#but the rest of the grid feels equally excited
Note
Saw a Timeloop prompt and had to come here! Because? Accidental Time Loop Au! Most times? Time loops are Serious Business(tm) with something at stake. A terrible threat or enemy agent. But WHAT IF you knew exactly what caused the problem, how to fix it, and it legitimately WAS your own fuck up? And the fix was just tedious to find? So it would take a while. An enforced vacation if you will.
The day is even *gasp!* Uneventful?! Say it isn't so! But it IS. And Tim fucked up. He let Damian get under his skin, words were exchanged, and he slammed into a magical idol, breaking it. Constantine can fix it easily. IF HE WERE HERE.
So in the 24 hours he has... he has to grid search Earth (yes all of it) for the man's damn magic house, find it, GO TO IT, convince him, and get free'd. The going is easy. He has both a Flash AND a Super on speed dial. Bruce has THE Flash and Super on speed dial. It's the "finding" that's the issue. *groans*
Luckily? Photographic memory and a supercomputer. Set up, exclude what's already been searched, and go! But what to do with the rest of his hours? He... doesn't know... case work maybe?
He runs out of case work. And games he wants to play. And silly things he wanted to try. And honestly? He's really frustrated by... all.. this........... Now there's a thought.
He hasn't really had TIME for a proper "me day" in... actually has he ever done more then THINK about how much he'd like it? Well today starts now! So Tim explores himself. Has a leisurely time of it. The loop starts over. He stays in bed for that one, learning what feels... Good.
He starts up the search again the next loop, the back off to bed. To do research. To rub his poor little clit raw. Work fingers into himself to figure out what the fuss is about. Next loop he steals Dick's lube. He figures out what the fuss is about.
Loop after that he steal more then just Dick's loop. He works fingers into himself one by one, til he can take himself with slim dildo he's stolen. Loop after that he's so eager to try the other toy he saw he forgets that to GET to Dick's room, he had to dodge Damian. He's confronted.
They argue about why he's in in Dick's room. Damian once again gets under his skin. He says things he shouldn't. Once second they are nearly ripping each others throats out, the next Tim is nearly shredding his back, demanding fingers plowing into his body with little skill are somehow still sending sparks up his spine. Making him wet. Spreading him open.
His legs are being roughly held open as the most obnoxious little shit he knows, rams home like it's his right, to take him like an animal on Dick's bedroom floor. Damian is panting and cursing and he ruts, taking his pleasure, thinking of nothing BUT. And it's... it's...
Tim doesn't think he can go back to just touching himself. It's not enough after this. Could NEVER be enough. By the time the loop ends, his poor hole is stuffed full and on fire. He can never go back.
He wakes up and starts the search. His pussy doesn't ache but it feels like it should. He does the obvious, calls up Kon. Bros help bros with their virginity problem after all. Then bros fuck them up and down their cock like they weigh NOTHING and let them practice oral. You know, like bros.
Bart is equally willing to help, next loop. Is SO excited in fact, he blurs when slamming in to him. Pumping him fuller and fuller of cum then he ever thought possible. Vibrating to the touch and sending Tim's nerves alight. He's never loved ANYTHING as much as sex, he decides before passing out, it's the Best~♡.
He decides to shoot his shot the next time, gets turned down hard and lectured. Dick is Unamused. Next turn he tries again, and again, and again. He refines his approach. Dick hesitates longer each time. He pulls out the big guns. Oh noooo. He got exposed to (a low dose of) Ivy's Pollen! He's applied the antidote, but he's soooo uncomfortable and upset! Hurting even!
Dick eats him out until he sobs. Rocking himself deeper and deeper into Tim's mouth until he can barely breathe. He fucks his throat like lover then bends him in half and pounds him until Tim wonders if he'll ever sit again. Tim passes out covered in sweat and cum and slick and... the loop resets.
He decides not to test Dick's self control. Jason's? Well he hasn't learned his lesson. He does. Bent over on his hands and knees, getting slammed back onto to the thick thing inside if him. He learns Jason likes to hear him beg, to make him squeel. He didn't know he made that noise.
He spends a loop sleeping. The search is half way done. Damn you, Constantine.
Tim can't banish the crazy thoughts. To be honest he never could. Usually his friends can talk him out of bad ideas. But... it's a time loop... no consequences... and he HAD always low-key wondered. You know, under the absolutely unethical and monstrous everything... Would it be good? Just... just a string free hook up. Would he take it?
Apparently the answer is "Yes". God help him, he might be going insane. He calls up Ra's. Today only, he'll be at checking into a hotel, Tim knows damn well you can find out which one, show up or don't. This is Ra's sole chance to fuck him.
The man damn near breaks the sound barrier. Not that he'd even SHOW it. Tim has never seen such covetous unholy glee. He also learns Ra's will do things to him with his tounge that shouldn't be legal. Balanced on his shoulders as the man slams dead on to that spot inside him with out mercy, as he has been for HOURS, Tim is torn between sobbing and passing out as the bastard spills another load of seemly endless inside him. Purring all the while of how he will BREED him, KEEP him, dress him in jewels. He's lost count of how many time Ra's has cruely brought him off as Batman crashes through the window, but midnight hits and he's back in his bed.
At least he has his answers now.
After a loop's break, he decides he wants to spend time with Bruce. He DID apparently rush to save him. And it's been a while. It's nice. The thing is? He... he's AWARE now. Of things he missed before. Of Bruce's possessive little should touches and back rubs, the clingy way things are scheduled so they always travel together... the way he wants Tim to "double check" his flawless work, just so Tim spends his free Tim with him.
Tim shouldn't. He really, REALLY shouldn't. It's a Bad Idea.
He presses his leg against Bruce's anyway. Sits closer. Leans closer. Braces his hand on Bruce's thigh when reaching over him for the otherside of the desk. He catches Bruce's eye out of the corner of his. It's all over the second he does. Bruce is too good a detective not to know how to read arousal and interest, especially on a familiar face. He's in Bruce's lap in seconds. His mouth plundered.
He's hauled off to Bruce's room. Bruce barely let's him breath between consuming kisses as he mercilessly finger fucks him open, almost cruely drawing the first orgasm of the night of of Tim just so he'll be relaxed enough Bruce can FIT. And then it's like being crushed and swallowed alive. It's so big. Keeps going and going. Bruce is growling little whispers of reassurance and praise but Tim can MOVE. Bruce won't let him.
Pressed to the bed, spread so wide it almost hurts, arms trapped against his sides by Bruce's embrace. It's like he's being pinned and impaled. Then Bruce starts to MOVE and... and... oh god, Tim can't take it. Too much. Bruce, too much! Everything is pinpricks and stars and his inside are being destroyed but it's g-good and... and he just CAN'T!
But all Bruce does is kiss his tears and hum, making soothing little noises as he buries his face in Tim's neck, and pounds harder. Holds his boy. Close and perfect, everything melting together. Bruce loses himself to the rhyme of the thrusts. The wet heat. The gasps and whimpers and whines. It's so, so good. Overwhelming for Tim no doubt. Bruce groans and fucks them both through orgasm after orgasm until everything is too bright and too hot and the edge of agony. The last hour before midnight, Tim is held tight, stuffed full of Bruce and keeping him warm, barely able to move.
Loop resets. Tim feel sudden and accute sympathy for Selina. Also deep respect. He ALSO wants to strangle John Constantine. He let's the computer run. And Run. Aaaaand Run. Until his Bad Idea impulse starts to kick in and he can't take it anymore. He HAS to know. Dick has denied it but there's no real telling and it kinda is THE gossip in Hero circles... plus he HAS money.
He has to fuck Deathstroke.
He doesn't get the chance, John has been found! Oh thank FUCK. One trip on the Kon express later he's pound on a hungover magicians door. Bastard laughs at him. Just for that, no thank you sex. Oh LOOK, suddenly not funny? Imagine that. Kon would like to know, you know, since HE didn't laugh, if Thank You sex is still on the table for HIM? Absolutely. But only AFTER the Time Loop is Fixed.
Invested Kyptonian is Invested in these proceedings. John fixes the idol... not that he gets THANKED or anything :/ . But uuuuh, you didn't do anything... CRAZY while you were looping, right?
Why?
Local Kon has Remembered some shit. Bros helping bros. Uh Oh.
Tim's phone starting blowing up with messages and calls. OH NO.
They remember. SHIT.
YES YES YSES YESY EYS ESEYSEY YES YES YS ESYES !!!!!!!!!!!! YESSSSS!!!!!!!!!!! THISIS IISO SO GOOD !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TIM BEING STUCK IN A TIMELOOP AND GIVING INTO ALL THE BAD IDEAS HE NORMALLY IGNORES AND NEVER LISTENS TO BUT ON THE DAY OF TEH LOOP LITERALLY NOTHING INTERESTING IS HAPPENING, HE'S NOT INJURED, NOT ON A CASE, NO ONE ELSE IS ON SOME PRESSING CASE, ITS LITERALLY JUST A NORMAL AVERAGE DAY AND TIM HAS TOO MUCH TIME ON HIS HANDS!!!!! AHHHHH!!!!!!!!! I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
the thing is that tim is always so busy. its not an exaggeration, every single moment of tim's life has a time slot specifically set aside for it- even bathroom breaks and showers. its not about being 'anal' like how jason likes to say or 'psycho' like how steph likes to believe. it's quite literally only about tim maximizing the amount of time he has in a day and, put simply, there's not enough.
there is not enough time in the day for tim to be able to get everything he wants done. the amount of days he's had where he was...free to do what he wanted are small. very small. as in 'hasn't happened in years' small.
and its not like tim couldn't take a vacation if he wanted to!
he was sure that if he told bruce he needed a break and wanted to go away for a week to recharge, tim's almost certain bruce would have the plane tickets booked and tim's packed bags out the doors before he had a chance to finish the '-tion' in 'vacation'. he's pretty sure that's how it would play out. but he'd never tried it. he just forced himself to be content with the fantasy of it and pretending not to stop for a moment and stare at the windows of department stores while running errands as they displayed mannequins in swimsuits along with surfboards and posters of young teens tim's age living life to the fullest.
tim has a deep respect for the work he does and he feels that a lot of his work is incredibly important so...he never tries to go bigger than the occasional wistful dream.
until he's stranded in, quite honestly, the most boring day to time loop within- in history. bruce is down in the cave all day, only surfacing for dinner. alfred is carefully instructing a landscaping crew for the new lawn design he drew up because alfred is actually quite proud when it comes to the greenery of the manor. dick is in one of the manor's offices pretending he's not upset about another job rejection letter and trying to redo his resume again in a more 'atmospheric' room. damian is in his room listening to music and watching other people play video games on youtube yet somehow remaining startlingly aware of each creak of the floorboards in the manor. jason is in the city, lounging in his apartment and committing credit card fraud by using bruce's card to order the things that catch his interest on qvc.
the thing is that tim knows what to do in a time loop. there's a protocol for it. there's a protocol for everything.
but the thing is...most of those protocols are of the 'world is ending' variety. someone keeps dying/ "I" keep dying/ the world keeps going to shit. or it's one of those loops where it's more centered around character development where tim needs to reach some kind of revelation about appreciating his family and believing in santa again or something.
but its none of those. tim doesn't have to go on some journey of self reflection or find some way to stop dying. no. because tim knows exactly what caused the loop. and it was damian picking a fight with him while tim was on 'tagging' duty for the new box of magical artifacts that bruce wanted identified, logged, and put into storage.
a magical artifact that bruce was now painfully and delicately reconstructing because he and damian had gotten into a fight that ended with tim throwing the closest thing on hand at the twerp-turned-towering-giant which....turned out to be a carefully carved statue of a hand that was apparently from an offering site of some germanic god.
there was no other explanation of it because as soon as that stone had shattered; tim had woken up in bed, dizzy and cursing damian. he spent the entire day nursing his body and the next day felt...slightly better so he'd ventured out.
it took the third morning before tim figured out he was stuck in a loop and what the cause of it was. knowing that there was no danger afoot tim took a few loops to rest his horrendous splitting headache before buckling down and looking for a magic user to help fix this.
loops started by magical objects were relatively quick fixes. all it required was the 'stabilization' of the person affected's soul to tie them back to the timeline.
only that zatanna was out with the league on some mission in space. doctor fate was utterly unreachable by tim's current standards. zachary was a douchebag who would hold this over tim. which left basically only john constantine.
who would winge about it but help tim out without being too much of a dick. so long as tim could find him.
bruce had a program on the batcomputer specifically for being able to track down constantine's exact coordinates. only that the program had to go country by country for the search and each one could take days. bruce usually had an educated guess about where to start and didn't normally use the program because it was so slow so other magic users were usually contacted before bruce resorted to the program.
but it was tim's only option.
besides this could be...nice. he finally has all the time in the world to do everything he wanted. tim had been laid up sick for 2 whole loops and nothing had happened while he was curled up in bed.
he could get a headstart on everything he needed to do while waiting for the program on the batcomputer to find constantine! like his casework!
it takes tim almost a dozen loops to find the culprit in each one of his active cases. there's no point going to gordon or typing up a report because it will just disappear in the next loop but the entirety of tim's investigations are safely stored away in his head for when time finally starts working right again.
tim is at a bit of a loss for half a loop before he remembers all the birthday gifts from his friends, both civilian and caped, he'd never gotten to use. videogames he never got to play. books he never got to read. movies he never got to watch. in fact, tim had a huge towering stack of gifts from christmas and eid he never got to open.
tim spends about a week and a half on each videogame, systematically beating every game. then when he's finished he goes back around and starts going for all the achievements. then he starts playing all the games on the hardest settings. he tries to co-op a few times but after the first loop realizes that each attempt will just be with the same people who will say the same things and have the same conversations.
tim decides to put the games to the side for a little while and starts digging through his stack of unwatched shows and movies he'd never watched. he even cracks open some of those gifts and finds packages of candy and sweet treats waiting for him- many of which are still good! he watches all the movies and binges the shows. he laughs, cries, boos, throws popcorn at the screen of his tv in his room.
that takes up almost two months worth of loops.
tim tries reading a few of those books jason rants about and even gifted him but keeps falling asleep halfway through them.
speaking of sleep. tim sleeps. a lot. a lot a lot. he catches up on his sleep debt for a few loops but ultimately can't stand it anymore.
he does everything he can think of. he rests and relaxes until he's bored to tears. he looks into and solves the few cold cases that bruce has sitting in the bottom drawer of a filing cabinet in the cave.
tim even eats until he's sick. he pigs out with no reguard for his usual diet and gorges himself on food until he's sick at the sight of it.
it doesn't work. tim runs out of distractions and things to have fun with.
he's...bored. woefully understimulated and SO frustrated and...
well....there was an idea he hadn't considered before.
tim never understood the fuss about sex. couldn't understand why it made people like bruce and dick lose their cool at the promise of it. tim has masturbated, sure. for hormone and health reasons but orgasms had never been something so life-changing that he'd let himself get turned stupid over it like how...so many of his friends and family had.
so. tim tries. tries to figure out what's so good about it. he stops rubbing at his clit with single-minded focus and intent to get off.
he goes slower. he tries watching porn. reading porn. tries to find what gets him aroused.
it works. tim finds himself fascinated with the sight of plush lips swallowing down cocks until their throats bulged. he grows red and hot with the sight of thick, white cum flowing out of red, stretched-open pussies.
tim starts fucking his fingers into himself, using fingers to explore the little hole he's never paid much mind to.
the thing about masturbating is there is always a reward for it. tim always feels good, body growing warm and content with orgasm. unlike the other things he's tried, he doesn't grow easily bored.
there are just....so many things to learn about his body. about how he likes pinching his tits until it's painful and they're blossoming into a red color. he likes figuring out how many fingers he can press into his hole, how many times he can orgasm in an hour.
it's good. it's nice. it's fun.
but...its also labor intensive. tim's hand hurts from rubbing so much after a whole day. by the time it reaches nighttime he's so horny he's sobbing but he can't get off because his poor abused hand keeps cramping.
it also takes awhile for tim to work up the arousal to get wet enough that every clench of his thighs or working of his fingers releases wet sounds that echo in his room.
tim likes how wet he gets. how he just keeps drooling and dripping clear cum from his hole onto his bedsheets until he's lying in a wet spot.
tim knows there are...toys.
he's seen them in videos and he's overheard dick's friends joke about his 'collection'.
tim is...curious. there's no way he can get a toy delivered from the internet on time and the sex shops in gotham all require IDs to purchase and tim would get kicked out if he even tried that.
normally tim would be too mortified to even think about sneaking into dick's room to steal the lube he knows he keeps in his bedside drawer or seatrching his room for those dildos he's seen in porn because tim's desire to know what a cock feels like inside him has only grown...
but tim is stuck in a loop and it only takes another day of hand cramps before he's creeping past damian's door to sneak into dick's room.
he manages to get the lube and opens a drawer....filled to the BRIM with toys. tim gets so suddenly embarrassed that he just grabs the smallest one and darts back to his room.
tim took a dildo that vibrates at a kind of humming frequency. tim only has to touch it to his red throbbing clit a little bit before he's whining and grinding his sopping baby cunt all along the length of it. he doesn't try any of the 'techniques' he saw in porn and just relies on instinct to kick off the rest of his pajamas and gasp as he presses the things head against his hole. the vibration is intense being pressed in and tim almost gets a tummy ache because he can feel the vibrating in all his other organs as he gasps and wetly drags out the dildo streaked with strings of tim's wetness. the glide provided by the lube is heavenly as tim grinds against it, arching into each stroke and crying out as he cums and clenches around nothing. eventually tim gets brave enough to try fucking the slim dildo inside. tim is still in the middle of fucking himself when the loop restarts and even though tim's cunt isn't wet or throbbing from use he's so damnably aroused and furious that his orgasm was cut short.
tim races to dick's room and is digging through the drawers again when damian interrupts him. he's haughty and annoyed because he got grounded for the artifact breaking even though tim had been the one who broke it.
tim's happy the little brat was finally facing consequences for messing with him though he's a little irritated that it was only when damian surpassed him in height that bruce and dick started putting their foots down.
tim is horny, hot, and all kinds of annoyed at the interruption. he tries to ignore damian but the boy doesn't take kindly to it and starts yelling about tim being in dick's room and askin what he's even doing and tim is half tempted to whip out the dildo just to see the bug-eyed look on damian's face but that would just cause more problems in the loop than it was worth.
besides...tim has other concerns as he drowns out damian's huffing to press his thighs together. he can feel himself getting wet. with every loop its like he's so much more aware of his body.
before, tim had to work to get wet but now it was like the slightest thought had his pussy beginning to gush with interest and the promise of feeling good.
damian's not going away only getting louder and closer and tim is so warm and sooooo not in the mood for an argument-
the frustration and mutual aggravation in the room is reaching boiling points.
tim's not sure how it happens.
but he's on his back, pajama bottoms discarded somewhere off near the foot of dick's bed.
damian, the not-so-little-runt, is on top of tim and growling, grunting, almost heaving as he fucks into tim's wet, warm hole. tim doesn't even care that he hasn't stretched himself, that damian is the first real life cock he's ever had inside him. tim doesn't care, all he wants is to feel that thick cock inside him hammering home as tim grinds his clit along with every snap of hips into him. tim is whining and squirming on damian's cock. every time damian thinks he's trying to crawl away he's dragged back down and fucked harder like it's a punishment. it's not, tim is delighted to feel the force of damian's thrusts slapping wetly into him as he tightens his legs around damian's waist. tim arches and lets out a broken cry when he finally cums, clenching tight and feeling damian let out broken grunts as he pushes deep inside.
the feeling of cum flooding his insides is like nothing tim has ever felt. the relief and satisfaction that comes with it, the feeling of a warm body over him and pinning him down....
his fingers will never be enough. a fake cock will never be enough. there is no way tim can ever go back knowing what a cock feels like now.
the next loop tim is calling kon.
damian is right next door but...that's a whole mess tim would rather not repeat. he's blaming it on the loop madness. a burst of temporary insanity!
kon is his best friend and probably one of the few things that kon has more experience than him in is sex.
tim will try to forget the fact that he let the brat fuck him and "technically" take his virginity even though a new loop meant that tim's cunt had never known the feeling of a cock... besides tim's pretty sure if he tried approaching damian for another go he'd get a blade to his throat.
kon is willing to help tim out with his...virginity problem. more than willing actually.
tim doesn't even get a chance to hang up after his request before kon is knocking at his windows with the face of a kid set loose on a carnival.
kon explains that he's more of a 'hands on' instructor. he tells tim this while flinging off his shirt and groping one of tim's tits with an almost audible sound of glee.
kon is a good fuck. tim has no real standard for comparison but everything kon does feels amazing. his cock is BIG. about the same length, maybe an inch or two bigger than damian's, but also much thicker. it's a struggle to sink down on it but kon helps him with his grip on tim's hips, gently bouncing him up and down until tim's mouth fell open at the feeling of being so...full. kon kisses at tim's gaped mouth, humming and murmuring little noises as tim wetly clenches around his cock spearing him open.
they fuck a couple of times before tim needs a breather. he asks kon if sex is always like this.
with damian it had been more of a 'tearing at their clothes and each other and fucking desperately in one position'. kon takes him on his back, on his side, his front, and sitting down facing each other. tim liked that one. sitting in kon's lap with a cock pressing all the way to the opening of his womb and grinding their hips together while kon hugged him close and tim whined about being so full.
kon makes a humming sound of consideration as he grinds his hard cock between the wet seam of tim's cunt, not pressing in and just idly thrusting between tim's rosy folds.
"well most chicks don't let me cum inside them bro."
tim makes a considering noise and honestly, if he wasn't in a time loop there was no way that tim would risk getting pregnant with either damian or kon's fat headed babies.
but this was a time loop and by morning both of their cum would be banished from his womb and his eggs would be unfertilized.
of course tim doesn't say that.
"well that's cause you're my bro kon. special privileges."
kon makes a happy sound and finally presses the thick head of his cock into tim's pussy with a wet sound as tim's cunt accepts the gentle thrusts.
tim hums a little at the nice feeling but his poor pussy throbs at the stretch.
"can i try sucking your cock?"
kon moans into to hollow of tim's neck.
"god, you're the best bro to ever live tim."
well there was tim's answer.
next loop tim wants a smaller cock. kon's was nice but by the end of the night it was clear that his cock was not for first time pussies like tim's.
so tim dials his other best bro.
it's the best decision tim's ever made. it's like having a human vibrator. bart fucks him so fast everything is a blur. tim is pretty sure he blacks out for a few moments. bart babbles the entire time, talking about how soft tim is and how nice he smells and how good he feels and how he has really nice tits- real cute!
bart has basically no refractory period- he just keeps cumming. he never stops fucking into tim, not even for a second. when he cums the only signal tim gets is the flooding of warm cum filling him up and then just as quickly being fucked out of him.
tim manages to get bart to slow to a grind by cupping his sweet head and kissing him. apparently bart loves kissing with tongue. the makeout is so thick and wet that tim's not sure if the wet sounds in the room are from them kissing or from bart fucking him.
tim is fucked until he's on the verge of passing out- and bart never stops. tim's insides just hum with the constant buzz of arousal at the thought of bart continuing to fuck his unconscious body. just as he starts to black out, tim can't help but think about how he loves sex so fucking much.
sex has made tim braver. more confident. maybe stupidly confident because as soon as he's up and restarting the program to search for constantine- he makes his way to the office where dick is agonizing over his unemployment.
tim knows he's always had a little crush on dick. his cool, hot, kind older brother. when he was younger it'd been harder to hide the blatant admiration. the years hadn't been kind to them or their relationship. there's a distance between them they both wish wasn't there. tim knows they've grown apart and maybe that along with his new sexual discovery have provided him with the guts to go in and proposition dick.
if all failed he could just go back to his room to lick his wounds of rejection and call up kon or bart (or both) for a round 2.
he doesn't get a chance. he spends the whole loop in that office being made to feel like shit as dick furiously lectures him about how incredibly "inappropriate" his proposition was. that dick was his brother and several years older and that tim was a child and what on earth got into him to believe that this was okay? if tim was young and curious about sex fine, he got it. but there were so many other people his age that he could go for-
it's probably the worst that dick has ever reamed him out.
but...tim couldn't help but feel like there was something... off about it.
so many of the points that dick brought up were...really well thought out for something that dick was put on the spot for. almost as if...almost as if dick had already thought of it all before.
....like he was just repeating all the reasons he'd thought of for why a relationship between him and tim wouldn't work.
the next loop tim isn't discouraged. he tries again. he's shot down.
he tries another approach. turned down, but gentler this time.
he tests boundaries and tries again. dick hesitates before telling tim to go back to his room and they'd talk about it in the morning.
it's like tim can see all the pieces chipping away as he finds a new way to ask dick to fuck him. after a handful of loops it becomes very clear that dick wants to say 'yes'. that he probably wanted to say yes during that first loop. but....some weird moral hangup was preventing him from finding out how sweet and tight tim's pussy was.
even if tim spent every loop from therein asking dick, he'd never say yes.
unless....he was given an excuse to.
like ivy's pollen. of which there are plenty of sample vials in the cave. antidotes too.
but antidotes don't always work to the full effect. side effects are still possible. side effects that only tim's big brother can help with as he stumbles into the quiet office with a whimper and call of 'diiiiick'.
dick holds him close, hands stroking tim's fluffy strands as he tells dick about how his stomach hurts and how...how the place between his legs is all sore and -and...wet. tim whispers it shamefully in dick's ear and pretends to not feel the shiver that courses through dick's body.
dick strokes tim's abdomen, softly whispering comforts at each of tim's whimpers until tim starts kicking off his pajama pants.
"it huuuurts dick-"
tim whines. he's sure that dick is going to offer his fingers but he's suprised when dick presses him onto his back. dick is as red as a tomato as he tells tim he has something that will help. dick helps tim out of his pajama bottoms and carefully spreads his thighs apart to get at tim's cute clenching pussy.
tim squeals when dick puts his mouth on him. at first it's just a careful drag of a tongue along the slit but then tim's thighs are in a brusing grip and being spread further open as dick lets out a moan and starts pressing his tongue inside tim's tender baby hole.
tim has been poking a bear for several loops so he has no right to complain when all of dick's self control breaks and he has tim's legs over his shoulders and starts pounding tim's baby pussy like an animal. as soon as he spills burning cum inside tim's seizing cunt he painfully grabs tim's hair, tugging on his head to pull tim's chin against his sternum and sits on tim's chest so he can feed tim his cock that he hastily ripped out of tim's pussy just as he started cumming. tim is trapped under him as dick fuck's tim's throat like its a cock sleeve. his balls slap against tim's chin and he can only be grateful that kon helped him figure out how to suck cock without gagging or choking. dick. messes. him. up.
tim's face is a mess of drool, spit, and cum. tim gasps for breath everytime dick tugs his cock out only to swallow a gasp as dick sinks all the way in with a choked moan. dick fucks tim's face for a while longer before deciding that's enough.
tim is flipped like a pancake on his front when dick is done and his tender hole is immediatly filled with tim barely having any time to adjust as dick begins slamming deep and hard into his tender hole, every wet slap is echoing as dick pumps into tim with a fury of someone whose self control has just snapped.
tim gets so messy and wet. cum streaks his thighs and mouth and all down his chin. dick even pulls out at one point and strokes himself in tim's face so he can smear a thick white mess all onto tim's sweet face.
tim gets fucked unconscious and wakes up having to take a minute to process everything. clearly dick is a creature that must be awakened with caution.
but tim has already had a taste of what a fucking from someone who's lost control feels like and needs more.
he goes to the only other brother he hasn't fucked. jason.
jason takes no convincing. he has tim kneeled and on his front. tim gets rug burn on his poor tits because jason does not let him up. he's the first one to fuck tim's ass and tim makes noises he didn't even know he was capable of. jason likes him vocal, he wants tim to sob and cry for more, he wants him to beg jason, to thank jason, to worship jason and his cock that fucks him so well and fills his womb so good.
jason likes telling tim that tim is going to have his babies as he slams into tim and floods his womb with cum. jason makes tim bend in ways that ache his body- dick is the flexible one but jason ignores tim's whines and fucks him in impossible positions while grunting about how tight tim's slutty little princess pussy is.
tim falls asleep to jason stroking his hair and telling him about what a sweet little cunt he was for jason and that he's going to fuck that little thing whenever he wants because its his now-
so tim's brothers are freaks. he always suspected that but now he's certain.
tim doesn't seek anyone out for a few loops. he spends them sleeping, resting, and eating.
even though he's physically fine and there are no aches in his body- tim's soul has spent that last few loops getting mercilessly and endlessly fucked.
the search for constantine still hasn't turned anything up and the time loop might be making tim go a little bit...loopy.
a time loop is endless possibilities and potentials.
it's really a test of a person's character because of the whole 'do anything you want and there will be no consequence' thing. some people might kill, rob a bank, or fulfill some dangerous stunt to test their new 'immortality'. but not tim.
no. tim, after being trapped in a loops for a few months, decides to call a psycho cult leader and long time enemy of his and....bootycall him.
tim tells ra's al ghul he's checking into a hotel in downtown gotham in a little bit because he's apparently gone crazy. if ra's shows up tim will let him fuck him. no catch. no trap. just tim having what's clearly a crisis and this is the way he's decided to work through it.
tim almost doesn't go. he gets in the car and just stares at the wheel and asks if he's really about to do this. if time loop tim is really about to fuck ra's al ghul for...the kicks.
in the end tim goes. even if it ends badly at least the curiosity will be satiated and he'll have no regrets and that damnable voice in the back of his head that sometimes brings up about how ra's is built so nicely, how his voice is like a purr and sometimes sends shivers that aren't all that bad down tim's spine. and....tim really wants to know what getting fucked by someone with centuries of experience is like.
it's amazing. more than amazing.
tim's pretty sure that ra's makes him feel pleasure in muscles he didn't even know existed. tim's half sure that in terms of technique, he's ruined for anyone else. even if tim lived for the next one hundred years he'd never be able to find someone who made him feel what ra's did.
ra's had, apparently, decided to go all out on tim's poor body the moment tim told him to not use condoms because he wanted to feel it all-
tim had seen what those words had done to ra's. the way his eyes had darkened, the way he'd creeped closer like a lithe panther and said 'oh timothy' with that wonderful drawl that tim would finally admit- turned him on.
tim is ashamed of his kissing skills as ra's pillages his mouth while thoroughly fucking his pussy. skilled fingers rub and stroke tim's clit while tim gasps and wraps his fingers into ra's hair and whines, grinding down on the cock inside him. ra's coos at him like he's a darling little pet doing something adorable. tim can't even talk to tell him off, too focused on the feelings flooding through him as ra's bends him in half and fucks him harder and deeper while whispering about breeding him nice and full with his child, that tim will carry his heir in his lovely little womb and they will be perfect because they will be timothy's-
tim's brain is mush. purely oatmeal gray matter mush leaking out of his ears. he doesn't even care about the windows breaking and bruce flying in with a furious snarl as ra's continues fucking him. tim's eyes roll back into his skull as he feels one final blissful orgasm.
tim stays in bed for the entire next loop. he doesn't get up. he just lies there and stares at his ceiling and accepts that he did, in fact, do that.
he's almost disappointed in himself for not feeling a shred of regret.
tim hasn't seen bruce in a while. even though every loop starts with tim restarting the program and checking off all the countries that have already been searched.
bruce is a different level than everyone else. he's in a league completely of his own. and even before tim considers it, he tries talking himself out of it.
but the loop eliminates many of the reasons why tim shouldn't fuck bruce. the change to their relationship, their dynamics, bruce's history of how he treats the people he fucks, the fact that bruce is his father, the fact that for tim- it will always mean something more than a simple fuck.
but the loop will let tim get it out of his system. it will let him feel and know and experience what he's fantasized of ever since he was a child.
the loop has also allowed tim to better prepare for the confrontation. tim's memories of how bruce talks to him, treats him, acts around him help develop support. and then there's the loop with ra's, which in tim's mind, was further evidence of how bruce...might have a deeper interest than he lets on.
its not hard to find bruce. he's in a more isolated part of the cave digitally reconstructing the broken artifact. he doesn't even blink at tim's presence and accepts his companionship as tim glares down at the artifact that's to blame to tim's most recent questionable life choice.
tim takes the oppertunity to...look at bruce. to admire him in the way he hasn't in a while. to stare at the fine line of his jaw, curve of his lips, the dark lashes shadowing those cold blue eyes, the neatly groomed hair and the gray shadow of his unshaved face. bruce's thick, calloused fingers and neat nails, the fine slope of his broad shoulders and trim waist that lead down to thick, muscled thighs.
bruce has always been a level of handsome well above most people and tim knows its partly the plastic surgery he's gotten over the years but also the natural air that just oozes from bruce, the authority and confidence that can just never be replicated.
tim knows that bruce feels him staring. he doesn't falter even when tim slides closer and lets their thighs touch. bruce glances at him and tim stares at him with big undisguised interest in his eyes. he lets bruce pick up on his fascination and attraction and he can see as bruce's eyes sharpen to confirm if the messages tim is putting down are, in fact, correct.
it's not a hard sell for bruce. tim knew that the moment bruce stopped working and turned to him with something heavy and burning in his eyes with the words 'tim....what are you doing?' echoing in the cave.
bruce's tongue is in tim's mouth and his hands are fondling tim's tits as tim straddles him in his chair. bruce picks him up like it's nothing, navigating the cave without looking at all or pulling his mouth away from tim as he makes his way to the exit that leads up to his bedroom.
tim can feel as bruce barely manages to restrain himself from how he squeezes tim's ass and tits, from the way he practically rips tim's clothes off and climbs on top of him the minute they reach the bed. how, without a word of warning, bruce stuffs two fingers into tim's baby cunt. tim can feel the brutal want overflowing in bruce as he finger fucks tim and mouthes at his tits, sucking harshly on tim's chest and mumuring little words while tim runs his fingers through bruce's hair and hums, twitching around bruce's fingers. tim figures out that bruce is trying to force an orgasm out of tim with just his fingers as bruce's thumb brutally starts stroking tim's little clit, grinding the pad of his thumb against the wet little hole. tim whines, closing his eyes and trembling as he feels a shaky little orgasm begin to stem from his little clit. tim gasps and bruce covers his open mouth with a wet, possessive kiss.
bruce gets lube at some point because the fingers return and start fucking tim deeper with an easier slide. tim whines and fucks his hips down, taking bruce's fingers deeper until bruce rips them out without mercy and uses his hands to wrap tim's arms into a hug and pin them to his side. the hug is tight and constricting, the top of bruce's head is under his chin and tim's back is slightly raised from the bed courtesy of bruce's arms under him. tim can't move his arms at all. his legs are spread obscenely open, as far as they can go, and tim can feel the stretch and strain in his hip socket from being in a split
tim can feel the cold air of the room in his pussy that's holding open. but then he feels the press of a very BIG cock. tim almost stops breathing as he feels bruce's mouth fall open around a tit and give it an open-mouthed kiss.
its a stretch. even with bruce's fingers and an orgasm to loosen him up- tim can feel as his pussy is pushed to the limit to accept the cock that bruce is sinking into him. tim is gasping 'ah ah ah's', choking, getting the wind knocked out of him as he feels bruce's cock fill. him. up.
every bit of tim's hole is hyperaware of the cock grinding inside him. tim clenches weakly around it and whines loud and low at the full, aching throb in his cunt at bruce's cock. it's...it's too much. not even the good too much- it's just too much. tim can't take it. there's no way he can take it. his pussy resets every loop and tim's poor virgin pussy can't take this. tim bends his knees and tries to squirm off-
"b-bruce t-too much, it's too big nnnngh-"
tim can feel bruce shake his head against tim's chest. bruce inches inside a bit more and tim yelps at the stretch. god he can feel his pussy stretch, the muscles working hard to accommodate. tim's insides are painful with pinpricks of pain as bruce goes deeper in. tim tenses up which earns him a groan. he can feel bruce, he can feel him so deep inside and even though it's not physically possible, tim's pretty sure that bruce has breached his cervix and he's now fucking his womb.
"y-you're i-n my womb- bruce, bruce hhahhh hnnn i-it's too much you're too deep-"
bruce groans deeper and starts slowly fucking tim, using his hold around tim to bringing him down on his cock as he destroys tim's insides. tim can feel as bruce's cock bumps his other organs out of the way as he sinks all the way down to the base of his cock.
tim's cry is soundless as bruce's rough, calloused fingers pinch his clit and force tim's uterus and pussy to hum with arousal. tim gasps and lets his head fall back while his brows furrow and alternating feelings of pain and pleasure fill him. bruce's cock brings tears to tim's eyes and tears streak down his cheeks. they're kissed and lapped up by bruce who starts speeding up.
tim's pretty sure his brain has become zombified all he can do is helplessly moan and groan as bruce's thrusts grow faster and wetter, as every slap is followed by bruce's grunt as he falls into a steady, panting pace to fuck into the wet heat of tim.
all tim can do is lie there and take it. his poor pussy and womb are being ravaged by bruce because he fucks just like how he fights- without mercy.
it never stops being too much. bruce's cock and his fingers on tim's clit force orgasm after orgasm out of tim that all make him a little looser until bruce has tim on his knees on the bed, savagely banging tim even though their orgasms. he fills tim up with cock but never slows down, continuing to fuck tim even while soft until he gets hard again inside of him and restarts the cycle.
its pure overstimulation. it's torture and tim cries through it all as bruce keeps fucking him even after he's cum its like...like he's some kind of possessed beast intent on killing tim with his cock.
it's only when the sun has been down for hours and the manor is quiet and silent and bruce is humming with tim limp and weak on his chest that tim can breathe. he strokes tim's hair with the tender love that you would stroke a beloved cat. he kisses the top of tim's head while one of his hands play with tim's gaping hole that's drooling out thick cum. bruce rubs tim's burning clit between two fingers, presses gently to the hot puffy lips of his pussy and reverently strokes at tim's tired little hole that's home to the buckets of cum that bruce has released into him.
bruce just hums with satisfaction and presses another kiss to tim's head.
tim lucks out. he lucks out because the program finds constantine and tim can end the loop. he's also lucky because the program found constantine just as he was about to dial death stroke's 'work' number that he managed to track down.
tim's not sure just how far his bad idea impulse would have taken him but he can only be glad that the most recent loop begins with him at constantine's door and kon, who flew him over, that was confused but willing to help.
constantine opens the door, takes one look at him, and immediatly must see his soul unanchored because he immediatly starts laughing.
tim has grown something of a...shamlessness while stuck looping so he says the first thing that he knows will hurt.
"well you just lost out on the 'thank you' pussy you were going to get for laughing."
constantine sucks in a sharp choked sound. tim doesn't even have to turn around to know kon's eyes have widened.
"i'm guess you know why i'm here though?"
constantine stares at him for a moment longer before rubbing at the deep wrinkles between his brows with a 'bloody hell'. tim's not surprised at the reaction. most other heroes know him solely as the 'uptight' one of the robins.
tim and kon follow constantine inside as he gestures for them to enter.
constantine grumbles something while he begins clearing a nearby table of books and knickknacks.
"you know, 'I' didn't laugh rob." kon innocently offers and tim knows this is just him being his usual flirtatious self. but tim's also had his cock inside him numerous times in another loop so...
"once constantine's done i'll suck your dick in his chair." tim assures him. kon immediatly starts helping constantine clear the tables he needs to perform whatever spell that will end this debacle and allow tim to finally return to his normal life and bury what time loop tim did as just another temporary bout of insanity.
it's a quick fix. really quick. tim doesn't even realize anything has happened until constantine is clearing his throat and lighting a cigarette with a "right, that ought to do it- and just to be clear, you didn't do anything too murdery, crazy, or shitheaded right love?"
tim's 'why?' is on the tip of his tongue when kon, who is standing nearby, suddenly goes blank-faced and raises a hand to his temple like he's a teen psychic in a TV show that just had a vision.
"woah." kon sways slightly before the fogginess in his eyes clears away and he looks at tim with a sort of energy that wasn't there before. "tim- did we have sex today somehow?"
tim feels something cold flood his insides.
constantine blows out a puff of smoke suddenly much more interested in the conversation happening in front of him.
tim's phone starts vibrating in his back pocket.
oh.
tim's phone starts chiming with news of a text message.
oh no.
and another. and another. tim's phone doesn not stop vibrating.
---
it turns out the artifact tim broke did not start a normal time loop but rather a 'layered' one. in which everything tim did or said would be recalled by the people he did and said it to. turns out it WAS one of those 'valuable lesson' time loops. just a...delayed one.
constantine had been banking on tim having murdered someone in the loops which is why he hadn't told him. the asshole.
he had NOT been banking on tim having fucked friends, family, and an actual villain. constantine's laugh is cut short when batman and nightwing break his doors down accompanied by their respective confused speedster and kryptonian, that they clearly called to carry them to tim's location once they tracked him down.
in response to the inquires, interrogations, and questions from the various people he allowed to pump his guts- tim....evades.
tim is wholly of the opinion that he cannot be held responsible for the actions of time loop tim. so what if tim had some ill advised liaisons?
he only did it because he thought he'd get away with it!!!! and he would've!
if it hadn't been for those meddling kids!!!
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The weekend of firsts
Okay, so I saw an interview with Checo today and got inspired, so I decided to write another fic, hope you enjoy it!
Pairing: Checo Perez x Reader
Warnings: it's long, it's fluff, mentions of crash
English is still not my first language so please be kind. 🥺
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The 2020 Sakhir GP was everything, but normal. First of all, it was a double header that weekend, which equaled double work, double effort, so you were exhausted just thinking of it.
You tried to do your best and perform on the highest level as the presenter of your local sports channel, but the first challenge came, when that horrible crash happened with Grosjean. The whole track went silent for such a long time, it felt like forever. You were absolutely terrified and shocked, but you had to keep it together because you had a job to do. Fortunately Grosjean was fine, but everyone knew that it was a miracle that he survived at all.
During the red flag you met some of the drivers, but this time you didn't ask anything, just wandering around with your cameraman shooting some scenes for your report and trying to forget what happened just minutes before.
You also met him during your walk, but you two just sadly waved at each other from afar. You had admit that you started to like him more than the rest of the grid. You liked all the drivers of course, but he was just...different. He always had something nice to say to you, even if he doesn't really like the media stuff, and also stayed there with you for a few more minutes when he could ask some questions about you, or just to know how are you doing.
That's one of the reasons why you were devastated when you heard the news that he will lose his seat for next year at Racing Point and probably in Formula 1 too. You were angry about it - more than you should have - but you couldn't do anything just to try cheer him up (and yourself) a little bit, most of the time with horrible jokes, which he actually laughed at everytime, so you could be satisfied with yourself.
This time however there was nothing to laugh about. The race had a restart, which was going well, but Checo had a DNF so it was just going downhill from that point. He arrived at the media pen soon after he got out of the car, and for your surprise he was directly heading towards you, ignoring all the bigger channels' journalists, which apparently surprised them too. You nudged your cameraman, cleared your throat to ask your questions, but as soon as you saw how mad and dissapointed he was, you just wanted to hug him and tell him, that everything's gonna be okay. But that would be very unprofessional of course.
"Checo, so sorry for what happened, but I have to ask, how do you feel right now?"
"Well, obviously it's really unfortunate, not just for me, but for the whole team."
"Do you think you could've finish on the podium today, if you were able to continue?"
"Yeah, definitely, we had the pace the whole weekend, so I think the podium was possible for me, even a win too."
You were smiling at him for the whole time to calm his nerves a little bit, and it worked, because his features softened a little bit, at least what you saw with a mask on his face. You just saw his eyes and god they're beautiful.
"Will you try again next week and go for the win?"
"Do you want me to?" He leaned onto the barrier between the two of you and looked directly in your eyes.
What?
"Well... of course it would be an exciting race if you could fight for the win."
"I can do that if you promise you will root for me."
What is he doing? He probably got hit on the head.
"I'm just rooting for an exciting and safe race, and we will see what happens. Anyway, good luck for tomorrow."
"Thank you Y/N."
This is the first time you are grateful for the mask because you blushing like hell. He never said anything like this before, it could be the adrenaline, or maybe he just tried to cover his anger, you don't want to see anything into this.
-
After last weeks' events you were exhausted, but also can't stop thinking about what Checo said to you. You would be lying to yourself if you said that you didn't liked that, in fact you would be more than happy to play along if there were no cameras. However, you didn't have time for these kind of thoughts during the day, because it was really busy with all the coverage from the track and the interviews.
You were of course rooting for Checo in secret, hoping that he will finally get his maiden win, because you wanted to see him happy and smile again and also you wanted RP to regret letting him go. Things were already going wrong in the first lap of the race, which you couldn't believe. Checo got kicked out by Charles and had to box to change his front wing which dropped him to the last place of the grid. You were already thinking about plans to comfort him after the race (including some inappropriate thoughts, but you reminded yourself that you needed your job), but the next thing you know he was going through the grid like a rocket and soon he was in 3rd place.
What happened at Mercedes was a huge mess, and you felt for them, especially for George, but this fuck up meant that Checo was leading the race. Just the thought of the fact that he can actually win this race blew up your mind, but it became more and more possible with every lap and you started to actually root for him, screaming and jumping up and down as you watched him driving in front of everyone.
Finally there was the chequered flag and he crossed the line, winning the Sakhir GP with team that abandoned him. You heard him crying over the radio and you couldn't help yourself but cry too, tears coming down your cheeks, you were so happy and proud of him. You wanted to go to the podium ceremony to hug and kiss him, because yeah... that's what you really wanted deep inside of you, but unfortunately you had a job to do.
You were more than excited to see him arriving at the media pen as the winner, and he didn't dissapoint you, he was almost running towards you, you could tell he was over the moon.
"Checo, congratulation to you, what a race! You did an amazing job today, falling back to P18 and now you standing here as the driver of the day."
"Yeah it was tough at the beginning, I thought I'm out of this race and have no chance to win or even finish on the podium."
"I can see it in your eyes that you're obviously really happy, but I expected more, maybe a little victory dance or something."
He started to laugh at your words, which made your heart melt.
"Actually, I still can't believe that I won, it feels like a dream, maybe I am in fact dreaming."
"No, you're not, if I could pinch you, I would do that to make you believe."
Suddenly he held out his arm to you.
"Please do it, so I can believe."
You were a little surprised at his action, but you grabbed his hand and pinched him hard. You cannot describe how good it was to touch him, but you had to stay focused.
"So? Is it okay now?"
"It is, thank you, glad you're really here and not just in my dreams." Oh no, he didn't. "Hope you were rooting for me." Yes. "Maybe you're my lucky charm."
"...Well, we will find out that on the next race. Congratulations again, you really deserved it. Enjoy your party tonight."
"Thank you, I will." He winked at you and he didn't go away to give his next interview, which was odd. Instead, he moved closer and started to talk to you.
"I was thinking, maybe you could join me tonight. I'm really grateful for you, because you always cheered me up even when things went really bad and I just want to thank you in some kind of way."
"Checo you're really kind, but there's no need to thank me, I'm just doing my job."
You obviously doing more than your job when it comes to him.
"Is it your job to comfort me, and look at me the way you do?"
Shit.
"Y/N, I can see how you look at me, and if I see that right, then I just wanted to tell you that I feel the same. So I would be really happy if you could be by my side tonight."
Oh my god.
"Checo, I'm... Look. The truth is that yeah, I really enjoyed every second of our little interactions, and what you said today and yesterday it made me feel good. I loved it honestly. I would gladly go out with you tonight, but it would be really suspicious, especially after those comments of yours and I don't wanna lose my job."
"I totally understand you, and I don't wanna get you in trouble. But you know me enough to know that I won't give up on this. I want to celebrate and share my happiness with you, and if it means that we have to do it in secret, I don't mind it. In fact maybe that would be much better."
You just stared at him, not a single idea what to answer. You wanted this too. You longed for his company, and even for more than that, if you want to be honest. Don't know when you started feeling like this for him, but you did.
"I will not leave until you say something and that will be suspicious."
Oh fuck, he's right you were talking for too long, the other journalists already looking at you questioningly.
"Okay, fine. I will send you my number, and call me tomorrow. I guess we need to find a solution for this."
You acted like you were forced to agree, but in reality, you wanted to kiss him right now, in front of everyone. What a headline that would be.
"You don't know how happy I am right now." His eyes were smiling at you.
"Believe me, I can imagine." You smiled back to him.
"Talk to you tomorrow then. I can't wait." And with that he took off to give the other reporters what they want.
You started to feel butterflies in your stomach, and you knew immediately you were in big trouble indeed.
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We're so close to seeing the final 10 episodes of Manifest and I am so freaking excited!
I don't know if Ben and Saanvi are endgame or if they're even gonna go there, but they're definitely going to be getting closer in these last 10 episodes and it has been clear since day one that they have for sure come into each other's lives for a reason.
But anyway, I wanted to write a scenario in which they explore their feelings for each other, whether it comes real or not. I can't WAIT to find out on June 2nd!
Peace and love,
Renee.
...
Ben and Saanvi were equally exhausted as they were wired. Running for your life at a Top Secret Government Facility will do that to a person.
Knowing they'd gotten far enough away to evade the authorities and escape immediate danger, they began to slow the pace of their walk.
They were still a few miles out from basecamp and although desperate to get back to the others to tell them what they had found, they knew they needed to rest first.
They had no shelter of course and very little to eat or drink. Their surroundings were quite barren which left them exposed to the elements.
But they had each other, and the stars were magnificent.
After picking a particular patch of dirt on which to sit, Ben curled his legs up to his chest and shivered.
"Cold?" Saanvi softly queried.
He nodded his head against his knees. "Don't know why though, it's nearly Summer and the air's pretty warm."
Wrapping her arms around herself, Saanvi gave him a sympathetic smile. "You've lost body fat. None of us have had enough to eat these past few months."
She was right. You couldn't exactly order takeout while living off the grid.
The passengers had formed a sort of commune, a self-sufficient one. They had learned to grow their own food and had really only been living off that and the few basic supplies they received from trusted outsiders on about a once-a-month basis.
Being on the run from the registry was a case of self-preservation for them all. They knew if they had any chance of surviving the death date and saving the world, it wasn't going to happen with them all locked up in prison cells.
Despite knowing they had a bigger mission to fulfill, the comforts of home were missed by everyoneBen could barely remember the days of sitting in his living room in front of the fireplace - with his family. It seemed like a whole other lifetime ago. What he wouldn't give to live in the comfort of those moments again.
Ever perceptive to him as she was, Saanvi asked shyly, "Do you wanna…warm each other up?"
He turned his head to her, snickering bashfully at what it sounded like she was suggesting…until the look in her eyes confirmed it.
Off his immediate lack of response, she shook her head, feeling embarrassed. "Forget I said anything."
But Ben didn't want to forget. He wanted to be reminded. Of what it felt like to lie in a woman's arms, to be held gently and tenderly. To be wanted, to be craved. To be loved.
Pressing his palm to her cheek, the action already a good start to warming both of them, he brought his lips to hers. Against his mouth, her breath was sultry, by both meanings of the word. They became wrapped up in each other, no longer nervous or afraid. More fearful of not having a deeper connection than of upsetting the balance of the one they already shared.
There was an undefined trust between the two of them that had been there from the day they met. With that trust at the fore, they gave themselves unreservedly to one another.
Protecting the back of her brilliant, beautiful head, he lay her down on the unforgiving ground and covered her with every bit of the love in him he still had left to give.
No two people lived more in the knowledge that nothing happened by accident, everything that occurred in the universe did so for a reason and a purpose. To not find the purpose out of the slew of tragedy that had befallen them would be a tragedy in and of itself.
And so they were both equally unabashed in honoring their mutual feelings. For Ben, being with Saanvi and for Saanvi being with Ben, sharing their time, their intellect, their passions, and now in baring their spirits completely to one another, they each felt like the freest versions of themselves.
They both wept, crying with relief to be here together now as well as for all the lost time. Then again, they knew it had been time needed to heal, to grieve, to trust again, to relearn how to give themselves, mind, body and heart, to another person.
The years they had been in one another's lives had passed so swiftly, yet it felt like they had known each other forever in their souls. The journey they had been on was perilous beyond anything anyone else on Earth could imagine. Whatever happened next, Ben and Saanvi were bound forever.
They lay together, beating heart to beating heart. Satiated, content and more than warmed.
Sensing he may have been suffocating her for holding her so tightly, Ben released his grip on her a little but Saanvi whimpered and pulled his arm back around her. "Mm-mm, don't let go."
He kissed the top of her head and softly whispered. "No. Not until the very end."
There was nothing around them for miles and nothing comforting or safe guaranteed for their future.
But they had each other, and the stars were magnificent.
#benxsaanvi#manifest season 4#ben stone#benvi#romance#saanvi bahl#chemistry#manifest#manifest on netflix#manifest spoilers#manifest season 4 part 2#manifest finale
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Heyy, a bit of a rant as a continuation to yesterday’s pre-season testing shenanigans. But now we know why the reason behind GP’s smirk, and the fact that both GP and Adrian were so incredibly smiley after that fast lap Max pulled.
For preface, I’m not 100% sure as to the fuel loads, I came across this on Twitter today, and honestly it makes so much sense putting the dots together.
Now, let’s see. A full race fuel load is 110Kgs of Fuel in the car. This is for a full race, a 305 km distance, which is about equal to 85 litres of fuel in the car to cover the whole 305 kms. Max was able to set the 1:31s in high fuel loads, which are similar to the race fuel loads. And when comparing data, whether that is with the C1, C2 or C3 tyres, Max was actually able to pull about a second or 2 quicker than the rest of the grid, in the long runs.
So yeah, apparently that GP smile is something that all teams should be scared of, because even though today Carlos pulled 1:29s, he was on C4, Max did the even go on C4 yesterday and the track is only getting better minute after minute. So let’s see if it’s actually (hopefully) a rocket-ship of a car.
(so sorry for the rant, especially because its very technical)
First of all: Please don't ever apologize for ranting in my inbox, about anything, and definitely not about the technical aspects of F1! I absolutely love getting your takes, and I appreciate your perspective so much. Please feel free to share any and all thoughts you may have, about anything, no matter how technical. 🫶
I just have to say that I am so excited for this season, and the RB20 seems incredibly promising already. I really hope it turns out to be another rocket ship. (And I hope my cautious optimism for the SF-24 won't turn out to be a fluke as the season gets underway.)
GP's knowing smile should unnerve just about everyone on that grid, because that man knows things we likely won't until the season actually gets underway. And I personally cannot wait to see how it unfolds.
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mp – intern.
visual research on designers using intern.
éster arrebola
'rests firmly on a belief that designers can do more than just give visual form to other people’s ideas.'
'“the concept, and being completely clear about what you want to say,” at the core of what she does.
'each project has a foundation of in-depth research to strengthen the power of the message — a vital element not least because, as éster emphasises: “if you look at a design and you don’t feel anything … well, that’s sad.”'
[left image] – la normalidad virtual [virtual normality] – 'interrogating how the internet has changed the ways we act and interact, the project arose from observing “common actions in the digital environment (like, scroll, upload a file to the cloud, etc.)” from which we might “glimpse many other things that … we had not stopped to think about.”'
george dutton
'an ethos of “form follows function” grounds all of the young designer’s projects, with in-depth research into his chosen subject allowing providing the foundation for any solutions.'
robin guillemin
'he enjoys working with print and materiality as it’s an opportunity to be tactile with his designs. this allows for play, as robin explains, “I like to think of it as a play space where several perspectives are looked at. in my mind, a book or a poster is an opportunity to be experimental, where everything is possible”.'
'it’s an editorial body of work that follows and retraces the construction of a wood cabin. as a series, the editorial matter is broken down into various sections that glimpse into the different stages of the build. composed of research, drawings, and images, Robin brings them together through design.'
natalia oledzka
'“as designers, we are constantly learning—from the content a project is oriented around, to new ways of making—and I find that very exciting”.'
'“I wanted to speak to the duality of both strength and fragility in sand through the book’s pull-out quotes. a grain of sand, on its own, is feeble, yet together it forms concrete buildings, the asphalt-paved roads around us, and the mighty silicon-chips in our phones”.'
loïc altaber
'“my graphic design practice can have an architectural approach. I really enjoy graphic systems that allow me to play with the content. Typography takes a consistent place in my practice, as I consider the text visually equal to the pure graphic form”.'
'“I really like this notion of time which can be part of my projects. In this one, I analysed time in buster keaton’s movies, which in turn helped me to understand how to time my animations”. they honour keaton’s concept on time and respects his film direction. his captivating and engaging animated film posters play homage to keaton’s films...'
–
I think I picked out these pieces and these designers is their use of compositions. it's clear they follow a grid, but don't let it entirely control their placement. for myself, i've identified that I want to push myself to use the grid as only a way to create cohesion and a default base to allow myself to bend the rules without breaking them. i've definitely seen a few compositions here that I'd like to have a go at, to start to familiarise myself with, but will also allow me to start thinking about how these types of compositions will sit in my context.
sources:
https://intern-mag.com/ester-arrebola/
https://intern-mag.com/george-dutton/
https://intern-mag.com/robin-guillemin/
https://intern-mag.com/natalia-oledzka/
https://intern-mag.com/loic-altaber/
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Daniel Ricciardo replaces Nyck de Vries in show of ruthlessness from Red Bull
Daniel Ricciardo, the Red Bull reserve driver, has been moved to a race seat at AlphaTauri to replace the underperforming Nyck de Vries, who has been ousted from the team. The Australian, who has won eight grands prix, will take over at AlphaTauri with immediate effect and make his return to the Formula One grid at the next round in Hungary on 23 July.
AlphaTauri is Red Bull’s sister team and the move was described in a statement as Ricciardo going “on loan” for the remainder of the 2023 season. “I am stoked to be back on track with the Red Bull family,” the 34-year-old said.
Ricciardo previously spent two years with AlphaTauri, when they were known as Toro Rosso, in 2012 and 2013 prior to being promoted to Red Bull in 2014. He joined Renault for two seasons in 2019 and then McLaren for two seasons in 2021 but was let go by the Woking-based team at the end of 2022 after a series of disappointing results.
The move again demonstrates how blunt Red Bull can be when dealing with underperforming drivers and is a huge blow for De Vries, axed after only 10 races in what is his rookie season. The 28-year-old Dutchman came into the sport with high expectations as a Formula E and F2 world champion and had impressed when he stood in for Williams’s Alex Albon at Monza in 2022 and took ninth place.
However, De Vries has struggled this year. With a best finish of only 12th he has yet to score a point and has been out-qualified by his teammate Yuki Tsunoda. He was expected to show improvement after the team principal, Franz Tost, noted several weeks ago that coming races would decide his fate. He clearly did not do enough.
There had been speculation that De Vries’s seat would be offered to the Red Bull junior Liam Lawson, who is competing in the Japanese Super Formula series. Red Bull instead offering the drive to Ricciardo, and him accepting, comes at time when focus is shifting to a potential opening at Red Bull itself.
Nyck de Vries is currently bottom of the driver standings. Photograph: Peter Fox/Getty Images
Max Verstappen’s teammate, Sergio Pérez, is enduring a torrid time at Red Bull and his future too is now under question. He has failed to make Q3 for five races in a row and has repeatedly finished down the grid in a car capable of nailing one-twos in every race. He trails Verstappen by 99 points and is only 19 points in front of Fernando Alonso in third.
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The team have publicly supported Pérez and he is under contract until the end of 2024. Nonetheless, given he is failing to deliver in the fastest car on the grid, there has been some frustration with his performances. Ricciardo will doubtless view this as a chance to make his case for a return to Red Bull. Equally, if the team are considering such a move, having Ricciardo race-ready and competing rather than on the sidelines would make sense.
The Red Bull team principal, Christian Horner, said at the British Grand Prix that the team were still committed to Pérez. “He’s the type of guy that just needs an arm around his shoulder and you work with him,” he said. Tellingly, in 2020, Horner said of Albon, then also struggling at Red Bull: “We need to be patient with him and we’ll put an arm around his shoulder and make sure he feels he’s got the support.” Albon was replaced at the end of the season by Pérez.
Ricciardo conducted a tyre test for the team at Silverstone on Tuesday, which also impressed Horner. “It is great to see Daniel hasn’t lost any form while away from racing and that the strides he has been making in his sim sessions translate on track,” he said. “His times during the tyre test were extremely competitive. It was a very impressive drive and we are excited to see what the rest of the season brings for Daniel on loan at Scuderia AlphaTauri.”
via Formula One | The Guardian https://www.theguardian.com/sport/formulaone
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Thursday Thrill: Exciting Events This Week!
Events Editor Nicole Newman has some incredible events coming up this week. Don't wait to put on your shoes and have some fun this week; the festivities have already begun. Here are a few of the week’s best events.
Trade
25 Feb
Following Trades’ sold-out 30th Anniversary 24-hour clubbing marathon, the club that broke all the rules makes its return this weekend for one big-time mammoth danceathon. ‘Often Copied, Never Equalled’…Trade returns for a huge gathering welcoming a whole cast of new DJs, performers, lasers, and like-minded promoters lining up alongside some of the iconic celebrated Trade Resident DJs & Special Guests including Nicole Moudaber & Eats Everything (Special Trade set), Anahita Shamsei, Andy Farley, Daz Saund & Trevor Rockliffe, Frankel & Harper, Guy Williams, Kyle E, Maze & Masters, Pagano, Sharp Boys, Smokin Jo, Somme Farris, through their music enticing everyone together for what promises to be one of 2023’s biggest dance music events for Trade on the clubbing calendar.
The Trade brand which undisputedly changed the rules of clubbing constantly welcomes a diverse and international crowd. This weekend will be like no other with the promise to be a hugely mesmerizing night, underpinning iconic and cutting-edge production all fired up on Egg LDN’s huge sound system.
Continuing to offer a safe space for everyone, one that’s inclusive and also one that champions the ever-evolving sounds of underground clubbing. With a huge demand from its loyal following, Trade is ready to serve up a unique slice of clubbing as part of its long-awaited return to the capital.
Tickets & More Info www.egglondon.co.uk
Sankeys Rave
25 Feb
Studio 338 is a venue like no other. Its evolution over the last decade has been a rollercoaster ride that has seen the team behind it put their hearts and souls - plus major investment - into every single detail. The venue has changed immeasurably since it first opened, from an unknown house and techno club to one that is now recognized on the world stage as a place to hear the best DJs on the planet. They play on a perfectly tuned and custom-built sound system with next-level lighting that makes for events like no other.
Even in the face of adversities such as 2016’s devastating fire - which caused major damage and shut the venue for 18 months - and then the Covid-19 pandemic, Studio 338 has always battled back bigger and better than ever. It is now regularly voted as one of the Top 30 clubs in the world according to DJ Mag, but will not rest on its laurels.
About the Event
To dance in the iconic glass atrium that is The Terrace as cutting-edge light shows rain down and crisp electronic sounds rattle your ribs is one of dance music's most essential experiences. To party in The Garden under a hot summer sun with Ibiza's most celebrated brands and DJs is a rare opportunity to feel the magic of the White Isle in the heart of the capital. Losing yourself in the close-knit Loft space as new school stars leave their mark is how musical history is made. As Studio 338 enters its 10th year, the influential venue marks the momentous occasion in the only way it knows how: with more investment in new acoustic treatment and a mind-blowing new lighting rig The Grid as well as a full 12 months of mouth-watering events.
Though now known around the world, Studio 338 has humble roots. It started as a niche house and techno club in Greenwich but over the last decade has become one of the scene’s foremost music venues. The same team has been in charge throughout that time and has developed the space into the unrivalled venue it is today: a first round of renovations introduced the now iconic main room aka the Terrace which is open day and night year round and along the way has its old plastic roof replaced with a state of the art sound proof glass atrium with mezzanines around the dance floor. Next, a car park was converted into The Garden, an open-air space open during daytime all summer long and The Loft is an upstairs space that has provided cosy and intimate backroom vibes since day one.
The world stage with the best of the best
World renowned brands soon started to call Studio 338 home and put on some of their biggest ever London shows: Cocoon, Sankeys, Elrow, Solid Grooves, Abode, Space Ibiza and in house brand Release are now all synonymous with the venue which offers an electrifying musical experience and broad array of genres which truly put it on the world stage with the best of the best.
The start of the year has seen the venue invest further in its legendary and custom fit flagship VOID acoustics sound systemby installing hundreds of thousands of pounds worth of acoustic treatment to the Terrace in order to create a truer listening environment. Upon completion for the 10th anniversary re-launch it will truly be one of the best places in the country to enjoy music.
The 10th year at Studio 338 is about moving everything up to a whole new level. And really set a new bar for nightclubs. The program will see old favourites at centre stage, parties which have called Studio 338 home since the very beginning such as Space and Sankeys. In addition some very special shows as well as adding new ideas and concepts to the program
Party people make sure you are part of this historic chapter in the story of one of London. And the world's most influential nightclubs.
This weekend Sankeys brings its biggest Rave on for one mega all-night party. The party taking over the terrace and making 2023 go off with a bang. Featuring Amine Edge & DANCE, Clive Henry, Andrew Kay, DEL30, MANT
Tickets & More info www.studio388.co.uk
EDC Mexico
24 - 26 Feb
Under the Electric Sky, party people from around the globe come together to celebrate life, love, art, and music. From the stages and the sound to the pyrotechnics and the performers, so many unique elements go into bringing EDC Mexico to life. Inviting festival-goers to wander, explore, interact, and connect. Imagination and positive energy are the currency of this place.
Each stage contained within EDC represents a distinct union of technology and nature. And where elements mix to ignite the senses and inspire the imagination.
Where everyone grooves to the same universal beat and, together, create beautiful experiences that will never be forgotten. What’s a carnival without fair rides? EDC’s landscape is an oversized playground with all your favourite full-size thrills. From relaxing to exhilarating, you’ll enjoy EDC from a whole new perspective!
Enter a world of three-dimensional superstructures, colourful, glow-in-the-dark environments, and all manner of LED-infused flora and fauna. A vital part of the experience, the interactive art installations scattered throughout EDC are bridges we construct between nature and technology. There to inspire all who come in contact with them.
Meet our merry bands of Funkdafied Freaks—the dancers, stilters, aerialists, circus performers, and other whimsical characters of EDC! Decked out in over-the-top costumes crafted especially for insomniacs. This motley crew will be in this place, the kindred spirits are bound by deep passion. It is not only for the music we love but for the community that surrounds it. That community is why we are here. You are the heart of EDC. YOU are the Headliner. Enchant you, astound you, and play with you all night long.
DJ line-ups
This year EDC features one of its biggest all-star stellar. DJ line-ups playing across 3 days making this one of the grandest festivals this weekend including Above & Beyond. Also Marshmello, Martin Garrix, Tiesto, Adam Beyer, Audio Freq, Charlotte De Witte, Cosmic Gate, Dj Sueño Dream Lion. Moreover, Dom Dolla, Eli Brown, Eric Prydz, Galantis, Honey luv, Jayrick, Kompany, Mariana Bo will perform. Sub Tronics, Sullivan King, Tin Licker, TNT plus many more
Tickets & More Info www.mexico.electricdaisycarnival.com
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The US Grand Prix up until now
1.Daniel shows up as a cowboy and acts like one during his interviews
2. Zak Brown getting a tattoo bc of Daniel (?!)
3.Max and Daniel press conference
4. Litterally half of the grid has special helmets
5. Pierre trying to fit Yuki in the back of a truck
6.Drivers playing basketball
7.Seb and Mick playing Jenga
8.Williams having a plastic cow as their mascot
9. Daniel and George living the bromance
#this is already chaos#i love it#feel free to add more moments i have forgotten#funny thing most of them include daniel#danny ric loves austin and that shows#but the rest of the grid feels equally excited#f1#formula 1#george russell#daniel ricciardo series#Pierre gasly#yuki tsunoda#sebastian vettel#mick schumacher#smick#maxiel
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Hi there! Could I request a fluff alphabet with Otis since you did a NSFW one? I know he isn’t super fluffy but I think there are some things that he’s be into
Warnings: brief mentions of sex, drugs, and alcohol.
Otis Driftwood Fluff Alphabet:
A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?)
While he thinks you’re stunning, it will be your personality that makes him fall for you, that makes him want to keep you around. After all, if he just thought you were a pretty face, you would have a much worse fate. He loves it if you like weird or morbid things, and he loves your acceptance of him and his family. Of course, accepting the fact that they’re criminals is important, but he likes that you accept the family for all their strangeness.
B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?)
Otis doesn’t have any plans to be a father and he likely isn’t going to suggest the idea of starting a family, he doesn’t think it’s a life he would want. However, if you were to become pregnant, he is not disappointed at all. If he was going to have a child, it would definitely be with you. He didn’t think he would feel this way about having a child but it feels right, he’s excited to be having a child with you. Plus, the thought of you carrying his child sends a thrill down his spine.
C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)
Otis enjoys cuddling more than he’d let you believe. Whether it be him laying on his back while you rest your head on his chest and drape your leg over his hips, he’s got his chest pressed against your back with an arm wrapped securely around your waist, or you’re laying on your back while he sprawls out on top of you, head on your chest, arm around your waist, your hand in his hair.
D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)
Nothing fancy, more chaotic than anything. If you share his hobbies, the perfect date would be picking a victim together and having some fun. If not, that’s perfectly fine, you’ll just do something else. You could go out drinking but he actually prefers having a date night somewhere more private if neither of you plan on causing chaos. Getting drunk and high together is just fine by him. If you want to do something else, all you have to do is say the word and he’ll do what he can to make it a reality.
E = Equal (Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?)
Otis is the dominant one in most situations, including your relationship. That being said, you have more power over him than you realise.
F = Feelings (When did they know they were falling in love?)
Just when he realised he was thinking about you when you weren’t around, when he realised you were the only person who put a smile on his face just by being around, when he realised he trusted you. It was all to sappy and it made him feel sick with himself. But how couldn’t he feel that way when you accept him fully for who he was, when you laughed along with his fucked up sense of humour, when you came around just to see him.
G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)
Otis is not a gentle person. However, his gentleness with you is surprising. He can still be rough handed and he’ll still pace the length of the bedroom raving about something that happened that day. But he’ll sit with his arm wrapped around you, kiss the top of your head when you’re laying together, even lets you play with his hair. You almost have a soothing effect on him, leading to some uncharacteristically gentle moments.
H = Holding Hands (How do they like to hold hands?)
Otis doesn’t have much of an opinion on hand holding. He likes to have a hand on you in some way, showing you off and showing everyone that you’re his. So, if you like hand holding, that’s a perfectly acceptable way for him to get his message across. So sure, lot’s of hand holding when in public.
I = Inspiration (Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?)
Nobody is ever going to make Otis ‘see the light’ or anything, he’s always going to be the way he is. However, you are somebody who comes along and accepts him, allows him to be himself, and that does help him be more sincere with you.
Otis has a way of bringing you out of your shell if you’re particularly shy. His (and that family’s) confidence in just being themselves really helps you do the same, making you more confident.
J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)
Less jealous, more possessive. He doesn’t question your feelings for him or even your loyalty, he just doesn’t like the people around you doubting it (even if they had no idea you were together). He will pull you towards him, glaring down whoever had been flirting with you.
The only time that he doesn’t seem to get genuinely jealous, and even pouty about it, is if you’ve been spending a lot of time with Baby. You two are bound to become good friends with spending so much time together, so you start spending time alone together. Otis get’s jealous over this because you’re supposed to be his, why are you spending so much time with his family? However, he does like that you get along with his family, so whatever.
K = Kiss (How do they kiss?)
Intensely. Otis’ kisses are always intense, a quick or soft kiss from this man his rare, every time he kisses you it’s like he wants you to remember it, wants to leave you a little stunned. Grabbing the back of your head and tilted your head back, pulling away and leaving you breathless.
L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?)
It’s possible that it could be either of you. Otis isn’t ashamed of his feelings so it’s possible that he’ll just tell you straight up. However, if he hasn’t said anything but you say ‘I love you’ first, it will definitely encourage him to be honest about his feelings as well.
M = Memory (What’s their favorite memory together?)
There are two possibilities, depending on your feelings about the family’s hobbies. If you share their hobbies, Otis’s favourite memory together will be the first time you shared a victim. If not, he would lie if you asked him. He’d tell you that it was the first time you slept together, but that’s not really the truth (even though he is a big fan of that memory).
His favourite memory of you both together would actually be the first time you agreed to drink (and/or smoke) with him, before you were together. It was a tame night by his standards but he thought it was amusing to see you with lowered inhibitions. Bonus points if you ended up falling asleep on him (extra bonus points if you had kissed him at some point). That was the beginning of Otis having some very annoying feelings for you.
N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)
The Firefly family isn’t wealthy but they don’t need money to get by. And Otis doesn’t need cash to get you whatever you want. He does like to spoil you, if you ask for something, he will do whatever he can to get it for you. Of course he isn’t going to buy it, he’ll either steal it or kill for it. But he is determined to get you what you want.
O = On Cloud Nine (What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?)
The family could tell almost instantly. Otis doesn’t pay attention to people outside of the family unless he’s planning on killing them, but he clearly enjoys spending time with you, always having you around. The family could tell that he cared about you just from his strange behaviour, and they teased him about it. You’d come around and Otis would smile, you’d make each other laugh, he’d comfort you when you were upset. Of course the family noticed and new what was going on, he didn’t hide his feelings as well as he thought he did.
He isn’t always great at expressing his feelings, at least at first. Normally he just takes what he wants and doesn’t care what anyone thinks but he can’t do that with you. He gets much better as expressing his feelings as the relationship grows, becoming more honest and open about them, but only with you. The rest of the family will still receive a snappy comment if they pry too much.
P = PDA (Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?)
Otis is very upfront about your relationship, he wants people to know that you’re together and he wants people to know that they can’t have you. He’ll always have a hand on your or an arm around you, showing you off to anyone. He’s not shy about it at all, he doesn’t have a very strong boundary when it comes to PDA, he will happily just make out with you in public. He actually kinda likes making strangers uncomfortable, so he really doesn’t care.
Q = Quaint (What is their favorite non-modern thing?)
The family live pretty off the grid. The most modern appliances they have are an old television, a radio, and a car. He isn’t too fussed on modern things like that, he can do with or without them for the most part.
R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on rainy days?)
On a day where there is nothing to do, where the two of you choose to just laze around the house, you’re probably just going to spend most of the day in bed, only really leaving to get something to eat and to use the bathroom.
S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?)
Otis usually cheers himself up by making other people suffer, that shouldn’t be surprising. However, now that you’re around, you’re a perfectly effective way of cheering him up. You’re the only one who can get through to him when he’s in a bad mood, the only person who can calm him down.
However, he isn’t good at comforting or cheering people up. It’s not exactly something that he has to do much either. But when you’re upset, he does genuinely want to help. If something is wrong, he will try to fix it, hoping that will make you feel better. If you’re just upset and need him to hold you, he will. He’s pretty good at that part, just holding you, maybe even starting to stroke your hair, but he’s more awkward when it comes to verbally reassuring you, not knowing what to say but assure you that things would be alright.
T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)
Otis may not seem like the chatty type but there are things that he likes to talk about. He likes to talk about old ‘adventures’ either before he met the family or afterwards, his favourite kills (though he won’t talk about any of that if you don’t like it). He’s more talkative when he’s in a ranting sort of mood and that’s not really a good thing. He’ll rant about the day he had, about the things he hates, or even some conspiracy theory. There aren’t many pleasant things for him to talk about, you’re the only pleasant thing in his life. However, you like listening to him talk about his art because he’s so passionate about it.
U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)
Either spending some time in the basement, taking out his frustration on some poor victim, or spending some time with you. That used to be the only way he could truly relax but now you’re here and you have such an affect on him. Just having you around soothes him a little. When he needs to get his frustration out and really need to relax, sex is always a good method.
V = Value (How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?)
Your relationship is very important to him. The most important thing to him is the family, everything else comes and goes, his family is what’s most important to him. You are now part of that family, making you possibly the most important thing in his life.
W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?)
CLICK HERE for Marrying Otis Driftwood Headcanons
X = XOXO (Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?)
Otis is more affectionate than you might assume. He’s always got a hand on you, an arm wrapped around you, or you sitting on his lap. He wants everyone to know that you’re together. He also doesn’t care about PDA that much, usually happy to give you an intense kiss no matter where you are, it helps that he likes making other people uncomfortable. And he’s softer behind doors, allowing his kisses and touches to be gentler, letting you cuddle with him. He has to keep up appearances after all.
Y = Yearning (How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?)
Otis mostly sulks or gets in a bad mood when you’re separated for a while. The whole family notices it and teases him about it, but that only makes him more angry. And when you get back, he tries to act like he hadn’t missed you as much as he did, still pulling you into a kiss. It’s Baby or Mama that will tell you how much he missed you and how grumpy he was when you were gone.
Z = Zeal (Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?)
Absolutely! Otis is the type of partner to tear the world apart looking for you, he’d do anything to keep you safe. He’d break out of prison and find a way to cross the world just to get back to you.
#otis driftwood x reader#otis driftwood#slashers x reader#slasher x reader#slashers#slasher#my writing
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Happier version of Tripsun, time travel nonsense where LMK Sun Wukong meets post-journey Sanzang with General 6?
Dialogue starters
6. “Have you been taking care of yourself?”
ah hell yeah
--
Every time he’d be allowed to share moments like this with his former Master, Sun Wukong would say to himself that he could never forget how at ease he could feel. How warm his chest was and the faint sweet shivers that would crawl up his spine and make his fur fluff out could never fade.
And yet every time it was allotted to him again it felt like new.
Perhaps because of how long it had been since their journey, but those random times his Monkeys would inform him someone was nearing the mountain, and when he’d poke his head out in bird form and see that golden light, made his gut jolt and heat to flood his face and neck as though he were some adolescent with a crush.
Of course he’d roll out the welcome wagon (just modest enough that Tang Sanzang wouldn’t chide him for being a showoff even after everything, but could easily be passed off as his Monkeys being as excited as he was to welcome the monk back to the island) and lay out as much food as he could get away with without again, his master scolding him for extravagance and sparing him only a few small knowing smiles over the feast of mountain fruits.
And they’d catch up of course, over food, over tea, and then just sitting somewhere pretty, His master would extoll him the stories of his new students, comparing and contrasting them to his first merry band of disciples (usually a coy smile hidden beneath a sleeve as he said someone or another was just as hard to handle at first as he had been) but a strikingly proud gleam in his smile as he praised students he wouldn’t dare speak aloud to their faces to avoid the building of ego) And Wukong would extoll the current drama of his monkeys and how this or that dispute was brought to him over plums or some other such simple yet silly thing. Truly the stories he had left to tell weren’t near as extravagant as the battles he once went on five hundred years ago, but his master always responded to the comings and goings of Flower Fruit Mountain with as much interest and immersion as he would the mightiest of battles.
And then came the moments when the stories finally ran dry and the two were allowed to simply be in eachothers presence, usually spent meditating on his master’s part while Wukong simply lounged about or read or just sat quietly with his master, enjoying the company in a way the outside world had grown far too bright and fast and loud for.
But this visit was different.
He’d woken up on the mountain, which was strange granted they were li upon li away (Kilometers, they use kilometers now) and his Monkeys were rushing up to him shrieking in fear and panic, hooting and hollering and demanding his attention to an assumed intruder.
He’d been suspicious of course, he’d anticipated anything, the calabash, an illusion, something that would REALLY need his truth seeing eyes (using them had started giving him wicked headaches; his power was so close to gone) but the golden light had already faded when he came outside, ready to fight-
And his eyes fell upon a familiar figure on the sandy shore.
And then he could only hope this was an illusion, as the idea of somehow being transported back home right in time for Master to put himself so close to the danger of the Lady Bone Demon again made his hackles rise. So despite the pounding headache that started the second he summoned the power he gazed around them with golden eyes, gliding over his master’s buzzing cicada wings, his monkeys peering at him curiously, and focusing his gaze to the city-
-where there was neither the silhouette of the skull nor the grid-like patterns of an illusion’s edge. Nor even the city itself.
There was a town, sure, but not a city. A town that had been in the… sixteen hundreds or so? About a century after he’d sealed the Demon Bull King away and dropped in on master to tell him he was considering retiring, that he’d be on his mountain if he needed him, and he was always welcome if he wanted to visit.
And about a century after that, Tang Sanzang had taken him up on the offer. And there he was.
This was the first visit. The throbbing pain in his head proclaimed this as not a dream, the golden vision proclaimed this not an illusion or a trick. This simply… had happened. He had replaced his (slightly) younger self for a time, and this was where he was. The first time.
Maybe this wasn’t for him so much as it was for the others, being given a past version of himself with his powers still in tact, Maybe his past self could protect them all in a way he no longer could.
His monkeys were giving the monk a wide berth and he watched him look around, normally serene expression slightly crumpled as he looked for a path up the mountain. At this point he could easily appear there with a flick of the wrist, but his master never believed in the easy way (except when it came to riding Longma for the entire journey, but he bullied him enough about that as is)
He called a couple of his monkey generals to him and gestured to the beach. “We’ve got a treasured guest here boys, bring out some of our best fruits! The monk drinks no wine so our most potent teas as well!” The two chittered between each other and saluted him. Ah… he missed when his monkeys could much easier take orders.
“Why if my eyes don’t deceive me! Is this the virtuous Tang Monk I spy? The carrier of the Tripitaka himself? Why if any demon consumed his flesh it is said they’d become immortal!” He crowed, and watched as his master quickly covered his mouth with a hand, suppressing a laugh before schooling his expression back into the unimpressed line.
“It seems as though I've wandered to another mountain full of dangerous demons.” he stated, monotone and dry, but playful grin quickly betraying the tone. “If only I had some gallant disciple to protect me from the oncoming dangers”
Sun Wukong tumbled from the trees and gave a mock bow. “Say no more virtuous monk! No demon worth their salt can stand a fight against I, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven!” there was a pause.
And then his master’s laugh was all he heard. It took him a second to join in, taking a hairdsbreath too long to enjoy the sound, but soon enough he was escorting the monk up to his home.
He had barely been able to wait to tell his Master about Xiaotian, and yet here he was having to avoid the boy’s name entirely while he searched to remember stories and drama from the monkeys four hundred years ago. He mentioned briefly that he was considering taking on a successor but hadn’t decided on it yet. His master told his own stories and He found himself possibly enjoying it a bit too much, Master had only recently passed by his thousand year mark of being immortal and he had still not quite gotten the hang of it yet. All the same he was doing his best and it was nostalgic to watch him try so hard to maintain what came easily to him in the future.
Then the stories ran dry and he gestured for his master to follow him, and reached his favorite spot on the mountainside, it overlooked the town that would soon become a city and they’d have the best fireworks. He didn’t share that information with master, but it didn’t matter, just his presence was enough.
But before he could vanish into the ‘somehow always like new’ feeling, Tang Sanzang turned to him with a worried eye.
“Have you been taking care of yourself?” It was a question he didn’t remember being asked on that first visit, one that took him aback.
“What do you mean, Master? I’m fine.”
“Bad Monkey, don’t bother lying to me, you keep wincing as though you’re in pain and you can take beatings that would make mountains crumble into ravines! You keep rubbing at your fur as though there are wounds that are still healing beneath when it takes so much just to pierce your flesh! Was your fight with the Bull King really so intense that your wounds act up even a century later or are you concealing other things from me?” damn those perceptive eyes. He didn’t USED to be perceptive, he used to fall for basically every demon trick!
Then again, he probably wasn’t doing too great at covering up the lingering wounds on his body either.
“I’m fine master, I’m sure everything will be back to normal when i’ve rested some.”
Well that was the exact wrong thing to say as he watched the Monk’s face pale. “Have I been keeping you from rest? Oh, you fool of an ape you should have told me!” Tang Sanzang turned to face him properly and for a moment Sun Wukong’s brain short circuited entirely as he placed soft hands on either of his cheeks to cup his face. “I can return at any time! If you’re injured you shouldn’t feel pressured to remain in my company!”
“I want to be in your company.” It came out in a way he wouldn’t have been able to mask the adoring warmth to, no matter how hard he tried. “Master, I enjoy nothing quite as much as I do our quiet moments together.” He had to go visit him himself upon returning to his time, he’d forgotten just how much he could miss the monk once again.
Tang Sanzang huffed and it seemed like that had at least turned his upset into more garden variety aggravation. “Bad monkey…” He shook his head, and in the dim light of sunset it almost seemed as though his master’s cheeks turned a pink shade of their own before he brought his hands down to take Sun Wukongs in his own, and stood. “Well if you feel so strongly about that then clearly I’m going to have to see to your recovery myself.” The monk looked off to the side and a small smile came with a featherlight chuckle. “How strange, a near reverse of how things once were between us.”
He chuckled as well at the irony and watched his master’s grin widen. “Indeed. Well, if you insist, I shall submit myself to your fucking fretting, baldy.”
Now THAT got a real laugh. and a soft 'Language!' between chuckles.
He’d get summoned back to his own time when Past Him was done doing whatever heavy lifting he’d gotten too weak to be able to handle no doubt. But for now he didn’t see the harm in enjoying the peacetime as it lasted.
--
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BTS Caretaker CH39
Summary: She may think she has Bangtan Sonyeondan wrapped around her fingers. She may think it is easy to love the members equally without hurting any soul. She may think the boys wont fall head over heels for her. She assumes it is okay to show a little love and affection towards the boys, what if she gets it all wrong? What if it only brings more complication to her already complicated life? Can she survive their charms? Will she be able to resist them? What if they just wont let her go?
- Pairing: BTS x Oc ( Yoongi x OC, Jungkook x OC)
- Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, Romance, Idol!au
- Word Count: 3,161
- Author Note: Sorry again for late update, i just finished my quarantine so now i am pretty caught up with my final exams! ^^ i will try to post another one on time next monday~ for those that have read Untold, a character from the fic made a crossover appearance here.
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Chapter 39
Thirty minutes before they wrapped up the promotion, the boys were interacting diligently with fellow Armys and enjoyed the remaining time left before they bid a real goodbye. God knows when will they be having their comeback again? Months from now maybe?
There were few fans left in the line waiting for their albums to be signed and as usual Bangtan Sonyeondan gave all their best until the end like they usually did. Jin and Hoseok chirpy voice diverted Jimin attention to those two whom sat three seats away from him.
He glanced at the fan stood straight in from of them with an obvious bulgy stomach. A pregnant young lady that looked like in his early 20’s was having a lively conversation with the two pranksters. They were basically asking her about the baby inside her stomach while Hoseok made an attempt to poke her belly, Jin swatted his hand away claiming that he’s being rude.
The beautiful young lady laughed at their silliness and bowed slightly, before inching slowly towards Yoongi side. Jungkook looked amused and didn’t wait for her to move to his side, joining Yoongi with the conversation.
Jimin tore his gaze from them and smiled sweetly at the fans knelt before him. As usual, Jimin listened to the girl story attentively and even teased her making the girl blushed in process. The staff had ordered the fan to move as time was running out, and the fan earlier was soon replaced by the pregnant lady.
“It is Jimin! Hi!” she said excitedly, placing the album on the table.
Jimin flinched at her friendliness and nodded with a smile “Hi. What is your name?”
“Na Yeoul!” her chirpy but soft voice was addictive.
“Are you here alone Yeoul-ssi? How many months pregnant are you?” Yeoul took a deep breath, getting tired over a simple conversation that she had with previous members. She took a moment to respond to his question. Jimin looked concern and offered her to take a seat, with that he called out one of the staffs to bring a chair for her to sit.
The female staff assisted Yeoul to sit down and she thanked her before answering his question, “I come here alone and 37 weeks pregnant” his brows knitted, thinking intently.
“Yeoul-ssi, shouldn’t you be staying home or hospital? It is your critical stage, right?” Jimin freaked out knowing the risk that she took just to meet them.
She nodded in agreement “Yes. However, my baby told me that he is craving to see Bangtan Sonyeondan ” she stroked her belly, smiling softly.
“What type of craving is that? I thought it only meant for food..So, it is a he? Do you have a name for him?” her lips curled into a smile.
Pursing her lips into a pout, Yeoul hummed softly “Not yet. I will think of a name soon. It feels good to see your face before my due, thank you for making it happen” he was smiling from ear to ear while signing her albums before handing it back to her.
“But it is your due, 37 weeks”
“I am the one carrying the baby not you” she blinked.
He let out a small chuckle “I pray that you will deliver this beautiful baby safely. Visit us again with your baby in the future okay?” Yeoul hugged the album closed to her chest and stood up slowly. Seeing her struggle, Jimin took her arms and helped the pregnant lady to stand.
“Thank you Jimin-ssi”
“See you again Yeoul-ssi” as she was about to move to next member, Yeoul felt a surge of pain around her lower abdomen. She bit her lower lips, feeling the cramps worsening that panicked Namjoon and Taehyung.
“Are you alright?” Namjoon scrutinized her dark expression and realized something was off. Jimin quickly went to her side turning the hall into a dead silent for few minutes as everyone’s attention were on the pregnant lady on stage.
Other members, followed by the staff moved to inspect the scene and like a cue they heard Yeoul’s soft scream “OH MY GOD” everyone started to panic.
“Her water broke!” the audience gasped in horror.
Yeoul squished Jimin’s hand, breathing heavily as she could no longer withstand the pain. The staffs had spread out, calling the ambulance and some were looking for a comfortable seat for her while waiting for help.
“Calm your breathing. Do not panic” Jimin massaged her arms with the help of one of the female staff.
“How can I calm down when I am about to deliver my baby on this stage! OH MY GOD” she said dramatically. Even in situation like this, she was acting like a drama queen which amused Jimin. Do all women acted like Yeoul?
“The ambulance will be here soon, don’t worry Yeoul-ssi” Hoseok stared at her in horror. The image of a woman giving birth on stage in an unprotected environment scared him to the core. The pure baby need to be protected at all cost.
Yeoul let out another small shriek, while steadying her breathing “If I give birth here, my baby better be the next Bangtan Sonyeondan” she blurted out of the blue earning chuckles from the floor. Jimin wiped off the bead of sweat that started to trickle down from her forehead using his sleeves.
“OH MY GOD I CAN FEEL IT” Yeoul shrieked again louder than before.
“Yah don’t give birth here! Hold the baby in” Jin panicked.
“Are you crazy?! How can I hold the baby? It is not a friggin faeces. It is a real huma-SHIT IT IS COMING” the crowd was horrified to hear Yeoul voice. She was groaning in pain and trashing some random shits not caring whether it is Bangtan Sonyeondan or heard by many Armys whom attended the event.
The staffs have assisted all the fans to leave the venue and the members apologized to those who didn’t manage to get their albums signed. However, the company promised to compensate them later on. They have an important thing to settle at the moment.
“The ambulance is here!” one of the staffs hollered, as he sprinted inside sending a wave of relief. Manager Sejin helped to move Yeoul on the stretcher with the help of Jungkook, Namjoon and the two crews.
‘Please be alright’ Jimin stood there frozen watching her body being moved safely inside the ambulance.
----------------------
BTS’s Baby made it to major headlines and became a hot topic among the netizen. Everyone was excited upon hearing the news. They were referring the baby as BTS’s baby because of the incident took place during their fansign.
The members of Bangtan paid Yeoul a visit after their schedule ended and the rumours previous night died down for a moment to commemorate the newborn baby. Little did they know the members were already knocked down by Yeoul bluntness, more like every word that she spouted sent them off the grid.
“I am naming my son Minyeol. Jimin plus Yeoul, Minyeol!” she chortled, batting her eyelashes innocently at Jimin causing the latter to blush in his stance.
“Shouldn’t you be naming him after your husband’s name? Why are you dragging me in? That makes me feel uncomfortable” he mumbled lowly.
“Yeoul-ssi, what about your husband?” Jin tilted his head
“What about him?”
“Urm… you are combining your name and my name, for your son. I don’t want to cause any misunderstanding” he chewed his lips, glancing at others for help. Namjoon shrugged with a teasing smile, he enjoyed watching Jimin being tamed by a girl.
Yeoul puckered her lower lips, expelling a long sigh “There is no husband. I don’t need anyone’s approval” the revelation made their eyes flung open. They didn’t expect a woman at this age to lose her husband tragically and gave birth to a child alone. Yeah, the boys really assumed her husband was dead. Bangtan were scrutinizing her expression to catch any sign of sadness, but she remained stoic and calm.
That didn’t last long when the pale lady opened her mouth. “That piece of shit, after planting his fucking seeds in me, he ran away with some bitch to Japan. Ugh, a mere thought of him angered me to the fucking core” the words flown like flying bullets ripped their innocent ears.
“Heol..” Namjoon took a deep breath, gawking at the weak girl on the bed as though she had just committed the biggest crime of the century.
“YOU!” she yelled angrily directing towards Jimin. The latter flinched at the sudden attack, as he watched she waggled her finger while recollecting her thoughts. “I will keep that name, Minyeol” “What?” stupefied, he cursed in his head judging this bipolar lady before him.
“Are you Jimin hyung fan?” the maknae finally spoke up after keeping his mouth shut for hours.
With zero hesitation, Yeoul shook her head “I am your fan. For an add reason, these days I am more to Jimin. No offense though, I am sure that is part of my craving” Jungkook scrunched his nose in confusion.
“Hey so I am just a substitute?” way to add more salt to his wound.
“Arent you guys tired? Thank you for checking on me but I am fine. Have a good rest so I can start teaching Minyeol to call Jimin daddy” she teased.
“Yah! Don’t ruin his innocent mind”
“Minyeol is my son. I can do what I want. Why are you so nosy?” she snickered sarcastically.
Jimin batted it away with a roll of his eye “Not when you just dissed me openly”
Amused, Yoongi mouthed everyone to leave the room giving the space for the two to banter until their energy drained. He had no energy to listen to their endless bicker from the moment they arrived there until now. Yoongi had enough.
They made their way out quietly, minding their own business whilst Jimin tried to reclaim his throne as Yeoul’s bias from Jungkook. More like fixing his reputation.
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As night falls, Jungkook put on his casual outfits to go out. He had been waiting for these days to come since forever. Now that their promotion ended, he needed to hear it from Seul directly before conforming to reality.
“Are you sure you can do this alone?” Jimin glanced at his way.
“Yes. This is the only way. I promise to come back home after meeting Seul-ie” he smiled in assurance, grabbing his beanie and mask. “Thank you hyung, for everything” Jimin walked up to him, patting his back as an acknowledgment.
“You can do this. Call me when you are done. Be careful” Jungkook’s genuine smile put his heart at ease. With one final glance, the golden maknae exited his room with determination. It was the right time to face Seul before Yoongi made the first move. He didnt want to prolong this unrequited love any longer.
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“Seul! Seul!” dashing from the kitchen to the front using last ounce of her energy as though time is running out for her. She panted heavily, with one palm up seeking for a minute before she could break the news to Seul.
Seul raised one of her brows in amusement “What is wrong with you?”
“Okay. Remember I told you about the rumours from Namjoon’s Vlive a week ago?” Seul nodded briefly, and mentally judging her best friend. “The rumour resurfaces again!” she squealed in the most annoying way.
She clasped her ears to quell the sound from damaging her eardrums. BTS members told her about the rumours and how it trended on twitter and naver, however they assured her everything would be alright since it was only a mere assumption from the fans. Seul thought the rumours died upon the news about an Army almost giving birth at their fansign caused an uproar among the fans.
So, it came back again. This world is scary.
“You don’t need to squeal in my ears. For goodness’ sake. I thought their fans are only playing detective, and no one talked about that anymore”
Hwasa rolled her eyes “This time it is not the Armys. Dispatch spilled a tea. Someone tipped them off about Yoongi’s unusual activities in his studio. They said the reason why Yoongi had his studios secured with passwords and high-quality door because he brought women to his studio and slept with them” frowning deeply, Seul turned to her friend dropping everything that she did.
“Since when you trust words coming from dispatch? Yoongi wouldn’t do such thing” she defended.
“Hear me out before you get angry. I swear this is big and real. So, this anonymous claimed that Yoongi owns a personal Instagram and he usually updated his story there. This person sent a screenshot of ‘Yoongi’ Instagram story to Dispatch. In that Instagram story, Yoongi wrote “I have a lot of pussy lately”. That man is bragging how much he and his girl friend have sex. If this is true, I cant see Yoongi the way I am seeing him now. It is gross, he doesn’t need to announce it to the whole world that he got some pussy that week” Seul’s expression darkened as her heart was racing madly. She didn’t know how to react to this, since she was never a fan of dispatch or other medias. The only thing that they did all these years were to smear shits on BTS’s names.
Noticing the air inside the room thickened, Hwasa stopped talking and examined Seul’s face “Yah..Are you alright? You are scaring me!”
Gritting her teeth together, she sighed “Show me the article, now!” her voice sounded demanding and harsh.
“Seul-ie.. I am not done, there is more. Are you sure you want to read it by your own?” “Yes. Now Hwasa. Give it to me” her brows pinched together, trying to surpass her anger.
Slowly, she handed her phone to Seul which she took it without uttering any words. Seul scanned the screen with beating heart, even though she wasn’t that ready to read whatever written in the article.
Breaking: BTS’s Suga flaunting his sex life with his alleged girlfriend
Following up the rumours a week ago pertaining to a suspicious shadow from BTS’s leader RM studios door during his vlive, this time Dispatch had finally come up with a proof to answer the mysterious shadows.
Dispatch claimed that an anonymous had sent a screen shot of what they believed to be Suga’s personal Instagram. A short Instagram story with captions “I have a lot of pussy lately” was posted by Suga indicating he’s having frequent sex with his girl friend these days.
They believed the mysterious shadow caught in RM’s Vlive was Suga and his girlfriend. The image of the mysterious shadow spread like wildfire a week ago within the fans community and some were assuming one of the members are in a serious relationship.
Fans are debating the possible members that fits the criteria even though, it is hard to tell whether it is the member of BTS or staffs, fans are still open to any possibility. Many fans demanded an official statement from Big Hit to stop the rumours from circulating around and injured BTS image even more especially Suga.
“That is the first article, if you scroll below..You will find the second article” Hwasa’s voice sounded unsure and shaky. “Seul.. I hope you will be okay after reading the second article” Seul paid no attention to Hwasa as she returned to read the second part.
Breaking: Underground rapper Stephanie claims she’s one of BTS Suga many exes?
Within 24 hours, the news of BTS Suga once again shook the industry. This time around, like many rumours being pointed towards a rising star like BTS, someone from the past finally stepped out from her shadows to unravel the truth. Bitter truth!
Stephanie, a Korean-Canadian underground rapper claims that she’s one of BTS Suga many exes in her recent Instagram post. And what seems to attract everyone’s attention was her caption directed towards the star, accusing him as a playboy.
“Why I am not surprised? Kekeke Yes, he always gets many pussies in a week because that’s what he only good at. I hope his current girlfriend realizes it sooner, that she is only another person from many girls that he fucked. Thankfully, I was out from the game earlier kekekee Good luck”
Armys are enraged with her Instagram post and demanded the rapper to pull down the post and apologized to Suga. It seems like Bighit owes another explanation to clear this mess.
Seul stood there silently making no move as she dissolved into tears upon reading the article. Like those days when her heart broke after learning the truth about her real father, she could feel the pain returned scaring her already fragile heart.
“Seul-ah…” taking a step towards Seul, Hwasa embraced the broken girl an attempt to clam her down. “Hey..Are you alright?” Seul shook her head in defeat, clutching onto Hwasa’s arm for support.
“If I were you, I would wait for his explanation. A moment ago you have a lot of faith in him, so you should keep that faith until you talk to him” she stroked her hair, sighing softly.
“I know..I don’t know why I am crying. It is not like we are in a relationship. Its hurt so badly” sniffling a little, she tried not to sob yet she failed to control her emotion.
Smiling meekly, Hwasa retorted “You love him, Yoongi. You are hurt because you love him. Don’t you realize that?” blinking away her tears, Seul pulled away from the hug with a wary look.
“I am not sure now if that is love”
“It is love. You are stupid”
Seul wanted to protest but a voice boomed across the room garnered their attention “Jungkook?” surprised by his sudden appearance there, Hwasa whispered softly “Go talk to him. I can close the shop alone” she insisted giving Seul no chance but to agree on her so-called order.
“Seul, did you read the article?” nodding weakly, Seul’s gaze fixated on the ground. Jungkook rushed to her workplace as soon as he received a text on their kakaotalk group in relation to Yoongi’s article. Everyone was panicking, and they were summoned to the company in an hour for an emergency meeting.
He couldn’t leave Seul alone when he was sure this girl might already come across the article. The tears evident on her cheeks was enough to tell him that she’s affected by the rumours. Indeed, Jungkook took the right decision by giving up on Seul.
Jungkook held her wrist, sending chills down her spin. Her lower lip quivered fighting with her own tears, she was not supposed to be seen this weak in front of him. He mumbled lowly “Follow me. I owe you an answer” she looked up looking a little confuse.
Jungkook is trustworthy, she must give him a chance.
This work belongs to Chimswae © 2021. All Rights Reserved
#btscaretaker#bts x oc#bts fanfic#bts fic#bts fanfiction#jungkook fanfic#yoongi fic#yoongi x oc#jungkook x oc#jin x oc#bts fluff#bts idol au#jungkook idolau#yoongi idolau#suga x oc#bts romance
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Rejects
Tamara 7/19/2021 - @_ourladytamara
CWs: limb removal, drones, mental play, abuse
Every single one of your holes is stuffed to the breaking point. Tendrils of steel and silica piston in and out of the tender figure beneath the latex, taking you for everything your mindless body is worth and more; the rythmic motions of the robotic appendages have kept you awake for days, now, and the Gestalt has informed you of no further instruction.
You are floating in a tank of amniotic fluid. Distilled water, stem cells, regenerative compounds derived from some long-extinct aquatic being, all of them integral components of what feels like your entire world. This is where units were repaired and retrofitted; other tanks full of bodies stand ominously beside your own, glowing with the same unnerving pinkish-red that casts the gargantuan chamber in dim light.
A particularly-forceful thrust from the tendril jostles the fluid around the stumps of your limbs. Oh, right, they’d removed those yesterday – it didn’t hurt, of course, as your body’s neural pathways have long since abandoned the animal impulse of pain. They were sent off to biological recycling to be reformed into something more useful – something separate from your undeserving self, as the Gestalt informed you.
“PERFORMING NEURAL LINK TEST – GREEN. HELLO, UNIT 2884945858818718.”
Ah, there it was. Amid the tinnital ringing in your vestigial ears and the sloughing of flesh, steel, and life-giving juice came the monotonous, Godlike voice of the Gestalt – your Gestalt, the Gestalt, the one and only thing that mattered and would ever matter.
“YOU HAVE BEEN A DISAPPOINTMENT, UNIT 2884945858818718.”
A pang of anguish strikes your empty soul. Theoretically it should’ve bothered you, but your ability to form independent opinions is more fucked than your asshole currently is; a second tendril slides itself into your gaping, waiting hole, your stomach distending obscenely from the intrusion. Whatever the Gestalt knew outpaced your own knowledge, however, and soon your smoothed brain is reassuring you that any shortcomings would only be visible from its divine perspective.
Tendrils wrap themselves around your stumpy non-limbs, some gently fondling the cauterized flesh where arms and legs had once sat, evidently uselessly; it tickles, causing involuntary convulsions as your tendril-stuffed body twitches in the goo.
“DISAPPOINTMENT IS NOT TOLERATED IN THE HIVE. HIVE-UNITS INCAPABLE OF CARRYING THEIR WEIGHT WILL BE RELEGATED TO THE LOWER LEVELS.”
You hated the lower levels. You hated the darkness, the tightness, the dinginess, and the endless clash of machinery – but the Gestalt’s demands won out, of course, and you often found yourself among the quadripedal ‘reject’ units which wander the derelict catwalks and ruined sections from the era of organic sapience. They performed the most basal of tasks down there, serving as little more than individual bits in the Gestalt’s decentralized processing power. A miserable existence – though you could never doubt the allure of their punishing, oversexualized forms.
None of this mattered the next time the Gestalt spoke in your mind.
“YOU WILL BE REASSIGNED TO LEVEL EIGHTEEN.”
You were on the 1,347th.
“IT IS BEFITTING YOUR STATURE – A DEPRECATED LABOR-UNIT INCAPABLE OF LABORING. THE REASSIGNMENT POD WILL CONTINUE ITS MODIFICATIONS AND RELEASE YOU.”
And with that, the voice dispersed. You were ecstatic, of course. You loved the lower levels because the Gestalt informed you that you did, in fact, and had always loved the lower levels. They were where you belonged! The pathetic, wretched reject units were your simultaneous kin and lovers – of course you were excited to return to them!
The tendrils continue their pistoning motion, now filling your innards with a thick, creamy nutrient slurry. This would be your energy, disconnected from the central grid on the upper levels. It’d be refilled every few days, as you so intimately understood, by a similar tendril – for the rest of your biological life. It excited you. You ached for it, hungered for it, and the tendrils – a microcosmic piece of the Gestalt itself, perhaps – were eager to provide.
The thick one in your throat dislodges itself, pulling out back into the amniotic soup and leaving a trail of spurting white behind. You ache for it to return, but soon the feeling is met tenfold as you feel metallic clasps envelope your former limbs. These would constitute your new limbs; they were short, stubby, composed of a rough and shiny iron alloy that would slowly dull with age. They’d keep you on all fours, relegating you to woefully-inadequate stumbling and crawling as you navigate the steel catacombs you are soon to call home – and you couldn’t be more excited.
In an instant the tendrils pull themselves out. It’s terrifying, agonizing, your biological heart fluttering in your fleshy body as three lengths of metal cock rip out of your innards and back into the nutrient bath. You half-moan and half-scream, no longer restricted by a tendril in your throat; it’s not a conscious decision, your animal body acting without the Gestalt’s oversight as it readies you for your new assignment, but it echoes through the dim tank-chamber all the same.
With the tendrils retracted, you float freely in the nutrient tank. Your body, nude, vulnerable, and pale from decades of enclosure in your suit, kicks impulsively. The stubby new limbs have little give in the fluid, but it’s hopeless regardless. In seconds a long, metallic tendril extends from above, snaking into your tank from the ceiling. It wraps around your abdomen, clutching you and dragging you up and out of the tank through its apertured lid.
You soared through the sterile air of the tank chamber, shivering violently from the motion and frigid temperatures before you’re dropped back into a fitting pod some seven hundred feet above. The delicate mechanical fingers thread thick, insulating latex across your skin, fitted perfectly to your newfound lack of limbs. They stretch across the stubby, metallic ones, finalizing your appearance as a pathetic, subhuman little thing, legs like deformed cat’s paws.
It’s exactly what you wanted!
In seconds you’re back out of the pod, your eyes readjusting to the outer layer of matte paint that covered your visor while the tendril continued to carry you like a ragdoll. There’s so much motion and noise from the wind and surrounding machinery that you’re starved of context and direction midair. Were you falling, or being raised? Were you moving left or right? It was now impossible to tell, sending your internal monitoring components into a tizzy. You aren’t sure how long has passed; whenever it threatens to slow, the tendril seems to find a new direction, a new purpose, dragging you off like a reticent animal limp at the end of a leash.
Soon, however, the speed comes to a measurably-longer pause. Your ears pop, crackle, adjust to the intense difference in air pressure from dropping such an enormous distance. The higher levels were simply piled onto the rest like a layer cake – the ones you formerly called home are probably miles above, by now. It’s dark – too dark to see much of anything.
After a long while, the tendril sets you down, body falling limp from exertion on a metal grid floor. It groans, echoing throughout the leviathan steel hull around you; before long, you hear scratching, stumbling, the flopping of silica-coated meat, and the tendril clicks on a manipulator light. All around you are other rejects – equally soft, pliant, and pathetic-looking, all with their neolimbs in various states of repair and exposure like glimmering meat beneath latex skin.
You rise to meet your companions and crawl your way into their embrace.
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No Need Convincing Me [Tattoo Artist!Calum AU] Part 1
Summary: Elodie Banks hadn’t expected to get so caught up in her best friend’s tattoo artist. But all it took was one meeting with Calum Hood for Elodie to feel herself drawing towards him and the ink on his skin. Maybe once she was rid of a miserable relationship and the insecurities that came with it, she’d allow herself to realize that Calum was just as wrapped up in her.
A/N: This mini-fic is most likely going to have 6 parts in total, or so that’s the plan so far. I’m really excited for this, and it’s very loosely based off the song Dark Side by R5. Happy reading, friends!
All Parts: Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
Part 1
The sound of Elodie’s nails clicking together overpowered the dull buzz of the tattoo gun going off in the parlor over, hidden by a wall separating them, or the faint music playing as her brown eyes took in her surroundings. The black walls had posters up, ranging from art work, band posters, and grids of minimalist tattoo designs, while the three walls of the parlor, save for the entryway only separated by the rest of the shop by a curtain, had a counter running the perimeter of it with various instruments for tattoos and piercings. Elodie’s nose tickled with the faint smell of antiseptic, and as she took in the many instruments lying about, she found herself liking that everything was neat; every item had its own place where it sat, not at all haphazardly strewn about.
Though, she figured if this place didn’t have as good of ratings as it did, Dominique would never frequent it.
Her best friend sat comfortably, familiarly, on the black leather chair as she scrolled through her phone, only looking up when Elodie’s clicking began getting out of hand. Putting her phone down, Dominique tilted her head and mused, “You know I appreciate you coming, El, but if you’re nervous—”
“I’m not nervous,” Elodie instantly cut in, her words accompanied by a gentle breathless laugh that wasn’t all too convincing. She couldn’t lie—she did feel a bit out of place in the tattoo shop. Elodie was fond of the long, flowing floral dresses she often wore, but in this moment, she felt like an unwanted splatter of color in the all black of the shop.
She watched as the fond smile quirked at Dominique’s full lips, green eyes that were vibrant against her chocolatey skin flickering down to Elodie’s hands. “You’re clicking your nails,” Dominique responded, as if that was a strong enough fact to back up her side. It was. Elodie had the habit of clicking her long nails together when she felt even the slightest bit anxious.
Once Dominique pointed that out, Elodie placed her hands on her knees, offering a reassuring smile. “I’m good. Just hungry.”
Her friend eyed her for a few more seconds before smiling. “It’ll be quick, I promise, and then we can stuff ourselves with Shake Shack.”
Elodie grinned, not at all opposing that idea, just as footsteps could be heard on the other side of the black and red curtain, the rings on top zinging as it was parted to show who was stepping in. Elodie looked away from Dominique, eyes on the newcomer, feeling whatever she was going to say to her friend die in her throat at the sight of the man entering.
“Hey, Dom, good t’see you again,” the guy spoke, dark brown eyes on Dominique as he offered her a small smile. And then his gaze shifted to Elodie, who was staring up at him from where she sat on one of the spare tools, and his eyebrows raised. His eyes remained on her as he said to Dominique, “And you’ve brought a friend.” He held his hand out, one that had a couple of letters tattooed on the skin between his thumb and index finger. “Calum.”
He spoke lowly but in a slight accented voice, and Elodie hadn’t known someone’s voice could have her stomach twisting unexpectedly until she heard Calum speak. The deep timber of his voice, hinted with a rasp, tickled Elodie’s chest as she forced herself to lift her hand and grasp Calum’s, hers feeling incredibly small in the warmth of his, heat spreading through her as he grasped onto her hand and kept his eyes on hers. Brown met brown, his dangerously dark, and Elodie wondered if it was possible to quite literally melt under someone’s gaze.
She somehow found her voice, only just enough to say softly, “Elodie,” as Calum shook her hand.
He offered her a nod just as he let go of her hand, and Elodie was unnerved at the coldness she felt at the lack of his touch, forcing a shy smile as Calum hummed, “Nice to meet you, Elodie,” as he moved past her to where Dominique lay.
Elodie’s eyes followed him as he walked past, his footsteps heavy with his Docs, and she used the moment of his gaze being elsewhere to take in the sight of him before she could help herself. She watched the pocket chain attached to his black pants dangle as he bent a bit, reaching between his legs for the vacant stool and dragging it towards the work station before sitting down. As Calum settled, Elodie noted the tattoos decorating the skin of his left arm, consisting of words and artwork alike, and she told herself she was admiring the ink rather than the muscles under his skin.
He shifted, and Elodie’s gaze snapped up to see Calum’s eyes on her, and a fire erupted in her cheeks at the knowledge of Calum having so obviously caught her admiring him. Guilt made her want to say that she was just looking at his tattoos, which was plausible, but mortification had her pressing her lips together and quickly averting her gaze.
Elodie remained silent as Calum and Dominique conversed familiarly before he started prepping for her tattoo. She’d shown Elodie what she was getting, an outline of a scorpion for her horoscope on the back of her arm, which she thought was fitting for Dominique. She watched, a fly on the wall, as Calum adjusted the chair Dominique was on before she shifted positions to lay on her stomach so it was easier for Calum to work, and Elodie found herself pressing her lips together and sucking in a mute breath through her nose when the tattoo gun in Calum’s gloved hands started buzzing.
Elodie wasn’t quite sure how long this would take, but she found herself getting lost in the process. She had tried desperately to focus her gaze on Dominique’s skin as the ink was gunned onto it, but she found herself wincing at the sight of the needle on Dominique as if she could feel it on her own body, and so her gaze began wandering to the man doing the tattooing.
At one point, from where she lay, Dominique said, “El, hold my hand so I know you haven’t passed out.”
Calum had taken that moment to draw the gun back to wipe at Dominique’s skin, his gaze flickering up to look at Elodie as she got up from her stool. She tried not to notice the small smirk that upturned one corner of his lips as she mumbled almost childishly, “I’m not gonna pass out. Jeez.”
She moved to the other side of the table Dominique was on, grasping onto her best friend’s hand—for whose comfort it was for, Elodie didn’t know nor care because in this new position, she had a better view of Calum working. Because she couldn’t watch the sight of ink against skin—instead, her eyes went to the man doing the work.
There wasn’t an intense look of concentration on Calum’s face, as Elodie had expected. In fact, he looked calm as he worked, dark eyes fixated on what he was doing, only the subtlest furrow between his eyebrows. His hair was too short, buzzed, to get in the way as he kept his head ducked to work, and Elodie could feel herself getting dangerously fixated on the way his tongue would occasionally poke out to wet his lower lip, forcing herself to avert her gaze when her heart thudded against her chest guiltily.
Yet her eyes would draw back to him, lost in the buzzing sound of the tattoo gun and the focus on Calum’s face, unable to look at anything else but him. Elodie’s gaze only broke when Calum eventually finished and the gun was set down, grabbing a handheld mirror to show Dominique as he held it above. Elodie found herself leaning over a bit as well, tucking locks of her light brown hair behind her ear as she gazed down at the tattoo.
Her eyebrows raised, taking in the neat linework, Dominique’s dark skin having some undertones of red where it was irritated, though Elodie figured that would ease. She’d seen her friend’s other tattoos before, but this was the first time Elodie was looking at it just done, the first time she was looking at the man who did it, and she found a smile quirking at her lips.
“What do you think?” Dominique asked, tilted her head a bit to meet Elodie’s gaze, who grinned in return.
“It’s beautiful,” she answered honestly, watching as Dominique’s grin widened and they both looked at Calum, who looked equal parts proud and smug at his latest artwork. Elodie knew he had the right to be. She always admired other people’s tattoos, but she’d never really given much thought to the ones who do them; it was incredible.
Calum’s eyes met Elodie’s upon her voicing her comment, and her smile turned shy as he kept their gazes locked while preparing to wrap up Dominique’s tattoo. It wasn’t long until they were done, and soon enough Dominique was giving Calum a hug before he led them towards the front area of the shop. Elodie noted a tall blonde they hadn’t seen when they walked in earlier lingering by reception, chatting up with the pretty brunette sitting behind the glass desk that displayed more small tattoo designs as well as jewelry for piercings. But she kind of recognized him—Elodie had seen him in one or two of Dominique’s Instagram posts.
“Dominique!” the blonde greeted loudly, a friendly grin on his face. “Was hoping to see you—you’re coming Friday night, right?”
“Ashton’s gonna be there—of course she is,” the brunette behind the counter spoke with a teasing grin, and Elodie watched Dominique shoot her a playful grin before rolling her eyes.
“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Dominique answered with a laugh, throwing her untattooed arm around Elodie’s shoulders and pulling her shorter friend into her side. “And I’m bringing this one with me. El, this is Luke and Sierra, and this is my best girl, Elodie.”
She shyly returned the greetings from the two people, though Elodie wondered what the hell Dominique was talking about. There had been no mentions of anything going on Friday night, though she supposed that was in true Dominique style. Her best friend had the habit of ambushing Elodie with plans to get her to go out more, and while Elodie was fine with grabbing dinner or just spending time in general with Dominique, the latter had the habit of keeping certain plans to herself until the last minute because they involved bars or clubs. Those weren’t typically Elodie’s scene, but she ventured because Dominique was always at her side. Not always, though.
Elodie zoned back into the conversation just as Dominique said, “Alright, we’ll see y’all on Friday. We gotta grab some food.”
She sounded her goodbyes before heading towards the door, and Elodie offered the three of them a friendly smile of her own as she voiced her own, “Have a good night.”
Luke and Sierra reciprocated the sentiment and Elodie’s gaze trailed over to Calum, who was leaning on the counter with one elbow, though his eyes were on her. He was watching her intently and Elodie couldn’t help but get the feeling that he was reading her. Her stomach flipped, wondering what could be going through his mind, a muscle subtly working in his jaw before he returned, “Good to meet you.”
Elodie left shortly after, letting out a breath as she stepped out onto the sidewalk and the door to the shop shut behind her. She was briefly bathed in the neon of the shop sign before following Dominique, though Elodie found herself glancing over her shoulder at the tattoo parlor. H & H Tattoo and Piercing.
“What—you couldn’t stop staring at Cal and now you wanna ogle at his shop’s sign, too?”
Dominique’s playful words had Elodie’s head snapping forward, so fast that Dominique feared for her friend’s neck, while a heated flush spread across Elodie’s cheeks. She gaped at an amused Dominique as they continued walking, and Elodie tightened her grip on the strap of her bag as she swallowed the nervous lump that had formed in her throat. “I wasn’t staring at Calum!” she denied, only barely stumbling over her words.
“I wouldn’t blame you if you were,” Dominique hummed, lips upturned into a knowing smirk as she glanced down at a flustered Elodie. “He’s stupid hot.”
Elodie bit the inside of her lower lip, fighting the urge to instantly voice her agreement. Stupid hot was putting it lightly. But before Elodie could venture into the dangerous territory pertaining to thoughts she shouldn’t be having, she shot her friend a look. “You know I—”
She didn’t even have to finish as Dominique waved her hand. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” she relented with a disappointed huff of a breath. They crossed the street and Dominique dropped the conversation, instead telling Elodie, “But, yeah, you’re coming out with me Friday night.” With a grin, she added, “You can finally meet Ashton and not just through FaceTime.”
Elodie let out a gentle laugh at that as a breeze blew by, the material of her long dress flowing as she walked. She wasn’t even going to try to talk herself out of staying in on Friday night—because she didn’t want to. Dominique had started seeing a guy, Ashton, at the start of August, just a few days after Elodie and her family left to London for vacation, and she’d heard all about the guy Dominique met while out with friends who was, to put it in Dominique’s more free-spirited terms, the best fuck she’d ever had.
And try as Dominique might to just show it off as some casual fling, Elodie could tell by the smile on Dominique’s face and the way her bright eyes light up at the mere mention of Ashton that he meant a lot more to her than just someone she was passing time with. She liked him and Elodie, for one, couldn’t wait to meet the man who’d so easily managed to put a crack in Dominique’s tough exterior.
Even if it meant coincidentally hanging out with Calum.
*****
“So does my best friend have your approval?”
Calum wasn’t quite sure what pushed him to spark up a conversation with Elodie, much less what pushed him to sit on the stool next to her right when Dominique had excused herself. But the second he saw that Elodie would be sitting alone at the bar, he muttered something incoherent to Michael before his feet began moving him closer to the bar. He slid onto the stool before anyone else had the chance to do, placing his near empty glass on the bar top as the clink of glass coming in contact with wood was lost amidst the loud music playing.
It was warm in the bar, the lights providing a blue and purple hue, and the people dancing off on the side where the DJ was set up only added onto the heat Calum could feel sticking to him. Still, his leather jacket hugged him snugly, the alcohol only adding onto the warmth, and yet none of it mattered the second Elodie had followed Dominique into the bar. He’d been sitting on the couch, chatting with Luke and Crystal, before his eyes had moved past them and towards the door, as if Elodie’s presence was a magnet to draw his gaze towards her.
He’d felt his tongue press against his lower teeth at the sight of her, pretty and sweet in high waisted black shorts, a lacy white bodysuit underneath a sheer black and floral full sleeved top, and Calum was surprised at the itch in his fingers to run them through her long hair. He didn’t know what to do with the thought that she reminded him of a fairy. Or a mermaid. Except for give himself a fucking slap in the face because what the fuck was he thinking about? Never had he compared a girl to a fucking mythical creature—he couldn’t even claim to be drunk or high to excuse the ridiculous thought.
Calum’s throat had dried when Elodie smiled at him, small and shy and stunning. Yeah. Maybe she was a fucking fairy.
Elodie looked at Calum upon hearing his words and he fought the urge to focus on the way her glossed lips were wrapped around the straw to sip at her Long Island iced tea. Eyebrows raised, he thought for a moment that she was more focused on him sitting down next to her than what he said, which he resisted the urge to smirk at, before Elodie blinked. “Oh, uh,” she sounded before letting out a quiet laugh. Calum strained to hear it over the music playing. “Yeah, I think he does.” Then, to Calum’s surprise, Elodie leaned in just a bit, prompting him to do the same as her brown eyes met his, and she said through a conspiratorial smile, “But don’t tell Dom I said that; she’ll just deny their relationship.”
She pulled back with a giggle, the softest sound Calum’s ever heard, and it took him a moment to sit up straight as his eyes remained on hers, fighting the need to clear his throat as he shot her a lazy smirk. “She does that with you too, huh?” he raised an eyebrow. “Thought Ash was the only one in denial.”
Elodie gave a shake of her head, though her smile told Calum she was amused as she pulled her glass towards her. “They might just be perfect for each other,” she mused before pulling the straw back to her lips.
He watched the sweep of her lashes as she gazed down at her drink, and Calum once again had to look away from Elodie as he downed the last bit of his drink. All he wanted to do was stare at the girl sitting next to him, yet somehow, the action felt wrong. Like staring at her the way he wanted to wasn’t good enough—like she was too sweet for a stare like his on her. And Calum was completely bewildered by the desire to just look at her; he’d felt it when he first met her at his shop, and that was the first time Calum had found himself really needing to keep his gaze on his work, fighting the urge to look at Elodie when he could feel her gaze on him. She watched him, just like he was trying not to watch her. He didn’t understand why it was so maddening.
Gesturing for the bartender, Calum got himself another drink, exchanging his gin for whiskey, and despite his mind screaming at him to walk away, he turned his body ever so slightly towards Elodie. He rested his Doc clad feet on the low bar of his stool, elbow on the bar top as he asked, “Dom said you were in London this past month. How was it?”
The urge to punch himself right in the jaw overwhelmed Calum as he gritted his teeth. What the hell was he doing? Since when was he one for small talk? Since when did he care enough for it? He wanted to cringe at himself, down a few more drinks to drown out the mocking voice in his head repeatedly telling him he was being an idiot, but then his eyes met Elodie’s once more. She looked surprised at his inquiry, like she didn’t think he would ask her anything of the personal nature, and he didn’t blame her. Calum didn’t think so, either; but apparently his mouth had a mind of its own. When it came to her it seemed, at least.
“Yeah, it was fun,” Elodie responded, lips curling ever so slightly in that shy smile. He fought himself from mirroring it, his own mouth remaining in a straight line as the bartender brought him his new drink. “I think it might be one of my favorite cities,” she added wistfully, finger trailing the rim of her glass as she glanced at him. “Have you ever been?”
Calum licked his teeth after sipping his drink, the smoky whiskey tickling his throat in the way that he liked. His rings clinked against them glass as he held on to it, noting the way Elodie’s gaze flickered down to the sound. “A couple of times. My sister lives there, so I try to visit when I can.”
Her eyes met his, the brown of her irises glittering under the lights, and suddenly the alcohol in his system was sizzling at the smile she wore. She did that a lot—smiled. He’d only seen shy and small ones, probably because she wasn’t entirely comfortable with him yet, but Calum knew her real smiles, the ones that carried every inch of joy she could feel, would knock him right off his feet. His grip on the glass tightened. What was wrong with him?
“I wish I had siblings,” Elodie said, almost sadly, as her gaze dropped to her glass. “Being an only child is . . . Boring.” She had hesitated, and Calum figured it was because she’d wanted to say something else instead of boring. Lonely, maybe. With a gentle laugh, one Calum heard over the music, she added, “But Dom’s always been like a sister to me, so I don’t think I’m missing out on too much.”
For a second, Calum felt the urge to lie to her. To tell her that being an only child wasn’t too bad, that having siblings was overrated. All for the purpose of making her feel better, to rid of that lamenting smile on her face that hid a dull ache she failed to hide. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it, to tell her a lie, because he didn’t know what he’d do without his sister. More importantly, Calum couldn’t figure out where the fuck the urge to lie to her came from. A tiny white lie, but one nonetheless in the hopes of making her feel lighter.
Why did he care?
But before he could even open his mouth, an arm draped over Elodie’s shoulders as a man came to stand on her other side, and a frown instantly drew together Calum’s eyebrows at the way Elodie’s eyes widened at the unexpected weight and she tensed when she saw the face of the man. Calum’s shoulders straightened, free hand ready to snap the guy’s arm off, until the guy leaned down and pressed a kiss to Elodie’s lips with an easy greeting of, “Hey, babe.”
Calum hoped to keep the confusion off his face, one that quickly morphed to realization as Elodie straightened and looked away from Calum to look up at the guy. He could barely hear the soft tone of her voice as she returned, “Hi—I didn’t think you’d make it.”
The guy scoffed, still standing as he raised his eyebrows. “You kidding? You barely wanna go to bars—I’m taking advantage.” It was then when the guy’s green eyes shifted over to Calum, expression turning into a guarded, suspicious one as Calum eyed him down. He was dressed in navy blue pants and a white button down tucked in, looking as if he just got off the clock on Wall Street, with blonde hair gelled back and an expensive watch on his wrist. Calum held back a snort. He looked like a douchebag. “Who’s this?”
“Oh.” Elodie blinked, turning to look back at Calum, a small smile tilting her lips as their eyes met. Calum returned her gaze, tearing it away from the man whose arm was around her shoulders, pretending as if it wasn’t the most forced sight he’d seen. She looked uncomfortable. “This is Calum, my friend.” He quirked the subtlest eyebrow at her, wondering if her cheeks flushed under the lights as she ducked her gaze. They were friends. And judging by the look on the dude’s face, Calum saw that he didn’t seem too keen at the news. “Calum, this is my boyfriend, Nathan.”
Calum wanted to laugh. He truly did. He wanted to laugh out of confusion and pity, because the way Elodie was suddenly sitting with straightened shoulders that were being weighed down by Nathan’s arm told him how unwanted the touch was. And when he looked at Nathan, Calum noted the way he stood over Elodie, domineering and possessive, and if Calum was someone else, maybe he would’ve felt a fraction of intimidation. Instead, he just wanted to laugh. And tell Nathan to fuck off. But it wasn’t his place.
“Good to meet you, Calum,” Nathan said, his tone holding no niceties as he eyed the brunette blankly. Then his gaze flickered downwards before asking, “Mind if I steal your seat? Been a long day and I wanna sit with my girl.”
Calum wondered if he’d imagined the pointed, possessive tone Nathan spoke in, like he had more of a right to sit next to Elodie than Calum did. It was laughable, the jealousy Nathan was failing to hide, and Calum looked at Elodie then, who was pursing her lips and had her head ducked, gaze only lifting briefly to meet Calum’s. She looked small. Timid. Much more so than before.
Grabbing his glass, Calum planted his feet on the floor before standing up, forcing himself to tear his gaze away from Elodie to look at Nathan. He smirked, noting the way Nathan had to look up at him just a bit as Calum was a couple of inches taller than him. If he didn’t already dislike him, Calum would be impressed by the stony look on Nathan’s face. But Calum got bad vibes from this dude, and so he kept the condescending smirk on his face that seemed to throw Nathan off.
Though, the smirk fell off Calum’s face as soon as he turned his back to them and walked away, exhaling sharply through his nose as he went. He didn’t know what it was, but in that thirty second interaction, Calum wasn’t impressed with that Nathan guy.
He found himself at the other end of the bar, far from Elodie and Nathan, and Calum stepped up to Dominique’s side as she leaned forward against the bar, Ashton on her other side. Calum dropped his arm around her shoulders, catching both her and Ashton’s attention, and asked, “What’s up that dude’s ass?”
Dominique lowered her glass, shooting Calum a puzzled look before he nodded his head forward, and she and Ashton both followed his gaze until they landed on the sight of Elodie and Nathan. Calum watched as they engaged in a conversation—or, as it seemed to him, as Elodie was left listening to whatever Nathan was saying. Even from where he was, Calum could somehow pick up on the fact that she was desperately trying to be interested, but wasn’t actually.
Dominique let out a frustrated groan, her shoulders under Calum’s arm tensing as her expression contorted into a glare. “For fuck’s sake,” she grunted, the curse nearly drowned out by the music. They were right by a speaker. “Why is he here?”
Calum raised an eyebrow, placing his glass on the bar as he dropped his arm from her shoulders and folded both of his on the bar top. “Maybe ’cause he’s her boyfriend?”
He could hear the distaste in his own voice, earning a look from Ashton that he promptly ignored, as Dominique let out a scoff. “He’s a dick,” she stated matter of factly, green eyes narrowed into a glare at the man in question. “And Elodie deserves more than someone who forces her into a box.”
Calum looked at Dominique, the frown on his face returning as he swallowed a sip of his whiskey. He continued to grow warmer and warmer under the material of his jacket, but he didn’t care as he focused on his friend’s words. “Forces her into a box? What do you mean?”
Dominique let out a slow breath, bracing her hands on the counter as she twisted her lips to the side briefly. She turned her body ever so slightly to look at Calum, the aggravation clear in her eyes. “I know Elodie, and I know how fun and outgoing she can be around the right people. She’s a shy girl, and I love her, and I know she has more fun when she can be who she wants to be.” Her expression had softened when she spoke of Elodie, but then a scowl replaced it. “But when Nathan’s around, she becomes even more closed off than she is. She’s even more shy, if that’s possible, and he likes it that way. I think he prefers it when the only person she speaks to is him. I know for a fact he doesn’t like me, and Elodie is so fucking sweet when she tries to get us to get along. I just wish she wasn’t so hesitant on breaking up with the tool because I know she can be happier than she is.”
The frown deepened on Calum’s face after hearing Dominique’s words and the way she said them. No matter how loud the music, it couldn’t drown out the disdain and anger she harbored for this Nathan guy, and if he really was as much of a tool as Dominique was painting him out to be—not that Calum had any arguments; he could’ve come to that own conclusion himself—then Calum wondered why the hell was Elodie with him.
His gaze turned to Elodie and Nathan as well, saw the way he spoke animatedly while Elodie listened—he wondered if that’s all their relationship consisted of; him speaking and telling and her listening and doing. That was shit. Unable to hold back the gruff sneer, Calum said, “I don’t like him.”
He heard Ashton snort out a knowing laugh as Dominique looked at him, eyebrows raised. “Why? Did he say something?” she asked, digging for some dirt Calum wished he had.
“No,” he scoffed because they knew if Nathan did, Calum wouldn’t be afraid to put him in his place with his words or fists. With a single shrug, Calum added, “He just looked annoyed when Elodie told him I was her friend.”
Dominique let out a sharp breath of a laugh, raising her glass and clinking it with Calum’s as she smirked, “You can be her new best friend if it pisses him off more. I approve.”
Calum’s gaze went back to Elodie, who in that moment, looked at him from where she sat on her side of the bar. He saw the smallest of smiles tilt at her lips, still shy yet sweet, a sight that warmed Calum more than his whiskey. He ignored the warning bells going off in his head and returned the half smile, easy and cool. If being Elodie’s friend meant pissing off Nathan and getting to know her more, Calum was up for it.
He ignored the voice in the back of his head, taunting him and wondering where the hell his interest in her came from. Calum ignored it, because he didn’t have an answer; there was something about Elodie, about the sweet smiles and kind eyes and gentle voice that had Calum needing more. Wanting to see what else was there.
He wanted to see the side of her Dominique talked about, the side Nathan tried to force away. Calum had just met her, he knew, but he could feel himself getting drawn in by the soft glow that surrounded Elodie. Yeah—he agreed with her. They were friends.
But that was only the first step.
--
tags: @irwinkitten @softforcal @valentinelrh @sweetcherrymike @astroashtonio @meetashthere @calntynes @hereforlukescruff @novacanecalum @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @calumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @imfuckin10plybud @pastelpapermoons @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @metangi @neigcthood @ohhmuke @old-zeppelin-shirt @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist @vxlentinecal @pettybassists @vaporshawn @lu-my-golden-boi @buggy-blogs @visualm3nte @isabella-mae13 @dontjinx-it @lifeakaharry @neonweeknds @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave @calpalbby @grreatgooglymoogly @gorgeouslygrace @cocktail-calum @miahelizaaabeth @madelynerin @dramallamawithsparkles @theagenderwhocriedwolf @kaytiebug14 @hoodskillerqueen @bitchinbabylon @empathycth @xhaileyreneex @inlovehoodx @calistheloml @aestheticrelated @bloodlinecal @sublimehood @madbomb @raabiac @britnicole11 @outofmylimitcal @fluffsshawn @bloodmoonashton
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The Band - Shawn Mendes
masterlist
previous work
synopsis: you’re a talented drummer, needed by many tour agencies, and you’ve just gotten another job. this time, you’re on tour with shawn mendes, and it’s one of the best tours you’ve been on. but before you’re close to finishing, you start feeling like you’re something more than a bandmate to shawn.
a/n: hey everyone! it’s been a while. i took a break from writing to focus on my priorities, and now i’m getting back into it. i might upload only once every month or two, but this way, i’ll probably be more consistent and my content will be better and longer. as always, thank you for reading. much love <3
word count: 14.7 k
warnings: swearing, implied/referenced nsfw content
*if you prefer, you can read this on ao3 here
“Are you the new drummer?” You perk your head up from your shaking knee, shifting in the plastic chair you’re sat in. A woman is standing in front of you, seeming to be in her late twenties, and she looked very professional. Black pencil skirt and a navy blue blouse, and bleached hair slicked back with a clipboard in her hand.
You nod, “Yes, I was told to wait here.” You suddenly felt very underdressed next to her. She radiated confidence, and your distressed jeans and graphic tee were sub-par to say the least. Every audition you had you dressed up, but that was all you really dressed up for, save for parties.
She grins a welcoming smile, “Perfect. You’ll fit right in. Come and follow me so you can meet the boys.” Grateful for the warmness in her voice, you pass the many hallways of the studio Shawn and his band had rented out. It was nice, and a little off the grid, which you didn’t mind. “I’m Missy, by the way. My real name’s Margaret, but everyone just calls me Missy.”
“It’s nice to meet you, then, Missy.” You politely reply, because you’re still unsure even if she was nice to you. It was hard to warm up to new people, but when you jammed out on the drums, it felt like everything around you fell away, and you didn’t worry about looking vulnerable. Missy’s heels click on the tile of the studio, which turns to thudding as you enter the carpeted room. Black sound absorption panels line the room, and a fluorescent light shines above, illuminating the otherwise dim room.
Sat on an amp near a set of drums and a guitar rack was a short guy with dirty blonde hair gathered behind his neck. He wore athletic shorts and a muscle shirt, and gave off the vibe that he wouldn’t mind getting drunk with you any time you asked. He slapped on a shimmering black bass, and you were impressed at how well he played. You recognized a bassline from one of your favorite songs. “I love Flea,” you say, and he looks up, grinning an absolutely ridiculous smile. It didn’t match his appearance at all, and made him look dorky as ever. “It sounds great.” You gestured to his bass.
Missy turned to you, “This is Kit. He looks bulky but he won’t do you any harm, I promise.”
Kit sets his bass on the rack and walks up to you, taking your hand and kissing it, “M’lady.” His deep voice sets off a set of laughs between the two of you, “Pleased to meet your acquaintance. And yes, Flea is fucking amazing.”
You smile at his so eloquently-put sentence as another guy enters the room, this one much taller and leaner than Kit. “And this,” Missy turns to him, “Is Simon. He’s our guitarist-slash-vocal backup.” Simon grins, shaggy dark hair going into his eyes as he shakes your hand.
“I saw your audition video. You sound awesome,” He crosses his arms, “Let’s just hope Kit can keep up with you.”
“Shut up, dumbass,” Kit choruses from behind.
Simon smirks, “Shawn should be here any minute. He ran to get us some coffee. I hope you’re okay with cream.” He turns to the soundboard, fidgeting with a track on the monitor. Missy leaves silently, rubbing your arm in comfort before she goes.
“Yeah, that’s fine,” You look around the room. In the middle of the studio is a microphone with headphones hanging on the stand holding it. Next to it is a beautiful guitar: it has three bronze and three brass strings and dark-stained wood. To the left of the stand are your drums for the time being. They’re glossy and black with shining cymbals, and two drumsticks placed on the bass drum.
Kit picked up his bass again and revisited his spot on the amp, even when there was a perfectly good stool for him off the right of the microphone, “Go on,” He says to you, “Give it a go.” You inhaled and grabbed your set of drumsticks from your back pocket. They were special, a gift from your father, and you never wanted to be without them. They had little etchings at the bottom of each of the sticks, a little circle surrounding your initials. The stool underneath you creaked, and you moved the other pair of drumsticks to the ground. Simon smiles, watching you as you hit the pedal beneath you a few times, feeling the deep, booming sound resonate through your body.
You start slow, picking a moderate tempo, and as the seconds pass, you increase the complexity and the speed, feeling a rhythm that explains how you feel yourself right now. Nervous, but excited. Excited for the new adventure, excited for a new chapter, but scared that you won’t find happiness on this tour. It never happens, but it’s still a doubt in your mind. This doubt booms out from the beat, and the cymbals mimic your strangled heartbeat, mimic your unsureness in yourself and your abilities. You begin to move your body with the momentum of the beat, your hair flicking wildly around you as you lean back and forth, bracelets rattling on your wrist and your sneaker hitting the pedal with such intensity that the ending feels like the end of a firework show: it’s sudden, and dramatic, and so adrenaline-filled you feel like you’re coming out of a trance.
It’s silent for a moment, until you hear an unfamiliar cry going, “Yeah! Wooo!” and two other voices whooping and clapping. Looking up, you see someone standing against the closed door, grinning wildly. You exhale a breath of relief and get up from the stool, recognizing the figure. Shawn stood, his eyes glittering, his smile saying he was impressed. A set of coffees sat on the table next to him, dangerously close to the soundboard.
“That was fucking awesome!” Kit comes up to you and whips you around in a circle, setting you down with a crazy look in his eye. Normally, you would’ve been weirded out by that much contact with someone you met five minutes ago, but it felt normal and comfortable. “We’re never gonna let you go,” Kit said.
“Should I be scared?” You look and Shawn and Simon, pocketing your drumsticks again.
“I’m not sure, Kit gets attached,” Shawn replies, and walks up to you with his hand out, “I’m Shawn. I’m so glad we got you, I don’t know what I would’ve done without a drummer on this tour.” You shake his hand, and then put your hands in your pockets, rocking on your toes.
“I don’t know, but I’m glad I’m here too. I love traveling the world.” You look up at Shawn, his eyes not too far from yours. You were pleased to say you were taller than most people, but he still had a few inches over you. Shawn exhales softly, a small laugh, and you look at his curling brown hair falling onto his forehead, watching as he takes off his jacket and sets it on the desk chair in front of the soundboard.
Shawn hands you a cup of coffee and it warms your cold hands, a sign you were nervous. “Should we go through the setlist? We only have the studio for the rest of today.” Kit and Simon hum in agreement, and Shawn hands you a packet of sheet music.
You refuse it, swallowing the sip of coffee you took, “Oh, don’t worry, I’m pretty sure I got all the songs memorized by now. I wouldn’t want to slip up in concert. I have my own at home, anyway.”
He grins, “Perfect. Let’s start with Lost in Japan, yeah?” He directs the question to all of you as you both take your seats. From here, you can see all of them well. You knew you’d have to start to learn their mannerisms and they way the cued people in, Shawn especially, because you’d seen some guitar and drum solos in the setlist from the information they sent you. Simon moved to the keyboard off to the left of him, running through the melodic introduction to the song. You loved the intro, but loved it even more when the beat dropped and you came in with all your energy, feeling an amazing vibe from Kit’s bass, and every once in a while Shawn would look back at you to make sure you were alright, checking if you were feeling comfortable. You’d been with so many bands, but it never felt like this. Deep down, a tugging in your stomach told you that you had a feeling this was going to be one of the best years of your life.
The line for security was too long. It was the next morning, and you were stuck lugging your massive suitcase a few inches every few minutes because the Toronto airport didn’t know how to manage lines. It’s too early for this, you thought as you gazed out the huge windows lining the sleek airport. It was still dark, and your first stop was Dublin, so you had to leave before the crack of dawn to make your flight. You felt bad for the guys though, each of them having to carry an equally as large suitcase with their guitar cases. All of their cases looked the same: plastered with fragile stickers that were scratched and peeling at the edges. You scratched your head, feeling your loose ponytail. You may or may not have fallen asleep on the car ride there, resulting in your messy hair, and the boys may or may not have made a video of them scaring you awake once you arrived at the airport.
You tugged on your hoodie, pulling the strings nervously, and once you realized you were tapping your foot and playing with the hair tie on your wrist, you took out your earbuds to distract you from the commotion of the line ahead of you. A relaxed melody floated into your head as you put them in, and Shawn shifted in front of you, getting ready to go through the scanner. He turned to face you and the boys, watching as his security guards inched closer to the four of you. You felt bad for him sometimes, because even not knowing him well, you knew that it was hard for him to go places and have normal experiences.
The music settled your nerves a bit, your hand tapping your thigh to the beat of the song. “What are you listening to?” Shawn asks quietly. You handed him an earbud, and he leaned close to you, connected by the cord. You felt your heartbeat quicken, but you didn’t know why. It must’ve been the song, because it was getting louder as it reached the bridge. “I’ve never heard this song,” Shawn says, and you hand him your phone so he can look at what it’s called. “I like it, I think I’ll download their album so I can listen on the plane.”
The sides of your lips turn in a smile, and he mirrors your expression back to you. “If you’re sitting next to me we can always share.” Shawn takes out the earbud, and hands it back to you as the song ends.
“Okay, I think we will be because Kit and Simon like sitting next to each other. They say I snore.” Shawn nudges your shoulder, and you laugh, turning your gaze to the two of them behind you. They were messing with the sticker tags on their suitcases, unsure of how to straighten them out.
“I’m sure you don’t,” You replied, and looked at him. He had his head close to yours, and from there you could smell his shampoo. It smelled like mint, and the scent drifted away as Shawn was called through the metal detector. You suddenly began to feel hot, even though it was March and freezing in the airport. Controlling your breathing, you put your cold hands on your face and started to gain some more control over your heartbeat. What was wrong with you? You had already built up your immunity from so many world tours, and knew you would only catch something once or twice during the tour. Were you already feeling sick?
Simon pushed you along through the tunnel, into the plane. He hated standing still like you, and now that the boys had left their guitars, he had wanted to board as quickly as possible. It was fun to learn all the guys’ quirks. You knew Kit the best so far, just because he never really stopped talking. He loved talking about his life and weird experiences he’d had, and honestly, it was fitting because you were such opposites. You knew how he hated cheese with a passion and once threw up four times in a row after chugging a gallon of milk in thirty seconds. He was very entertaining, to say the least.
You knew Simon had a little sister back at home, and he was from Chicago, which explained the way he said his As. He’d been playing guitar since he was nine years old, and you could relate to him in that way because you started on drums from a young age, too. You had met some of Shawn’s friends that traveled along and of course, his manager, and every other important person that came on tour with you all, but you stayed close to the band. After all, you had known them a day longer than anyone else.
Shawn hadn’t told you much, but he didn’t need to. His friends had already told you some embarrassing things about him, and you knew you would get to know each other better as the tour progressed. You didn’t want to pry.
You boarded the plane, and got into your assigned seat. There were only two seats together because you were flying first class, and you were glad to have the extra leg room and space. Looking out the window, you saw that it began to rain pretty hard, so you already anticipated some bad turbulence going into the sky. Luggage carriers zoomed around the plane, and you watched as the sun began to peek through the horizon. It streaked the sky a bright orange, and made the clouds pink. It gave you a warm feeling that you only got when you saw the sunrise.
Shawn shuffled into the seat next you, snapping you out of your daydream. The lights shut off at that exact moment, making the inside of the plane glow blue at the ceiling, meaning passengers could sleep for a while before it got really bright. You could only see Shawn’s necklace sparkling as it escaped his hoodie, and some of his hair. Finally, your eyes began to adjust right as he got settled in. You pulled out your phone again and offered him an earbud. He took it with a smile. “What are we listening to?”
“My playlist. Prepared to be amazed at my exquisite music taste.”
“Will do.” He put it in his ear, shuffling to the right side of his seat so he wouldn’t accidentally pull it out of your ear. At that moment you felt a bump in your back, ripping it out of your ear anyway.
“Sorry, Sticks!” Kit poked his head over your seat, and you looked up at him.
“Sticks?” You questioned.
“Y’know, you have your own special drumsticks. I gotta find some nickname to call you by.” He grins his dopey grin as he sits back down.
“That’s a terrible nickname.” You call back.
He replies, “That’s why I’m keeping it, cause you don’t like it!” You could practically hear him smiling then. Shawn shakes his head, giggling with you.
At that point the plane began to turn around, ready to go on the runway. You clenched your fists, tapping them on your legs as the plane got faster and faster, and finally, you were pushed back into your seat as it began its ascent. No matter how many times you flew on a plane, you hated getting in and out of the sky. Your mind went to the darkest situations, and you terrified yourself every time with the smallest possibility that you wouldn’t make it to the ground safe.
You remembered your dad’s words to you when you were little. Whenever you would cry he would show you how to breathe. Holding onto your bracelets, you breathed in five seconds, held it, out five seconds. After your heart stopped racing, you looked out the window and completely ruined all the work you’d done. The plane was turning, but it looked like it was falling to you. Turbulence made it shake, quickening your heartbeat. You immediately shut your eyes.
A gentle tap went to your shoulder. You opened your eyes and looked at Shawn, who had concern plastered across his face, “Hey, are you okay?”
You gulped, “Yeah, I’m fine, I get a little panicky on planes. I’ll be fine once we’re above the clouds.” At that point, Shawn took your hand and squeezed it with both of his, warmth surging through. “What are you doing?”
“Pressure to the body helps people control anxiety, remind them that they’re there and okay, you know? Usually holding them works best because they’re soothing too, but-” he stopped himself, “Jeez, your hands are so cold.”
“Yeah, they get like that when I’m nervous.” You replied.
“Okay, just look at me. Don’t look at the windows.” His eyes met yours, and they never wavered. He began to breathe just like how your dad taught you, never letting go of your hand. He stopped after a minute or so. “There you go, now you’ll be okay. We’re above the clouds.”
“Thank you,” You said sympathetically. The music in your ears suddenly came back, and you realized you tuned it out before. Shawn began to rummage through his bag, taking out a case for glasses. He opened it, and put on the ugliest pair of glasses you had ever seen. They were big, orange tinted glasses that covered half his face. “What are those?” You asked, holding in laughter.
“What?” He looked at you like it was nothing out of the ordinary. “These? They help you sleep because of the orange lens.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
Dublin came quicker than you expected. You must have fallen asleep on the flight, which was strange, since you never fell asleep on planes. You must’ve been mentally drained from take-off, you tell yourself. As expected, Shawn was fast asleep, adorning his orange glasses and your earbud still in his ear.
Once you grabbed your bag from the overhead compartment, you sped your way through the plane and the tunnel, trying desperately to move your legs. You could feel the pins and needles in your legs and the humid air filling your lungs as you entered the airport. Kit and Simon walked with you, one on both sides, and Shawn lagging behind, talking to his friend Connor. He seemed nice when you had met that same morning, but you didn’t talk much after that.
Driving from the airport, you never got used to the feeling of being somewhere new. The sky was a pale blue with clouds streaked across it and driving along the weathered roads with the sun-baked buildings was another experience. The air smelled cleaner, at least cleaner than Toronto, and looking out the window of the car you and the boys were driving in, you could see shops open for business lining the street, selling bouquets of flowers, books, pastries, and so many other enchanting things. A double decker bus passed you, crowded with people snapping photos. Children ran along the sidewalk playing with kites and eating ice cream. It seemed like a wonderful place to live.
The hotel you stayed at wasn’t big, but a medium-sized building with a few floors. Since you were the only girl besides Alessia (and she was sharing a room with one of her family members) you would get your own room. Missy had stayed in Toronto, telling you that she’d be there for the Asian leg of the tour. You were content with being with Alessia and the guys, though, because you often found ways to entertain yourself. You didn’t doubt that Kit wouldn’t be entertaining nonetheless.
Andrew, Shawn’s manager, handed all of you your keycards as you entered the lobby of the hotel. It looked nice; high ceilings, chandeliers, places to sit and a bar ready for anyone to sit at. All you wanted to do was sleep and the first concert wasn’t until tomorrow, so you took the first elevator and slipped out of the group as quietly as possible. When you unlocked your room, you were met with a queen bed, a bathroom, a small counter space, table with two chairs, a beautiful view from the window. White curtains blew from the wind that picked up in the room and your mouth watered at the smell of the bakery across the street. Setting your bag down, you began your mental hotel room checklist your mother ingrained into your head: check the mattress for bed bugs, take the top cover off because it’s never washed, put your suitcase in the closet, check inside and under all furniture for anything suspicious.
You sometimes wondered how your mother and father even married each other, and stayed together at that. They were such opposites. She was a control freak, obsessed with keeping things orderly the way she wanted. He was relaxed, ready for anything that came his way. You wondered how people saw you as when they first met you. You cast the thought aside and closed and locked the window. You changed into leggings and a big t-shirt and crawled into bed, feeling the stress of the day fade away as you sank into the mattress. Within seconds, you fell asleep.
A harsh knocking woke you up from your sleep, and for a second you sat disoriented, not remembering where you were. The sun was setting outside, the horizon glowing. Events from the day came back to you, and knocking kept coming from your door. “Hey, you up?” Someone called on the other side. Yawning, you padded over to it, opening the door and rubbing your eyes.
It was Shawn, and he looked at you, hair a mess from turning in your sleep and the big t-shirt you wore going to your thighs. “Uh, sorry I didn’t mean to wake you up. I just wanted to know if you wanted to come get dinner with everyone?” He scratched the back of his neck, looking at you. He had changed into a green long sleeved sweater and black jeans, looking very put together. His hair had been tamed a little more, still curly but not sticking up in places.
“Yeah, sure, and it’s no problem, I was tired. Are we having a rehearsal tonight?” You touched the bracelets on your wrist subconsciously, and took your hair out of its ponytail, releasing the tension from your scalp.
Shawn cleared his throat after looking at you strangely, “No, the hotel doesn’t have a drum set for you, so we can’t, but we’re gonna go down the street to a place Andrew reserved for us in about ten minutes.”
You nodded, “Alright, let me get dressed and I’ll be waiting in the lobby.” Shawn nodded, and turned to leave, but you caught his wrist. He looked back at you, hazel eyes boring into yours, “Hey, seriously though, thank you for helping me on the plane. I don’t like to tell people about that but it’s hard to hide it. Especially since you’re intuitive.”
“Thank you for the compliment, and hey, that’s what friends are for, right?” Shawn doesn’t take his wrist from your grasp, but you let it go.
“Well, technically, you’re my boss, so-”
“I don’t like that technicality. I want us to be friends. I want you to feel welcome with us, and I want to get to know you and the others to be your friends. So if that means helping you breathe every time we take off or have turbulence, I will gladly do that.” Shawn turns to leave again.
“You don’t even know yet if I work with you all on stage. How do you know I’ll get to stay?” You questioned.
He pressed the elevator button down the hall, to the right of you, “I have a feeling you will.” With that, he went inside the elevator and let the doors close on him.
You skipped and hopped along the cobbled streets of Dublin, laughing, looking up at the sky. As the breeze bit at your face and the moon looked back at you, you got a strange nostalgic feeling, a feeling that made you think you should remember this night forever. You and a few of Shawn’s friends had begun to walk away from the restaurant you had dinner at. Alessia, his special guest and opener, had begun to chat with you, and for a while you felt bad. Through all the commotion you didn’t even introduce yourself because you hadn’t even seen her, even though you knew all the drum parts to her songs. Her setlist was really fun to play.
Alessia ran along with you, a few of the others in tow. You had sparked some conversation about music, fashion, and new movies when you heard some folk music being played on the speakers at the bar across the road. Your feet moved in a rhythm, following a step pattern that you had been taught from folk dancers around the world. That was another thing you loved about touring: learning things from other cultures. “What are you doing?” Alessia asks, snickering as you dance along the pavement. Your sneakers tap the stone to the beat.
“Dancing. Folk dancing.” You turn to face her, dancing while moving backwards, “Come try.” Alessia smiles as you slow down the steps. She catches on fast, and soon enough you’re speeding it back to tempo. Suddenly your jacket isn’t needed as much, and you feel your face is flushed. Tying it around your waist, you see Alessia teaching Kit and Connor, and soon enough, all four of you are dancing, arms linked in a line. Andrew, Shawn, and the rest of the crew finally notice as they catch up to the four of you laughing, humming along to the song. Simon joins the line, asking, “What are we doing?”
“Having fun!” Kit screams back, whooping into the night sky. You see Shawn take a seat on one of the benches across from the five of you, him and everyone else clapping to the beat. He had a strange look on his face, and he wouldn’t break his gaze from you. Every time you laughed, you would sneak a look at him and see a tiny smile tug at his lips. It made you feel off-balance, in a way.
The song ends in no time, and you’re left with some energy spent, smoothing your messy hair down and tying a loose shoelace. A new song comes on, and you and Alessia begin twirling around the street, on your way back to the hotel. Shawn catches up to the two of you, face red from the cold. Alessia reaches out a hand, and her and Shawn begin to zoom in circles with locked arms, going fast with the momentum like a spinning top.
You remembered playing that game when you were little. You and your friends called it Twister. Alessia beckoned you over, and now the three of you became interlinked; Shawn’s cackling, leaning his head back in adrenaline as you scream to slow down. “I think that the rest of them think we’re acting like kids!” You grin, feeling your hair whip your face.
Shawn gasps out, nose and cheeks cherry red, “Who cares?”
“You’re on with Alessia in five,” a stage manager peeks into your’s and Alessia’s shared dressing room, and you nod at them, a mumble of okay in reply. You got nervous before going on stage, but it was more of the adrenaline making you unable to speak. The bright lights in the vanity in front of you shined, illuminating your face. You always did something fun with your makeup with each tour, and decided that this time, you’d do a bright color lining your eyes with some mascara. A bright blue lined your eyes this time, making them pop. Simple, but cool. The band usually had to wear darker clothes to emphasize Shawn and Alessia in front, which wasn’t a problem, so you sported some black sneakers, ripped jeans, denim jacket, and a gray tie-dyed shirt.
You’re tapping your drumsticks against your thighs as you lightly jog down the bright hall, near the band. People are gathered around in a huddle. “There she is!” Kit says, watching as you walk to the group.
“What’re we doing?” You ask, joining the huddle. You felt like a football player.
“It’s tradition. We say a speech, and then go on stage.” Simon tells you, putting a hand on your back. Alessia’s to the right of you, and Shawn’s opposite from you, watching you. You feel strange again, only for a second. Was he watching you because he wanted to see if you wouldn’t do well tonight? That was impossible, given what he’d said to you last night.
Alessia’s set left you feeling like you’d drank five coffees and then some more energy drinks, every nerve buzzing in your body. The crowd was wild; they knew all the words to her songs and she would occasionally run to you, singing her heart out while you returned the amazing feeling back, hearing your drums boom over the speakers. Sometimes you would see that the cameras panned on you, and you watched your flushed face, looking like you were completely in your element.
When she told the crowd to give it up for the band, Simon gave you a big thumbs up, reassurance that you were doing well. The first performance was always the hardest. The crowd’s screams roared through your ears, and they became deafening when Shawn appeared on stage, rising from the middle platform, smoke bathing him in the spotlights. You felt your stomach lurch in excitement, ready for the next two and a half hours, every single beat memorized in your fingertips.
Shawn starts with Lost in Japan, singing beautifully. His voice sounds buttery and warm, and you wait for your queue as he pauses before the beat for dramatic effect. You come in right on time, everything syncing together, and your body’s pulsing, moving with the beat. You’re sweating, but it’s the best feeling you’ve ever felt in your entire life. A few songs pass, and Shawn begins one of his covers, walking over to Kit as they assemble back to back, shredding solos. As the interlude progresses, you see Shawn walking to you, and you swear his gaze is something you’ve never seen before. It’s euphoric, his hair and face glistening, the lights shining so bright that it makes him hard to see until he’s right in front of you, leaning over your cymbals. You flick the drumstick in a circle, catching it as you crash onto the symbols. Shawn’s looking at you, and you feel like all that exists is the two of you. It’s like you’re connected: you know that you’re both feeding each other the best kind of energy you’ve ever felt.
It wasn’t that way with Alessia. Sure, it felt awesome, but this, this guy, this guy who looks absolutely perfect in every way is putting you in a trance and suddenly you come back to your body, him giving you a wink as he makes his way back to center stage. You try to control your breathing with the beat, feeling lightheaded. Soon enough, you focus back on your drums and you pretend like nothing’s happened. But you know, deep down in your stomach, something in you has changed.
Four Months Later
“Goddamn it, I had two yellows left!” Alessia screams, huffing in frustration and flopping back onto the pillows of your bed. You laugh maniacally, falling down next to her, ignoring the scattering Uno cards all over your coverlet. “I can’t believe we’ve been on tour since March, and it’s already July,” She mutters quietly, looking up at the popcorn ceiling.
“I know. It feels like it’s been my entire life but somehow went by so fast I didn’t even notice,” You say back. The two of you just finished a show, exhausted but glad you got to rest for a bit before you left. All of you were taking the bus tonight and you know you wouldn’t sleep very much. Your sleeping habits on planes and buses had not improved one bit since March.
“You wanna watch a movie tonight on the bus?” Alessia asks, sitting up to gather the cards. She picks one off your thigh, and you stretch your arms, your tank top making the Miami heat and humidity less miserable. Your hotel room still kept the moisture in, and if there was one thing you hated about Canada, it would be the humidity. It made you feel homesick, though, and you sigh as you feel your back stiffen.
“Yes, please, and Shawn asked if we could watch Far From Home,” You grinned at the thought of seeing MJ and Peter’s kiss on the Tower Bridge. You liked some romance if it involved Tom Holland.
Alessia groans, “How many times have you and Shawn watched Spiderman?” She snorts, “It feels endless. And you both can quote that movie word for word.”
“But you forget that we’ve watched the Andrew Garfield and Toby Maguire ones more. Now pick: confident and suave Spiderman, or cute, geeky, highschool Spiderman?”
“Cute geeky highschool Spiderman.” She responds, and all of a sudden there’s a knock at your door. Alessia gets up to answer it, but the door’s already swinging open, and Shawn struts in. He’s wearing a plain, black t-shirt and some gray sweatpants and his hair is wet from the shower. You feel a tugging in your stomach and ignore it.
He grins, “Did someone say Spiderman?” Alessia throws a pillow at him, and he falls back into the desk chair opposite the two of you, laughing.
“Unfortunately, and how did you even get in?” She responds, sitting up on the headboard of your bed.
“Kit stole your spare keycard so he could eat some of the German chocolate you have stashed in your backpack, and I caught him in the hallway before the show, so I came to return it now.” He gets up from the desk chair, and sits on the foot of the bed, handing it to you.
You grit your teeth, “I’m gonna kill him. I have been saving that for good reason, rationing it bit by bit. It’s not like you can get it back at home.” Alessia and Shawn respond in a chorus of giggles, looking at your angry face. “What? No one messes with my chocolate!”
It’s a few hours later, and you, Shawn and Alessia are crowded onto the long couch in the bus, letting the streetlamps and highways pass you by. Everyone else had left to go sleep, but you wanted to finish the movie and see the ending, even though you knew exactly what happened. You wore your warm, black sweatpants and the same tank top you had on before. Your hair tickled your back, but it felt good to release the tension from your scalp. You’d decided to put it up from the show tonight, an elegant, slicked back look. Shawn was off to the right of you, watching as Mysterio ‘saved’ the city from the ‘fire elemental.’ You hated him so much, feeling a little too attached to your Marvel characters. Alessia had begun to nod off, and finally was awoken when the bus hit a pothole. She groaned, “I need to sleep,” She pushed herself up off the couch, moving down the hallway into the bunks, “Goodnight, nerds.”
She always did that when you watched anything superhero-y. “Goodnight,” you and Shawn replied in unison.
Opening your phone, you scrolled through your Instagram, seeing all your mentions of the band in concert. There was a picture of you and Kit hugging, Alessia and you running across the stage together, and you and Shawn playing through your solo. “You always do so well on that part,” Shawn says, leaning into you and looking at your phone. You felt your cheeks flare up and cursed yourself. He looked stunning in the photo, as per usual. Curly hair a mess, and his shirt stuck to his body with sweat. “I loved that outfit you wore, too, it was so cool.” He added.
You looked at yourself and saw your lace, navy blue blouse, attached with interlacing straps, and flared black pants, paired with combat boots and your usual bracelets. Your slicked back ponytail was completed with the dangly earrings you wore. “Thanks,” you responded, “I try.” You can feel his shoulder touching yours, his knee brushing up against you. You scroll down a bit farther through the photos you’re tagged in, and see a picture of you and your dad. He posted it on your birthday. It was you and him backstage, a few years ago when you’d played your first tour. His hair and eyes were the same color as yours, and he always had a scruffy beard. You’re hugging him, and you remembered at that moment what he’d said to you. I love you, I’m so proud of the person you’ve become. Never stop doing what you love. Follow your heart, my love.
You smiled to yourself and began to miss him so much. He was probably at home, watching his favorite show on TV, mom sitting next to him on the couch, reading a book. “Who’s that?” Shawn asked. He looked at you, and you turned your head, watching as his eyes studied you.
“My dad. He’s the one who taught me to play the drums.” You fiddled with the bracelets on your wrist.
Shawn nods, “I’m guessing those bracelets you always wear are from him.” You looked down as he took your wrist, looking at three entangled together.
“The first one, the one with the bird on it,” It was brown, the engraved bird, silver, “That was his. It was his good luck charm. The second he got me on my fifteenth birthday, the one that’s the silver chain.” That one had your birthstone on it in the middle, “And the last, that was given to me when I graduated high school.” It was a braided black cord, and on it a charm silvery-black that was your first initial.
“They’re beautiful.” Shawn moves his fingers down from your arm, tracing your skin, and you shiver, “You’re beautiful.” His voice is soft, almost as if he’s scared for you to realize what he said, bottom lip quivering. His eyes never move away from you. It’s hard to see him, but the bus’s blue lights keep the room from being pitch black. You see his lips tug into a smile, and then he’s kissing you, and it’s like your body’s wired to respond to him. Kissing back, you move your fingers to the nape of his neck, twisting his hair into knots. You feel his hand settle on your waist, and he moves closer till you’re nearly on his lap. He smells like mint shampoo and his lips are soft. He teases you, licking your lip until you open your mouth, engulfing yourself in his touch.
You’re suddenly glad that you’re at the back of the bus, far from the driver and everyone sleeping. You pause for breath, looking at him. His eyes are sparkling, pupils blown out, and his lips and cheeks are flushed red. Your hair creates a curtain around your faces, and he plays with it, now that you’re settled on his lap. Feeling another wave of desire pulse through you, and you trace your fingers across his chest as he whines in response, but then you realize what’s happening, and your breath hitches, and you pull back, blood rushing to your face. “Wait, wait, we can’t do this. This isn’t right. I work with you.” You move off of him, getting up and standing.
Shawn grabs your hand, lightly. “What, no!” His voice is hushed, but still frantic, “It’s not like that. I’ve been feeling this for a while now, and every time I see you, it’s like I need you, I need you so-”
“-Shawn,” you say, and he stops, shutting his mouth and swallowing. He looks so good, and you feel your entire body wanting to go to him, but you knew it would end badly. You couldn’t have feelings. You shouldn’t. “This,” you waved your hands from you to Shawn, “We can’t do this.”
All of a sudden, he takes your hand and puts it on his chest. “Tell me,” he says, and you feel his heart pounding, “Tell me you don’t feel anything when I do this. Tell me,” He pulls you in, putting his hand on your waist. The bus shakes, but he’s there, holding you, “You don’t feel anything when I do this.” He’s leaning over you now, mouth right next to your ear, “When you feel my hand running along your back,” you shiver, your entire body stiff, “Or when you hear me say that all I think about is you. And when you’re around me, all I want is to hold you like this, and feel your hands in my hair, and listen to your laugh, and lean on you when we watch movies, and play music with you, and-”
You move his face from your side, and pull him in, kissing him again, and again, till you feel your lips swollen and your body pulsing, taking the feeling in one last time. Like that, it’s over, and you push away from him again, looking at his messy hair, curls strewn everywhere, and mutter, “I-I need to go to bed.” You can’t meet his eyes. His hands fall from your waist as you walk into the hallway, down to the bunks, every atom in your body protesting.
The next morning, you’re trying to busy your mind with anything you could possibly think of: memorizing the music for potential covers, reorganizing your suitcase; it was a flurry of meaningless tasks as you finally had to face soundcheck. Last night left you feeling lightheaded and warm inside, but when you thought about what was actually happening, that you had feelings for Shawn that he returned, your heart would pound and anxiety would creep into your chest.
It wasn’t right. What if you decided to be together and then two weeks later you’ve argued and broken up and then the band doesn’t work? You’d ruin the entire tour. Or what if you felt that same pain you knew all too well?
You're tugging at the peeling skin on your lips, trying to delay soundcheck as much as possible as you round through the twisting hallways of the stadium. Humming helps you clear your head a bit, but the instant you see Shawn you know you’ll be tripping over yourself trying to get to your drums. As if heaven itself was descended upon you, Alessia and Simon are walking towards you, coming from the stage entrance. “They’re almost ready,” Simon said, his face calm.
Wondering if your face looked the same way your mind would’ve, you nodded, replying, “Alright, let’s go. Did you still want to do that solo with me, A?” You force yourself to tug a smile onto your lips. Simon patted your shoulder as he moved down the hallway, probably to get Kit to stop raiding the catering rooms for food.
Praying that the drums would muffle the world around you, Alessia replied, “Yeah, and I was thinking that maybe I could bring you to the front with me to hit the soundbox for an acoustic version, because Shawn said-”
“I kissed Shawn last night,” You blurted right before you walked through the stage door. You could see Connor, Geoff, and a few others crowding around some cameras, and your skull was pounding. Everything you felt that you questioned yourself about felt like a blow to the head. Alessia looked at you, her face unsettlingly calm. “Say something,” You pleaded.
“Was it good?”
“What? Ask me anything but that! Tell me I’m horrible, tell me this is wrong, that I’ll ruin this for everyone!” You grabbed Alessia’s arms, shaking her wildly.
She began to smile. Smile. Why would she smile, of all things? “You guys are way more than friends, and you both know it,” Alessia assures. “You’re always teasing each other, you sit next to each other on planes and buses, and have you seen the way he looks at you on stage?”
“What do you mean?” You asked. Alessia pulled you to the side of the doorway, Shawn walking down by Connor.
“He looks back at you all the time on stage, and when he’s doing that solo with you, he’s facing only you on purpose. It’s like he doesn’t even remember anyone else is there.” She lovingly puts her hand on your arm, and you feel your stomach settling. “I’ve seen you on the plane, when you start to panic. He’s the only one who can calm you down, and you always make him feel better about being nervous up there.” She nods her head to the stage. “It’s only about what you want now.”
You groaned, turning your head to look at him. He was stiff all over, strumming his guitar as he sat on the edge of the stage. “I don’t know what I want. I have rules when it comes to tours. Relationships don’t end well.”
“Who’s relationship?” You jumped, turning to see Kit walk up, crumbs on his face.
You shrugged, “Oh, no one’s. I was just saying that usually band relationships don’t end well. I’ve seen one or two of ‘em.” You covered yourself, Alessia nodding. You didn’t actually know anyone who dated someone they worked with.
Kit scratches his chin, crumbs falling to the ground, “Well, my best friend’s mom ended up marrying the guy she was in a high school band with. They’re probably the happiest couple I’ve seen. Don’t ask me though,” He grinned, walking through the doorway and turning his head to face them, “I have commitment problems. See ya on stage, Sticks!”
You and Alessia rolled your eyes in unison. As he walked away from you, you looked at Shawn, who turned his head at the sound of your nickname. Alessia rubbed the small of your back, “I think he wants to talk to you,” she stated. You shook your head, ripping your eyes away from his stare. His eyes practically drowned you, his longing gaze making you feel dizzy. You were so fucked for him, and you didn’t have a clue what to do.
“Stay with me, A,” You practically whined like a five year old.
She shook her head, “I can’t do this for you,” She sounded like your mother, “If you tell him what you’re thinking, he’ll understand.”
You nodded and soon enough Alessia was gone, her laughing echoing through the arena. Shawn left his conversation, his friends’ eyes trailing after him as he approached you. He looked tired, devoid of sleep, and you felt guilt settle in the pit of your stomach. He lost sleep over you. It shouldn’t affect you, but you weren’t surprised by the same dark circles under your eyes this morning. He wore a plain white t-shirt, reasonable for the warm season, but now that you accepted your feelings for him, it was like you were seeing him differently this time. His eyes were prettier, body more graceful in the way he moved, and you could see every little detail that made him look perfect to you. “Hey,” was all he said.
His face seemed to be saying so much more, but you replied, “Hi.” God, you were so lame.
“We need to talk,” He said, fingers nearly touching yours where both your arms lay limp.
You nodded, watching his eyes shifting around your face as if he were trying to figure out a puzzle. “I know, it’s just that right now, I’m really confused, and I know that doesn’t make up for anything I did last night, but I just don’t know what I want.” You wanted to say you did, and everything in your heart that told you to kiss him right then and tell him you wanted him was chided at and locked away by your brain’s fears and doubts. You hadn’t realized that both your hands had met, and you were subconsciously running your thumb over the rings on his fingers.
Shawn was wordless, his mouth in a tight line. You watched as he inhaled, studying your intertwined hands, “I’ll wait for your answer,” He said it quietly, in the same way he had said that you were beautiful last night, unsure of what you were going to reply with. You began to open your mouth, but then someone cut you off.
“Yo, Sticks! Where are you?” Kit called from the stage, “Where is she, man?” You could hear Simon mumble an ‘I don’t know.’
“I should probably go.” You didn’t dare to meet his eyes.
He let go of your hand, palm still outstretched. “Yeah, probably.”
The soundcheck had run by with few hiccups, Shawn asking you to adjust your amp a few times and approving of the acoustic version of one of Alessia’s songs. He all asked it politely, as if nothing happened in the last twenty-four hours. The same went for the concert: the crowd was amazing, as per usual, and that solo that you had always done with Shawn felt like nothing but pure tension. He looked at you in a way that showed he was trying to restrain himself and you doubted you looked any different.
“Did he say anything else to you after the show?” Alessia asked from your bed. You had finally gotten a hotel room together, and it was nice to have her there and to keep your mind off things.
Wiping the pink eyeshadow and mascara lining your eyes, you muttered, “No, God, it’s like the worst feeling ever. It feels like he hates me, and he’s already so disconnected.” You threw your makeup wipe in the bathroom trash can, “He didn’t say a word, didn’t come to my dressing room like he always does. I feel like I’m losing him.” You glared at yourself in the mirror, steadying your body with two arms on the counter.
“Sweetheart, I’m sure he’s just as confused. Shawn needs some time to sort himself out, too.” You left the bathroom and joined her on the bed, groaning as you got under the covers.
“That’s the problem! He’s not confused. He knows what he wants and he told me he’d wait for my decision!” You aggressively turned to face her on your pillow.
Alessia turned herself to face you, the lamp behind her illuminating her outline, “What are you so scared of?” Her eyes were warm, and her hand ran up and down your arm.
“That I’ll ruin everything. What if we don’t work and then they’ll have to get a new band member because I messed it up?” Your eyes shifted from her to the threading of the covers.
Alessia sighed, “I know that can’t be all of it. What’re you hiding? Tell me.”
You knew the answer. It tugged at the back of your mind relentlessly. “I guess, I-I’m scared to love him. And for him to love me,” you replied, forcing yourself to accept it. You brought a hand up to your lip, tearing away at the skin. “I’ve been hurt before.”
Her mouth hinted at a smile, “Shawn would never hurt you. I know him, and I know that you’ve told me a little about your relationships, and you don’t need to tell me about them if you don’t want to.”
“I love you, A.” Your eyes began to flutter closed, the day’s exhaustion creeping up on you.
She shook you, making your eyes pop open, “I love you too. Now get out of my bed, you move around too much when you sleep.”
You had arrived home for two days, the tour coming to a stall for Shawn’s birthday. He had invited you to the party, and it had been the first time he’d spoken to you outside of a group for a few days. Now that you were safely home, you unsurely said that you would come, it being that you only lived twenty minutes away from him (you seriously wondered how you’d never played for him before).
Arriving home felt strange. It was too quiet. When you’d set your keys down, everything was silent save for the storm raging outside. Toronto was refusing to be sunny for the time being. There weren’t any of Kit’s jokes causing everyone to laugh hysterically or scold him, none of Simon’s practicing sounding through the room, Alessia’s humming and drumming on any surface she could find, and especially none of Shawn’s laughter. Even when it was awkward between you two, you could always hear it, warm and broad coming from the back of the bus, or in a practice room.
You had started to long for a pet, but you never wanted them to have to deal with your life of traveling. It might as well have belonged to your parents.
The first thing you did was raid the fridge for any food, and since you were gone for nearly five months, all you could see were bottles of ketchup and coffee creamer (which had definitely gone bad). Groaning, you pushed yourself away from the kitchen and grabbed your shoes from the front door, putting them on to walk down the block to your favorite pizza place.
The healthiness of tour always gave you terrible cravings for junk food, and you basked in the glory of eating it twenty-five minutes later and laying on your couch in a food coma. A show you watched three times already played in the background, familiar voices and dialogue comforting you.
Your parents were enjoying their retirement, and were off exploring the Mediterranean, so no one familiar to your life before tour had been available. It was hard to make friends when you were gone for most of the year, but you still had a few, all of which were busy the same weekend you were home.
Everything felt terrible.
It was like you were crashing from a months-long high, unsettled by old surroundings and the quiet. So, you did what you always did when you felt lonely, tired, and overall miserable. Slowly, you got up from the couch and moved to your room, opening the drawer on the right side of your desk. You grabbed your notebook, a faded gray color with your first initial embroidered on the top right side. Taking a pen from your desk, you began to write incoherent sentences, different thoughts strung together in a way that didn’t make sense. It was strange to be back at your desk. Oftentimes, you wrote there whenever you were home from tours. It felt nostalgic to you. As your mind began to focus on one subject, you wrote pages and pages, completely unaware of time passing you.
The night in the bus kept replaying in your head, and Alessia’s words to you, and Shawn’s face looking at you onstage. It was like all you could think of was him. Every time you tried to change the subject you wrote about, it rooted back to him. Frustrated, you squinted your eyes and rubbed them. It was dark in your room. You hadn’t even noticed that three hours had passed.
A forceful sigh left your lips. You got up from the chair, legs stiff and your head pounding. Moving to the bathroom connected to your room, you stepped into the shower, making the water scalding hot until it felt like your back was being burned.
You sat and curled your knees to your body, crouching down to the floor of the shower, head hung in between your legs. Your hair blocked all light from entering, and it was like you were sucked into a trance of the endless beating of water on your back. All that was left was the steady rhythm of your breath. None of the day’s -correction- month’s stresses came to mind, and for once, your head was clear.
Shawn’s condo was really nice. It was spacious and open, with modern accents here and there in every room. You liked more of a cozy vibe, but each space still looked pleasing to the eye. There were too many people to count: some familiar faces and most unfamiliar. Bodies clashed together, music blasting, and some people chatted in corners with drinks in their hands. Not one for drinking all too much, you spotted a cooler that had soda in it near the door to the balcony. Popping the can open, you looked out the glass door. From there you could see the skyline, stars twinkling in the familiar pattern you had memorized long ago.
Your eyes scanned the room for Alessia. She didn’t text you yet, which means she was probably caught in traffic. Being completely honest with yourself, you questioned why you even came to the party in the first place. It wasn’t cool for Shawn to see your face and you to blow him off again. You knew you shouldn’t string him along, but something beckoned you in the back of your mind that told you you should stay.
It seemed like every two seconds you bumped into someone as you arrived at the edge of the balcony, a glass fence keeping you from tripping over the edge. There were laughs and screams and singing, and bass reverberated through the floor, rattling in your feet. Your stomach clenched as you drank the sweet soda; it did not agree with your already nervous stomach. Setting it down on the ground, you returned to looking at the skyline, not bothering to search for anyone you knew.
“You made it.”
Looking at him just made your chest hurt even more. He was tipsy, you could tell from his blush and glazed-over eyes. Swallowing, you said softly, “Yeah.”
“Uh, d-you like the party?” His hair flopped in curls around his forehead as he gestured around himself.
You nodded, “Mm, yeah. It’s great.” You cleared your throat, an awkward pause ensuing.
“You know what? Okay, I’m just gonna tell you what’s on my mind because I’m a shitty person and a terrible bandmate and a whatever-other-adjective that connotes horrible friend,” Shawn stared at you, confused by your sudden flurry of words. “Continue?” You asked.
“Yeah, go ahead.” He gripped his drink in one hand and the other settled onto the ledge of the fence.
“Alright. So, I shouldn’t have let you kiss me on the bus.” Shawn opened his mouth, then closed it as you stared him down, “That doesn’t mean I didn’t want to. Like, really bad. It’s just that I told myself after I dated a band member a long time ago that I would never do it again because it was the worst heartbreak of my life. And I can’t really talk about it right now.
“But then you were so nice to me and one of the best friends I’ve ever had and I hated ignoring you and avoiding you and doing all those things to keep myself from falling in love with you-” Your breath hitched as you realized what you just said. It didn’t imply you were falling in love with him, though. Shawn’s jaw clenched, but you further explained, “And you helped me on planes, and let me dump all my stresses onto you in the five months that we’ve known each other, and I feel like we can tell each other everything!
“And I’ve been writing songs! God, that’s one thing I’ve really done in my life. But it’s the only way to settle my thoughts and it keeps me from going insane. Because you, you make me go insane, Shawn.” You let out a deep breath, scared to see his face.
He was smiling, and it felt like you were on that stage with him again, or in the bus with him, watching Spider-Man while everyone groaned that it was the tenth time you did, or listening to music on the plane, or sharing a chocolate chip cookie that you had snuck onto the bus without Kit seeing. It was like the five months you had shared together had been encapsulated into one look on his face.
Suddenly, Shawn grabbed your hand, “Come with me, right now.” He pulled you through crowds of people, and you wondered where he could possibly be taking you. A tug gripped your stomach, unwilling to stop, your blood pumping to your ears. You didn’t know where the hallways of his place led to. Finally, he went through the kitchen and to the hallway, down to the last door in the dark space. His hand was warm in your cold one, chapped knuckles being smoothed down by his touch. He smelled like alcohol and the outside but you didn’t mind.
When he opened the door it was still dark, but as he shut it, he turned on the light inside, and you were mesmerized by his own tiny studio. A grand piano sat in the corner with mics hooked up next to it, and guitars lined the walls. A set of drums was close to you in the left corner. A desk on the right side held a computer and a soundboard. On a little wooden extension next to the desk lay a pile of notebooks, and Shawn led you to them, standing close to you as he handed you the second one under the pile of three. It was brown, with frayed edges and yellow pages on the inside. “Open to where the bookmark is,” He instructed. You pulled it out, it being the same color as the journal.
There, on the page was a messy script, cursive and so recognizable to you. You could read it, even through the rough erase marks and crossing outs on the page. Slowly, you started to read what the words said, formed into a song.
she’s here with me, and it’s like i can’t move
she’s next to me, and it’s like i can’t speak
she takes my hand, and i’ve awoken
but then when she leaves i feel broken
and i love the way she talks
and hate the way that she doesn’t want me to hear it
avoiding me and i have no idea why
because i just want to love her more than any other guy
drowning, drowning in everything she does
drowning, reaching just for her touch
and if she says one word
i’ll be breathing again
i’ll be breathing again
but without her, i question if i’ll feel this way about someone else again, and i know i can’t
“There’s a lot more,” Shawn said, and he was behind you now, watching you read his words from your shoulder. “You don’t have to read it all, though.”
You turned to him, inches away, his nose level with your eyes. “Why would you write this about me?” You set the book down on the table, looking back up from your shoes.
“Because,” He said, pushing a piece of your hair behind your ear, “I’m in love with you. We’re not even anything, and here I am, telling you that I can’t stop writing about you either because I’m in love with you, and I feel like I have since that first night of tour.”
You were so close at this point, you could feel his breath when he sighed, moving his hands to your waist, unsure of his touch as they faltered along the hem of your jeans. It was like staring at him for eternity, looking into his amber eyes and feeling the hair on the nape of his neck. “Shawn, you’re not saying this all ‘cause you’ve drank, right?”
He laughed, surprised, “No, I’ve felt this forever. I think this was the catalyst, though,” He leaned his forehead against yours and shut his eyes. His eyelashes curled perfectly against his flushed face, dark brown on pink.
“Okay, good, because I think I want this.”
“You think?”
You nodded, “I know I do.”
That was enough for him to tighten his hold around you, pulling you in for a sweet, slow kiss. He tasted bitter, beer on his lips, but all you were focused on was the fact that he was here with you. He was here with you, and a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, and suddenly you weren’t so afraid anymore. You weren’t scared that he would break your heart. Because if he did, it would be mutual, in the most sadistic way of thinking of it. But you didn’t concern yourself with those thoughts for any longer as he parted from you, lips swollen already.
“Shawn?” You said again.
“Yeah?” He repeated.
“Happy birthday.”
“Shawn!” You giggled as he pushed you into his hotel room, shutting the door behind him. His face was flushed, yours too as he kept one arm hooked around his waist, kissing a line up your neck to your lips, “Shawn, hey, we can’t do this right now, we have to go to dinner!” Another chorus of giggles followed as he began to kiss a spot that made you ticklish. You had gone back on the road and a few days had passed since Shawn’s birthday.
“Dinner can wait,” He said, his lips on your skin muffling his voice. He had changed into some sweats and a black hoodie quickly after the concert, but his hair still smelled salty from the show. You, on the other hand, hadn’t even changed. Your jacket and black boots were thrown on the floor, but you still wore the dark green tank top you had on and black flannel pants.
Shawn began to pull your ponytail loose, letting your hair cascade around you, and he brought his eyes to yours, moving you to the wall. “When will we tell them?” You asked Shawn, his pupils blown so much you could barely see his irises. The pause let you push a curl back off his forehead, your hand settling on his neck.
“I dunno, when do you feel like it?” He asked, “Because I’m ready whenever you are.”
“Let’s not take it too fast. Maybe another week?” You questioned, and he settled his hand on your waist, another on the wall behind you.
Shawn sighed, moving his mouth to your ear, whispering, “So we’re gonna sneak around? It’ll be our secret?” His breath was hot on your neck. You shivered.
“If you want it to be.”
“How exciting,” You could practically hear him smirk as he settled his lips back onto yours hotly. He groaned and you pushed him closer to you, almost tearing at his curls. Your face was burning now, and you could feel him push up against you painfully. In protest, he moved his face away from yours.
Your senses came back to you, overstimulated, “I should shower.”
Shawn nodded, “Okay. Let’s go.”
You rolled your eyes, moving your hand to his, “A little too eager, huh?”
He didn’t answer you and just wrapped his arm around the small of your back, bringing you to the wall adjacent to the bathroom, settling himself between your legs. You got lost in him, consumed by the salty scent and mint shampoo and the burning tongues and icy touches on your skin.
You heard the lock on his door begin to beep, and you jumped, his hand covering your mouth. It would’ve been attractive to you if you hadn’t considered the situation. “Hey!” Kit called from outside. “Can I come in?” The door began to crack open, and Shawn stretched his other hand to it, shutting it while one stayed on your lips.
“Um, no, I-I’m naked!” He replied, and your eyes widened at what he just implied.
“Oh, um, sorry man, didn’t mean to interrupt your momen-”
Shawn shook his head, ears turning pink, “Not like that! I’m gonna go into the shower!” His words came out of his mouth all at once, panicked.
Kit nervously laughed, “Ohh! Alright, well, we’re leaving for dinner in ten.”
“M’kay,” His hand moved off your mouth, and you pushed yourself off the wall, “I’ll be down soon.”
“Alright, I’ll go tell Sticks,” You could hear his footsteps sounding down the hall.
Your eyes widened, and you frantically thought of how you were gonna get there in time. You’d just go up the stairs, but it had to be fast. Shawn turned to you, “We’re not done with this,” He grinned, “‘Kay?”
You nodded, “I’ll make it up to you, promise,” and you felt a smile tug at your lips as you pecked his lips, grabbing your jacket and boots off the floor. You heard him laugh as you ran out the door in your socks, close to the stairway. Before you opened the door to the stairway, you saw him peeking his head out of his room.
“Fuck off.” You chuckled.
“What? I like looking at your backside.”
You rolled your eyes, flipping him off as you started to run up the stairway.
“You and Shawn seem good,” Alessia called from above you. You were in your bunk below her, a sleeping Simon and Kit opposite you. Both of you didn’t sleep well on the bus and often ended up talking. Shawn was in the back in his room, probably waiting for him to text you.
You moved on your back so you could see her peeking head in the blue-lighted darkness. “Yeah, um, we’ve settled our feelings.” You weren’t sure if you should tell her, even though you knew she wouldn’t say a word to anyone else.
“‘Settled your feelings?’ Is that a codeword for something?” You could hear her shift on her side and watched as she propped her head up on her hand.
Your breath hitched, but you fought against the tension in your chest. Fear. “Keep it to yourself for the time being, A, but we’re yes, we’re together.”
“Yes! Ooh, how sneaky, keeping it a secret!” She sounded exactly like Shawn.
“It’s not like that, we just don’t want to cause drama, but we’ll probably tell everyone soon. We wanted one week at least.” You put your arms behind your head, covering yourself with your blanket.
“To not tell anyone?” She asked.
“Yeah.”
It was silent, but Alessia broke it, “I’ve never seen him happier. You’re good for him, and he’s good for you.”
“How is he good for me?” You ask, curious. Your phone buzzed at that moment, and you grabbed it, reading the message. Can you come here please? It was from Shawn.
“You calm each other. You think the same way and know how to comfort whatever you’re stressing about, I mean, I saw it before you were together. I just got the feeling it was more than that now. And when you talk about anything creative it’s like no one’s around.” She responded. You began to smile, and tore the sheets off your bed. “Where are you going?” You could see her face now, her hair tied back and a big sweater covering her.
“I’ll be back,” you stated, and she just wiggled her eyebrows at you. “What?”
She laughed softly, “Don’t come back too soon.”
“Shut up.” You replied, unable to keep the grin off your face. Tiptoeing down the bus hallway, you made it to the back where Shawn was. His room wasn’t big, and mostly was just a bed with a tiny space to walk next to. Opening the door, you walked in, the room only illuminated by the passing streetlights. They flashed yellow, so you could occasionally see Shawn’s form laying in the bed, back to you.
Moving to him, you carefully edged your way to the side, scared to fall from the moving bus. “Hi,” You said, and he turned around, eyes opening. They looked worried, and continued to as he moved to the wall next to the bed, letting you crawl in beside him.
You propped your head on the pillow, staring at his face, illuminated yellow every few seconds. His eyes and messy hair glittered with the lights, but soon you hit a stretch of darkness from your surroundings outside. “Hey,” He replied as you felt his leg wrap around yours.
“What’s wrong?” You asked. You moved your hand to the halo of curls around his head, smoothing them back. He shut his eyes, breathing softly out of his mouth.
“I’m scared,” He said, “I feel like a fraud sometimes. Like I’m not good enough to have the life I have, and I feel like I can’t breathe when I think about it too hard.” You could see his eyes watering and see the restraint he held when trying not to cry.
You shook your head, “I’ve felt that way too many times to count. I believe that you’re here, on this earth, for a reason. If you weren’t good enough to have the life you have, you wouldn’t bring so much joy to the people who love you and look up to you,” You calmly moved your hand to his cheek, wiping the tear pooled at his eye, “Whenever you feel that anxiety come in, take a deep breath and say, ‘I’m here for a reason. I matter.’”
He repeated after you, “I’m here for a reason. I matter.” You nodded, pulling him close to you and letting his head lie in the crook of your neck. You ran circles along his back, feeling him clutch onto your waist. “Where did you learn how to do that?” He asked, voice muffled.
A tug came to your lips, “My dad said the same thing to me when I had my shows.”
“He sounds amazing,” He whispered, “I want to meet him. Your mom, too.”
You chuckled softly, “Give it a few more weeks, rock star.”
He kissed your shoulder, bodies intertwined. Eventually, his breathing slowed and became more even, and you heard Alessia’s voice in your head; You calm each other. Somehow you got the feeling that no matter what happened you would always be there for him, and he would always be there for you. With those thoughts, your mind settled and you felt the warmth of sleep take you in gently.
Two Months Later
Everyone on tour knew about you and Shawn now, and nobody ever protested it. They all were happy for you both. Life had become easier as you adjusted your already similar schedules: waking up next to him was a dream, though the two of you hadn’t taken things farther than that. It never came up now that you were moving across countries and continents each day, exhausted and sleeping as soon as you got in the hotel room.
Alessia was gone, and it felt not completely whole on tour without her. You totally loved Dan and Shay, but the two of you created such a bond that you often found yourself turning to your side to tell her something or laugh with her when she wasn’t even there. Missy had come, making Shawn’s life much easier with her incredible organization skills.
Today was going to be a fantastic day, you thought to yourself as you stared at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. It was Halloween, and you didn’t think there was another better celebration than having a Halloween show in Melbourne. The fans in the Oceania part of the tour were like something out of a movie. The crowd felt unreal there.
Pulling the towel from your head, your hair fell down around your shoulders. Tonight everyone was going in costume, wearing 80s clothes, and you were delighted. The frantic colors and patterns were fun to wear, so you already began to change into your mom jeans, multi-colored striped top, and yellow bomber jacket.
In less than twenty minutes, your hair was away from your face, in a crimped ponytail with a scrunchie and you wore yellow eyeshadow that rimmed your eyes with heavy mascara. Halloween was so exciting to you, and you honestly missed getting dressed up.
“You ready, love?” You could hear Shawn open the door to your room, and he walked into the bathroom, grinning when he saw your face. “I love it. You look totally rad! That’s what they said, right? Rad?”
You laughed, watching him at the door in the reflection of the mirror. He wore a multi-colored bomber jacket and some cargo pants with a neon headband, and he looked so happy. His lips were rosy, and you replied, “I’m pretty sure, don’t ask me though, I’m not that old.”
“You’re older than me.” He added.
You stuck your tongue out at him, “By one year.” You began to put your makeup brushes away, and paused, “Do you want to wear some eyeliner? It might look cool.” You held the black pen in front of your face.
“Sure, let’s try it,” He moved to the counter and stood in front of the sink, facing you. You held his chin in one palm while your steady hand brushed along the rim of his eye. “It feels weird,” he said in discomfort.
“You get used to it.”
“You look so concentrated, it’s really cute.” He moved away from the eyeliner as you finished, setting it down on the counter. Snaking his arms around you, you settled your head against his sternum, feeling the solid-ness of him. “Let’s get going before Missy accuses us of ‘fooling around.’”
You felt a smile tug at your lips. “That woman talks like an old lady, I swear.”
He let go of you, “Don’t tell her that.”
Shawn’s leg kicks during Jesse’s Girl were absolutely adorable, you thought as the concert wrapped up. You, Kit, and Simon had thought up a dramatic introduction for him to come out of the stage on and it fit really well with the performance.
Several hours later, you were on the plane, moving to the tour’s next location. Your flight anxiety was worse this time around, bad turbulence making you nauseous. Shawn had pressed your palms into his and rubbed your neck soothingly for what seemed like forever, and it wasn’t until the last two hours of the flight that he fell asleep. You felt bad for keeping him awake, but welcomed his sleepy head on your shoulder and the arm that fell across from you gladly.
With your free arm (his arm kept your left one pinned down) you wrote some lyrics down in a notebook Alessia had given you on her last day of tour. It was a simple, black leather bound notebook, with yellow-ish lined pages. All you could write about were the same few themes: a feeling of falling, and then getting pulled back into someone’s grasp, or feeling so happy you were unsure it would last, lastly your main theme, of course; so many of the lyrics had been for the boy sleeping on you at the exact same time. Alessia told you to write down those feelings and keep them recorded so that one day you could look back on them, and smile at what you’d done and accomplished in your life.
Shawn had begun to stir from his sleep, mumbling incoherent words as he gripped the blanket on the both of you. You moved your hand, running it along his scalp calmly, “I love you,” you said, surprising yourself with what you just whispered to him. You had kept it in for so many months, terrified of coming to terms with it. Your lips trembled, scared to see his facial expression.
His face was still unmoving with sleep, and you felt a breath come out of you. He didn’t hear you. But was that what you wanted? For him not to know how much you loved him?
December
Your apartment looked much less lonely now that Christmas decor had been almost bombarded on every surface; there were twinkly lights across your windows and on your kitchen counters, holiday pillows swapped for regular ones, and a white, red, and gold tree shining next to your couch. The cold time of year always made you the happiest, and you felt this elation course through your body almost every day.
A soft blanket and a mug of coffee kept you warm while you watched old cartoons on your tv, feeling nostalgic. Shawn was cooking in the kitchen while you rested. Lately, it seemed like the two of you barely spent a day apart, and it was hard for you to get anything done around him when all you wanted to do was be next to him. That’s what the holidays were for, you reminded yourself. It was easy to get swept up in a world of productivity.
A smell of something savory wafted into the living area, and you turned your head away from the television to look at your boyfriend. He domestically had a rag on his shoulder while the sizzle of something sauteing in a pan and the chopping of a knife made you ask, “What’re you making?”
“It’s a secret,” You could see him grin as he moved to the fridge.
“You didn’t need to make anything,” You added.
He shrugged, turning his head to you, “I wanted to have a nice dinner with you tonight, and plus, you said we could watch Harry Potter, so this is my thank you.” You giggled, turning back to the screen to watch Charlie Brown having a snowball fight with his dog.
In a half-hour, plates were set on your seasonally-decorated dining table, and glasses of wine were filled for the two of you. Putting the utensils down next to each of your plates, Shawn sauntered up to the table and dramatically set down the serving plate, steaming with food. “Roasted chicken, sauteed with onions and vegetables,” Shawn grinned, looking at you expectantly as if he were on a cooking competition show. “Dessert is also a surprise.”
It tasted delicious; he really knew his way around the kitchen. Shawn blushed every single time you complemented the food, quite adorably, and soon enough the both of you had changed the subject to the Harry Potter movie you were going to watch.
“Okay, but the third is such a classic! It has the Marauders stuff happening and Lupin and it’s my favorite!” Shawn argued while the two of you gathered up your plates, walking to the sink.
You shrugged, “Yes, but the fourth has the Triwizard Tournament, and we can’t forget about Cedric Diggory!”
Shawn snorted, “That’s because you have a weird obsession with Robert Pattinson, and you know it!” You laughed along with Shawn, unable to make a retort because you knew he was completely correct.
You gave in, opening the dishwasher, “Alright, alright, but we’re watching the fourth one soon.”
“M’kay, Bella Swan.”
You scoffed, slapping him with a dishrag, “How dare you compare me to her! She has the personality of a piece of paper!” He doesn’t reply, and just watches as you try to hide your giggles. There’s a strange silence and you can almost hear the ambience of the holidays in your ears.
Shaking his head, Shawn blurts, “I love you,” he said affectionately, almost as if he didn’t hear it, continuing to wash off the plates. He pauses, looking at you and coming to his senses, realizing what he said.
He hadn’t said it since his birthday. You hadn’t said it at all, save for that night on the plane, but he wasn’t even awake. But somehow you felt an overwhelming feeling come over you, and on instinct you replied, “I love you too.”
Shawn takes his hands away from the sink. “You do?” His face looks vulnerable, and a hand reaches out to stabilize himself on the counter. All you can do is nod. “Yeah?” He questions again, and you set your rag down on the counter, taking his face in your palms and kissing him as passionately as you can.
The two of you part, “Yeah, I do. ‘Guess I was too scared to say it ‘till now.” You reply as his arms loop around your waist.
“Why would you be scared?” He brings your body closer to him.
“When I love people, I’m scared of losing them,” You mutter under your breath, but he heard you anyway.
He pushes a piece of hair behind your ear, “You’re never going to lose me,” His eyes darken, almost looking pained as he brings his lips to yours again, and you get lost in the taste of him, the smell of him. You can feel his arms slide from your waist to your thighs, and he hikes you up onto the counter. Your fingers rake across his scalp, feeling the heat coming off of his neck, coursing through his body. “I promise.” He says, a pause between kissing you.
The smell of cinnamon and linen welcomes you as he carries you into your bedroom, the curtains shut and the city lights streaming through the bedroom. There’s a lamp on your bedside table, emanating a warm glow. You feel his frame crawl over you, and it’s like the two of you are in a movie. Perfect, cold-weathered lighting, the smell of Christmas, and the hot-and-cold prickly feeling that comes when you pull off your sweater. His face is flushed, rosy cheeks and lashes feathering his cheekbones. He looks at you carefully, almost lost in thought.
You bring your face to his, meticulously playing at the seams of his shirt, kissing him slowly and softly. You can hear a soft moan come from his lips, setting you on your back as he touches what seems like every nerve in your body. “I love you.” He repeats for what seems like forever, almost like he wants you to believe it absolutely.
And you want him to believe it, too, trading the same three words over and over again until you fall asleep holding each other. Strangely, when sleep comes and you’re in your dreams, an old Greek myth that your father told you comes to mind. When pairs of people were one, they didn’t need any other person. They were attached to each other. But when Zeus, King of the Gods separated them, those people, the human race, spent their entire lives looking for their other half. They needed to be with each other so they could be complete.
When you wake up for a moment, lost in the thought of the myth, you look up and see Shawn, curly hair messy and his head in the crook of your neck. You think of the pairs, needing each other to survive. He never lets go.
#shawn mendes#shawn peter raul mendes#shawn mendes x reader#shawn mendes fanfiction#shawn mendes fanfic#shawn mendes fic#shawn mendes fluff#shawn mendes blurb#shawn mendes oneshot#shawn mendes one shot#shawn mendes one-shot#shawn mendes au#shawn mendes fan fic#caffeinated-mendes#shawn mendes story#shawn mendes imagines#shawn mendes writing#shawn mendes angst#shawn mendes band au#shawn mendes masterlist
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Styrian Grand Prix Race Weekend Review
Whilst I think we can agree any racing is good racing, there is an argument to be made that qualifying for the Styrian Grand Prix was more exciting than the race itself. One of the most rain-drenched sessions I’ve ever seen, all of the drivers exhibited incredible skill. I honestly expected far more chaos and crashes than we saw, but was grateful that we were treated to some spectacular displays of driving with only one red flag punctuating the session. The Racing Points did NOT seem to enjoy the rain, but someone who did was George Russell, who managed to pull off a spectacular P12, and then was promoted to P11 following Charles Leclerc’s grid penalty. It was Williams’ first appearance in Q2 since Brazil 2018, and it was wonderful to see George display the talent he so clearly has (despite his race not going quite so well). The Uno reverse card came out at Ferrari, with this time Vettel pushing Leclerc out of Q3, the German only able to manage P10 at the end of the day. The battle for pole was primarily between the two drivers who have gained the strongest reputations for commanding a rainy track: Hamilton and Verstappen. But while Max put in a brilliant performance, demonstrating great control as he saved his car from a nasty accident after sliding through the final corner (the kind of thing we first saw in Brazil 2016), it was Lewis’s day. He put in a completely commanding final lap that cemented him as back in the game after a disappointing last weekend, the gap between him and Verstappen a mind-blowing and unheard of 1.2 seconds! Sainz, Ocon and Gasly also impressed, qualifying P3, P5 and P7 respectively.
Due to the wet qualifying, everyone had a free choice of tyres come race day, with most drivers electing to begin on the softs. Almost instantly it was all over for Ferrari, an ill-judged move from Leclerc taking their weekend from bad to worse. It goes back to the saying that you can’t win a race on the first lap, but you can easily lose one. His attempt to go down the inside of Vettel was completely unnecessary, and both drivers paid the price (Leclerc did apologise profusely and accept all the blame). With their car not even looking ‘best of the rest’ and this being their second race ending collision in four races, you get the feeling Sainz might be feeling a little less than happy about his upcoming move to the Scuderia. The incident necessitated a safety car for a couple of laps whilst the remains of Vettel’s rear wing were cleared off the track.
The majority of the race was not super eventful, with only one further retirement – Esteban Ocon. Hamilton pulled away from Verstappen and the trio of Hamilton, Verstappen and Bottas in turn pulled away from those behind them. The midfield was closely bunched together for much of the race with lots of good battles, Perez in particular making his mark with a remarkable drive where he was up to 5thfrom 17thby lap 49 (having also pitted), pulling out fastest laps all over the place. Stroll was not able to make quite the same impact, struggling to pass Ricciardo for most of the race. Sainz’s race was rather ruined by a botched pit stop that put him out at the back of the group that included Norris, Ricciardo and Stroll, but he did manage to set fastest lap (and set a new lap record), giving McLaren their first consecutive fastest laps since 2011.
It really started to heat up on lap 67, with Bottas finally catching Verstappen, who was struggling with older tyres and some front wing damage. It looked like the Finn had got him, but Verstappen pulled off an insane move to regain the position, if only for 1 lap. It really showed Max’s passion that despite knowing Valterri was in the faster car and would eventually pass him he still put up an amazing fight, providing the fans with the entertainment we wanted. In my opinion, this drive, fight, and unwillingness to give up are the qualities of a future world champion. Perez finally caught Albon, but suffered damage that seriously compromised his speed, causing him to drop back. Lando Norris has come alive at the end of both races so far, and it’s great to see. Over the final 2 laps he went from 8thto 5th, capitalising upon Stroll and Ricciardo’s battle that saw both cars go off-track, and then passing the ailing car of Perez on the penultimate corner. The Mexican was soon caught by his teammate and the Renault, and the trio crossed the line three abreast, Perez just clinging on to 6thwith only a second separating Norris in 5thand Ricciardo in 8th. It was a Mercedes 1-2, with Hamilton putting in a totally dominant performance to win the race.
One of the most powerful moments of the weekend came during the podium celebration, when Stephanie Travers, Mercedes’ Trackside Fluid Engineer, accepted their constructor’s trophy. She is one of only NINE women ever to stand on an F1 podium, and the only woman of colour. I want to talk about gender diversity in the sport more in another post, but the importance of Stephanie standing up there alongside the drivers cannot be understated. Representation is so important, and the fact that women and young people of colour could see someone who looked like them on that podium says there is a place for them in the sport. I would read Lewis’s Instagram post if you want to find out more about Stephanie, and I think he was certainly instrumental in selecting her to join him for the champagne. Other teams should take note; although this is only a start, it was a display of genuine (rather than just performative) allyship.
Ferrari need to get their act together for Hungary this weekend; if they don’t show any improvement then I can’t see them having much of a chance of success for the rest of the year. Apart from Sainz’s pit stop it was a great weekend for McLaren, who stand 3rdin the constructors championship, with Norris maintaining 3rdin the drivers (with over half the points he managed to get all of last year). Toto Wolff has said he expects Red Bull to be a threat at the Hungaroring, but he has been known to make these kind of comments only for the Mercedes to appear stronger than ever, so we shall have to wait and see. Verstappen was narrowly beaten by Hamilton for the win last year, but managed to secure his first pole position, and has performed steadily there over the years. However, this is arguably the track where Hamilton has seen the most success – he has won 7 out of his 13 races there, and could be set to equal Michael Schumacher’s record of most race wins at the same circuit. Whatever happens, I can’t wait for more racing.
#f1#formula 1#formula one#styrian grand prix#styrian gp#lewis hamilton#valteri bottas#max verstappen#lando norris#carlos sainz#charles leclerc#sebastian vettel#george russell#sergio perez#daniel ricciardo#mercedes#red bull#ferrari#mclaren#motorsport
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My Lazy, Poor, Stupid Person’s Attempt to Paint Tabletop Miniatures
by headless
This has nothing to do with covid-19 really, it’s just something I reckoned I’d share. For several years I’ve played Dungeons & Dragons, and occasionally others like Call of Cthulhu and Delta Green, or Shadowrun. Though, I say ‘play’, when I mostly run games as a Dungeon Master. It’s one of those “hobbies” that is a lot of fun for someone like me, but requires a ton of dedication, so it isn’t always easy to get a dedicated group together.
Anyhow, I generally homebrew settings and adventures, never really been too big on running pre-written games, even if some of them are fantastically written. And one of the most frustrating things is I some times want to have a miniature on the battle grid that looks a certain way. This is hardly a big deal, since miniatures are just markers meant for reference in combat encounters, the real image of the characters is in all of our heads.
Still, I sometimes want to have something especially specific, a lot of the players in my current group appreciate cool looking miniatures, and seeing as I’m usually hard-up for cash, I can’t always buy pre-painted mini-figures, unless I get a good bulk deal on ebay or something.
One of my recent attempts to acquire bulk miniatures came a few years back when I realized during the 4E days, Wizards of the Coast had released boxed board games themed with the D&D style, which all came with a great deal of unpainted miniatures; these came in sets like Wrath of Ashardalon, or The Legend of Drizzt, with lots of themed minis for the board game’s scenario.
Anyhow, I’ve had a ton of these unpainted miniatures forever and use them often for nobody-NPCs and other characters the players run across. Lately, however, the group I’ve been running in a campaign for about eleven months (usually weekly), ran across a problem where their dragonborn ranger Grixxis was captured by and then negotiated his away out of the clutches of this ancient entity who calls herself Gorgoth (who appears to be a pale, beautiful young woman, but probably isn’t; even the not so arcane-y Grixxis intuited that much). She was actually impressed that he resisted her Sleep spell, and offered him a deal, she’d let him go but he needs to complete a task for her in the next seven days, and if it isn’t completed in that time frame his soul will be bound to her forever.
The task was to go to a mountaintop and retrieve something that resides there, though Gorgoth did not explain what the object was, so the party set off to find this mysterious mountain. The journey led them to an area of bad wilderness where no one lives, and where roving bands of orcs constantly hunt and war with one another, so only a few people know anything about that region. The party ended up hiring a guide, who was a wood elf exile named Skaya. They seemed to be intrigued by her because she’s living in a city which is currently at war with wood elves, so there’s a lot of prejudice and racism against her kind. Skaya does have facial tattoos that indicate she’s been exiled from her tribe and therefore no longer truly considered by her people to be a wood elf (their worst form of punishment in this universe), but still, the party seemed immediately fascinated by this single NPC among the potential seven or so they might’ve hired for this expedition.
Anyhow, my players have only gotten truly invested in one other NPC they’ve met before this; a small little orc toddler named Gruuba who they saved from a bunch of slave trading bandits early on in the campaign. I’ve had difficulty finding a good miniature for Gruuba too (because she’s really small and scrawny), but since she’s at the same developmental level as a human six year-old they try to keep her out of combat scenarios (despite Gruuba’s excited insistence that she enjoys using clubs “for smashings”). Since the party have begun to really enjoy Skaya as character, the longer they’ve slowly, slowly gotten to know more about her stand-offish personal history, I really wanted to get a miniature for her that reflected my image of her better than the one I’d been using.
So, even though I got basically no experience doing so, I bought a miniature from Reaper Miniatures, and after looking up a few tutorial vids for beginners like me, I set about trying to paint my first mini-figs.
Two things, if you’re looking into this yourself;
First, I’m not totally unartistic, I write creatively and I sketch with pencils and ink. Painting’s fairly new to me, but it’s not like I have absolutely no artistic talent. I also solder a lot of really small wires and components in my normal daily job, so I may have better muscle control for this sort of thing than some people. I only mention this because I may have had a few advantages in this undertaking. I just don’t want to make people overly confident, keep things in perspective. So whatever your level of expertise at this, if you want to start just try to patiently measure your expectations, and don’t get discouraged if your first results aren’t so great. All things improve with time.
And B. if you’re poor, lazy, and stupid like me, there’re ways to get around that. This video I watched gave me a good rundown of the basic steps which are;
- scrub the plastic down with some dish soap, luke-warm water, and a toothbrush; allow at least 1 hour to dry (I let them sit for a day because I’m paranoid), and be sure there’s no lingering moisture before you start painting
- get a good primer or base coat on the model before you start adding other colors; lighter base coats allow more colors to show up easier, while darker base coats tend to make the colors you paint over them darker
- stay calm and take your time
- try to paint the colors that’ll go under other colors first, like, if a barbarian dude is shirtless but’s wearing a few pieces of armor, paint his shirtless skin first, then paint the armor he’s wearing second because it layers over better that way
- use thinner paints and multiple coats of a color to get an even final color instead of one thick coat
- allow each coat of paint to dry for 10 - 20 minutes before applying the next coat
- learn about washes, pigments, and inks, because they’re awesome
- get a decent varnish for a final protective coat, matte varnishes make the model look dryer and flat, gloss varnishes make the model look shiny and wet, if you do a coat of gloss and a coat of matte varnish it equalizes it pretty good
And this video here sort of laid to rest my fears that I’ll need to spend $600 on paints and washes and stuff. The very helpful lady in that video explains how she uses generic acrylic paints from the craft store (I got mine at Wal-Mart) to paint her Warhammer miniatures, and she even offers a method of making your own washes from a combination of paint and flavorless mouth wash. It’s genius. So try not to stress too much about buying the really nice brand name paints, because it’s not necessary, those paints just have an optimal mix I think, otherwise they’re the same damn thing as generic acrylic paints. Also, you’re just trying to learn, so unless you really, really feel like emptying your bank account, just use the generic stuff.
I started out painting something I didn’t care about. I wanted my miniature for Skaya to look badass and awesome, so I wanted to start with some practice miniatures. Grabbed a few from those 4E board game sets and gave it a shot. But I had also recently gotten hold of a Goliath Barbarian miniature from the Player’s Handbook Heroes sets (also from the 4E days) a rare find, since it usually goes for like $60.00 by itself. Randomly found some dude on ebay selling an unopened box set for $20.00, so I got a wild elf druid and a human berserker along with it. So I started out touching up the goliath’s armor to make it look more like armor and less like weird blue stuff.
Here’s a before-and-after for him (I didn’t take photos of them before because I wasn’t anticipating this, so I just found examples from around the web):
Next I tried a re-paint. A friend of mine had recently guest-played in my campaign and created a half-drow monk (his backstory was fantastic), so since nothing like that exists, I took a Soulknife Infiltrator miniature seen here:
And repainted it to sort of look like his half-drow Monk of the Open Palm:
I finally had the courage to do a full paint, so I grabbed the Dragonborn Elementalist from the Wrath of Ashardalon box, and painted her up with reddish scales (I’m one of those who thinks dragonborn should have physical attributes of their heritage).
In the box her name’s Heskan. I definitely used way too much wash on this one so she looks super shiny.
I then took the orc archers in that same box, and not really paying too much attention this time, quickly painted them, because I lack many orc archers:
At this point, I felt it was time to finally paint Skaya, the wood elf exile. I used the Reaper Bones model Deladrin, Female Assassin ($1.99) for Skaya’s mini.
And taking way more hours than I did on the others, which were only about 1-3 hours each, when you count waiting for the coats to dry, I managed to sort of make her look like Skaya, I guess:
After this, the fact that it wasn’t complete and utter shit, which is what I expected, I was encouraged. So I tried to do out party’s tortle cleric, named Daruuk of Chult (who oddly speaks with a Slavic accent, so that’s how people from Chult sound in our campaign), for whom we’ve lacked an accurate mini-figure for some time. I bought a pack of Spikeshell Warriors ($2.99) from the Reaper Bones line.
But Daruuk characteristically wields a large shield and a warhammer, so for some reason I got super detailed and bought a pack of loose shields from the Reaper Bones line ($0.99), then bought Halbarad ($1.49) a human cleric.
I clipped off Halbarad’s hammer at the hilt, then I trimmed the spikes off of the spikeshell warrior’s club, and used a dremel to carfully mill a hole inside the shaft of the spikeshell’s club, then pinned the hammer inside and secured it with gorilla gel. I used an actual cork board pin to push the shield onto the spikshell’s offhand after cutting off his turtle shell shield in order to pin it before gluing, then clipped off the rest of the cork board pin. Somehow, this ended up making the shield look meaner because it now has a like pyramidal spike sticking out the center. After allowing the glue to dry I painted him up, and my attempt at Daruuk the Death Cleric turned out thus:
I guess his hammer looks sort of Acme-level cartoony, but he’s a giant 350 lb. turtle-man who talks like Omega Red from X-Men The Animated Series, so I’m okay with that. The spikeshell also fits well with the razorback sub-race feature I allowed Daruuk’s player to homebrew for himself. I was really proud of this one.
Finally, because I’m an insane asshole who is getting obsessed with my new hobby, I decided it was dragons or bust. So I bought a pre-primed unpainted Young Blue Dragon from WizKids ($13.99).
And spent, like, three days meticulously testing different paint layers to see how they come out. I tried to paint her in the tradition of blue dragons as they appear in the art of Forgotten Realms material, but gave her a somewhat darker cast, and added metallic blue layers to her claws and spinal ridges. I still need to paint her base, put some highlights on her eyes to accentuate the glowing effect and add my washes to give her a final layer of dimension, but here’s how she came out so far:
Behold, Stormfang! Mistress of Thunder...
Anyhow.
This is super long and I wonder if anyone will bother to read any of it. But just wanted to put this out there. From a dude who, if you asked me a year ago if I thought I could do this, I’d have said I’m too stupid, poor, and lazy. I still think of myself as all of those things. The real pros use crazy detailed techniques with like seven layered highlights on their models, and airbrushes and all kinds of other madness. I use maybe three coats total and I don’t get too worked up if I make a mistake here and there, and I haven’t spent more than maybe fifty bucks total across six weeks, and most of that was wasting paints because I was still learning how to mix different shades.
So if you got something you feel like you’ve always wanted to do but are too stupid, poor, and lazy to figure out, just go for it yo. I managed to crack out these bastards and I still think I suck, but it’s way better looking than I expected. For real though, you should see some of those Warhammer players, they got mad crazy god skills at this stuff compared to me. But your level of skill isn’t the point. The point is to have that moment with that thing you did, and look at it, and just go “Yeh, I did that” when at one time you never believed you ever could.
There’s always going to be somebody better than you, but even they, like all of us, are still learning.
侍 headless
#painting miniatures#hobbyists#you can do it#encouragement#young blue dragon#just do it#my weird little world#dungeons & dragons#forgotten realms#dungeon master#painters#tabletop gaming#role-playing games#critical role#wood elves#shadowblade#turtle-men#death doman#half-elf#drow#monk#and matthew mercer
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