest.

“Anyways,” Joker sang. He pointed at him meaningfully. “Be a good boy. Finish your homework and be in bed by nine…”

He just had to keep fighting, didn’t he? A few more minutes. Come on B. Don’t let me down.

“And hey.” Joker smiled sharply. “Tell the big man I said hello.”

The door slammed, the echo of his laughter reverberating through the metal walls.

Jason opened his eyes and weakly rolled over, fitting his feet through the circle of his arms. His head pounded, every bone in his body ached and bruised. He grunted with pain and stood up, stumbling from the vertigo.

His mother— Sheila was still tied up, duct tape over her mouth and her eyes distant as she stared at the spot where Joker had been. She was trembling, exhibiting all the classic signs of a victim in shock.

Jason unsteadily swayed towards her, lifting his arms with a great deal of effort to tug the duct tape off. He swallowed another bout of blood and bile.

“Sheila,” he rasped. “We have to go, okay?”

Sheila looked at him like he was already dead. Like she was seeing a ghost. She wordlessly shook her head, her lips pale but surrounded by an angry red marking from the ripped tape. “I’m gonna die,” she spluttered.

Jason shivered, a ripple of pain shooting up his spine. “No, you’re not gonna die. Calm down. Take a breath with me, alright? You have to calm down.”

“No, no, no…”

“Mom,” Jason said desperately. “Please. Please, just breathe. I’m gonna look for a way out of here. Batman will save us, okay? He’s on his way.”

I hope.

Sheila breathed in shakily, and Jason took that as his cue to step away. He tripped, hitting the floor with a painful slam. He shuddered once, and then crawled across the floor with his bound arms.

He just had to reach the door. Then they were free. He could do it. Blood made a trail as he bodily dragged himself forward, and he’s almost there, he’s almost done it, even when everything hurt and screamed at him to stop.

“There’s a bomb,” Sheila suddenly said, her voice ringing in distant panic. “In the warehouse. Joker told me it was to get rid of evidence.”

Jason’s heart stopped, and he frantically searched the warehouse. His ears tuning in the muffled beeping, his eyes landing on a box with poorly concealed wires off the top and a timer on it.

The light left his eyes.

It was a rigged game from the start. There was no way to make it out alive.

“I’m going to die,” Sheila repeated again, sobbing. “I told you. I told you!”

He had every reason to hate this woman. After everything he had done to find her, after keeping his heart open from where grief had sealed it shut, and it ended like this. He had been betrayed, threatened, and served to Joker on a silver platter by her.

Jason swallowed thickly. He kept his voice calm. “You aren’t going to die. I promise. Okay? I promise, I’m going to save you.”

But it was his fault, really. He just wanted his Mama back, but Sheila wasn’t her. She was just a scared civilian, manipulated by the Joker like so many others had been, and Jason…

Jason had a responsibility to take care of scared civilians, didn’t he? Wasn’t that what the ‘R’ on his chest stood for?

“I want you to breathe with me,” Jason said, his voice shaking. “Breath in for three seconds, hold for five, and then let it out real slow. That’s how– that’s how my dad taught me to do it. Okay?”

There’s ten seconds on the clock.

“Okay,” Sheila said shakily.

“One, two, three.” Jason stood up and shakily made his way to the bomb. If he shielded her, then…

Sheila gasped for air, then held it.

“You’re gonna be okay, Mom,” Jason promised her. Six seconds left. His eyes set on the timer with a stony acceptance. “One… Two… Three…”

“Four…”

“Five…”

Robin hugged the bomb.

Sheila exhaled with a scream.

seventeen: an interlude

Nobody had ever taught him how to return from the dead properly.

All he knew was that he woke up very much alive. There wasn’t air to breathe, and the box he’d been trapped in, the coffin, was damp and layered in satin. He was suffocating to death. Instincts kicked in. He broke through the box with his fist, punching upwards as hard as he could manage, and then the dirt started to pour.

There wasn’t time to think. For the next two minutes, all he’d known was desperation; blue lips and clawing hands. Dirt and blood were caked underneath his fingernails when he finally managed to haul himself out of the hole. He’s catching his breath, sucking in greedy gulps of oxygen like it’s the first time he’s ever tasted it, choking on rain and mud, and he’s so confused.

He looked down at his clothes, he was wearing something expensive, a black and white suit and tie that was actively being waterlogged. His limbs are heavy, his mouth tasted thick of wax. He was hungry. Supposedly an indeterminate amount of time underground will do that to you.

Maybe he was a zombie, except instead of brains, he was hungry for cucumber sandwiches, for whatever reason. Maybe he was a ghost. Maybe he dreamt the whole thing up, and this is just a really weird coma nightmare.

Fuck, all he remembered last was pain. Awful, torturous amounts of pain. The smell of burnt skin, blood sticky in his hair, and laughter, so much fucking laughter. He couldn’t get it out of his head. He couldn’t place where it was from, or why, but he wanted it to stop.

He walked until grass turned to concrete. He walked over a bridge, and through a city, stumbling along the way in a mindless trance. He shivered from the cold, he ignored everyone in his path, and when he blinked, he found himself at the entrance of a hospital.

The hospital asked him who he was.

He said he didn’t know.

The hospital asked him why he had several broken ribs and bones that hadn’t healed properly.

He said he didn’t know.

The hospital asked him if he was feeling alright.

He said he was scared.

He’s set up in a room and the clipboard said his name was “John Doe”, which he knew wasn’t correct and made his head hurt when he tried to fix it. They gave him so many drugs that he slept for what seemed like weeks, and when he woke up there’s someone else in his room.

The hospital said she knew him.

He didn’t say anything.

He couldn’t say anything, actually. His mouth didn’t feel like it was working right, like it had still been full of dirt and mud, and his head was buzzing like he was still underneath the ground, waiting for that last gasp of nonexistent oxygen before he died again.

He gripped his arms with a white-clawed grip, his nails digging into the skin. He tried very hard not to throw up.

“My name is Talia,” she greeted, her arms crossed in front of her. “Do you remember anything?”

Laughter. It’s crawling up the walls and crawling down my throat and it’s hitting me in the chest over, and over, and over again.

“No,” he answered, forcing the words out.

“I see.” She cleared her throat and stood up from her chair, tossing her long brown hair off her shoulder. “We shall have to do something about that.”

His eyes lifted to hers, and his jaw shook from how hard he was clenching his teeth. “You can fix me?”

Talia’s green eyes glinted at him like knives. “When I am done with you Jason, you will be able to fix yourself.”

nineteen

“Fuck, did he leave? Shit. He wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight! Intel said he’d be in Tricorner.”

“Well, obviously, he fuckin’ wasn’t, because the goddamn Joker broke outta Arkham again. Use your brain, numbnuts,” the other spat back. “Hood said to be on guard, so I bet it was in his plan, anyways.”

“Hood fucking hates Batman, doesn’t he? He’s always doin’ all these extra steps to avoid his ass, I dunno what the hell he’s thinkin’.”

“That’s because it’s not your job to know! Our job is to shuddup and do what we’re told, not to sit around with our thumbs up our asses wonderin’ what the big guy’s plannin’.”

Redhood shoved open the door, and all the voices went quiet. They wisely didn’t say a damned thing about how he was trembling, how his heavy breath could be heard through his helmet.

“Wise,” Redhood said, jutting his head towards the last one of his asshole lackeys who spoke. “More of you should take his advice.”

“Mr. Hood,” one of them said hesitantly. “What the hell happened out there?”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” Hood growled out. He sat down heavily in the nearest chair.

He took his gloves off, his hands shaking bad, and flexed his knuckles, stretching out the sore muscles of his fingers. Blood dripped down to the floor and on the desk in front of him.

“They said the Joker’s—”

Hood shuddered, and instantly turned around with a gun, cocked and aimed right at the man’s head. He grit his teeth. “Do you think it’s wise to keep speaking?”

The man gulped. “N-No, sir.”

Hood clicked the safety back on and put the gun back on his thigh. He continued to scowl underneath the helmet. “Fan-fuckin’-tastic. You’re not as dumb as I thought.”

Someone else spoke up, nervous. “Do you want some water, sir?”

Redhood stood up, and everyone went still again. Silent. Waiting for a pin to drop, waiting for the grenade to go off. He exhaled stiffly through his nose. “Everyone go home.”

They didn’t wait for another order, all scurrying off in different directions like rats. Redhood stood alone in a warehouse, blueprints and firearms scattered across tables, a hellish empty home of his own devising. He exhaled and clicked his helmet off, setting it in front of him.

“You don’t understand,” Bruce told him. “I don’t think you’ve ever understood.”

Jason’s stomach turned, twisted, tensed. He swallowed back bile and cradled his injured hand to his chest. Maybe he didn’t understand. Maybe he didn’t even want to. There was still the little kid in him waiting for Batman to show up in time, to take down the Joker, to make the hurt stop, to bring him home safe again—

“I can’t.” Bruce’s voice was cold. “I’m sorry.”

Jason ran his tongue along the inside of his mouth, tasting blood from where Batman had beaten his face in. His whole plan had gone belly-up. He was getting tired. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could do this.

He had the Joker right under his hands— could’ve squeezed the life out of him all by himself– and Bruce had been right there, gun in hand—

“If you don’t kill this psychotic piece of filth, I will,” he had promised, digging the muzzle into Joker’s temple. “If you want to stop me, you’re going to have to kill me.”

He had always asked Bruce for so little. Now he had been begging. Please do something. If you’re going to kill me again, at least do it right this time. Make it last.

It had been easier when he didn’t ask for things. Easier to avoid betrayal.

But he had to admit he was getting tired of exploding buildings, and even more tired of counting to three.

twenty

“Ok, Hood.” Oracle’s voice rang succinct and clear through his earpiece. “Spoiler and Orphan have wrapped up the robbery on your turf. They’re heading towards Little Italy for a carjacking, I’ve put them on their own channel.”

“Sure,” Jason stretched his hands above his head, his spine giving a satisfying crack. He groaned and twisted side to side. “So, where do you want me?”

“Perfect timing. I’ve just received a signal from Nightwing, he’s near your area. Looks like he could use some help.”

“Send it my way,” Jason said, shoving on his helmet. He kicked the stand off his motorcycle and started towards the east border of the Alley, where O had sent a geographical beacon.

“Patching you in,” Oracle said, and the comm beeped.

“Hey, Dickwing,” Jason greeted. “Heard you were getting your ass kicked.”

A series of gunshots layered over Dick’s response. “Little Wing! Oh yeah, I’m great. This is my favourite way to spend a Friday night.”

Jason snorted. “It’s Tuesday.”

“… Is it? Oh shit, I totally missed an appointment with Thompkins. She’s going to kick my ass.”

“Yeah, you’re fucked,” Jason confirmed.

“No chatter on the comms,” Oracle cut in. “Hood, take your next left. Shortcut. Nightwing, maybe start with explaining why you need an assist.”

“Right! Yeah.” Dick coughed. “Got caught in a blast. There's some gang war going on down here; Joker’s men fighting with Black Mask’s.”

Oracle paused for a moment. Jason was so caught off guard that he missed his shortcut.

“I’m calling in Batman,” Oracle said finally. “Hood, take your next exit, I’m redirecting you to—“

“I’ll be fine,” Jason cut in sharply. “It’s just some shitty henchmen, alright? I’m more surprised there’s a fuckin’ gang war going on and I didn’t hear about it ‘til now.”

“I think it was spontaneous,” Nightwing explained. “Seemed like one of them got in the way of the other’s operation by accident, and the retaliation turned into this whole mess.”

“Fuckin’ idiots.”

“Right,” Oracle sighed. “Okay. Nightwing, do you need an evac?”

“No, I’m fine,” Dick confirmed. “Little banged up, but nothing is broken. I need some help tying the loose ends, they have some pretty heavy artillery and I’m pinned down in the middle.”

“I’ll work my way from the outside,” Jason grunted. “O, can I have the schematics of the building?”

“Sending them now.”

“Received. I’m on my way.”

“Thanks, Hood.”

Jason hopped off his motorcycle, the sounds of gunfire loud now that he was right next to them. The entire outside of the warehouse was wrecked, bullet holes leading chaotic trails up and down the concrete. He could place exactly where explosives had been carelessly thrown around by bits of shrapnel and old mortar.

He unholstered his own pistols, keeping them at his sides, and grappled up the nearest wall of the warehouse. He looked in through a gap in the roof. There were several guys on either side, all of which were armed to the teeth with bulletproof vests and autos. Great.

“Wing, where’re you at?” Jason scanned through the inside with the X-Ray visor of his helmet. “Wave.”

He caught a body crouched behind big shipping containers, waving. Right in the center of the warehouse.

“Jesus, you really like getting yourself wedged in the middle of all the shit, don’t you?”

“Right in the crack,” Nightwing agreed dryly.

“If I toss a smoke grenade, can you sneak up to the rafters?” Hood asked, fiddling with the pouches on his belt.

“Yes,” he agreed immediately. “Great idea, Little Wing. I used my last one earlier.”

Hood gave an noncommittal grunt, and pulled the pin on a smoke grenade from his belt. “Heads up.”

He tossed the thing towards the center, and smoke billowed out. Some of the men started shouting, equal parts alarm and confusion— everyone thinking the other side threw it. A blurry figure tumbled through the smoke and disappeared in the upper shadows.

“Nice,” Dick grinned. “I’ll go for Joker’s gang, you go for Roman’s?”

“Whatever,” he replied, trying to feel indifferent about the relief that threatened to bloom in his chest. It’s not that he couldn’t take on Joker’s goons, he just fuckin’ hated doing it. And Dickie knew that, no thanks to his goddamned bleeding heart.

Jason moved, dropping down behind the offending criminals. He took them out two at a time, and made quick word of it: knocking AKs out of hands and shooting rubber bullets at kneecaps, close-range.

If there was one thing Blackmask never got right, it was competent henchman. Even if he hadn’t gotten personally trained by Talia’s hired teachers, these assholes were only as good as their trigger finger— and Jason was great at breaking those.

Based off of the easy jabs and carefree laughs coming from Dick’s comms, he wasn’t having trouble either.

“Gunshot reports are being called in,” Oracle informed. “What’s the progress?”

“Give us ten minutes,” Nightwing’s reply called back. “This should wrap up pretty quick.”

“Heard,” and then a beep signifying Oracle muting herself.

“Hood,” Wing said suddenly. “We’ve got a problem. They don’t care about me kicking their ass anymore, they’re trying to run away. I think they know something we don’t.”

Jason swore loudly. It could just be simple when Joker was involved. He knocked out more of the incoming henchman and then bit out his reply. “Is this a gas-mask situation, or a get-the-fuck-outta-Dodge situation?”

Honestly, it didn’t matter to him. He didn’t like messing with toxin, too much room for accidents, and he really wasn’t the biggest fan of being inside explosions either, believe it or not. It was almost as if he had massive undealt-with trauma around the idea of getting blown to smithereens. Almost.

“Not sure yet,” Dick sighed. “Interrogating now. Yes, you, I’m interrogating you— what are you running from?

A loud, incoherent response that was fuzzy over the comms.

“How long?” Nightwing’s voice dropped, going serious. Something in Hood’s stomach dropped.

Another response that he couldn’t hear, followed by Nightwing swearing loudly. “Hood, evac now.”

Jason’s stomach twisted, his throat tight. He jumped up the storage containers, leaving the remainder of Blackmask’s men to ditch. “Where is it?”

A body tackled him and they both went flying out the window, glass splintering everywhere, and then a cacophonic boom rattled the ground. Waves of heat rushed over them both, and it was too familiar, it was too fucking familiar.

Jason scrambled away, and he can smell burning flesh, he can smell burning rubber, smoke is in his eyes, his mouth, his throat. He tugged away at his helmet, tossing it to the floor carelessly as he gasped for the air that’d been knocked out of him.

“Shit,” Nightwing heaved. “Wing, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“Shut the fuck up,” he wheezed out, shutting his eyes tight. Fire licked at his face, he can hear cackling in the back of his head like a goddamn earworm.

There’s someone talking to him, to both of them, a quick voice rattling off in both of their ears and asking questions. Jason ripped the comm out of his ringing ears, but it didn’t stop the laughter. Nothing stopped the laughter.

“We’re alive,” Dick said, finger pressed to his earpiece. “We need fire rescue, EMT, and body recovery. Hood needs support, I’m signing off early. If B asks where we are, lie.”

“I don’t need any fucking support,” Jason spat out. “Fuck off, Dick.”

His vision was spinning. He searched around blindly to get his helmet, because he needed to fucking leave, now.

“Hood, hold on,” Dick said, catching up to him. He’s clutching his side with one hand, his muscles tensing from pain. Jason scowled at him. “C’mon, let’s go take a breather somewhere. You pick the spot.”

“I don’t need a breather!” Jason seethed. He finally found his helmet, a crack in one of the visor’s eyes, and picked it up with one hand. “Go to the cave, you’re hurt. And fuck off, you’re gonna get blood on me.”

Dick ignored him, following him like goddamn stink on shit. “I’ll leave you alone if you can promise me honestly that you’re not having a freak-out right now.”

‘Freak-out.’ Like he was thirteen years old again and Dick just learned about the panic attacks, the first time he slept over at his apartment. The undertone of worry, the hesitation to hold out his arms, the smell of burnt cocoa on the stovetop in his best attempt to comfort.

And as much as it pissed him off, he wished so badly that it could be like that again. But he didn’t know how to be that little brother anymore. As far as he could tell, that kid died with an ‘R’ on his beaten chest, and was buried in the ground.

He never did figure out where that left the two of them— or where that left him.

“I’m not a fucking kid,” Jason said, shoving him away. Green in his eyes, smoke in his throat. He pressed onwards, getting back on his motorcycle. “I’ll be fine on my own.”

He left Dick behind, and when his eyes were burning, he ignored it. He knew it wasn’t because of the smoke.

twenty-two

“Listen, old man,” Jason sighed. “You want to help, I get it. But I really can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for a while. You know, in case you forgot.”

He wasn’t even sure why Bruce was so determined to follow him all the way out here. The Prince of Gotham was rarely seen slumming it in Crime Alley, unless there was some kind of press event. Which there definitely wasn’t.

Apparently Bruce was convinced that Jason needed some kind of “spotting” on funds, or rent, or something. It all just seemed like too little, too late. He had his own apartment, he paid for it himself, with good and honest crime-lord money.

“Alfred told me to intervene. I’m not saying you need to live in the manor,” Bruce argued. “Even though we have more than enough space—“

“Okay, yeah. I’m not fuckin’ living in the manor. I’m not twelve anymore, Bruce.”

“—Tim told me about the state of your apartment,” Bruce continued, conceding a very tired look. “He said it was worse than your brother’s.”

Jason turned into the next alley, the one behind the Monarch— the quickest shortcut to his so-called trash heap of an apartment. If you asked him, it was actually very distinguished. He even had a black couch to mask the blood stains.

“Oh, we’re trusting the kid’s judgement?” Jason walked backwards, screwing his face up for Bruce to see. “Have you seen Timmy’s room lately? That shit should be marked as a BSL-4.”

Bruce wasn’t even looking at him. His eyes trained ahead. “Jason—“

Jason scoffed. “No, I’m serious. Have you been in there with a Geiger-Müller counter yet? I’ve got some concerns.”

“Jason.”

“Jesus, what?” Jason finally turned around to face in front of him.

The exit to the alley is totally blocked off. One mugger, gun drawn, held out like it was his first time holding any kind of weapon.

“Don’t fucking move,” the man said lowly, his voice shaking.

A laugh threatened its way right up Jason’s throat, a boisterous, almost manic kind-of-thing. His mouth fell open, and he just stared, for a moment. Taking it all in.

The dumb-fuck that just cornered the Red Hood and Batman— The Boogeyman, The Dark Knight, Literal Fucking Shadow of Gotham— with intent to mug. And he had no idea what he was doing.

“Oh, this night has just gotten so much better,” Jason muttered, a smile stretching its way across his face.

“Empty—“ The man shook and stuttered, the muzzle waving all over the place from his trembling hands. Jason almost felt bad for the poor bastard. “Empty your pockets! Now, damn it. Right now.”

Well, he knew Bruce didn’t have shit— but Jason was actively carrying two pistols and three knives. They were, after all, in Park Row. Home sweet home, right?

Ah, but they were civilians, so Jason couldn’t reveal that just yet. Had to keep up some kind of illusion, supposedly, but Jason really just wanted to be an asshole. Forgive him, it wasn’t so often that he got to have fun outside of the mask.

“Have you ever even shot that thing before?” Jason jutted his chin out, amused. “You look nervous, buddy.”

“I have,” Dumb-fuck blurted defensively. “I’ve fired it loads of times. I’ve— this clip is full, too, so don’t fuck around!”

“Sorry, what’s full?” Jason repeated, taking a step closer. He was full of an undeniable glee, watching this idiot squirm. “You know, other than your fuckin’ ego.”

Bruce stayed silent behind him, and he could picture how he looked just from the muscle memory of having done it so many times before. Here they were, back at it again after such a long time. Him doing the distracting of some guilty schmuck, Bats doing the intimidating; a silent, lurking mass of shadow that stood like a shield behind him.

He sure as hell wasn’t Robin anymore, but Jason was an annoying little shit long before he put on the colours. Everything be damned if he didn’t keep it after the green and yellow was ripped away. (He almost felt like something was clicking back into its old, childish place. The two of them facing off a threat together, again.)

“The clip,” Dumb-fuck insisted. His finger twitched around the trigger, but didn’t pull. He made an expertly dramatic move of pointing the pistol right at Jason’s face, but he’s shaking so much that it would be a goddamn miracle if he actually landed a shot anywhere.

“Right, yeah. That’s called a mag, babygirl,” Jason grinned, his teeth sharp as a wolf’s. “Listen, I’ll give you a choice here, because you’ve really made my night with this whole mugger-schtick.”

Dumb-fuck swallowed audibly, his eyes wide. He shifted around uncomfortably on his feet.

“Run off now, and we’ll let you go,” Jason offered. “Or, I can take another step forward and show you exactly how that pistol works. I’ll give you three seconds to think about it, alright? One… Two…”

Dumb-fuck’s eyes flit around wildly between Jason and the street. He suddenly shoved the pistol down his pants, and took off sprinting around cars, nearly getting himself killed in the process.

Jason laughed loudly, tossing his head back. He rubbed at his eyes in disbelief, turning back to Bruce. “Can you fuckin’ believe that? Holy shit. Didn’t even have—“

His voice disappeared as he actually caught sight of Bruce.

Or, what… should have been Bruce.

Right now, he was looking more at a ghost.

Bruce hadn’t been hidden. He stood directly in the harsh light of the moon. His face gaunt, the blood drained and leaving him as pale as a cadaver. His eyes wide, trained on the same spot, and full of an emotion that Jason had never ever imagined to see on him.

The pieces click fast. The alley, the gun, the haunted tone of B’s voice last time he’d said his name.

He… had no idea how to handle this.

Jason awkwardly stood there, not knowing what to do with his hands, not sure if he should step closer or step away.

“Hey,” Jason tried. “Bruce, where are you right now?”

Bruce’s lips pressed into a firm line. A shudder of anguish visibly passed over his face, his eyes shutting, his chin tilting down. “Here,” he said gruffly.

Liar.

“Sure,” Jason conceded, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, that’s right. We’re here. That asshole is gone. It’s just us, alright? Come on, you know that.”

Bruce swallowed thickly, his eyes never leaving the broken concrete of the alleyway’s ground. He nodded, twitched for a moment, his lip curling. Then he turned his head and gagged.

“Shit,” Jason said quickly, and made a move towards him, like that would do fucking anything.

Bruce exhaled stiffly through his nose, bending over to rest his weight on his knees. He breathed out shakily through his mouth.

“Okay,” Jason hovered his hands over B’s shoulders, unsure if touching him would make it worse, god forbid. “Let’s— er. Let’s get to my apartment? We’re a minute away. The fresh air will do you good.”

Hopefully. Fresh air wasn’t really a commodity in Gotham, anyways, but Jason was shit out of luck if he didn’t try something.

“I’m just fine, Jason,” Bruce said hoarsely. His eyes flitting around the alleyway, looking towards both exits like he was about to bolt but couldn’t decide in which direction. “Go home, we’ll speak later.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Jason scoffed. “We’re walking together. Both of us, right now. Keep up.”

Jason grabbed him by the collar and started walking, depending solely on Bruce’s stumbling next to him to set the pace. After he was sure that Bruce wouldn’t fuckin’, escape, or something, he let go of him. Bruce kept following.

“I'm sorry,” Bruce spoke up. Still pale as a ghost.

Jason led him up the stairs of his apartment complex. “The fuck are you sorry for? You didn’t even do anything.”

“That’s why I’m apologizing,” Bruce said dryly.

Jason scoffed and shoved the keys into the door, turning it open. He tumbled in and instinctively set a saucepan on the stovetop.

Bruce had never seen his apartment. Jason tried to look at it now how he was probably seeing it— the crappily-installed bookshelves with borrowed books from the Manor’s library, Roy’s clothes scattered in odd places, stains on the walls where smoke had been and odd cracks filled in with spackling. It was all just familiar in a way that made his chest hurt.

He poured milk and vanilla into the saucepan and started it on a low heat, and Bruce stood uselessly in the doorway. Jason huffed. “Stop lurking. Sit down somewhere. I don’t give a shit where.”

Bruce uncomfortably moved further into the apartment. He sat down on Jason’s taped up black couch with perfect posture and worrying hands. His detective eyes wandered around the place, and Jason hated every second of it.

“Tim was wrong,” he said finally. “Your apartment isn’t as bad as Dick’s.”

Jason opened his mouth, and then closed it. He furrowed his eyebrows and stirred at the saucepan mixture. He wordlessly measured cocoa powder from the cabinets and dumped in chocolate chips.

He could see how Bruce was breathing. The rhythm of how his chest would rise and fall were always the same, always in sync with the same pattern. Fuck, Jason knew it well. He probably wouldn’t ever forget, because he did it too, every night.

“He could have killed you,” Bruce mumbled coarsely.

“He really couldn’t’ve,” Jason said back easily. Stirring the saucepan. Avoiding eye contact. “His safety was on.”

“Jason.”

Jason sighed, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I get it.”

“You don’t,” Bruce argued tiredly. “You couldn’t possibly. He had a gun on you, and I couldn’t move. I could have lost you.”

Again.

“I could have lost you, just like I lost them,” Bruce shook.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Jason said, glaring at the stove, “but you have to be easier on yourself.”

Jason turned the burner off and grabbed two mugs down from the cabinet. “Yeah, we could have died. But we almost die every night, B. Plus, the circumstances weren’t exactly on your side.”

“It doesn’t matter. I—”

Jason sent him a nasty look, jutting his chin out. “Do you force me to go patrol when Joker breaks out of Arkham?”

Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Of course not. But that’s—”

“It is the same,” Jason interrupted. He poured the cocoa mixture into both mugs and walked into the living room, setting both on the coffee table. “Now stop fuckin’ arguing and drink your damn cocoa, or I’ll call Alfred.”

Bruce stared at him for a long moment, his shoulders dropping, the fight drained out of him. His eyes were so gentle, and for a moment Jason almost didn’t recognize the expression, and then he realized with a start that it was just… love.

Despite everything.

“Jason,” Bruce began again.

“Don’t,” Jason said, his voice rough. A lump in his throat. “I know.”

Bruce’s eyes twinkled at the edges, his mouth turning up at the corners.

“You make good cocoa.”

[onthewaytosomewhere]

Sunday - yeah sentences & last line challenge cuz i'm lazy and doing them all in one

so i've been tagged by some lovely peeps @england-would-fall @taste-thewaste @firenati0n @piratefalls

So I need to get this thing done - as it has been lamenting on my drive waiting for me to just finish it already - and stop playing around with all the other fics so I'm posting it in hopes that might encourage me to get it frakkin' done already - and i wasted hours this afternoon tracking down one detail lol - but hey that's what happens i guess lol

So this is what I have lovingly been calling gotta sign 'em all - it's a little thing inspired by TZP and his fascination with signing a little book (and well, with him being so ACD-coded it just fits) it's a lot more than 6 or 7 sentences but i just need to get some of it out in the ether

They are nearing the end, both of Henry’s ability to continue and the line of people with books for him to sign, when the girl whose book Henry just signed peeks behind him at Alex. She turns the book to the dedication page and gestures towards Alex. “Mr. Claremont-Diaz,” and fuck if that doesn’t make him feel old, but the girl can’t be more than 13, so he sucks it up. “Would you be willing to sign the dedication page of my book? Your story helped me come out as bisexual to my parents; they’re from the US, and my father’s Mexican family is very Catholic. Seeing you have family of similar background who support you after everything happened to you made me hope mine could be as well.” Alex feels Henry’s hand grab his and squeeze it. This is one of the things that still amazes him: how in sync they are with each other. How even though Henry is drained from a taxing day, Henry is there to support Alex unequivocally. He nods to her and reaches for her book. He takes a deep, centering breath and squeezes Henry’s hand once quickly before letting it go with a smile so he can sign. Henry hands him the Sharpie he has taken to carrying in his inner jacket pockets, and he grips the pen, looking back to the girl in front of him. “I am just floored that my story—our story,” he says, gesturing between himself and Henry, because his story is and always will be intertwined with Henry’s, ever since they first started this, “gave you the courage to be yourself. I hope it all went well with your family.” The girl nods, and Alex sees the wet sheen to her eyes, the tears she is attempting to hold back, and blinks to keep his own at bay. “Yes, it did, thank you,” her smile wobbles a little as she responds, and Alex moves the conversation on for all of them. “Who am I making this out to?” Alex asks, pen poised above the page, ready to sign. He pauses a moment to read the dedication he has memorized as she gives her name.  [insert sappy – probably not good enough – dedication to Alex - probably something about you and me always maybe breaking down walls] He writes her name in the book, adds a few lines about bisexual solidarity, and signs his name with a flourish. He hands the book back to her, and she looks at the page, smiling at his words. Alex is not the most self-aware man, and he’ll admit this, but even he knows that moment has him feeling things he didn’t think it would.

oh i also got a few of last line tags yesterday so here goes for that too

He decides to help her out and says, “Hey, I see you got your copy of Henry’s book; glad ya got one before the vultures at that shelter swooped in.”

so some no-pressure Sunday tags and well if ya already posted let's just assume ya had an open tag that i snagged and i'll find it lol @adreamareads @anincompletelist @bitbybitwrites @dragonflylady77 @duchessdepolignaca03 @firstsprinces @forever-fixating @heybuddy-drabbles @hgejfmw-hgejhsf (hope ya had a good time in austin Val! (at least i assume based on wednesdays post that's wehre ya were)) @inexplicablymine @itsmaybitheway @junebugclaremontdiaz @kiwiana-writes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @magicandarchery @nocoastposts @priincebutt @sophie1973 @stellarm @sunnysideprince @suseagull04 @typicalopposite and an open tag

[onlymingyus]

A Surprise

pairing; jeon wonwoo x afab reader

genre; smut (minors dni)

warnings; unprotected sex, marking, cream pie, lots of cum, fingering, cum eating

request; no

w/c; 530 and some change

a/n; this is written for my beautiful wifey @multi-kpop-fanfics and based on the video linked in her ask here

The moment Wonwoo walked into the room his lips had been on yours. Talking on the phone, seeing him on FaceTime was never enough, it wasn’t this. As much as you had missed him, he had clearly missed you just as much. Even phone calls and texts had been few and far between the past week and he had a lot to make up for in his mind. 

Now his cock was buried so far in you as he pushed you towards the headboard, his mouth only leaving yours to find other parts of your skin leaving light red marks that would bloom later. He was going to make this night memorable and fuck you felt so good. Your body reacting to him, your soft skin covered in chill bumps at his every touch. Your perfect little pussy clenching around his needy cock. Wonwoo was going to fucking lose it. 

“God, baby…baby I missed you.” You smile into a moan at his words as Wonwoo’s mouth moves across your jaw speaking between kisses before he kisses into a louder groan feeling himself coming undone. He had already made you cum and he wanted to again but the way your velvet walls were pulling him in…and with how long it had been since he had any release it wouldn’t last. 

You could tell he was close and you wanted him to let go. You wanted every last drop, you had missed his touch, his kiss, his intensity, and his love. “Wonwoo…” You whine his name and he is done, his eyes close tighter as his stomach tightens and he loses his breath when he starts to cum. “Oh fuck…fuck.” The last of his words are drawn out as you feel how full you become causing you to gasp at the overwhelming feeling. 

Wonwoo tries to catch his breath as his body jerks spilling the last of his cum as he slowly fucks into you before he leans back on his knees but stays close so he can slowly pull out of you. His hand running over his mouth as he looks between your legs before sliding his cock from you completely with a low groan as you moan feeling even more cum spill from you. “Wonwoo…” 

You whine his name again and lean up on your elbows looking between your legs and back up to him with a surprised look. “Baby…fuck.” He nods at how much cum was covering your legs, the bed, and still dripping from your pussy. “I told you I missed you.” You laugh softly before moaning, your legs trembling as Wonwoo can’t help himself when he slides his fingers through his cum fingering some of it back into you. 

“God, this is the sexiest thing you’ve ever worn babe.” You arch your back and roll your hips towards his fingers before reaching down to slide your hand over his forearm to his wrist smirking up at him. “Maybe I should make you wait longer every time.” Wonwoo scowls playfully at you before sliding his fingers from your folds leaning over you offering them to you watching as you lick them clean. “I’m never leaving you for that long again.” 

——————————————————

tag list; @bangchanbabygirlx @just-here-to-read-01 @niktwazny303 @strawberri-uyu @yeritheloml @tis-niki @noraehey @hoohoohope @otterpopchan @xuxibelle @foxdaisy @smileysuh @vern0nsworld @synthetickitsune @enhacolor @pandorashbox @yeosayang @gyuhanniescarat @yoonguurt @jwnghyuns @xoxodino @sakurasangcl @woniewhite @fantasy2wonderland @httpswonwoosglasses @rubyscoups @onlywonus @midnightvalentines @junhui-recs @woozis-wife @cheolsbestie @sunnyteume

please note that I am doing my best to tag all of you who have filled out the tag list form but tumblr won’t let me tag some of you. I think that is because either you have tags turned off or possibly a blank tumblr page. consider reblogging some of the fics you like from me or other writers. ♥

© onlymingyus - all rights reserved. Reposting/modifying of any fic, or pieces of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed.  

[rwrbficrecs]

June Faves

It’s that time of the month again!! Here’s a few fics I read in June ✨ It’s a bit of a short list for June because I got sucked into a new ship *cough tarlos cough* – but we’re only halfway through this month and I already know July’s post is probably going to be pretty long! Hope you enjoy these as much as I did ❤️

Fall Into You by lucy_in_the_sky I’m a sucker for fics where Henry’s a nurse – combine that with hurt/comfort and I’m there. Alex is a tad clumsy and of course it’s Henry that’s having to deal with patching him up. Also a big fan of Nora’s characterization in this fic! I truly loved this fic so much – definitely one I’ll be coming back to a lot in the future. 

i'd lie by greenandmoss Wow this fic was amazing – I can’t describe how much I loved it. I really felt for Henry in this fic – at times I wanted to shake him so bad, but also I understood where he was coming from. This fic was so beautifully written and was one of those fics that had me thinking about it long after I'd finished 😌

pride is not the word i’m looking for by @livinginrhythm This fic made me realize we’re severely lacking in Leo content. I loved reading something from Leo’s POV and getting more of insight into his character! This is a lovely must read

group therapy by @stutteringpeach This one is hilarious – but it also made me want to sink deep into the ground from second-hand embarrassment. That didn’t stop me from rereading it at least 5 times though 😅

Tell Me All Your Secrets by @everwitch-magiks I have to admit I was apprehensive about reading a fic where Henry dates Liam 😂 but I love everything Evie writes so I knew I was going to love this story regardless of my initial feelings on Henry/Liam. Knowing that it’s Henry/Alex end game was reassuring though, and the progression to that point was very satisfying! (The pining!!) I loved how New York Prite was featured in this fic and seeing Henry & Alex attend was so lovely. 

The Spirit of Giving by @cha-melodius They're neighbours in this fic (which I'm always down for 😂) and I loved how Alex's competitive side really comes out in this! Also fair warning this fic will make you crave some good Mexican food 🥲

and then i was a careless fool (and i fell in love with you) by newmoonrising A canon divergence fic where Henry is still a Prince and Alex is still the First son but make it a Soulmate AU (with a touch of bed sharing)! As someone who loves soulmate fics I don't know how I hadn't discovered this gem sooner ❤️

you took the time to memorize me (my fears, my hopes, my dreams) by @coffeecatsme Alex is a tour guide and I love how their relationship develops even though there’s so much physical distance between them. I didn’t know it was possible but this fic made me hate Mary even more 😩

That's What You Get For Waking Up in Vegas by bleedingballroomfloor Exes to Lovers !! Getting back together!! (at this point I’m just shouting the tags but really this fic was great and you need to read it – also it’s set in Las Vegas c’mon as if that’s not reason enough)

let me take you in by @livinginrhythm This was such a funny story and I love when Henry gets himself into situations that are completely avoidable, but they lead him to Alex so can he really complain? Another story I loved so much I reread it many many times!

Are You Screwing With Me? by @rmd-writes Didn’t know I needed a Grindr meet-cute AU until I read this and it was perfect. While you’re at it, there’s two other stories in this series for two other fandoms !!

(all of me changed like) midnight rain by @coffeecatsme This fic really makes you feel for Alex – it deals with his parents divorce and just wow 🥺

The Sky is Open by @cha-melodius I am often in awe at some of the AU’s authors come up with to dump Henry & Alex in and this was one of them. Unexpected and a very delightful read!

midnight train going anywhere by greenandmoss Loved this fic – Henry & Alex meet on a midnight train and I don’t know what else to say about this fic without spoiling it, so just go read it!  

✨WIP✨

Every Star That's Ever Fallen Knows the Way to Where We're Going by @dracowillhearaboutthis I love Henry & Alex as childhood friends, so following this WIP was a no brainer. Having Arthur alive is also a lovely bonus ❤️

Little Matters by @pridepages I’m loving reading along as this fic gets updated! Henry is the guardian of his niece and it’s such a beautiful story so far 🥺

[lemonhemlock]

If you were one of the writers of the show , how will you write Aegon's character? His development, his bond with his dragon, relationship with his children, wife, siblings etc...

Like how he will be from his childhood to his adulthood + how he will be as a king and how he will become after the war...

Like you free to not use Tom's interpretation or Sara+ryan's interpretation if you don't want to.

I'm interested to know how will you write F&B Aegon and i hope you write it in details if you have time because i love reading your ideas.

What a monumental ask, thank you! This character has had such a hold on me; I can feel the potential radiating off this combination of screen + page. I ranted in the past about how I disagree with the choices they made with him, but they did endow him with an exasperating capacity for greatness, a lot of it thanks to TGC's interpretation.

I do think that Aegon could have been one of the most memorable ASOIAF characters and one of the most thrilling explorations of kinghood. I am not referring to people's already-cemented views of him; I am speaking of building the most compelling version of this character possible within the basic narrative of FB, beyond any fandom sectarian lines. Basically, what I'd like to do with these raw materials is to construct a character that people will love, but that they would find very, very uncomfortable, in a prickling-beneath-the-skin type of way.

I am also well aware that this will start to diverge wildly from canon, so don't feel compelled to point that out. I know already. This is going to get very, very self-indulgent since that was the nature of the ask.

Trigger warning for everything. Needless to say, I'm not writing a wholesome script here.

So let's turn him into this generation's Commodus.

This will mostly be imagery and vibes, because I don't have a lot of plot point thought out.

Some of the descriptive tags I use something when referring to green family dynamics are those of #an incestuous autophagous family gradually violating every boundary until every kind of social role leeches into the next #collapsing onto itself in psychosexual neurosis. Sound very pretentious, I know, but it's basically this idea of House Targaryen retreating within its family unit as a result of trauma, but ending in a process of cannibalization. I would have Aegon be the main exponent of this type of breakdown. So I will usually choose the most fucked-up option whenever possible, but I'd focus mostly on innuendo & psychological fuckery, rather than anything more graphic. I mean, this is a TV show, still.

Consequently, one of the readings that I find the most disturbing (and entertaining) is that of Aegon wanting to crawl back inside Alicent's womb, to revert to that pre-birth state in which they weren't separated, they were still one whole and whatever particles of him lived inside Alicent were safe and warm and protected. I am going to link to a few posts I made that describe this type family dynamic (1, 2, 3, 4, 5). This is pretty intense, granted, but imagine if there were a TV show that had the balls to implement this kind of dynamic. I mean, if you can't realise it within ASOIAF-verse, then where?

So I would have Aegon mirror Alicent in the way that she's trying to keep her family together. Aegon craves his family, he wants to feed off of them and wants them to feed off him. He wants them all to collapse into each other back to that original state of being physical parts of Alicent in a far-away time that coincides with Alicent's girlhood. It's often said in meta that Cersei views her children as extensions of herself. I want the opposite for Aegon, our most self-aware, fourth-wall-breaking character: I want him to know that he is an extension of Alicent. This will only become apparent to the viewer later, because we start in a completely different way.

I'd say that this could work very well, because on screen Alicent & Aegon look a lot alike. The casting directions really pulled through here. Alicent seems to communicate often through touch - she will anxiously grab at whomever she's talking to or she will engage in self-soothing gestures. I'd have Aegon inherit that from his mother, that need to physically connect with his family. He'd like them to hug him, but they don't initiate, so he grabs at them to stop them from leaving or just so he could feel them. In one of these scenes, I'd have him look wistfully at her and say some creepy melancholic shit about how they have the same face. "If you were a man, you'd be me." (IF I WERE A MAN, I'D BE JAIME - IF I WERE A WOMAN, I'D BE CERSEI - you get it. We're running with this).

Similarly, I would have Aegon willing & eager to accept violence from his family as an act of love. As long as his mother slaps him, it means that she loves him, it means that she cares, it means that she deigns to touch him. She can do it in public or in court & he won't react other than being weepy. (fans love this anyway, he's never beating the pathetic wet rat allegations) I'd also give Ser Criston the privilege of knocking Aegon about. Heck, the entire Kingsguard (those who did not desert, at least, because it means they are truly loyal to him). I want to toy with the idea of the trappings of kinghood - the king doesn't have absolute powers, he is a prisoner in his own right OR does he just choose to give them up and be pushed about for whatever reason? I want the viewer not to know what Aegon is going to do, whether he will pull rank or whether he will submit.

For Aemond, I've already provided a few links above on how I'd portray their relationship. With Daeron, I'd have him be ecstatic - finally, someone who doesn't look at him with disgust & disappointment! (Mostly because Daeron has been away for a long time and hasn't had time to be disappointed by Aegon, but, oh, well) Finally someone who will withstand his hugs! I'd have Aegon be very caring-big-brother like.

With Helaena, I'd give him a better relationship, because it's just more interesting to me than to have him another awful targhusband. Aegon is not someone who has a lot of patience, but for Helaena, he could channel Alicent sometimes (IF I WERE A WOMAN I'D BE MY MOTHER) and get through to her.

I've already spoken to death on the issue of their children - the most interesting and toxic option for me is if none of them know who fathered them, but they do not care. Sometimes they wonder, but as a curiosity. The children belong to all of them. They are all Alicent's, anyway. She made them all via parthenogenesis. (this is a joke lol). Feel free to disagree with this, I do not care; make your own AU.

I would also age them up, frankly, because it's ridiculous for teenagers to be doing all of these things anyway. I'd have them be in their early twenties - with Alicent maybe around 38? That's still young, before any of you gets their knickers in a twist. So maybe another 10-year time jump after the eye incident.

I've already written a post on what I'd change about Season 1, but I'll add a few more indulgent changes.

I would give baby!Aegon the white hart symbolism just to fuck with Rhaenyra.

I do like Ty Tennant's Aegon and wouldn't change much about him, except give him more things to do. If I could add an extra episode between "We Light The Way" and "The Princess and The Queen", I'd fill it up mostly with interactions between all of the children. Jace, Luke, Aegon, Helaena, Aemond & Daeron. Have them do stuff separately and together. Show more of Aemond being bullied, but also have Aegon rope his siblings into some silly adventure. Show them how to navigate the secret tunnels. Convince them to sneak out into the city. Do something cute with them, so it's not all doom & gloom.

I would portray young Aegon as someone who is naturally talented but doesn't apply himself. That annoying instinctually smart kid that never does his homework but somehow coasts by. Have his peers be annoyed at this and view him as an arrogant twerp. Make him an arrogant twerp, so it's not just an opinion.

One thing that I haven't really seen discussed all that much is the effect Viserys' illness might have on Aegon. He sees the throne cut his father and infect him to such a degree he becomes a walking husk of a man. He thinks, he knows that one day that will be him. If "all goes well", he will have to sit the Iron Throne and become infected and diseased like that. (This is false, but we'll only realise later. The throne will never cut Aegon. It will hurt him in different ways).

His father doesn't care for him anyway, so Aegon subconsciously rejects all this. He needs constant stimulation to take his mind off this gruesome fate. I would give him Prince Hal energy. Mingling with the common people, bawdy, rude, whoring & drinking his liver out. Perhaps by doing all this, he believes he will disqualify himself from the position? Or that no one would be so mad as to place him on the throne. We could have some fun by showing him getting into street fights over the dumbest shit. Just behaving like a general rapscallion. Yes, I would cut the rape and the child fighting rinks. 🤦‍♀️

I would like to develop his relationship with Rhaenyra somehow. When he's older, maybe entertain the idea of him having the same attitude towards Rhaenyra as Aemond has towards him - jealousy, viewing her as depositing all of father's love, despite her not doing anything to "earn" it. In effect, she is being just as irresponsible as he is, only that she's passing her bastards off ahead of him in the line of succession, while he's drinking and whoring. Yet, he is the only one being looked down upon.

I'd make both Aegon and Sunfyre have a soft spot for children in general. It's a surefire way to get the audience on your side. Show him playing with his own children and being goofy with them.

Blood & Cheese is a very good opportunity to delevop deranged! Aegon. Maybe have him torture and kill Blood himself. In the books, he orders every ratcatcher to be hanged. This can go as dark as you like. If you're really feeling lugubrious, he could kill them himself, one by one (???) Show him in his unhinged era, but also show him comforting his sister and mother. I wouldn't be framing him heroically here; he is turning into a villain. I'd show his family a little wary of him, like all this revenge action is getting too much. Aegon looks back at them and doesn't understand why they're being cagey - this is all for their protection and dignity, don't they see?

I have this idea of a scene of him delegating Crown business to Alicent: open court day, she is hearing petitions. Aegon insists that she be the one sitting the throne that day, not Otto. This image of him waltzing into the throne room, splattered in blood from one of his "interrogation" sessions, the whole proceedings stop, everyone bows down to greet him, Alicent starts getting up from the throne, Aegon says there's no need. His mother is the steward of the Crown. He stands there looking on in fascination as she dispenses justice, because it gets his rocks off to see her wield his power. Have him smirking at people as if to say "this is my power trip as well". I'd also include ambiguous cues that would make fans write essays upon essays on the fucked-up implications. So, for example, I'd have people address Alicent as "The Queen", not the Queen Mother or Queen Alicent or the Dowager Queen, while Helaena would be Queen Helaena. No shade to Helaena - I just think it's a lot more messy this way. I'd like to emphasize how she is the boss of them - the King is just there to be a sovereignty-donor.

I would change a lot of things about the military aspect of the war, so to speak. I would make things more even, not give Rhaenyra so many allies because it makes more sense. No ridiculous Lads army and I'd probably render Cregan Stark irrelevant by the time he decides to march down south. I'd also like Aegon to participate in more battles in his own war. So I would not give him Anakin Skywalker-level injuries after Rook's Rest. There's the southern front with the battles of Tumbleton, there's the western front where the Greyjoy fleet is attacking the Lannisters... IDK. I feel like we could give him more to do in this regard. I have this image of him maybe fighting alongside Daeron, getting injured and Daeron enforcing a shield circle around him to get him to safety. Whenever he is injured and bedridden, I'd turn him into a wet-eyed rabbit crying for his mummy. In relation to Aegon, the audience should feel like they want to push him down the stairs, nurse him back to health, then push him down the stairs again.

When he gets smuggled out to Dragonstone, I need him to use all of his car saleman skills and convince the people of Dragonstone to side with him. This should be Aegon at peak politician. Make the commonfolk start believing in his cause. I'd frame him like a cult leader here for shits and giggles. Maybe introduce some comedic moments to lighten the mood a bit. I'd like to parallel injured!Aegon to injured!Sunfyre somehow. Aegon craves affection and so does Sunfyre. Headcanons here and here.

Getting injured by Morning would be the final straw for Aegon. My idea is for Rhaenyra to take Alicent as a hostage when she flees to King's Landing and have Alicent witness Rhaenyra's demise. Have her beg Aegon for mercy, while he remains cold-blooded. This is her son, her baby boy, the one time he decides to disobey her and not heed her advice is when he decides to kill her soulmate. He holds her tenderly while she sobs and fights to get to Sunfyre. (If I were a man, I'd be Aegon).

This is where we can play with crazy, off-his-rocker Aegon. He wants to behead Baela and needs to be calmed down. He oscillated between wanting to kill Aegon III, geld him, send him to the Wall or cut his ear off. He breaks down thinking of his dead brothers. He keeps at Sunfyre's side all times and weeps bitterly as his dragon dies. He is a river of tears and they don't stop flowing. When Sunfyre finally dies, Aegon orders his bones be transported to KL and placed in his chambers.

He takes his mother and goes back to KL where his daughter is. It's time for demented girl dad Aegon! He keeps Jaehaera with him at all times, while dispensing punishments that oscillate between fair and cruel. He has no mercy for the Shepherd's lambs or pretender kings. He is the King. He keeps Jaehaera on his lap, reads to her, plays with her, entertains her child-like trains of thought. Sometimes he asks her how intense should the punishments for traitors be. (I would not make her "simple" in this re-telling, jesus christ).

Alicent advises him to marry her to Aegon III, so as to unite the two rival claims. Aegon refuses. My daughter is the rightful heir / I will not have Rhaenyra's blood dirtying my throne / Andal Law states that a daughter comes before an uncle, isn't that what you taught me all my life?? He knows that this is the best compromise, so as to avoid another future succession crisis, but he just can't bring himself to do it. He pleads with Alicent, tells her he'll sire another boy on Cassandra Baratheon. He'll fix this. Only the best for his sweet little girl. He'll create a proper husband for Jaehaera, just like his mother created the best wife for him with Helaena. Alicent nods and agrees, but doesn't hope that the future will be so simple for them anymore. "Very well, but until that son is born, why don't you betroth them, just in case". Aegon concedes.

Life is not really that great for Aegon at this stage. He is in a lot of pain, prone to bouts of weeping when he remembers his dead family members and dead dragon. He tries to comfort himself thinking of Cassandra and how he plans on claiming another dragon or hatching an egg (he's never been a hatcher, none of them were). That keeps him going for a few more days/weeks. Eventually, he realises that he cannot keep living this half-life, suffocating with this agonizing need for his siblings and dragon. He will tell his mother and daughter that his love for them is enduring and drink the poison himself.

Alicent marries Jaehaera to Aegon in the world's most depressing funerary wedding. They are all she has left - a girl who looks like her children (and her) and a boy who looks like Rhaenyra (rhaenicent reborn!). I would end the story like PRINCESS Shireen said: "two scared children spouting oaths they didn't understand, all that was left of the mighty House Targaryen".

I would end the series with the image of Queen Regent Alicent of House Hightower, hearing petitions, sitting on the Iron Throne, where her son placed her. The throne never cuts her. It hurts her in different ways. She is so young, still. Young forever. The children look like her children.

[incandescentflower]

hi! I stumbled upon your works in the karan/achi tag on ao3 and saw the challenge you were doing. Can I kindly request a karanachi fic with the prompt ‘wake up kisses’ and ‘hugging and gently holding the other’s head’ 🥹 thank you so much in advance 🫶

Hey there anon! Thank you for this ask! These have been taking me a few days as I have been catching up with them. Thanks for your patience.

After the last episode, I am in the mood to give Karan all the things he wants, so here's some good morning snuggles and an ode to my man Karan the most crazy cakes man in love. May he get to be as silly and over the top as he wants to when he finally gets his man.

I hope you enjoy it!

This is part of a Cherry Magic Thailand fic ask game I'm playing while the show airs. Send me a prompt from one of the lists and I'll write you a ficlet! Details are in this post.

I'm caught up in the requests for now, but I'm happy to take more. I'll just likely be pacing them out as I work on some other projects.

This is also on AO3 here. The other prompt ficlets in this series are here.

five more minutes

Karan knew he should get more sleep, but his body wouldn’t let him. If he fell asleep, it was only for a few hours before he woke up, his mind racing as he was brought back to the reality laid before him - Achi in bed next to him. 

That intense feeling of butterflies, of all the possibilities, of finally, finally getting something you had imagined for so long - it wasn’t really the best conditions for sleeping. If you added to that the way Karan’s body reacted to Achi being this physically close, he wasn’t likely to get a good night’s sleep for a while yet. 

But that was fine by Karan. He would function on little to no sleep if that meant this continued. 

Somehow Achi didn’t seem to have the same problem. He appeared to be sleeping soundly every time Karan woke. His breathing was slow. His eyes shifted under his lids as if he was dreaming. He moved in his sleep sometimes, but he often ended up back where he started, with his head on Karan’s shoulder. 

You would hear no complaints from Karan. He loved that Achi was comfortable here. He looked so peaceful as he slept. Not to mention, it was an indulgence for Karan to get to look at him like this as much as he wanted. 

If Achi was awake, he would shy away from Karan’s gaze, maybe even hide. Achi still did not seem to know how beautiful he was in every possible way - in how he looked and in who he was. He didn’t seem to know that just looking at him made Karan feel like he was grounded to the earth and that all things were finally as they should be. 

And with Achi sleeping like this, Karan not only got to indulge in that feeling of rightness, but he got to admire Achi’s lashes, how long they were, how they fanned out towards his cheeks while his eyes were closed. He also got to discover new, tinier moles on Achi’s face -  a cluster on his chin and one very adorable one below the outside corner of his right eye. While Achi slept, Karan was able to memorize the curve of Achi’s top lip and indulge in the memory of how it had felt when his lips touched Karan’s mouth. 

Lying like this, with Achi in his arms, filled Karan with an unrestrained happiness he had never felt before.

No, he might never sleep well again.

Perhaps somehow psychically Achi could feel the weight of Karan’s attention even without his abilities because he started to stir. Karan’s immediate impulse was to close his eyes. He didn’t think Achi would appreciate waking up to being stared at, no matter how innocuous Karan had intended it.

What he didn’t expect was the feeling of Achi close, the press of his mouth to Karan’s lips, slow and sleep heavy. When Achi pulled away, Karan’s eyes shot open. 

Achi was holding himself over Karan, a bright smile on his face. It was truly the most gorgeous smile Karan had ever seen, the one that was meant for him. 

“Aha, I thought you were awake,” Achi said, with a satisfied smirk. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Karan said. He had an impulse to brush the strand of hair that had fallen on Achi’s forehead out of his face. It took him a moment to realize, Karan didn’t have to curb that impulse any longer. He could actually do it. 

He raised his fingers and trailed them through Achi’s hair. Achi made a little noise, like it felt good, so Karan continued to run his fingers through the wayward strands.

“You didn’t wake me, but I might go back to sleep if you keep doing that.”

“You can,” Karan said, eagerly. “You don’t have to get up yet.”

“Mmmm,” Achi said, letting his head lean into Karan’s hand. “Come here then,” he said. Achi slid down onto the bed again and slung his arm around Karan’s back, pulling him into Achi’s chest. Just Achi’s grasp on Karan like this, like he belonged to Achi enough that he could grab him and pull him close, made Karan foolishly happy. 

Achi gently cradled Karan’s head as he hugged him tightly. “Just five more minutes,” Achi mumbled. 

The way Achi was holding him now, Karan could hear Achi’s heartbeat. It was a slow, steady beat that pulled Karan into it. His own heart started to slow, syncing to Achi’s rhythm as he willed himself to relax into the comfort of being like this with Achi for a little longer. Even if it wasn’t exactly what the rest of his body might want. 

Karan wasn’t actually sure how long it was before Achi woke again, still looking sleep heavy. He couldn’t help but be the one to kiss Achi this time. It was meant to be sweet, to let him know it was finally time to wake up, but Achi let out a low noise into the kiss and gasped before he met Karan for another. Achi’s response simply dragged Karan into it, each kiss deepening, pulling them into each other, losing themselves in one another.

Karan could be happy just like this, being this close, kissing Achi as long as he was allowed. 

“We’re going to be late for work,” Achi said into Karan’s mouth as he pulled away an almost imperceptible amount. 

“Just five more minutes,” Karan asked, grasping Achi’s hips and pulling them to meet his own.

Achi gave a little noise of agreement and slid his thigh over Karan’s hip.

Karan was very pleased to discover that a lot could be accomplished in five minutes. 

Still, he made sure to set his alarm ten minutes early from then on.

[lavenderafterglow]

Your Relationship with Kaeya

Kaeya x gn!reader (no pronouns used other than

"you" )

Warnings: some NSFW things in here, Minors DNI! Blank and ageless blogs will be blocked!

A/n: I know i usually dont write nsfw but its Kaeya. This man is just a walking nsfw post. (Repost because the other one wasn’t showing in tags 😞)

Before you guys even started dating, Kaeya would flirt with you. In a different way than he did with others I should say. He was genuine with what he was saying to you, “Y/N, you look amazing today! I love the way you look today” He would say as he passed you in the knights headquarters. His hands would linger just a little longer than they should when he would pass by you in a confined space. At every meeting he would search for you and try his best to be near you. obviously this didn’t go unnoticed by you, so you would flirt back sometimes which just gave the man so much hope!

Though he loves flirty and teasing you, if you ever mention that you are uncomfortable with it he will stop or at least ease off on how much he does flirt/tease you.

He is the type to get jealous over anything, even if you aren’t together, he still considers you his. If he get jealous he wont tell you. He will just ignore you until he feels better. He has very high expectations. Sometimes when he ignores you, he can see that it hurts you but he’s stubborn and wont stop.

When you finally became a couple, he tried his best to make it memorable. That day it was raining so he had the idea to use his vision to try and make the rain into snow. He failed. But that doesn’t matter as it was the thought that counted for you.

Kaeya keeps secrets. We all know this. He has his secrecy’s, he will keep them. Even from you. It doesn’t matter what your relationship is with him, you will never know everything. You one timed tried to ask about his past and his home country, that was a mistake as it resulted in a 3 day fight and silent treatment. It took Jean to finally have him speak to you just because she couldn’t handle the tension that was emanating from the two of you. She has since asked that any future fights be left at home.

He really dislikes being vulnerable, even around you. He thinks it makes him weak. (Which it doesn’t but he hasn’t know anything else) you help him with this though. When he finally started to open up about his relationship with Diluc and their father he started to break down, which in turn made him shut down about the topic. But Y/N to the rescue. You helped him open up and express his emotions. He cried in your arms for a few hours that night, but it was all worth it in the end as he has now learned its ok to be vulnerable.

Kaeya has been through so much, he’s the type to want constant reassurance that everything is ok with your relationship, that you really love and care for him, etc.

The constant need for reassurance had an effect on his love language

He loves and I mean LOVES physical touch. He will always without fail have his hands on you in someway, arm around your waist as you walk around Mondstat, holding your hand across the dining table or in meetings, an arm around your shoulder while standing in Angel Share, you name it. Holding you makes him feel safe, makes him feel secure in the relationship as if he will never lose you.

*If he could, he’d have you sitting in his lap 24/7, giving you bruising kisses and small open mouthed kisses on your neck and jaw line, he absolutely ADORES leaving marks all over your body. His favorite place to leave marks is the soft spot on your jaw right below your ear, as well as all over your chest/neck. He likes to make a game out of it and tried to make different shapes with his hickies. He’s very possessive, not that it bothers you though, you’ve come to love it especially with the girls throwing themselves at him on nights out, but he just causally walks up to you and starts sucking a new mark on any exposed flesh.

*Kaeya is a kinky motherfucker, He loves to edge you and overstimulate you till he has you begging and crying for him to let you have your release. Whether he lets you though, thats a different story. Now if he denies you the orgasam, you better listen, if not you’re in for a long night and be prepared to have to take a sick day the next day because he will leave you unable to walk.

He would 100 % fuck you in public. Alley ways during patrol, his office, your office, the library when lisa is gone (or not depends on how risky he’s feeling) He would shield you in his coat as he fucks you senseless. Good luck walking home Y/N, this man is carrying you the rest of the way home.

If he doesn’t have the time to do anything with you, he loves giving you random kisses throughout the day. Whether he’s passing you in the knights headquarters or out in the streets when he’s on patrol. He will always stop and give you a kiss. His favorite is cheek kisses cause it leaves you fluster and smiling to yourself after he leaves.

Kaeya isn’t the player everyone thinks him to be. He is and will always be loyal to the one he’s with. He loves you too much to hurt you in that way

Y/n you are one lucky person to have this man in your life.

© lavenderafterglow 2022 : Please do not claim, modify, copy or repost/translate any of my work on this site or any other site this includes TikTok and YouTube!

Requests are open!

[daddyy333]

Band kid!Robin x color guard!y/n

if you’d like you can reblog my original work, but please don’t post it without credit. if you take inspiration from my ideas please tag me, I’d like to see how someone else would write it

word count: 1.1k

warnings: I’m blanking but I know there’s gotta be at least one please let me know if you find one I’m sorry in advance

REQUESTED: @amberputh

summary: Robin is in love with the best girl on the color guard team, and little does she know you’re just as crazy for her

For 3 years Robin had been admiring you during pep rally’s and halftimes and other events. You joined color guard in freshman year at the same time Robin joined the band, and Robin now had the biggest crush on you because of it. You were considered one of the best on the team, you were very skilled and the tricks you were able to do made the crowd gasp and cheer throughout the performances.

And god, the way you looked had Robin messing up the music and nearly forgetting to play all together. You were so beautiful, and so confident too. You always came to the band members and told them how good they sounded, sometimes even bringing them snacks for after the games and the long and tiring school events.

What Robin didn’t know, was that you didn’t always watch band practice just to practice your routine. You didn’t stay after every game and talk to the band team only to congratulate the band team. You didn’t buy special snacks for Robin just because you overheard her talking about her gluten allergy just because.

You did all these things because you wanted to see her. You wanted to talk to her the most out of everyone. You wanted her to realize you listened to her and actually cared about her. But she never seemed to notice and it broke your heart sometimes.

Both of you were terrified the other was straight. So for 3 years you just watched each other, falling more in love with the other with every performance.

You started working at Family Video and shortly after Steve and Robin walked in with applications. You knew only one other position needed to be filled but you begged Keith to make up some other job so both of them could work here and you could see Robin more often and really truly get to know her.

When they started their first shift, Robin ran off to explore and memorize things on her own and it was just you and Steve. “I know there was only one position left. How did another suddenly open up if you’re still working here?” He asked and you looked around nervously.

You chuckled and said “uhh I’m not sure” “oh come on, I know you like her. It’s okay, I don’t care that you like girls. Besides, it’s kinda obvious. You were basically drooling when Robin was walking around trying to memorize the sections” he said and you chuckled nervously.

You blushed and said “ok, fine I like her. But please, please don’t tell her. I don’t know if I’m ready yet. Oh and uh, I convinced Keith to just kinda make a new position for her to fill” “alright, alright, I won’t tell her. But you don’t have to be scared about asking her out, trust me” he said and winked.

It still took you 3 months to say anything. It was the last basketball game of the year, and you were doing a solo routine. You were a little nervous, solo routines made you anxious because there was no one else to hide your mistakes.

“You’re gonna do good. You always do good,” Robin said and you sighed, fiddling with the flagpole. You smiled and said “thank you, Rob” She smiled and a few moments later everyone was on the field and was performing with incredible skill.

Robin watched you like she always did, admiring your focus as you twisted the green flag over your head and then waved it beautifully as you swayed your hips slightly to the song. God, those shorts looked too good on you.

When your solo came Robin was smiling so hard it was getting hard to play properly. You did amazing, didn’t even mess up once and you even improvised a few moves you had been working on that weren't actually supposed included in your performance, but that just made it 10x better.

Once everyone was off the field, you ran to the bathroom to catch a breather and also fix any makeup that got sweat off in the heat of Hawkins. Robin ran to the bathroom and tackled you in a hug, congratulating you and squealing about how amazing you did.

You giggled and said “are you sure it was good? Even the parts I improvised?” Of course Robin knew your entire routine by heart as she’d been watching you practice for weeks. She nodded and said “it was amazing! Dare I say, beautiful! It was! It was beautiful! I- you…you’re beautiful, y/n”

Your eyes widened at the words and she looked down at your lips for a second, before gently leaning in and kissing you softly. You smiled, kissed her back harder. She pulled away and gasped, covering her mouth.

Tears pricked her eyes and she said “I’m so sorry…please, oh god please don’t be mad at me. I don’t know what I was thinking- please don’t be mad-” “Robin, stop it. I’m gay. Like, really fucking gay. Especially for you”

Robin laughed, tears still streaming down her face. “Me too, y/n…me too” she said, whimpering a little but still chuckling. Your child trembled as you said “Robin, please don’t cry” You moved forward and cupped her cheeks, kissing her softly.

She kissed back just as soft as her hands found your waist, caressing it softly. You moved one hand to her back, pulling her flush against you. She smiled and you pulled away for air, pressing your forhead against hers.

“I really freaking like you, y/n. You don’t know how long I’ve waited to kiss you” Robin said and you chuckled. You sniffled and said “I like you too, Robin. I watched so many goddamn band practices just to see you and be in the same room as you. I don’t know how I went so long without kissing you, I don’t ever want to stop now” You pecked her lips softly and she giggled.

You brought her to your house after the game and after you showered she just couldn’t keep her hands off of you. She hugged you from behind as you made frozen pizzas and kept stealing kisses whilst you waited for it to cook.

You loved her, you knew that you loved her already. But you didn’t want to scare her away. So for now you’d let her smother you in kisses and you’d do the same, that girl has no idea what she just got into by dating you. You were completely and utterly obsessed with her. You loved everything about her.

Just you wait, Robin Buckley. You’ll be stuck with y/n for a long time.

Taglist: @amberputh

As of now l'm writing for

Eddie Munson

Joseph Quinn

Jamie Bower

Steve Harrington

Robin Buckley

Maya Hawke

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

Lo’ak

Neteyam

So just comment the taglist you want to be added to and l'll add you :)

[bg-sparrow]

BTTF Year-End Tag Game!

Thanks for the tag, @mjf-af! And thanks for loving one of my favorite fics this year, @daryfromthefuture! 🥰

This year:

How many times would you guess you watched the first back to the future movie? First film, only once or twice. After I finished basically studying it frame-for-frame for my triloogy rewrite, I took a bit of a break lol.

Did you get any sweet bttf merch? If so, what! I did! Lots! I got the complete 1989 BttF II Topps trading card collection, We Don't Need Roads: The Making of the Back to the Future Trilogy, Creating Back to hte Future: The Musical, Save the Clocktower tote, BttF Musical t-shirt, Pink Clint Eastwood hoodie, Enchantment Under the Sea Dance t-shirt, and a 10K medal from MedalChasers!

3. How many cans of Pepsi Free did you chug this year? None. Don't hurt me, but I'm a Diet Coke girl. I was heavily into Pespi in my youth, but I gave up pop for a few years, then one of my medications changed my tastebuds like whoa and I couldn't handle how sweet it was!

4. What was a favorite bttf fanfic you read this year? Don't do this to me! 😩 Tie between He Didn't Start the Fire by @daryfromthefuture, which really started all this 40s Doc phenomenon and was gifted to me in exchange for A Fracture in the Space-time Continuum. I also loved being a part of @professorsaber's r/ThePinheads: Guys, Marty McFLy really *is* a time traveller!!!

5. A favorite bttf fanart you saw this year? (please give us a link, not a screencap/repost!) My favorite this year was one that was a surprise made just for me, so it has no link, unfortunately. @daryfromthefuture drew this for my birthday way back in March of her Until I Get Home Marty and my Once Upon A Time in the West "Clint" about to be blown to bits by cake. Affectionately. :) I smile at it often and love it so much! 🥰

6. Did you create any bttf fanart or fanfic? If you did, what one(s) are you proudest of? Pfffft. Apparently, I added 22 (‽) fics to the BttF AO3 this year?? When the hell did I have time to do that?? Anyhoo, my favorite is a three-way tie and changes based on my mood: A Fracture in the Space-time Continuum (the most canon-flavored of the lot), Now I Am Become Death (my history-heavy Manhattan Project Doc fic), and Once Upon a Time in the East (#2) (because of all the personal leaps in my writing I took with this one).

7. How many times were you late for school this year? I don't attend school anymore, and being self-employed, I have the luxury of running a few minutes late (if it's more than 5 minutes, I count it as late late).

8. Did you watch any other movies/tv shows with BTTF actors in them? I watched MJF's documentary, Still. I watched about a million episodes of classic Spongebob, where Tom Wilson does a lot of voice acting. Watched Who Framed Roger Rabbit? once with Christopher Lloyd as the amazingly unsettling Judge Doom, Titanic with Billy Zane, and I think that's it. I didn't get a lot of screen time outside writing this year.

9. Was there a memorable moment you heard a Huey Lewis song this year? In September, "Hip to be a Square" came on in the grocery store, and I was reminded how much I loved that song as a kid. I'm gonna catch hands for this, but it's probably my favorite Huey Lewis song. :)

10. How many times did you fall down this year? I don't even know. Two of those falls involved my lower legs folding up underneath me as I slid down the stairs, though. The first time, I broke a toe, and the second time was down a set of brick stairs. My entire left leg was a bruise from knee to ankle. There is still some swelling in my knee a month later that makes it painful to kneel on that knee.

11. Did you get to see BTTF: The Musical? What was your experience like! I did I did I did I did I DID!! It was AMAZING! I was out the door and back home in 25 hours, and it was such a fun solo venture! I even got to meet @bri-to-the-future because we happened to be there the same day! I have detailed it extensively in this post!

12. How many times did your mom retell the story of how she and your father met? Uh, maybe once that I heard (I don't live with them anymore). It's a great story. I heard it a bunch growing up, though! My mom was a Good Student, and my dad was Just There Joking-type. They had Home Ec together. She was passing out tests for the teacher, and my dad handed the test back to my mom and said, "I don't want this." My mom just froze up because she didn't know what to do. XD

13. If you could describe your year in a BTTF quote, which one would it be? "You man enough to back them up with more than just a pie plate?" comes to mind because I'm a dreamer with ADHD. That means I spout off stuff all the time that I want to do (fics I want to write), but they're only going to get done through my actions. Starting stuff is hard for an ADHDer, even if it's something we REALLY want to do. I have to follow through or it won't happen. And I did a good deal of that this year and last year, and I'm big proud of that!

14.⚡️LIGHTNING ROUND⚡️ Did you get to: go on any trains, skate on a skateboard, ride a horse, drive a Delorean, run in the rain, go to a dance, hang up a clock, play the guitar, pull an all-nighter, read science fiction, or drive-thru Burger King this year?

15. Your future is whatever you make it! So what are you going to make of this coming year? I said this last year, but this year I'm gonna stick to it: this coming year, I'm going to focus more on reading again. I've spent the last three years going so hard with my writing, terrified if I stopped I wouldn't start again for another eight years, but I'm also confident enough to say that I'll be writing here and there again and not lose it like I did before. I want to read more in 2024 because some of my own writing is feeling stale, like I'm reusing phrases, words, scenarios, etc., and I need some new stuff to inspire the evolution of my writing. I also want to start working on something original! I will absolutely still be around (I host June of Doom after all, and I have a McFly July streak to maintain)! So keep tagging me in these awesome games!

I'm tagging everyone who hasn't been tagged yet!!! :D

[sproutwings]

20 Questions for Fic Writers!

The lovely @crestfallercanyon tagged me for this weeks ago, and I haven't been ignoring it - I just didn't get around to it sooner. Sorry!

How many works do you have on AO3? 380 (382, technically, because two are still anon/unrevealed exchange works.)

What’s your total A03 word count? 1,123,214

What fandoms do you write for? Currently, mostly DCU, The Flash and a bunch of tiny fandoms, but I've been writing fanfic for ages, so I went through quite a few fandoms.

What are your top five fics by kudos?

a) cut me open, take my heart (DCU, JayTim, 1744 kudos) b) A Bird in the Hand (DCU, Dickstroke, 1694 kudos) c) Hook(er), Line and Sinker (The Flash, Coldflash, 1586 kudos) d) No Shortage of Blood (Original Works, Starving Vampire/Vampire Hunter Having A Moral Crisis, 1453 kudos) e) Portrait of the Artist as a Middle-Aged Man (Gossip Girl, Dan/Blair/Chuck, 1149 kudos)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I always try to, but sometimes it takes a while to get around to it. /o\

What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I have no idea. I used to write a lot of angsty stuff back when I was younger but the older I get the more I gravitate towards fics that leave the characters in a... well, maybe not necessarily in a good place exactly, because I tend to ship a lot of dysfunctional ships and write unhealthy relationship dynamics, but I don't want the characters to feel hopeless and unhappy in the end, so even when they're in a bad situation, they're making the best out of it.

A very old, very angsty fic of mine is Too Close To Touch (Harry Potter, various permutations of Draco, Harry and Hermione). I don't know if it's the angstiest overall, but it occasionally still gets comments so it's fresh in my mind despite having been written almost two decades ago.

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Oh no, this is similarly hard to answer. Maybe Throw Away the Plan (The Flash, Coldwestallen)? Most of my endings seem to be "the main conflict of the story is dealt with, the ship kisses and things are okay-ish for now". 🙃

Do you get hate on your fic? Maybe once or twice, but nothing dramatic or memorable, luckily enough.

Do you write smut? Sometimes.

Do you write crossovers? No.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yes! Someone copied a few of my fics word by word, replaced the names and posted them as Kpop RPS. D: D: D: I got the author to take them down, but they did it with a lot of people's fics and eventually AO3 banned them.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes, a few! I blanket allow translations, as long as they're credited properly and not posted anywhere but AO3.

Have you ever co-written a fic? Yes, but it was a really long time ago, and coordinating was pretty stressful. I prefer to work on my own schedule.

What‘s your all-time favourite ship? Noooo, don't make me choose. I love so many ships! If I absolutely had to pick one, it would be Tommy/Bubonic from Eye Candy, but it mostly depends on what I'm in the mood for right in that moment.

What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? There's Coldflash BDSM fic based on a long-forgotten Tumblr prompt I would have loved to write one day, but it would be far longer than anything I'm comfortable writing and it's only 'in progress' in so far that I have a few dialogue snippets from it written down yet.

What’s your writing strengths? Character voices and snappy banter, probably.

What’s your writing weaknesses? Plot!!!! As you can see by every fic I've written where the characters get captured or attacked by some nameless villain for nebulous reasons. I always handwave stuff like that because I simply can't bring myself to care about it or put any thought into it. 😅 Sorry!

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? As a reader, It always throws me out of the story. :(

First fandom you wrote for? The X-Files! Mulder/Krycek was teenage Sandrine's first fanfic obsession. (Though technically, I wrote terrible Star Wars and The Three Musketeers fic long before I knew what fanfic was! But I've decided that doesn't count. 😅)

Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

(never been) so much at stake (OW, Vampire Moonlighting As A Barista/Exhausted Vampire Hunter In Search Of Caffeine) is probably the best, but The Biggest Score of All (The Flash, Coldflash) has my heart!

I'm supposed to tag people here, and I'm terrible at this, so @waysheswings, @sunherirai, @moriavis, @zeroducks-2, @hithelleth, @elasticella - if you want to do this, consider yourself tagged and if you want to ignore it, pretend I never mentioned your name. And anyone else who sees this and wants to answer, you're also tagged! Yes, I mean YOU. :D

[lefluoritesys]

Hi! Random question but what's the funniest/most awkward situation you have ever been in with a headmate/headmates? Also, I love your Tumblr. It helps us through a lot of system denial :)

Thank you so much!! We're glad to hear that, we try our best to make it a safe and positive space!!

I don't think we have stories that people would count as incredibly funny, however, we have a few that stand out to us as at least amusing, lmao. And awkward... don't even get me started.

I (co-host) keep texting people trying to make friends, and don't ask nor tell anybody. And then I just dip. I think it's a pretty effective strategy. :D

The amount of times somebody told us something that we know we would have memorized by hard. Like when we're supposed to have our lessons. And then we'd switch, be asked about it, and don't know the answer as to what that thing was. It puts us in such awkward situations IRL cause of our parents.-

Today, remember the couple that went on a date? One of them had to front to take our sibling to their classes, and they were sulking, so our co-host & persecutor-caretaker had to keep their composure when their partner, from the inner world, said our sibling looks like an offended ostrich.

We got berated for eating the host's chips. We now have a policy about eating chips. Because people ate their bag of chips...

One of the funniest stories were probably with one of our alters who went mostly inner now, though. They once purchased a premium on an app we use a lot without telling anybody, and at the time, we could buy a whole McDonald's meal for that amount of money. Then, we put them in charge of English classes, and they were definitely working, but their way of working was roasting everything and cracking some of the most hilarious jokes we've ever heard. That same alter then offered our mother cyanide.

Some of the things we say are so fucking funny that we made a quote book. For ourselves. And our partner systems. There, we not only have hilarious quotes, but some of the funniest roasts we've ever seen, one of our favorites being:

Host: It's kinda funny how I can do everything alone at front, and y'all have to do it collectively when I'm not around.

Co-host: Nah, we're just healthy.

Our co-host sprained our foot. And called the bandage on it "foot prison." I am not elaborating on their behalf. /laughing

In the inner world, we have this thing where we can track people and where they are at that point in time (especially our robots can do that), and sometimes people decide to play tag. And since our inner world is our inner world, what we basically see is a dot (that represents a person you're watching) telelporting from point A to point B to point E in a matter of seconds. Which doesn't sound funny, but picture it, lmao.

The number of posts we made that were purely targeting each other is insane. And you will never know that they are targeted unless we say something, we are sneaky like that.

At some point some people in the inner world discussed fucking Jesus?? And I mean doing the deed, not the "fucking Jesus." We still have no idea who or why.

And then another two people, whose names we know, discussed our partner system's semi-sentient hotel and what its type would be. In detail. And who they could pair it up with.

Our host is still salty at one of our prosecutors because they bought them cocoa instead of coffee, didn't tell them, and our host couldn't figure our why the coffee was sweet but tasted well, considering we hate coffee with sugar. And then they realized.

Our host address purple so much that now all of us gotta keep up with the idea what "we, a singlet, definitely a singlet (/s), love purple so much" because explaining to our bio family that we don't like it anymore but we also do but also don't would be too difficult for a number of reasons.

One of us can just decide that it's chicken nuggets day, and we will have chicken nuggets for lunch. Not because we don't want to upset this somebody by refusing but because we'd literally switch on the streets halfway to chicken nuggets, stare at the distance for a couple of seconds, and accept our fate.

We generally talk to ourselves in public constantly, we have no shame about that, especially since it's mostly in English, which is not our first language. That got us a lot of looks. We also do that in VCs with our partner system, and we openly switch in front of them and talk about inner world shit.

Hope that gave you a few laughs. /g /pos

-host, co-host & persecutor-caretaker, sexual persecutor

[blithesharem]

@starry-miki tagged me in a 15 questions game so here it is! I ended up making a new post because the thread was giving me trouble with copying and pasting 😭

Thank you for the tag love ;v;

01 - Are you named after anyone?

Nope! My name is Hebrew that my parents thought was pretty.

02 - When was the last time you cried?

Tbh I kind of struggle with crying aksk like even when I know I need a good cry I can’t make it happen. I think the last time I cried was when I got the medical bill for a procedure I had done in January LOL love being an American.

03 - Do you have kids?

Not yet but I hope to have one in the near future.

04 - What sports do you play/have you played?

I did exactly one day of Cross Country Running in high school and immediately quit. I’ve always been bad at sports. Just not my strong suit. I was a big theater kid which still gave me plenty of a work out!

05 - Do you use sarcasm?

Yes though I have a habit of saying things as dry and straight as possible so people have to pause to understand if I’m joking because it tickles me.

But also I mean who doesn’t use sarcasm every once in a while.

06 - What is the first thing you notice about people?

Hmm you know reflecting on it I think I notice peoples clothes first. I think an outfit can tell you a lot about someone and I like to compliment people I don’t know so that’s usually a good place to start.

After that it would probably be their posture: are they relaxed? Nervous? Aggressive? I take my cues from that as to how I need to behave.

07 - What's your eye color?

Just a plain boring brown ;v; I’ve always been envious of other eye colors

08 - Scary movies or happy endings?

I mean I love a good happy ending but I have to go Scary Movies. I am the resident Spooky Girl in my community.

09 - Any talents?

This is such an interesting question because to me the word ‘talent’ implies something inate rather than learned as a skill would be. I don’t think I have any proper talents in that sense.

But I did memorize pi to 17 digits for a play a few years ago and I still whip that out at parties: 3.14159265358979323

10 - Where were you born?

In the Bay Area of California!

11 - What are your hobbies?

I collect hobbies as my hobby lol. Besides the staples like reading, cooking and video games, I also enjoy crochet, cross stitch, painting, print making…starting to play around a bit with felting too!

12 - Do you have any pets?

Two girl kitties, Coven and Cricket! Coven is wily and clever as a whip and Cricket is my big love bug. They’re both good girls and I love being home with them ;v;

13 - How tall are you?

5’3 I’m a shorty

14 - Favourite subject in school?

In High School it was English, and in college it was my anthropology classes. I was deeply considering becoming an anthropologist for a bit!

15 - Dream job?

I LOVE my current job as a historical art gallery manager. But if I had to pick a dream job it would be a food writer of some kind. I’d love to be paid to travel and write about the food and history of different places.

Thanks again for the tag! No pressure tags for those interested: @cyanide-latte @alpine-forget-me-nots @tixdixl @ramshacklerumble