#while still in the 'actively and scandalously fucking each other' stage of their relationship

[oldshrewsburyian]

I am rewatching the 1963 Cleopatra shortly after rewatching Hail, Caesar and I’m not sure whether this makes the experience worse or -- and this is the way I’m leaning -- better.

#'am rewatching' because i started it last night and passed out for about an hour in the middle #cleopatra 1963 #hail caesar #old hollywood #all those beautiful painterly shots! #the cast of thousands (and thousands!) #the arch one-liners #also #how burton and taylor manage to have 'simultaneously married and divorced' energey #while still in the 'actively and scandalously fucking each other' stage of their relationship #is something of a mystery #unless i'm projecting all of that (ALL of THAT) onto the film #and i don't think i am #anyway #onward with this weird gorgeous sprawling and frequently compelling movie #and the visible orientalism/racism/colorism is actually SOMETIMES critiqued a little #not much #but there is that

[bibbykins]

Insufferable

A/N: The long-awaited flashback is here! It's short, but it is here! I hope this can really show the turning point in Jungkook's and MC's relationship and I would love to hear everyone's thoughts. As usual, tips are not required but greatly appreciate. Hope you all enjoy and have a wonderful day/night!

Note: This is a part (specifically a flashback) of The Household's Bunny series, so I recommend reading at least the Prologue before this one

Word count: 3.6k

Pairing: Soft Yandere! Jungkook x Chubby! Reader

Summary: Roommates are bound to have arguments, especially when one of them is as temperamental as Jungkook, but you didn't expect the first argument to get so unbelievably personal.

Warnings: abandonment issues, mommy issues, allusions to past abuse, family issues, crying, yelling, vomiting, panic attack, exhaustion, some soft yandere thoughts, some possessiveness, jungkook is mean and the MC gets a little mean too

There was something so constricting about memories of a shitty childhood. There were times when looking in the mirror felt like searching for the child in you so you could give her the hug she desperately needed. There were times when waking up felt like a check to make sure you were no longer in the home you had to grow up in far too quickly. However, the comfort of being in a different home only came so far when you didn't have anyone beside you or even emotionally available enough to talk to.

You stayed in bed for hours before it felt like a good idea to move, almost waiting for the mirage of change to fade before it brought you back to the gym with your mom or your uncle's apartment littered with whiskey bottles and leaky tear ducts.

Sometimes putting your best foot forward each day felt so hard with all-consuming loneliness clinging to your heels.

You had started your day going through your memory box. Hindsight said that was a poor idea. The box was a sure way to get you into a bad mood. You liked to think you breezed past all the stages of grief, but just because you accepted reality didn't make it hurt any less. The box was a strong reminder of that much as it sat with a melancholic aura. The creme color faded and the thorned vines connected to roses only added to the malicious undertones of its existence to your mental health. It was full of childhood photos, your birth certificate, school achievements, and the last known address your mom had.

Ah, your mom. What a way to bring clouds to your sunny day. You don’t know why you put yourself through the turmoil of the memory box. Maybe you were hoping it would be easier by now. You were always wrong. Looking through childhood photos and finding no love in the eyes of your mother when she looked at you and watching the love in your uncle’s eyes fade with your mother’s presence. You got to the fated birthday card, thumb rubbing over the defunct address longingly. You held the envelope in your hand, inspecting the birthday card she sent you. Three words in the repetitive note written on the inside caught your eye, and not the ones you so desperately wanted from her.

Feeling a familiar pressure behind your eyes, you tossed the card aside and stood. It was time to eat, go on a walk, do anything other than this. You found your way to the kitchen and came across a silent and solemn Jungkook. His jaw was clenched, but it felt like it always was around you.

Your relationship with Jungkook so far was not very complicated, in the way it was nonexistent. He either didn’t care about talking to you or he actively didn’t want to, you really couldn’t tell. This didn’t stop you from trying, though. Like an idiot.

“I’m making food, did you want any?” You asked from your place seated on the couch, and the silence that was his response for deafening, “Okaaaay.” You sang awkwardly, “I just know that you usually don’t eat throughout the day and-”

“And what do you know?!” He snapped, blinded by his pure and unbridled, but most important unprovoked, rage of you. Your eyes widened and your body jumped. Holy shit, you had never heard him yell like this, “You don’t know anything about me, or in general, so just stop trying so fucking hard!” He was harsh in his tone and it lit your whole nervous system on fire. What the hell did you do to him?

You shook your head, not sure why he was yelling about, but it made your throat feel like it was going to close, “Look, I was just trying to be polite, but you don’t need to talk about me like you understand-”

“Understand?! What’s there to understand?” He challenged, eyes wide like he was expecting you to say something but he continued, “You’re some spoiled girl living here rent-free because your precious dad doesn’t want to take care of you.”

Your heart caught in your throat as it shattered. He was right, your dad didn't want to take care of you, but not in the way he thought. Why was he doing this? Has he genuinely felt this way all along? Was he just holding in his anger until you poked the bear a little too hard? “You don’t need to yell at me.” You stated firmly and it seemed to only make things worse.

“And you don’t need to fucking be here in the first place!” He spoke, temper long lost and you could hear his voice mix in with Jungyoon’s, all he needed was a bottle of whisky and a set of calloused hands, “You didn’t need to fucking live here-”

“You don’t know anything about me.” You spat out. Now, you were losing your temper. You could take a beating, but for only so long, especially as an adult, "And it's not like you're paying rent either, so what do you know about me or my living arrangements?" You hissed and you watched his eyes flare, making you nearly regret your provocation.

“No, but I know how you look naked-”

“Fuck you.” You spit the word out at him, something you haven’t done to another person for a while “Don’t weaponize my work or play a game that you absolutely will lose.” You warned, “I know all about you, and I can use that, because you’ve been a star since you were 15, and that sucks, that makes you mad, doesn’t it?” Your temper effectively lost as you ripped into the rage-filled man before you, “Yet you don’t know anything about me, and that must piss you the fuck off, huh?” You stood from the couch, tears building in your eyes before you could stop it.

“I know enough, spoiled rich girl.” He seethed and you laughed humorlessly at this worldwide pop star calling you spoiled and rich.

“Not only are you wrong, but you’re also a poor listener.” You shot back, “I’ve told you all before Jungyoon isn’t my fucking dad, he’s my uncle.” His mouth opened but you cut him off before he could start, “He can’t stand the sight of me so he travels for work.” Your tears are undoubtedly falling, but you can’t stop, “And you’re talking to me like this because what? You had a scandal or something?” You gave him his chance to talk and boy, he took it.

“Mona told me you know your mom.” His voice was like venom, “So, why the fuck are you here? You have your blood relatives.” He exaggerated the word like it meant anything to you, “Why are you here, disrupting our lives, acting like an innocent orphan girl around actual fucking orphans-”

“I never said I was or acted like an orphan!” You exclaimed incredulously before scoffing, “That’s why you’re mad? Because you never knew your mom and I did? Because I know who my blood family is?” You could laugh at how ridiculous that was, “I know them, so what? Where does that get me?” You looked at him expectantly but he didn’t talk, “I knew my mom, and guess what? She just didn’t fucking want me.” He was silent, but you still couldn’t stop, “I’m sure if your mom could’ve got to know you, she would’ve kept you, because you’re not insufferable to be around, you’re just a fucking asshole.” You wiped at your cheeks furiously, “But me? I had 15 years to prove myself and it still wasn’t enough. I still wasn’t enough. Jungyoon never wanted me either, he got stuck with me and had to cope.” Your voice began to break and you had to take a breath, “I was the insufferable one, so-” You stopped, finally as you regained your sense of reality and watched Jungkook who had an unreadable expression and the realization of the word vomit you spilled out to him hit you like a train as you exhaled quickly, rage in your voice quickly replaced with soft melancholy “I am the insufferable one here, so there.” You shrugged, face a wet mess, “Hope that brings you peace.” Your stomach was churning as you turned on your heel, unable to hold in your sobs. You couldn’t bear the awkwardness of waiting for the elevator so you opted to take the stairs.

You sobbed louder as the door slammed shut behind you, but you didn’t want to linger so you bolted down the stairs, the bile in your stomach signaling that you needed to find the nearest trashcan and quickly. You made it to the ground floor and spilled your guts into the small trashcan. Yelling always made you unbelievably ill, whether it was getting yelled at or yelling, the sickness it made you feel overflowed. The yelling only reminded you of-

You vomited again at the mere thought. You cried harder when you finally finished, breathing becoming staggered as you began to panic.

Fuck, they’re gonna kick you out, and then you’ll be alone again. You lost your temper, people don’t like other people who lose their temper. Why couldn’t you just mind your own fucking business and leave him be? You’re stupid. Why do you think you’ve been alone all your life? It’s because people don’t want to be near you. You’re-

“Insufferable.” You mumbled, numb, even if for only a moment.

Sure, Jungkook provoked you, but you knew better. You didn't go to therapist after therapist throughout your adolescence for nothing. You felt as if you set yourself back eons after that outburst. He didn't need to know all that about you, ever. He probably didn't even care to know, and you said it anyway, like you were gunning for gold in the trauma Olympics. You didn't want to minimize his struggles, you just wanted him to shut up and stop yelling at you. You let your eyes flutter closed as you cried. How can you complain about being alone when you're like this?

You don’t know how long you stayed there, sitting next to a trash can full of your vomit as you wallowed in your self-hatred. The all-consuming loneliness the boisterous house subdued returning with full force. Jungkook was right. You didn’t need to be here. You were only disrupting their routine.

You blew out a sigh as you staggered to the elevator, fully set on going up to your room and crying yourself to sleep after you clean up. You brought the trashcan with you, not having the heart to just leave your puke down there. You thanked your lucky stars when Jungkook was no longer on the second floor as you went to the kitchen and rinsed your mouth before going to take out the trash and take out your burnt oven pizza. Finally, you were headed back up to your floor. You watched the numbers tick by with tired eyes. You glared at the empty trashcan, electing to take it with you instead of making the trip back down to put it back. Surely, they wouldn’t need it for a few hours.

The elevator dinged as you grabbed the black plastic bin and then you were met with Jungkook. Relief flashed across his face before irritation settled on it, “Where the fuck were you?!” He asked hurriedly as you trudged past him, too exhausted to fight. You were running on autopilot the whole way up here, and you couldn’t bear another spat.

“I was on the first floor.” Your voice was low, trying to communicate you were done arguing as you lifted the bin as proof. You then set it down and went to your bathroom and began brushing your teeth.

He scoffed, “You were on the first floor for 30 minutes?” He asked as if he caught you in a lie but you nodded as you rinsed your mouth.

You were down there for thirty minutes? No wonder you felt so tired.

“Yep.” You popped the last letter before correcting yourself, “Well, I spent like 10 minutes cleaning up that bin, so not exactly.”

“Why?” He asked as if you were being ridiculous, as if he wasn’t the one on your floor demanding answers.

“I vomited.” You spoke simply and before he could ask, “Yelling makes me puke.” You were so blase about it he sighed in frustration.

You walked to your room and froze when you saw your memory box strewn about, and it was like a dam broke all over again. You looked at the photos, at the eager little girl looking for love in places she would never find it.

Old habits die hard.

Before you could even stop yourself, you sunk to your knees in garbled sobs and broken cries, “Hey, hey, wait.” Jungkook’s shaky voice did nothing to bring you back to reality as you cried. His hands placed themselves on your shoulder, making you flinch violently, much to his horror.

Fuck, he didn’t know how to do this. He didn’t know why you were crying, but he knew it was his fault, at least in part. Even if at this moment it wasn’t, his outburst surely didn’t help. Fuck, he’s so dumb. Fuck, he shouldn’t have talked to Mona just moments before seeing you.

The envy of even seeing your own mother’s face ate up at him and he took it out on you. Not to mention that he made you vomit from the yelling. He suddenly felt more like an arrogant asshole than he did before as his hands now hovered over your form and he took a moment to look at your room.

Scattered on the floor were childhood photos and ribbons from competitions. Things Mona kept in her own house, having a whole wall filled with every one of their achievements. Even Jin had a photo album of their things. And you, you kept all these for yourself. You were the only one who cared enough to save these things and he wondered how much you threw away to maintain space in the small empty box. Fuck, he didn’t know how to do this.

You sighed shakily, “You can just go.” You cried, “You don’t have to be here.” You don’t know what he could possibly gain from watching you cry.

“I know.” His voice was calm, even, “Can I help you up?” He asked and you wanted to look up at him in confusion but you didn't want him to see your tears.

You both had just ripped into each other, and here he was, wanting to help you. Why would he do that? Why would he stay when he doesn't have to? Why would he want to help you up after a fight?

Too tired to even think about questioning him and no longer angry at him, you simply scoffed, “Can you?” You sighed, not having the energy to stroke his ego and stand up without his help.

You never let people bear your dead weight, not wanting the awkwardness if they couldn’t carry you, but right now, you just wanted to lay down.

He snorted lightly, happy to hear anything other than a sob for you, “Don’t worry about me, you just cry and mind your business.” He spoke lightly, and the comment made you fight a smile. Then, he lifted you with so much ease, you figured he was trying to show off as he placed you on the bed. He looked at you after he sat on the floor before his eyes caught onto the gold foil of a 16th birthday card. You were wiping at your face as he read the card against his better judgment.

I know you must be confused, and I can’t help that. I wish I could pretend to be a mom, but I can’t. I can’t be your mom, and I never should have tried. It would be best if we forgot each other. I just can’t keep pretending, and I know you can see it, even if you don’t want to.

I’m so tired.

-Mom

Now, he felt even more like an asshole. He also felt a little bit angry that your mother could just leave you behind without so much as saying sorry. She wrote like she was a teenager and you were her mother. She obviously didn't put much thought into the seemingly last message to her daughter and it made his heartbreak for you, “That was the last I heard of her.” You snapped him from his thoughts and he looked at your puffy face, “She had left months earlier, and then I got that, but she moved before I could try to see her one more time.” There was a distant ache in your words as you looked at Jungkook sitting amongst your memories.

“Is she… still alive?” He asked, not sure why he felt the need to know.

“Not sure, but it doesn’t make much of a difference, I guess.” You blew out a sigh, before looking at your papers and folded posterboards, “I was cleaning out my memory box, and I’m not sure why I do it when I know it just upsets me.” You could still feel tears leaking from your eyes as Jungkook picked up a photo of you on your 14th birthday, posed between Jungyoon and your mom. You had a bright smile on your face and they looked at the camera with a tight expression, “You can really see how much they didn’t want to be there, but that's the happiest they look in all of the photos.”

He wanted to say you were wrong, but he could see it. He could see the happy little girl trying to make up for the unhappy adults around her. He knew he should’ve asked Mona why Jungyoon didn’t try to call or visit or why she was so eager to take you in if you knew your family. He should’ve just known better. Yeah, he understood how it felt to be alone growing up, they all did, but by the time they were all 17 they had a home that wanted them. You were going to graduate from college soon and you still felt unwanted.

No thanks to him.

“I’m sorry.” He blurted and you looked at him with wide eyes, “For being an asshole, I’m sorry- and for making you cry. I just…” He shrugged, “You’re right. I was jealous you knew your mom and I already was suspicious of you and I- I’m dumb, and I’m sorry.” He looked at you, eyes a bit glossy and you wondered when was the last time someone apologized for making you cry.

“It’s okay.” You smiled weakly, “You are dumb, but that’s okay.” You chuckled when he frowned, but eventually, he also broke into a short laugh, “I think… we’ve felt a lot of the same things in different ways, so I can’t blame you.” He wondered how you could be so forgiving, and he was scared of how many times that has gotten you hurt, “I like living here and I like all of you, so I hope I can get you all to like me too, even if just a little.”

“Don’t accept less than you deserve.” He spoke firmly before he started picking up your memory box, putting things neatly back in.

“Wh-”

He waved his hands nonchalantly, “You, sleep, I’ll clean this up and order some food.” He didn’t look at you as he said this, mostly to hide his blush, "If...If you want, I can give this to Jin. He has a whole place he keeps our stuff like this… he's really sentimental." He stumbled, still refusing to look at you.

However, he jumped when he heard you hiccup a cry. Ready to apologize, Jungkook was just about to turn to look at you until he heard you speak, "That… That sounds very sweet of you to do." You wiped a sentimental tear away as the blushing boy remained frozen.

"It's Jin's hobby, not mine." He deflected before waving his hand at you, "Sleep, I said." He frantically demanded.

You could see his ears getting red and you smiled, “Yes, sir.” You mocked in your work voice and made him freeze for a moment as you erupted into giggles while he whined, “Okay, okay, I’ll sleep.”

Eventually, you surrendered to your exhaustion as he delicately put away your papers and photos. He hummed lightly, smiling as he came across your debate team awards. No wonder he lost the fight before it even started. He turned around after lifting the box and sighed almost dreamily as he watched your sleeping face. You were beautiful, delicate, and puffy from the tears. He had the urge to keep apologizing for being such an asshole, but after looking through your achievements and your photos, he resolved to just keep proving it.

He wouldn’t let you get hurt again. Not by him or anyone, especially your mother, even Jungyoon was on thin ice.

His blood boiled at the thought of your mother for a reason he couldn’t understand. His hand extended shakily as he pulled the covers up to your shoulder and you hummed contently, making his heart melt a bit at the little smile you had. He wouldn’t fuck up with you again, not like this. He would be nice, at least a little, and first and foremost, he would order food you liked.

He froze.

Fuck, what food do you like?

He relaxed. Well, he could just ask the guys.

Fuck, they’re gonna ask questions.

Fuck, they’re gonna kill him when they found out he made you cry.

He looked back at your sleeping form, not having the heart to wake you up. He sighed, looks like he’ll just have to bite the bullet. He dreaded each moment as he quickly made an untitled group chat with the guys since you were added to their original one. He could only hope Taehyung wouldn’t change the group chat name to something stupid.

Tip Jar

#yandere bts #soft yandere bts #bts fanfic #bts series #yandere jungkook #bts angst #bts fluff #poly bts au

[illfoandillfie]

Blurb idea alert: 80s roger and younger reader haven’t really established what their relationship is other than daddy dom/sub but then daddy roger is about to become an actual daddy and he’s just absolutely loving on his baby mama with some smut of course

idk if im soft or horny but i am definitely feeling some kinda way rn

warnings: pregnancy, smut, daddy kink, leaning into DD/LG, hair pulling, dom!rog, mentions of edging and spanking

Blurb Advent: Day 21

It wasn’t like you’d planned to get pregnant. Not that Roger wasn’t father material, he was and he had experience with it all already from his previous marriage, but you weren’t really at that stage in your relationship and honestly you hadn’t really thought about taking those steps with him. Roger was great but when you’d first got together it wasn’t with the intention of a long term relationship. You wouldn’t have ever met him if you hadn’t had a mutual friend who happened to have insider knowledge on both of your sexual persuasions and had, with your permission, passed your number on to him. He’d called you and you’d gone out for a drink (feeling as if you were auditioning for something you hadn’t prepared for) and got to know each other. Once he was sure you would be discreet you talked more openly about what you were into and what you were looking for. For you, it was the comfort of being looking after and the structure that a reward/punishment system could enforce, for him, it was the element of control that being dominant afforded plus the act of looking after and caring for someone. And after a few days and a few conversations, you were invited into his bed to see how compatible you were.

 It went well. Mostly he just tested your limits, tried a little of everything on you to see how you’d react. A light spanking, a little bit of edging, giving you instructions to see how fast you’d follow them and if anything would make you consider using a safeword. Luckily, he was easy to submit to and handled your slightly bratty disposition well so that you felt comfortable with him as your Daddy, and soon enough it became a regular thing. You’d leave your last class at uni or finish up a shift at work and then head to his place where you’d take the role of his submissive little before going home proud and happy and sometimes sore. Most days you spent at his involved sex in some form or other but sometimes he’d use his Daddy voice to make you sit and finish a reading or revise for an exam. On those days he made you lunch or afternoon tea and would sit beside you on the couch, helping where he could, and incentivising you with rewards for finished work. Of course, there was also the threat of punishments if you got too distracted, but that was the kind of thing you’d been looking for when you’d met him. Sometimes he’d invite you to spend the weekend with him, or a whole week even, especially if you were going to try something new together and he wanted to make sure you were okay hours or days later. Gradually those visits became more frequent until you were no longer leaving as soon as the aftercare was over, until you were essentially living at his house. That was when things started to shift though neither of you acknowledged it. You were happy just to see what happened.

 And that was when you fell pregnant. Your period had been late which wasn’t wholly unusual but the later it was the more you anxious you became. Roger picked up on it within a couple of days, sensing your worry and distraction. He was gentle and soft and convinced you to tell him what was going on though part of you fretted it would put an end to everything. As soon as you said it, he pulled you onto his lap, his hand stroking through your hair.

“No wonder you’ve been distracted lately. That must have been worrying you a lot, huh darling?”

You nodded, leaning your head against his chest as he soothed you.

“It’s okay though. I can go and buy you a test and we can see what it says and then we can do whatever you want okay? If you don’t want to go through with it, I’ll help you. And if you do want it, I’ll help with that too.”

“Even though you already have a family and this would be a bit of a scandal?”

“Even then,” he said with a soft laugh, “Y’know, me already having kids means I’ve done it before. I can do all of the scary stuff with you, the doctors appointments and all of that.”

“But people will know about us then.” “Yeah,”

“And you always said you wanted this to be discreet. A baby isn’t exactly discreet.”

“I don’t mind people knowing we’re together. I just don’t think they need to know about how we work. And all of the important people to us know we’ve been seeing each other anyway, everyone else can think what they want.”

You pushed yourself up to look at him properly, “So you really wouldn’t mind if I was pregnant and wanted to have the baby?”

“Nope. I think I might even be kind of excited about it.”

 Roger had kept his promises. He held your hand through all of your ultrasounds and appointments and looked after you at home, rubbing your feet if you needed, holding your hair back when morning sickness made you queasy, and just generally making sure you were comfortable, especially as your bump grew more pronounced. His ability to keep your bratty side in check came in handy when you were faced with prenatal vitamins and other supplements to make sure you and the baby were as healthy as possible. You hated having to take pills with your morning tea but his system of rewards and punishments was motivation enough to swallow all of them, especially since your rising hormone levels were making your libido run on overdrive.  Roger was more than willing to lend a hand (or other appendage) whenever the mood took you and it only intensified the dynamics that already existed. You quickly discovered that Roger’s preference for being called Daddy was exacerbated by actual fatherhood and used it to your advantage whenever you could. You took to teasing him by using his pet name outside of the bedroom as much as in it. Asking if Daddy would like a cup of tea while you were making yourself one, talking to your stomach and telling your little bean that Daddy was so sweet to buy you ice cream or that Daddy was being mean and making you take your nasty vitamins. And every time it would end up with you being pulled into the bedroom or lifted onto whatever surface was nearest. It was like a superpower and you made as much use of it as possible. A related upside of being pregnant was not having to worry about birth control (not that taking it had helped) and you soon discovered that Roger being able to take you raw was just as much as a turn on for you both as calling him Daddy was. The first time you’d realised was a little way into your second trimester after you’d taunted him into bending you over the banister of the staircase, your hands tightly gripping the handrail as he pulled your head back by your hair with one hand, his other resting over your rounded belly, and growled about how he was going to fill you, how he’d already knocked you up once and he was going to do it again. After that it became a regular part of his dirty talk. He especially liked edging you until you begged him to fuck another baby into you. All in all, a day seemed incomplete if you hadn’t been left with at least one load of cum inside you.

 When you got so big you couldn’t hide it anymore, he organised for you to move into his place properly which you were happy about because it was big and comfortable and homey, and it meant it was easier to see him when you needed a cuddle (or an orgasm). At first he offered you one of his many guest rooms so you could have your own space but you’d suggested you could share his room instead and he’d beamed at you before pulling you into a kiss. His affections only rose as your stomach got larger and he seemed to want nothing more than to dote on you as much as possible. Sex became a little more difficult in your third trimester. Between your belly getting in the way and aches and pains that came with carrying it, your sexual activity began to drop though you still found yourself hornier than before you fell pregnant. Roger did whatever he could to alleviate your discomfort and oral sex became your main method of getting each other off since it was easy for you to lie down during it and generally required minimal movement. But, Roger’s favourite position was spooning in bed and more than once you fell asleep warming him and began your day with the feeling of his cock rubbing against your walls until he came. It became a sort of a running joke that he was trying to induce labour early with how often he wanted to have you like that. He liked being able to kiss your neck and whisper into your ear, telling you how gorgeous you looked and how pregnancy suited you. His hand would roam over your breasts as he worked you up, teasing your sensitive nipples with his fingers to push you closer to the edge. And after you came he’d slide his hand down over your stomach as he told you how much he was going to love the kid and how happy you’d all be.

#my writing #my blurbs #blurb advent 2020 #smut blurb #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor smut #roger taylor imagine #Anonymous

[ill-skillsgard]

is faith dealing w being away from fausty? I miss them so :(,, I hope you’re well love xoxo

Warning: 18+ Mentions of sex/phone sex, mentions of alcohol and drug use, violent threats, non-consensual touching, brief mentions of rape.

Note: I missed writing Faust stuff so much over the holidays. He’s definitely one of my favourite secretly soft boys. I can’t wait to get back into the swing of writing. Thank you to the lovely anons who haven’t given up on this pairing yet! I will try not to go 2 months between posts for these guys.

Summary: Faith starts to miss Faust so much while he’s away on tour that she goes to his apartment to spend the night in his bedroom. However, her plans are interrupted by the people Faust warned her not to hang around.

Faust x Faith Masterpost [x]

Faith awoke in a sweat, chest pumping hot torrents of blood to her head as the ceiling came into view, the walls containing her after a flight through a nightmare faded into obscurity. She rolled onto her back, her flimsy cotton nightgown sticking to her dewy skin, and tossed the comforter from her top half. Streetlamps and passing cars cast geometric blocks of light on the ceiling, illuminating the dust motes floating by her face. Faith breathed in and out, shaking her head free from the gripping terror of unconsciousness.

She had dreamed of receiving a phone call from Faust in the middle of the night, and when she answered, he explained to her in a laconic, matter-of-fact voice why they shouldn't continue seeing each other. He was too busy to maintain a relationship with a girl who's path would never intersect with his goals. She was too young, too naive, too proper. Too this and too that and in no way matched him. The terrible sinking in her chest returned as it had in the dream, but she dismissed the sensation. It was all a silly dream, a manifestation of her worst fear. Faust loved her and would never break up with her—least of all over a phone call.

The cellphone next to her pillow came to life, vibrating a couple of times before she found it and squinted at the bright screen. Faust. She sat up, and her lungs froze, the cavernous hole opening up under her skin. When she answered, voices and loud music came through like warring radio waves.

"Hello?" She whispered, not wanting to wake her dorm mate.

"Faith? You there?"

"Yes," her voice crawled from her throat, no louder than a rasp. She cleared her airway and said again, "Yes."

"Aw, are you sleeping, babe?"

"No," she whispered.

"Hm? I can't hear you. Hang on, let me find a quieter place."

Faith swung out of bed and left the dorm to go to the shared washrooms where she could speak. She entered a stall, put down the toilet seat and sat atop the cold plastic, waiting for Faust's deep voice to tickle her ear again.

"You there?" He asked.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"That's better, yeah. I can hear you now."

Faith squeezed her knees together, his voice like warm liquid flowing into her stomach. She sighed, relieved.

"Sorry, I know it's late for you. We had a really late soundcheck, then I was in the green room until we went on. I didn't forget to call."

Faith nodded, smiling, though Faust couldn't see the respite his words gave her after the unpleasant dream that had jarred her awake.

"It's okay. Where are you again?"

"Utah, probably a couple hours behind you. We're out of the venue now."

"How was the show?" Faith asked.

"It was good—big stage. Couple hundred people, but maybe a quarter of them were there for us. We sold a lot of merch, though."

"That's great, babe. I'm glad you're having fun."

"Yeah," Faust sighed. "I miss you, though. Can't believe there's still another three weeks of this."

Faith leaned her head against the stall's metal barrier, reading the scandalous notes engraved in the chipped paint. "I know. Seems like forever."

"You're still good to come to our last show?"

"Yes. I told my parents I'm going to a friend's cottage for the weekend."

"But really, you're getting on a Greyhound and coming to see me."

She closed her eyes and giggled. "That's right."

Faith wondered if she should tell Faust about her bad dream. She knew what he'd say to her: it was just a dumb dream, and he would never break up with her, so she shouldn't let it bother her so much. She accepted this assurance without bringing it up.

"I'm in my bunk now," Faust told her.

"I'm in the bathroom," said Faith.

"Wish you were here, though. It gets so boring sometimes, driving from place to place, listening to these dumbasses argue over the shower."

"It's the same here. I've started taking showers at midnight just to avoid the headache and bargaining. These girls all have the same night routine. There's always a line-up to use the shower."

"Mm," Faust grunted. "Yeah. Stupid."

A moment of silence passed between them. Faith savoured his soft breaths coming over the line, wishing she could feel the warmth behind them. She craved his scent, the smell of his shampoo, the distinct mentholated freshness of his deodorant. She wanted to stroke his face, and touch his biceps, inspect the hair underneath his arms until he told her she was weird for finding such things fascinating. She wanted to feel the twin ruts coming to a peak below his navel, leading down to his groin where he'd snatch her hand and berate her, ultimately relenting and letting her stroke the soft skin underneath the band of his plaid boxers.

"I wanna touch you," she whispered.

"Fuck," he drawled. "Me too, babe."

"I had a bad dream you called me in the middle of the night to break up with me... then you actually called. Do you think that's weird?"

Faust scoffed in that indignant way he always did. She pictured the corner of his mouth snagging, his brows descending at such a silly thing.

"That's kind of weird."

"I hate not being able to sleep next to you."

"Don't worry, babe. I'll be home soon. You can get through the next few weeks."

"Yeah, but... Do you miss sleeping next to me?"

"Oh, definitely. I really miss you hogging the blankets, pushing me to the edge of the bed, punching me in your sleep."

"I don't do that!"

Faust snickered. "Yeah, you do. But it's okay. I'm like way stronger than you. I can move you like nothing."

"Don't remind me," Faith groaned.

"Don't remind you of what? How strong I am?"

Faith made her voice small. "Yes. I can't think of that kind of stuff right now."

"You can't think about me overpowering you?"

"Sh. Quiet."

"What? Don't want to think about me pinning your arms above your head with one hand while I finger you? S'that what you don't want to think about?"

"I hate you," she said.

"Hate it when I pick you up and fuck you against the wall?"

"Yes."

"So...You're definitely not thinking about my cock, then? You haven't been playing with my pussy while I've been away? Pretending your fingers are mine? Or using that toy you bought to fuck yourself in your dorm when your roommate isn't there?"

"Oh my gosh, Faust. Please."

"You don't make yourself cum to the thought of me eating out that pussy? You don't miss my fat cock stretching out that poor little slit? Making you bounce on it? Sucking it until I cum buckets down your throat?"

"Faust," she whispered. "You're bad."

"Answer me. Do you think about riding my cock every night before bed? Rub yourself against a pillow between your legs?"

"Yes, I think about it all the time."

"Can you do me a favour?" Faust asked. Faith agreed before hearing the terms of said agreement. "Tomorrow, I want you to go to all your classes without wearing any panties under your skirt."

Faith's cheeks burned from his request. "What if it's windy and it blows up my skirt?"

"I don't really care," he said. "Know what? Never mind. Scratch that. This isn't a request; it's a command. I want you to take pictures while you're in class to prove you listened."

"I can't! Someone will see."

"Think I give a fuck? Sit in the back if you have to."

"I'll try," said Faith, toying with the sleeves of her nightgown.

"That's my girl."

They spoke for a few more minutes until Faust's bandmates flooded onto the bus, yelling and searching for the drummer who'd stowed away in the bunks. Faust said his goodbyes, made sure Faith understood her instructions for tomorrow, then said goodnight. She heard his friends mocking him in the backroom, calling him pussy-whipped, listened to him threaten their lives and giggled.

"I love you," Faust said, loud enough that anyone around him might hear. His unabashed affection filled her to the brim with warm fuzz.

"I love you, too," Faith replied, then looked at the phone screen until he hung up.

Later in the week, Faith started having trouble sleeping. Even if she filled her days with activities, studied into the night, ate properly and read before bed, her mind swam with anxiety. She told Faust about it, but he had no solution other than to stop by his place to grab one of his hoodies to sleep in, maybe one of his blankets if she missed him so much. Delighted, Faith accepted the suggestion, and Faust texted his roommate to leave the apartment door unlocked for her. She made her way over after dinner one night and walked in on Faust's roommate hosting a party.

The apartment was in disarray—worse than she'd ever seen. Beer bottles and cigarettes overflowing the ashtray was commonplace, but now there were grease-stained pizza boxes open on the floor, salt stains on the rug from people coming in and out from the balcony. The sofa pocked with several more burn marks, the dishes hadn't been washed since Faust left, and the entire living room reeked of stale food and smoke. Not only that, but she'd come in at the precise moment the music transitioned, and every eye in the place went to her.

She recognized half the people in Faust's apartment from other parties—Anika, the most familiar face that turned in her direction. The tall, blond girl smiled and pushed a guy's hand off her shoulder before approaching her. The metal music picked up, drowned out the silence, and Faith relaxed when Anika hugged her.

"Hey! I didn't know you were coming!" Anika exclaimed.

"I wasn't... Well, I didn't know anyone was here. I just came to get some stuff from Faust's room."

"Oh, cool. How is Frosty? I haven't seen you guys since Halloween!"

"He's good," Faith said, voice tapering off when she saw a pair of malicious eyes grilling her from across the room. "You know... Just touring."

"Yeah, I heard. That's awesome. Hey, you want anything to drink? We have beer in the fridge," Anika said.

Faith felt awkward standing in the middle of the front hall, while groups of people occupied her boyfriend's apartment. She realized she had very little dominion and shrank into herself until Anika pulled her into the kitchen. The blond pulled out two cans of domestic beer and handed her one, noticing Faith's unease.

"What's the matter?" Asked Anika.

Faith wondered if Faust knew about all the people in his apartment, if his roommate had asked him if he could have a party and invite all the people Faust talked shit about—the people he warned her not to hang out with.

"Uh, nothing. Just feels weird being here without Faust," said Faith.

"Aw, it's okay, girl. We party here all the time."

Faith questioned the verity of Anika's claim. She couldn't recall them having any big parties there since she started dating Faust eight months ago. Faust didn't like too many people in his space. Whenever they partied, it was always at someone else's house or out in the bush around a fire.

The same pair of blue eyes had Faith in a stranglehold. She cocked her head, and Anika noticed her attention locked on a man with fine blond hair touching his collarbone.

"Is that—?"

"Sven? Yeah. You probably remember him from that time we went camping."

Faith wished to turn in on herself, abandon the can of beer Anika had given her, grab what she needed from Faust's room, and leave. Anika sensed her discomfort and placed her thin hand on Faith's shoulder.

"Don't worry, he won't bother you. He has a girlfriend now."

"He's a creep," Faith muttered.

Anika shot Sven a look over her shoulder, and he turned away, pulling on a beer and wiping his mouth. Faith remembered the stench of his burnt hair in the fire, how Faust had punched him and dragged him through the dirt toward the pit where he held his face in the flames. Sven complained about the scratches and scrapes on his arms and legs from Faust dragging him the entire way home after they cut the trip short. The same tension that pierced the atmosphere in the van while Sven took the front seat and Faust held her hand in the back seat was the same strain she felt now as he stole glances at her. His wispy mustache had grown back along with his eyebrows and pale lashes.

Faith felt a pang of guilt in her stomach but dismissed the feeling with a swig of beer and Anika's encouragement. Faust would get angry with her if he knew she felt even an inch of remorse over what happened. Sven deserved what he got, and that's what she kept telling herself throughout the night as she drank a couple more beers with Anika and took a hit off a joint someone offered her out on the balcony.

A few of Faust's friends asked her about him, and it filled her with pride knowing everyone there knew who she was, who Faust was. She told them where the band was that night, where they were slated to go next, that they had sold out of merchandise and had to place an emergency order and have it shipped to the next venue. After a few hours, Faith felt the tug of exhaustion creeping over her shoulders and told Anika she had to head out, though she'd already missed the last bus and had little money in her bank account for a cab. Faith considered asking someone for a ride back to campus, but nobody seemed sober enough to trust behind the wheel.

Instead, she went to Faust's bedroom and shut the door and all the noises behind her. In his room, she took in a deep breath, and then another, filling her senses with the comforting scent of pine, stale air and the boyish aroma Faust carried with him. She went to his closet and brushed a hand over the black t-shirts and one of his leather coats. Next, Faith opened the third drawer in the lowboy and pulled out a hoodie that had shrunk in the wash and didn't fit Faust anymore. She often wore it when she came over, but he refused to let her take it home until now. She slipped it on over her blouse, smoothed it over her skirt and wrapped her arms around her ribs. The hood still smelled of Faust's hair.

Without thinking much, she arranged the objects on his dresser into an organized system rather than a mess of pens, splintered drumsticks, guitar picks and snack wrappers. She shovelled the waste into the garbage can under his desk, made his bed, fluffed the pillows, cleared the dirty clothes off the floor and kicked it all into the closet. If there wasn't a party going on right outside the door, she'd have done his laundry and took the dirty plates and forks to the kitchen sink. She did what she could without having to set foot outside the bedroom, and by the time she finished folding the clothes in his dresser into neat stacks, it was far too late for her to go anywhere.

Faith took off her panties and skirt, changed into a pair of his pyjama pants and sat on his bed with her hands folded, wondering if Faust would care if she spent the night in his bed. The fluffy pillows called out for her head. His comforter promised visions of them together again. She considered texting him to say she was staying over, but there was a knock on the door as she went for her phone.

She lifted her feet off the carpet and tucked them under her thighs, balled herself as small as she could until whoever knocked got the hint and walked away. The knock came again, and Faith's throat tightened.

"Yes?" She called.

The door opened, and she expected to see Anika's blond head poking in, but it wasn't her. The person was blond, but the face was not smeared with white foundation, nor were the blue eyes overlined with charcoal black. Sven stepped into the room and shut the door behind him.

"What are you doing in here?" He asked.

"What are you doing in here? This is my boyfriend's room. Why wouldn't I be here?"

"Sorry," said Sven, opening his palms to show he meant no harm. "I wanted to talk to you for a second. Is that okay?"

"I don't see why that's necessary."

"Mmkay, well, you don't have to be a bitch about it. Your boyfriend is the one who almost burnt my face off."

"Well, you were being weird. You're being weird now by coming in here. You should probably go."

"Sucks when he's not around to intimidate everyone that ever wants to start a conversation with you, huh?"

Faith pressed her lips together. Was he threatening her? She wasn't sure. He kept his distance, though his eyes ricocheted off the valuable objects in the room. The Gibson guitar hanging on the wall, the vintage RD bass in its stand just below, the electric drumset next to the desk, Faust's five-thousand-dollar computer, and finally, her. Faust's prized possessions all in one room.

"What do you want to talk about?" Faith broke the silence, sweating.

"I wanted to apologize for acting like an idiot back in the Summer. I was really drunk. I shouldn't have said that shit."

"Okay, well, thanks for the apology."

Sven gestured at her, pale eyebrows high on his freckled forehead. "And?"

"And what?" Faith asked.

"Aren't you going to apologize to me?"

"I have nothing to apologize for."

"You can apologize on behalf of your psycho boyfriend. That’d be a start."

Faith scoffed, heated by the insult. When it came to Faust, she never wanted to hear the negatives. It reminded her of her father's disapproval, filled her with useful venom. "Sorry, if you want an apology from Faust, he’d have to give it to you, and I don’t think that’s happening any time soon."

"Wow," Sven said with a click of his tongue. "And I thought you were a nice girl."

"I am nice, but right now, you're in my personal space, and it's making me uncomfortable."

As she spoke, she noticed Sven's knees wobbling. He was drunk. His beer breath filled the room. Faith shifted closer to the wall, clutching her crossed legs, silently begging for him to leave. He took a step closer, and she gasped.

"Relax, I'm not gonna do anything. Jesus, you chicks watch too much TV, thinkin' every dude is a rapist or something."

"Whatever you say, man. Look, if you're done, I think it's time you leave."

"Why? You going to sleep?"

"You just shouldn't be in here. If Faust were home, you wouldn't set foot in this room or even think about talking to me."

Sven threw his head back and laughed. "Just because he caught me off guard once doesn't mean I'm afraid of him. He can suck my dick, and so can you."

"Get out," Faith said.

"Hey now, hey... It's all good. Christ, I'm just trying to mend bridges, but you're being a total bitch when I'm here apologizing."

"You just told me I could suck your dick. You're literally insulting me to my face. I've asked you to leave, and you're not!"

Sven pushed air through his teeth, teetered closer to her and sat down on the foot of the bed. Faith's body froze, her limbs stiff as boards as the man laid on his back. His face was a foot from her.

"If it weren't for your boyfriend, I'd be on tour right now. I'd be the one selling out venues and merch, signing shit and having people ask me to take pictures."

"It was your fault."

When the words floated from Faith's mouth, his forehead crinkled, and he shot up. She gasped, scrambling against the wall like a cornered rodent.

"Fuck you! Stupid fucking slut! Faust is a way bigger piece of shit than I am. Ask anybody! Everyone knows how much of an asshole he is. Nobody actually likes him. They're just afraid of him because he threatens to kill anyone whoever disagrees with what he says."

The venom roiled in Faith's stomach, blistering up her neck and filling her mind with violent static. Her hands shook as adrenaline pumped into her veins. One more minute alone with Sven and she thought she might lose control of herself.

Sven got off the bed and went for the bass. Faith hissed at him not to touch it, so he leaned over and spat on the finish.

"Get out!" Faith cried. "Get the fuck out right now!"

The music outside the door must have drowned out her yells, for nobody came looking for her. She stood up on the bed, back pressed against a poster. Sven grabbed at her ankle, but she kicked and slapped the top of her foot against his forearm. He laughed and swiped again as she danced away.

"LEAVE!"

"Make me!"

"I'll fucking call the cops on you!"

"Do it, bitch. I'll knock you out and do what I want before anyone even realizes I'm in here."

"Help!" Faith hollered. "Rape! Rape! He's trying to rape me!"

"Woah, woah, calm down. I didn't say that—"

The venom boiled over, shot up through her esophagus and escaped her mouth in panicked screams. Stunned by the banshee shrieks ripping through the air, Sven backed toward the door, feeling around for the doorknob while Faith screamed her face red, blood vessels popping in her eyes, throwing explosions of stars across her vision until he left the room and she dropped onto the bed, crying. Faith felt around the bed for her phone and called Faust.

He answered on the first ring.

"Faust," she blubbered.

"Don't worry, baby. I'm coming home right now."

"W-what?"

"Look over at the computer."

Faith wiped the snot from her nose onto the hoodie's sleeve and glanced at the desk where the computer monitor stood. "Huh? I don't understand."

"See that light right beside the monitor? Wave at it."

Faith lifted her hand. She squinted at the blue dot belonging to a small camera set up between a speaker and the monitor.

"I installed a Bluetooth camera before leaving for tour. Don't trust people to not go into my room and touch my stuff."

"You mean—?"

"I saw everything. Heard everything, too. It's motion-activated."

Faith paled at the thought of Faust watching her cleaning his room, the way she'd caressed his clothes on her face and huffed his scent before Sven came in.

"What should I do, Faust? He's still out there."

"Don't worry. I'll take care of it."

"Should I call the cops?"

"No, don't call anyone. Don't say anything. I said I'll take care of it."

"Okay," she whispered.

"Faith, I'm serious. Let me handle this," his voice was stern.

"What're you gonna do?"

Faust went quiet for a moment until she motioned at the camera. He sighed. "I can't tell you right now."

The adrenaline depleted, and Faith let out a sob. "I need you, Faust. I'm scared."

"Don't be scared, babe. I got you. I'll be home as soon as I can, but I need you to be strong. Don't talk to anyone about what happened until I get there, understand? Nobody. Not your friends, not your parents, don't write it in your journal or breath a word. I promise I'll make it better."

#faust x faith #valter skarsgard fanfiction #valter skarsgard imagine #valter skarsgard

[jenomark]

Part 4- Final

➔Pairing: Idol!Haechan x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: Johnny ➔Genre: Smut (with a plot!) ➔Warnings: Angst ➔Word count: 4,549

➔Summary: He’s an idol, a friend, and now you’re taking his virginity. Beginning your friends-with-benefits relationship with Haechan wasn’t the best idea, but you just can’t help yourself when it comes to him.

↞ Part 1 ↞ Part 2 ↞ Part 3 

  You couldn’t stop looking through the pictures. When you finished scrolling all the way through them, you started from the beginning. You tried to imagine what others would see when looking at them. Could the pictures be passed off as only a friendly exchange? You didn’t think so, but you were trying so hard to think of a way to save things. You held Johnny’s phone, as if it were a hostage in your hands, and your finger hovering over the SEND button, like it were a trigger. Your message just said: Why??, but you knew you’d never send it. The person on the other end didn’t care what you had to say. It was their business to make money off of the backs of others, to screw up as many lives as possible while trying to justify their actions. Someone had sent the pictures to Johnny through text. How they got a hold of his number, you didn’t know and didn’t ask. You looked at the unknown number, reading each number to yourself, but it didn’t matter which person sent it, just that someone was trying to away the one thing that mattered to you most in the world: Haechan.

  While you were sitting there contemplating every avenue, Haechan and Johnny were arguing in the background. Haechan was walking back and forth, addressing Johnny without honorifics, his voice too shaky to be confident. He was fighting for you, for the both of you. His points were messy, but they were being made. You should have joined, but you couldn’t seem to focus on anything but the future and how much it scared you. You could fight Haechan to be with him, but you didn’t think you were ready to fight the rest of the world.

  Johnny had sat down at your kitchen table, his arms resting on his knees. His voice was deep and colorful, a few shades darker than Haechan’s. You hadn’t spent much time with Johnny, but there was something about him that made you feel intimidated. Like a child would, you kept waiting for him to scold you for corrupting someone he considered a brother. He could be angry with Haechan all he wanted, but you were the real infiltrator. If it wasn’t for you, Johnny wouldn’t have found himself tangled up in your mess. 

  While Haechan was hysterical, Johnny was calm. You could hear the disappointment in Johnny’s voice poking through your trance. You asked yourself if you really cared what he thought of you. When you couldn’t come up with an answer, you got a good look at him. Johnny looked at Haechan like he adored him. You could tell that he would always be on Haechan’s side, but Haechan would refuse to see it that way. It would be hard for him not to feel like Johnny’s worry wasn’t a personal attack.

   Haechan took many things to his heart. He liked to pretend he didn’t have one, but that heart carried more love than it could handle. You looked at Haechan, his face stuck with the same terrified expression as when he first came.

  He arrived soon after you called him, which felt like a testament of how much he cared for you, and that he meant what he said the previous night. He didn’t knock, just ran up the stairs to your rescue, skipping two steps at a time. When he reached the top, you weren’t waiting for him. You were sitting across from Johnny, in silence. Before Haechan arrived, Johnny asked you if you knew what you were doing. He was polite, but there was an edge to his voice. You knew he wanted to curse you out, to make sure you knew he wasn’t happy with you. You weren’t using your brain, truthfully. You were using other parts of your body until those were used up, and then, lastly, you used your heart. You were still using your heart when Haechan entered the room. You could feel the tug in your chest when his eyes met yours. He had wanted to hug you and kiss you, but he decided to stand as far away from you as possible.

“This is my life,” Haechan said, his voice getting higher. “I don’t care what anyone has to say about how I live it. If I have to face the consequences, I will. Happily. ”

“It’s not just your life,” Johnny said. “You have twenty other people attached to what you do. Your consequences become our consequences. I wish it weren’t like that, Haechan, but it is.”

“Stop yelling.” you said.

 You weren’t aware they weren’t yelling anymore. You looked up to see both Haechan and Johnny looking at you. Neither had paid attention to you since they started talking about the scandal. You were just another piece of furniture in the room, another box full of junk.

“I hate this.” you said.

  You erased the unsent message and placed Johnny’s phone on the couch cushion next to you. Somehow, you had found your way to the couch, but you didn’t remember how, or when. You were moving through life feeling as if your body and mind were separated. With both boys attention on you, you felt too seen, too spread out . You stood and paced around the room until you found yourself beside Haechan, your arm brushing against his. 

 “It was stupid,” Johnny said. “You both know that.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t care.” Haechan said.

“Please,” you interjected. “Please, stop. This isn’t solving anything. Haechan and I are both adults. We entered a relationship knowing what we were doing. We didn’t need permission from anyone. “

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell Johnny.” Haechan said.

Johnny lowered his head. “Your relationship can’t happen. We can save this. We’ll tell them that you were just going on a date and that will be it. It didn’t work out. You decided you weren’t ready for a relationship. They can have the full press release, if they want. They’ll paint a nicer picture if you let them have control. As long as they don’t release all the pictures from last night, it will be fine.”

“A date back to his dorm?” you asked. “We were all over each other in those pictures. They’re not going to believe that story. They’ll want more. They’ll keep wanting more.”

“Not everything is how it appears,” Johnny said. “Everyone will deduce what they want.”

“We fucked on his bed,” you said. “We almost fucked on yours, too.”

“Baby.” Haechan warned.

 Johnny looked at Haechan like he was going to kill him. It was a low blow, you knew, but you felt helpless. You didn’t like lying, you didn’t want to pretend you didn’t like Haechan any longer, and you weren’t ready to let him go. The apologetic look on your face should have been enough to tame Johnny, but he stood up and groaned.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “Johnny, all the times I’ve met you, I’ve always liked you. You have a good head on your shoulders. I trust you. I know Haechan does, too, but I think this is where we have to stop listening to other people and start listening to ourselves. I don’t feel comfortable giving those assholes any piece of my life.”

  Johnny shook his head. “And if it affects his career? What then? If you don’t care about his brothers, care about him.”

“Johnny,” Haechan said. “Don’t speak to her like that.”

  The anger dripping from Haechan’s voice made your head snap right. He reached for your hand and held it, his fingers clasping tightly around yours. Haechan stood firm, his chin jutted outwards, and his chest puffed out in a display of bravery. He looked silly standing up to someone so much bigger than him, but your heart swelled with pride.

“I’m sorry,” Johnny apologized.” This situation is fucked up. I’m stressed out. It will look bad if it’s done any other way. If you tell them to fuck off, those pictures will be released. Whether you like it or not, they’ll hold this over your heads for a long time, and it will all be perfectly legal.”

  Johnny sat back down. Haechan’s grip on your hand relaxed a little. The three of you were in complete silence for a few moments, each thinking of what conclusion seemed to fit best. When neither man spoke, you licked your dry lips and tried to take your best shot at making a logical choice.

“What if we just came clean about everything?” you said. “ On our own terms, I mean. Haechan could release his own statement through the company. Would that be too crazy at this stage of his career?”

“Yes.” Johnny said.

“Yes.” Haechan agreed.

“But that’s the only sane alternative,” you said. “Pretending we’re nothing won’t make people back down. We’re not breaking up. We’ll never be able to step foot publicly again, not even for late night walks to see each other. I refuse to live like that, Donghyuck. If the pictures will come out anyway, we might as well be truthful about them. Unless you want to break up with me right here, right now, what choice do we have? "

“They don’t know everything,” Haechan said. “They can’t threaten us.”

“We don’t know how much they know,” Johnny said. He looked at you, his face warm and inviting. “Knowing them, they’ll have your whole background by now. The world will want to know who you are, what you do, why he chose you. You’ll be compared to other people and ripped to shreds, all because you didn’t give them the story first. They’ll start to question every intimate part of your relationship and will actively try to destroy it. Are you ready for that? Are you ready for people you thought were your friends to sell your secrets? Haechan, are you ready for people to turn on you?”

“Maybe they won’t,” Haechan said. “Our fans love us. They love me. They’ll understand. ”

“Haechan, your optimism can’t save everything, “ Johnny said. “ As much as our fans wish us the best, there are people out there who do not. We can’t forget that.”

“I know.” Haechan said.

  You used your free hand to rub your face. You should have woken up today feeling happiness, from your head to the tips of your toes. You looked over at Haechan. He looked younger when he was stressed, his cheeks full, and his eyes puffy. Feeling your gaze, he looked over and gave you a tight smile. That smile could keep you holding on for a long time, you realized. When you both turned your attention back to Johnny, for the first time, you could see him trying to understand what the two of you were doing together. His sympathetic gaze was real, and it kept you clinging to tiny shards of hope.

“Help me understand,” Johnny said. “I knew something was going on when you didn’t go on the date, Haechan. She was perfectly your type. I thought there was someone else, a little crush you weren’t telling me about, but I didn’t think it was her. When I saw you together last night, I knew trouble was coming.”

“Trouble?” you asked, the word slipping from your mouth like a swear word. 

“I love her,” Haechan said. “It wasn’t supposed to happen, but you know me, I never do what I’m supposed to do.”

“And you would risk it all, Haechan?” Johnny asked. “For her?”

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” you said. “For fucks sake.”

“Yes,” Haechan answered, his words coinciding with your own.

“I wouldn’t let him do that,” you said. “Believe or not, his career is important to me. I do care about all of you, too. I don’t want any negative press, especially any that is caused by me.”

“That wouldn’t be your choice.” Haechan said.

Johnny laughed. There was no humor, only emptiness. “If you say that you’re not dating exclusively, and that you broke up, you might avoid all of that. Look at other couples who have done it. ”

“Yeah?” you asked. “Do you think any of them are happy?”

“Do you think you will be happy once you lose your job?” Johnny asked.” Last I heard, fucking a fellow employee isn’t exactly appropriate. Losing your job would be kinder than everything else that’s at stake. For all of us.”

"All I want is to be happy,” you whispered. “Why is that so bad, Johnny?”

“It’s selfish.” Johnny said. 

 Haechan let go of your hand. Everything happened in a flash. He moved across the room and kicked down the boxes that were stacked. Releasing his anger on the cardboard didn’t help, so he started punching your wall. The screams that came out of his mouth were desperate and raw. You ran to him, tears in your eyes, your hands reaching out for him the moment he stopped. He let you hold his bruised knuckles in your hand. Johnny hovered behind you, his eyes assessing the damage. You cupped Haechan’s sweaty face and kissed the tip of his red nose.

“He has to get that checked out,” Johnny said. He checked his watch and cursed under his breath. “Fuck. We have to go. We’re late for our schedule. We’ll talk about this later.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Haechan said.  “I’m staying right here until this is solved.”

“Haechan.” Johnny said, the authority in his voice not fazing Haechan one bit.

You turned to Johnny. “Get out. I mean, give us a moment, please.”

  Reluctantly, Johnny left your apartment. You waited until his heavy footsteps were down your stairs until you kissed Haechan. You ran your fingers through his hair, resting your hand on the back of his neck. You tried looking into his eyes, but they were glossy and unfocused. 

“You have to go,” you said. “Treat your hand, go to your schedule, and I will talk to you later. We don’t have to make a decision right now. We have a little time.”

“No.”

“Haechan, please.”

“No.”

  You breathed deeply. When you exhaled, Haechan’s lips were on yours. He pushed you against the same wall he had punched. You accepted his love and held him in your arms, your fingers roaming up his sweaty back. He cried, his body shaking with sobs. You kept trying to calm him down with kisses, with strokes, and with soft words, but nothing worked. He let himself go, crying out everything in one long breath.  When he was done, he rested his forehead on your shoulder, his body exhausted. You had never witnessed him cry like that, and it scared you more than anything.

“No.” Haechan said one last time.

  In the beginning of your relationship, sometime in the first two weeks, you and Haechan used to talk about what would happen if you were ever caught. Once, you came close to it when Renjun walked into a room unannounced. You and Haechan were making out, your hands getting well acquainted with each other's bodies. You were planning on getting down on your knees and sucking the life out of him, when Renjun walked in and saw both of you. Haechan pulled away from you in a flash, turning around to address Renjun and blocking you from view as best as he could. You stood in place, your lips swollen from his kiss, and your t-shirt stuck underneath the wire of your bra. It all happened so quickly that you didn’t have time to cover yourself. You thought it was all over then, that you would have to give him up, but Haechan saved the day.

“This isn't the dance practice room.” Haechan said casually.

  He threw his arm around Renjun and guided him out of the room. Neither man looked back at you, and according to Haechan, Renjun never asked what the two of you were doing in the room. It was easy for Haechan to believe in his friends stupidity, but you knew what kind of person Renjun was. He was too intelligent not to know what was going on. Renjun ignoring what was going on was a choice.

  So, when you had the conversation about what would happen if people found out, Haechan again, found it easy to believe in the best outcome. In the beginning, you found his optimism endearing. As you had gotten to know him, the way he took nothing seriously infuriated you. 

“No one will ever find out,” he had said. “I’m invincible. “

 Getting to know him even better meant knowing Haechan’s cockiness about the possibility of being caught was fake. Deep down, Haechan was nervous about his members, his friends and fans finding out. He disappeared for too long at times, he always smelled like your perfume when he came home, and he was beginning to divert every strain of his attention in your direction. It was amazing that no one called him out for months, and that it took a team of strangers to do it first. 

  There was never any plan in place because you thought you never needed one. Haechan had convinced you of that over time, or maybe you were just blinded by love so deeply that you forgot about the repercussions. Or, like Renjun, maybe it was your choice. You liked him so much that you didn’t care if someone caught you or not. 

  If it were up to you and only you, you would give the world the truth. You would publish the pictures yourself, complete with a statement about how things were going to progress. You would not be afraid to live your life. Haechan would not be bullied into leaving the group, and he would not cower under pressure from the public, or the media. Although it was easy for you to come to this awareness, it was much harder when you weren’t the public figure in question. You could easily scrape by, maybe deal with a little bullying about your past pictures on social media, your weight, and strangers questioning your intentions towards their idol boyfriend. You could tune it all out and live in bliss. It was Haechan who would feel most of the blow back, and when you thought about how much you truly did care for him, you didn’t want him to go through all that.

   After Johnny and Haechan left, you laid on your bed and thought about the smartest decision. You considered calling Renjun and asking his advice, but you weren’t comfortable with dragging more people into the mix. Instead, your anxiety was making up story lines that didn’t exist in your timeline. You felt guilty for bringing him into your life, for wanting him so badly that you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. You even entertained the idea of breaking up with him for his benefit. You didn’t mean it, and it wouldn’t be easy to hurt yourself again, but you could save Haechan and the twenty other men standing behind him.

  You pulled out your phone and tried texting Haechan, but he didn’t answer. You didn’t like not knowing what was going on. After he got his hand checked out, he sent you a picture of his bandaged fingers followed by a quick ‘I love you’. That was the last thing you heard from him. During schedules, you expected him to be busy, but time seemed so precious when an answer was needed before sundown. 

  You looked at your phone and counted down the hours until it was time to give an answer. You opened up your messages again and willed him to text you, to tell you which path he was going to choose. Around 4 p.m., Haechan finally texted:

Haechan: My hand really hurts.

You: Where have you been? I’ve been worried. Please talk to me.

Haechan: I’ll talk to you soon. I have to take care of some things first. I love you. 

  Haechan avoiding your pleas made you feel worse inside. You dropped your phone down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. You thought about if you were worth it or not. Maybe Haechan was deciding that you weren’t, and that’s why he couldn’t get back to you with an answer. If ghosting you was kinder, you couldn't blame him for it. The self-pity was pulling you to sleep, its sweltering hot arms crushing your ribs. You had nightmares about wandering the streets of the city, camera flashes blinding you, and hands pulling at your clothes. You called out Haechan’s name, but you couldn’t find him. You kept running and running through the throng of people, your hair flying in all directions, your body feeling like it was being torn apart. You woke up in a pool of your own sweat, your bedroom dark, and the only source of light coming from the street lamp outside. You checked your phone to see one new message.

Haechan: It’s over.

  You stared at the message so long that the screen went black. You felt like you were going to be sick, felt like his words were a fist being shoved down your throat, ready to rip out your insides through your mouth. It’s over. You expected the break-up message, expected him to make the best choice for himself. You did not expect that you would feel completely broken inside by it. Before you could message him back, another message came through:

Haechan: I’ve never been more scared in my life.

  You were getting ready to reply to his message, with all of your heart and tears, when you heard your front door open and the sound of the city curling itself up on your doormat. You sat up in bed and felt the hammering in your chest quicken, felt your mouth go dry. You heard his voice first, its high lilt drawing you in. 

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” he called out. “I’m not sure my hand can take another beating. I’m not sure my heart can either.”

  You got out of bed and ran out into your living room. Haechan had finally reached the top of your stairs. He was wearing one of his stage outfits underneath his jacket, having come right over after a performance. With a wave of his bandaged hand, he let out a little chuckle. You were confused, lost, and ready to cry.

“I think a part of me will always be so scared,” he said. “But I know you’re here with me. ”

  Haechan touched his hand to his chest. The way he moved his hand made him wince in pain. You watched him look down at his feet and shake his head slowly. You knew he was having a moment to himself, a little sliver of time where he was willing the world to stop so that he could figure out which words to use.

“I know that everything is going to be okay.” he whispered.

 Without meaning to ruin the moment, you looked at the clock. The deadline had come and gone, time having slipped away from you once more. Which decision did you make? Haechan followed your eyes and sighed. Looking back at him, you were surprised to see him smiling genuinely. Your eyes traced his teeth, the fullness of his lips. 

“Can I tell you something?” he asked.  “Every time I try to think of a different outcome, of things I would differently, I realize I don’t care. It’s always just been me and you, and I think it will be me and you for a long time.”

  You walked into his arms, your body sinking into his like quicksand. Haechan kept his arms by his side and let you hold him, his nose breathing in your scent as if he were afraid he’d forget your smell. In the darkness of the apartment, it felt like the outside world did not exist. You pushed it away, pushed it back so far that its eyes couldn’t see either of you. There was no one waiting for you to respond, no hurt feelings, and no secrets. For the night, you were free. You held Haechan for awhile, basking in the quiet, your fingers moving up and down his spine.

“Tomorrow,” Haechan whispered, his lips by your ear. “The whole world will know about us.”

 You pulled away and looked into his eyes. You needed to know if the decision he made was solely his. Haechan’s face gave away nothing, but the way his body was closed up with fear told you what you needed to know. You took his arms and wrapped them around your waist. You kissed his lips, pushing past them until you were inside of his mouth.

“Ahh,” Haechan said, his familiar cockiness briefly returning. “You can’t resist me.”

You laughed lightly. “ Can anyone? ”

“No,” he said, pleased with himself. “I don’t think they can.”

  As if he were exhausted of holding it together all of the time, in the privacy of your space, Haechan let his shoulders roll back. The muscles in his face relaxed to reveal his boyish looks, and he allowed his hands to shake with fear, if that’s what they needed to do. He hung his head, let any tears race down his cheeks. You wanted to wipe them away and hear him talk about what happened, but he deserved to go through the motions. You would be there for him every step of the way. 

“Do you want to know everything that happened? Haechan asked. He wiped his nose and sniffled. 

“That conversation is for tomorrow,” you said. “All I need to know is that you’re happy.”

“I am,” he said,” I am happy now.”

 Haechan took your hand and pulled you in the direction of your bedroom. Not for sex and not for talking. You laid down with him in the dark, your bodies next to each other, and your hearts beating in succession. As the clock ticked past midnight, Haechan reached for your arm to drape over his body. You held him more tightly than you had ever held him before. You kissed the back of his neck and smiled when he pulled away because it tickled. Listening to the sounds of him eventually falling asleep made you feel at peace. You only hoped his dreams were kind to him.

   You woke up the next morning to Haechan snoring lightly beside you. You covered him with a blanket and kissed his cheek. Sleepily, you pulled yourself out of bed to look out of the window. The world outside was still and unassuming. You gave one last look at the life that granted you anonymity before turning back to the man you had fallen in love with.

  You found out later that Taeyong made a deal with the people leaking the photos. As long as Taeyong showed up when they wanted him, the photos of you and Haechan would never be leaked. Haechan talked it over with his members, each one making it clear that, ultimately, they would support whatever decision he made regarding his personal life. On his own terms, Haechan decided to tell the world about your relationship. Though it scared you both, you knew you always had each other.

#haechan #nct #lee donghyuck #haechan smut #haechan angst #angst #nct smut #lee haechan smut #haechan fanfiction #nct fanfiction #nct angst #lee haechan #johnny #ayyy i finally finished and im glad it's overk jdsklfjsd #forgive mistakes i've been editing this bitch for 2 hours

[ambitcxious-a]

* ABBEY LEE KERSHAW, FEMALE + SHE/HER  | you know ADELAIDE MONTSERRAT, right? they’re 27, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, TWO YEARS? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to EVE BY KAT CUNNING like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole FAWN-EYED, BOWED LEGS,  EXPENSIVE CHAMPAGNE thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is OCTOBER & 30TH, so they’re a SCORPIO, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( lenny, 24, est+2, she/her )

tw: depression, eating / psychological disorders, animal abuse, drugs

ABOUT.

name: adelaide montserrat

nickname: addie

age: 27

pronouns: she/her

occupation: socialite, philanthropist, prodigy ballerina

gender: cis female

sexuality: bisexual

pinterest

The Montserrat established themselves in Barcelona, Spain, over millennia ago,  known as fierce leaders and ruthless business men, quick to make a name for themselves the trading and exporting business,  while the women in the bloodline were promptly pushed aside from books and history, hiding somewhere between a stove and their husband’s fists.  

Adelaide Montserrat was different, that’s what everybody thought - she was graceful, even as a child, she didn’t cry, even as a toddler, and she never ached for her mother’s arms, even as an infant. An early bloomer of exceptional talent, she could dance as soon as she could walk. And yet Adelaide was never one to develop long-lasting or intimate relationships with her peers --- people never seemed to be comfortable sitting with her for long.  Maybe it was because there was never a girl there to begin with, and intimacy betrayed the act:  there was no child,  only a pale, wide-eyed zombie, always hungry,  always empty. 

If you dared to pry beyond the red curtains, you’d not find the delicate creature strangers saw twirling on the stage, but the bottomless edge of an abyss, waiting to swallow you whole as it looked back with smiling teeth. Little Addie, once a girl with pink tutus and ballerina shoes, was never one to be meddled with - while she could easily captivate the hearts of her peers and teachers with red cheeks and a clever tongue, there was nothing warm or kind about the little girl whose parents held so close she nearly choked to death.

Adelaide was the product of a one night stand and poor lack of judgement, or so her mother liked to recount. Her father — whomever he was, was a married man with a lot to lose, and her mother might not have known much — but she knew alimony payments would beat whatever he was willing to offer her in order to get rid of Adelaide. So, she kept the baby, and even then --- she was unbearable.  Adelaide kicked, day and night, as soon as her legs could muster, like she couldn’t stand to be trapped in the womb a moment longer.

They were living largely, manors and pools and cocktails, while Addie grew up receiving the best education money could buy, alternating between hunting and horseback riding on weekends, and training classical instruments such as the cello and piano in her spare time. Being praised for her dedication and skill, for some time, she indulged the idea of becoming a professional pianist, if only to please her parents, but the idea was soon took a backseat in her mind when she discovered just how good she was at ballet.

Adelaide had always been more of a shiny trophy to flaunt at parties rather than daughter or grandchild to dot upon, so by the time she was 13 her family was quite happy to ship her to Paris, if it meant she would enroll in the prestigious Paris Opera Ballet School and make a name for herself. She’d still come home to visit on holidays, that was until her mother moved to New York in order to appease bachelor number three: CEO of Belmont Entertainment Industries (BEI), one of the largest record labels in the U.S, with a side of illegal activities they didn’t really care to discuss at dinner.

It didn’t take long for Addie to make an impression, she was dedicated — hungrier than the other girls, always willing to push a little further, go a little deeper, die a little more. All of the shouting, the groping, the self-hatred, she never broke. Had it been not for her ego and pride, she would’ve been flawless. You’d assume being the young and on the spotlight meant competing for attention - but she never competed. She never even considered it a competition. She won, plain and simple. You see, Adelaide didn’t lose, because she tailored the game to her whims and batted her heavy set of lashes to make it seem fair. And if she did lose - the game be damned; she’d destroy it and any evidence of her failure. She didn’t want to be daughter, or something for men to gawk at, or a pretty glittered thing for little girls to worship. She wanted to be something else. Anything other than this empty shell, dripping with self-loathing , cloaked in a veil of perfectionism. Something that wasn’t rammed into this golden mold before she even took her very first breath.

Fueled by her own insecurities and desire to obtain perfection, paired with the crowd of rich kids that were offered to her as friends growing up, it didn’t take for things to escalate; by the age of only fourteen, drugs, alcohol and kicking each other in the stomach while crouching over the toilet was considered as an act of solidarity. All that deep-rooted self-hatred had to spill someway, somehow, and what are friends for if not offer you relief from the agony of routine?  

It was easier to strap on those old ballerina shoes and put on a show until her toes were bleeding, than to try and show them what was behind the curtains. People don’t want to know what’s behind the curtain — they think they do, until they see it. To live in blissful ignorance is a gift, one she was denied. And all jewelry in the world, all praise, all money and countless designer bags she accumulated over the years could never fill up that gaping hole, that detachment she felt towards the outside world and inability to connect with things and people - even those supposedly closest to her.

With age, Addie learned how to put on a show, be it at home or on a stage; that’s the magic of a ballerina, to empty yourself of that hatred, all that pain, all that ugliness and fill yourself with stories other than your own -  while whatever had been good and soft rots inside you .

And while she made a name for herself, starring role in all the big plays, working with the best and only the best, the tabloids would instiguate: who is Adelaide Montserrat? The reincarnation of the Virgin Mary to some, the dutiful daughter to others, is she a saving angel or a spoiled heir?  She used to laugh, like it was a game - like the answer wasn’t there at all . Maybe what she truly was, was a game of smoking mirrors - a fragmented image, bouncing from broken piece to broken piece, scattered into so many tiny, pretty pieces, that when she looks into a it, the reflection that stares back is unrecognizable.

Adelaide was never their perfect little doll, tied to strings, sitting still waiting to be manuevered . For some time she had watched, prowling quietly in the shadows, observing, learning. She found distraction and excitement in the shadows, drugs, married men, booze, pills - and when those didn’t cut it, she dug a little deeper.

So the child prodigy suddenly moves back to the home, with a ring on her finger and a skeleton on her closet,  all to   shield   from the rising scandal and nonsensical, if you were to ask, accusations of pushing a fellow ballerina down a flight of stairs. Alas, the show must go on, and Adelaide had no plans to stay out of the spotlight for long, or take the fault for somebody else’s imbalance. With some reluctance, she agreed to lay low, but just for how long she’d able to tolerate it, that was anyone’s guess.

Parents often say kids will “grow out of it”; their fits of rage, their apathy towards other children, their unwillingness to share, their manipulative, spoiled ways of obtaining the things they want- but Addie never did. Somewhere inside there’s still that little girl who’d rather break her toys in half than to share it with other kids. Who’d bump into other little girls at school to watch them fall, and tell the nurse they tripped. The little girl who’ll sit in an empty throne, all alone, built with the bones of the people she once claimed to love.

here’s some wc ideas i thought might be cool, but ofc feel free to come brainstorm!!

husband  - it was a marriage of opportunity rather than love, at least for adelaide - a way to deflect attention, however how he feels is completely up to you. she’s manipulative and charming, but can also be extremely cruel if even mildly contradicted

bookclub ( 0/5 ) - just women she hangs out with while trying to fit in and “have ties with the community”. she usually sucks at bonding and sharing, so this could make for some interesting dynamics

lover - adelaide switches it up every couple months, but maybe she has a soft spot for them? maybe they’re also in a relationship? maybe it’s all fucked up and adelaide likes to be nasty, what the fuck else is new

ex - lover - fed up with adelaide? me too. join the club. 

childhood friend - i feel like she might’ve permanently scarred this person for life by ( animal abuse tw ) killing a bird in front of them or something. adelaide was truly a fucking... terror as a child, and i doubt she was a good friend, bc she still isn’t

prodigy that she’s taken under her wings - maybe a young person who loves ballet that she decided to mentor out of the kindness of her heart? *coughs boredom coughs*

drug dealer - probably has a crush on them bc they indulge her bad habits ngl

idk man giv e me   s t u f f  !!!

also romantic connections are open to men and women pls. the only straight she is is a straight up bitch. 

#irvingintro

[vikingpoteto]

Red Robin under the spotlight

Read on AO3 

______________________

Relationships:  GEN. Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown & Tim Drake

Summary: Red Robin and Red hood are basically urban legends, no one is sure they're real. That is, until there is a picture of the two of them grinning at each other on Gotham Gazette's front page.

________________________

Tim Drake is having… a day. 

Stuck in his office for the afternoon, he is praying for nightime to come soon so he can put on his suit and vent his frustration by beating up some unsuspecting criminal. He’d known being a CEO wasn’t particularly fun, but he didn’t expect the board of directors to be babies for so long. 

He skims his proposal for what feels like the hundredth time unsure of how to make it clearer that that is the best course of action for their investments. The fact that he is only 18 should not trump his very solid, data-based arguments. 

So he’s already in a bad mood and praying for a distraction when his office door swings open and Tam Fox storms in.

“Timothy!” she shouts. 

He feels like he's about to learn he should be careful with what he wishes.

“Hey, Tam, I missed you too?” He tries.

Behind her, his secretary makes a helpless gesture as if trying to communicate she tried to stop Tam. Tim gives the woman a tired smile and makes a dismissive gesture.

Ignoring that, Tam slams the door closed and repeats for emphasis: “Timothy.” She pushes an iPad into Tim’s chest. “What is the meaning of this?”

Raising an eyebrow, he takes the iPad and looks at the screen, noticing he’s staring at a Gotham Gazette article and… Tim’s heart stops.

The headline screaming at his face says RED DYNAMIC DUO? by Vicki Vale and beneath it…

“Oh god,” Tim whimpers.

Beneath the headline there’s a picture of him and the Red Hood. 

Or, well, Red Robin and Red Hood. They’re sitting on the fire escape of one of the abandoned buildings in Jason’s territory and both are seemingly at ease. Too at ease. There are two BatBurger bags at their side and their fingers are intertwined. Red Robin is staring at their joined hands with a wide smile. Fucking hell. Tim always makes a point of never smiling in front of anyone when he’s in his suit, he has a reputation to protect. He doesn’t know if it’s better or worse that Red Hood isn’t wearing his helmet, because it emans his open grin is visible as well - and thank god  Jason has the habit of wearing a domino under his helmet. 

Who the hell took that picture? How the hell did they go unnoticed by both Tim and Jason?

He then starts reading the article, every word feeling like a punch to the gut. 

Gotham City has seen its share of vigilantes over the years and, unlike public figures such as Superman, they prefer to keep to themselves, making many people wonder whether they’re even human. As a shot captured by an amateur photographer that chose to remain anonymous, we find out at least a pair of the many Gotham “heroes” are closer to us than we thought. 

The vigilante known as Red Robin Gotham's patheon of heroes a couple of months ago and little is known about him. He’s been seen working with the likes of Batman, Robin and even Batgirl, making us all think he’s one of the good guys. It seems like Red Robin’s circle of friendships doesn’t include only Justice League members, though.

The Red Hood, the man so tenderly smiling at Red Robin, is a notorious mob boss whose territory's size, GCPD especulates, rivals Black Mask’s. Red Hood wanders between both criminal activities and a violent brand of justice and, while he's been seen working side-by-side with heroes like Nightwing, a hero that since has only been seen in Bludhaven, no one can claim to have seen the Red Hood so comfortable around one of the bats of Gotham

The two young men were pictured in a tender moment. Could this mean that Red Robin is straying towards villany? Is the Red Hood is considering changing his ways? Or, perhaps, are we facing a pair of starcrossed lovers, separated by different set of morals, but still unable to stay away from one another? 

Tim makes an inhumane sound. The words  star crossed lovers  jump from the screen, burning his eyes and making him wish he was going over a dumb business proposal still.

“Well?” Tam demands. “What is that, Tim?”

“I don’t know, Tam,” he answers, his voice weak. “What on earth- How the hell… Oh, god .”

“Why were you hanging out with the Red Hood?”

“Stakeout,” Tim says simply.

“Why were you on a stakeout with the freaking Red Hood?”

At that, Tim recovers enough to feel a bit miffed. That’s the same tone she had last year when Tim was working with assassins and he gets offended on his brother’s behalf. Even if, you know, said brother had also been somewhat related to the assassins in question. In the past.

“Hey, Hood is not as bad as the news make him look. Sure, he’s not exactly clean, but he’s a valuable undercover agent and…”

Tam makes sounds of a woman whose white Valentino bag had liquid lipstick spilled in. “Does that mean you  are  dating the Red Hood?”

“What? NO!”

Tim pinches the bridge of his nose. God, what a mess. 

“He’s my brother,” he says. 

Tam looks like she goes through the 7 stages of grief in a very short time and, honestly, Tim feels for her. He likes Tam a lot. She is smart and strong and the poor girl has had to deal with so much since she and Tim became friends.

“Are you telling me… that Dick Grayson…”

“No, Dick’s not the Red Hood.”

She stares at the picture again and then at him. “This isn’t Duke or Damian, Tim.”

“You’re right. It’s a long story. I can’t tell you, though. I trust you but Hood’s identity isn’t my secret to share.” 

Tam closes her eyes and breathes in and out slowly. After all the crap she had to deal as one of Red Robin’s friends, a stranged brother that happened to be a crime lord (an anti-hero, really) wasn’t that far fetched. She didn’t know much about the Drakes because Tim didn’t talked about them, so, for all she knows, Red Hood could be Jack’s or Janet’s bastard child. Although Tim can figure her theories, he doesn’t try to explain anything. Whatever she works out is better than letting her know Red Hood is Bruce Wayne’s son brought back from the dead.

“Fine. You’re not dating a criminal. You’re a criminal’s brother.”

“I mean… if you think about it, I’m a criminal too.” He smiles sheepishly under her glare. “Being a vigilante isn’t exactly something I can put on my resume.” 

Shaking her head, Tam checks the picture again. “What were you even doing? Because it looks like you’re holding hands and finding it hilarious.”

“We… hm. We were thumb wrestling.”

She stares at him, her expression empty of any emotion. Tim cringes.

“Look, not everything is death traps and high risks, alright? Sometimes stakeouts get boring!”

“You were laughing your head off because you were having a thumb war with the Red Hood,” Tam deadpans.

“Hm. Actually the thumb war wasn't that funny, that was him cheating. I was winning so he kept talking shit about Dick’s past to make me laugh and lose focus.”

Tam finally sits down and she looks at ceiling as if she’s considering all the life decisions that lead her to this moment. At this point, Tim knows she’s just being dramatic, because knowing Red Hood cheats at thumb war for certain isn’t more shocking than the time she met Tim. 

“The thumb was isn’t important now, though,” Tim says. “ This  is a huge problem. Hood’s gonna be in hot water if people think he’s  friends  with a hero.”

He refuses to use the word lovers, because ew. Sure they’re not related by blood, but… ew. Tim  sees  him as a brother, damn it.

“Well, I’m afraid there’s not a lot we can do now,” Tam says apologetically. “The article’s been up since this morning. Even if we have them take it down, it’s already out there. #RedDynamicDuo is trending on Twitter.”

Oof. That’s… oof.

Tim intertwines his fingers and glares at the tablet in front of him as if waiting for the puzzle to solve itself. He knows it won’t, so it’s up to him to fix this. His burnt out brain suggests calling Bart and asking him to run back in time and stop that cursed thumb war. His practical brain has half a mind to call Oracle and see how much online evidence she can get rid of. He has to contact Gotham Gazette and threaten them into not putting vigilante’s identities at risk by posting such pictures, although he doesn’t hold high hopes for that course of action. What he needs now is a bigger scandal, although he fails to think of something more dramatic than Red Robin and Red Hood being buddies…

Right as he’s starting to feel a bit forlorn, his phone buzzes on the table. A picture of Dick smiling flashes on the screen and Tim allows himself to perk up for a moment. Dick for sure will be able to help him.

“Dick!” He picks up, full of hope.

Tim is greeted with cackling. Dick’s cackling.

He groans. “Richard.”

“AHAHAHAHA O-oh god, you… aha... b-baby bird, you… HAHAHAHA--”

Tim isn’t paid enough for this. He hangs up.

“Can you help me with this?” He asks.

“Don’t I always?” Tam quirks an eyebrow.

Smiling tiredly, he stands. “I’m taking the rest of the afternoon off. Can you take care of… you know… day job stuff?”

“I guess. Good luck with your… your family thing.”

 THE BIRDNEST

spoiler alert: *insert game of thrones joke here*

In the hood: Go fuck yourself, Stephanie

spoiler alert: not judging u bro he hella cute

WonderWing: steph please

cassandra cain-wayne: ?

send me a Signal: they’re talking about that picture of Hood and Red holding hands cass

yumm: were NOT holding hands

cassandra cain-wayne: I print that picture.

In the hood: W H Y ! ?

cassandra cain-wayne: cute :) 

spoiler alert: she right and she should say it

In the hood: Steph, turn on your location. I just want to talk.

yumm: stephanie I hv pics of u sleep drooling on me from that that 1 patrol dnt test me

spoiler alert: shut up red dynamic duo

 Tim hates the internet.

Barbara is kindly trying her best to muffle the online reaction, but there is only so much she can do without outright deleting people’s tweets. Tim knows for a fact that that would only cause a bigger uproar, so he asks her to settle for burying mentions of them under a fake algorithm. 

He has yet to think of gossip hot enough to top the rumors, but he doesn’t think even his fake engagement to Tam last year received so much attention. A glimpse into Gotham’s elusive heroes’ personal lives was too exciting to let go quickly.

When he walks into his apartment, he wants nothing but to take a hot shower and a nap. He knows he can’t, though. 

As well as he knows he isn’t alone. 

He plays it cool, walking in as though he doesn’t notice the person in the shadows. He drops his keys and phone on the nearest table as he would normally and turns around too abruptly to allow a reaction, his fist connecting to… someone’s palm.

“Nice reflexes, Baby Bird,” Jason says, quirking an eyebrow as though mildly impressed.

Tim groans. “Would it kill you to use the door?”

“It might, better not risk it.”

“It shaves five years of my life span every time I come home and you’re waiting in the shadows. Of all of Bruce’s habits to pick up…”

Jason simply shrugs. “So… what’s up,  honey? ”

“Ew, don’t say that,” Tim groans.

Keeping his nonchalant facade, Jason lets himself fall into Tim’s couch as though he belongs there. Tim heads to his room to change into more humane clothes.

“I’m assuming Dickie shared the news already,” Jason says.

“He couldn’t stop laughing long enough to say anything,” Tim replies from his closet. “Tam was kind enough to show me, though.”

“Tam… is that your ex-fiancée? Hmm… The news sure keep shipping you with everyone, speaking of which.”

Grumbling the whole time, Tim puts on a purple hoodie he might or might not have stolen from Stephanie and that he wears whenever he’s stressed. He wears that hoodie a lot. Heading back to the living room barefoot and feeling slightly more prepared to deal with the situation, he says:

“I’m assuming you aren’t here just to hang out.”

Jason gives him an unimpressed look. “I’ll give you three guesses.”

Tim blinks once. Twice.  No, it can’t be that… “ Everyone thinks you’re a rat.”

“Bingo.”

And this situation keeps getting better and better. Red Hood is feared enough that he can get away with hanging out with the goody two shoes every now and again and keep his rep. Being caught eating burgers and giggling with a hero was a whole new animal. 

They have to assume Hood’s safe houses were compromised as well. The point of having many hideouts is that you’re never left with nowhere to go, but even Jason wasn’t prepared to have everyone in his territory turn on him. That and they all had been raised and trained to be paranoid. It was too big of a risk to assume he’d be safe in a known place.

“Crap,” Tim mutters. 

“I considered ditching Gotham and spending some time with Roy instead…”

“But that would be as good as a confession. You’d never gain their respect again,” Tim completes for him.

Jason nods. 

The only silver-lining about this situation is that this is Jason. Granted he isn’t too angry to think, Jason is practical and willing to do what’s needed, even if it’s annoying or if it makes him uncomfortable. Tim likes working with him because of that.

“You know where the extra blankets are,” Tim says. 

Because, of course, if Jason can’t be at his own place and he can’t be with Roy and Kory, he’d crash Tim’s place. The manor isn’t really an option for him and Tim doesn’t blame him for that. 

“The plan of action?”

“I’ll let you know as soon as I figure out.”

Jason sighs. “I’m going to punch something in your Red Robin cave.”

“Be my guest.”

 Damage control is necessary, of course, especially for Red Hood’s safety, but there is something bothering Tim more. He opens the news and studies the picture. It’s a damn good shot, almost looks like it was staged. He closes his eyes and tries to remember that night. In order to take that picture, the photographer would have to be in of of the buildings across the street and they’d have to be good enough to go unnoticed not by one, but by two highly trained vigilantes, one of which had his senses enhanced by the Lazarus pit. 

He messages Babs quickly for more info on whoever sent those pictures to the news, but not even Oracle had managed to track them yet. It sounds like the photographer walked into Vicki Vale on the street and handed her the picture, because there was no digital footprint of such interaction.

Without any more ideas, he puts on his suit and heads out, glad that is patrol night. Perhaps punching criminals will give him some clarity.

Tim is nowhere near closing any of his cases and Gotham is unusually quiet because of course the criminals would choose tonight of all nights to be chill. The night Tim needs a crime. That’s why he’s more than a little thankful when a crackling sound in his comm lets him know someone’s trying to send him a message.

“Hey, hot stuff,” a familiar voice calls, “I have an underground gambling den to dismantle tonight, you want in?”

Red Robin smiles. “Is that a date?”

“I don’t know, is it? I don’t want Red Hood coming after me.”

“Batgirl.”

She laughs shamelessly. He hopes Barbara isn’t listening. Although the alternative would be Wendy listening, and he doesn’t know which one would be worse. Steph’s sense of humor isn’t for everyone and while, Tim doesn’t mind their inside jokes and got used to her eternal flirting, he feels as though those should remain between the two of them only.

“I’m serious, though,” Steph continues. “I don’t think backup is needed per se, but I miss fighting criminals with you. Plus I figured you could use a punching bag or two.”

He grins. He just  really  loves Steph. 

“Send me the details. I’ll meet you there.”

Turns out it’s a pretty standard burst for them. Gambling den covering a massive drug operation, because this is Gotham. Why wouldn’t they use an illegal thing to cover another more illegal thing? That sounded like a great idea. 

He finds Batgirl waiting for him on top of a building. She simply smiles and points at the shady alley down the street. 

“Gentlemen first?” she offers. 

“It’s your case.”

With a nod, she dives towards the ground and Red Robin follows her closely, frowning in confusion when she doesn’t dropkicks any windows. Instead, she casually strolls towards the back of the alley where a suspicious metal door that could easily go unnoticed if it didn’t scream CRIMINAL ACTIVITY HERE. Batgirl knocks at the door and gestures at Red Robin to stay away.

A slit on the door slides open and a confused crook tries unsuccessfully to see who’s there. With both vigilantes’ out of his line of sight, the poor bastard has no option other than opening the door to check. Batgirl swiftly pulls him into a headlock as soon as he walks into view and Red Robin’s grinning face is the last thing the man sees before the pressured applied makes him pass out.

Red Robin doesn’t figure what Steph’s plan is until she cuffs the unconscious bouncer and stands straight, offering her arm.

“You’re so dramatic.” He rolls his eyes, even as he takes it.

“Shush, you think I’m awesome.”

That he does. Especially when the two of them climb down into the basement turned illegal cassino with their arms locked as if they’re a couple. It’s cartoonishly comic how long it takes everyone to realize Red Robin and Batgirl are standing on the entrance, looking around at the 50 different illegal activities happening at once. 

Not as comic as when Batgirl shouts over the music: “Please, don’t stop on our account!”

The gamblers sober enough to freeze in horror. 

“Before we start, anyone wants to just give themselves in?” Red Robin offers.

That’s when guns start firing and all hell breaks loose. 

 The night ends, as it would, with Batgirl and Red Robin walking home a trio of strippers. The women weren’t to blame that their work environment was less than ideal and they certainly didn’t need to be left tied up waiting for the GCPD like the mobsters Steph and Tim beat up tonight.

Red Robin wanted to just watch them from the top ot the buildings and make sure they got home safe, but Batgirl insisted they walked alongside the women. Their costumes don’t look completely out of place near them and Red Robin doesn’t know what to think of that.

For a second, he thinks he hears someone behind them. Everytime he turns around, he finds nothing but an empty alley, so he shrugs if off as him getting hit tooo many times.

While Batgirl excitedly chats with two of the women about their future employment - one of them is in this line of work just to get by, the other genuinely enjoys sensual dancing as a form of art but wishes she could work somewhere better - when the third of them discreetly detaches herself from the group to walk closer to Red Robin.

She still looks tense and guarded, her arms tightly wrapped around herself and Tim wishes he had a jacket to offer her. The way she sideeyes him says she wants to say something, but is too nervous to start. Not wanting to betray his persona, he simply waits, trying to appear as non threatening as possible.

“Thanks a lot for savin’ us, Red Robin,” the woman says finally. “I can’t believe I’m meetin’ ya.”

He gives her a small smile. “I’m just glad you’re safe, ma’am, there’s no need to thank me.”

“I just wanted ta say… I get ya.”

Red Robin tilts his head to the side. “Ma’am?”

“The thing with your man. Must ta’ be hard dating the Red Hood. I know how it is.”

He was… He was getting sympathy from a stripper with bad taste in men.

“There’s nothing gross between Hood and I!” He lets out before he can help himself, his voice a little louder than intended.

The other women startle at his outburst and turn to him, wary. One of them reaches for what is clearly a pocket knife that she thinks is cleverly hidden in her bra.

He sighs. “I’m sorry, ma’am, just… Batgirl, I believe you’ve got things from here. I’m taking off.”

She gives him a concerned look, but ultimately nods. Under Batgirl’s and the three strippers perplexed glares, Red Robin grapples his way out of there.

 Tim wakes up around noon feeling as though he was hit by a truck, as he does when he sleeps longer than three hours a night. He slowly sits up and looks around his messy room, wondering how come he’s feeling so miserable. The smell of food stirs him into some sort of alertness.

Right. He’s not home alone today.

Yawning and scratching his belly, he forces himself to get out of bed. He know that the longer he stays the more likely he is to slip into a coma, his body demanding compensation for years of sleep deprivation. Tim drags his feet towards his kitchen where he finds one of Gotham’s most dangerous vigilantes humming to himself as he makes breakfast. Or Lunch. Brunch. Whatever.

“And here I thought I was the family’s zombie,” Jason says in lieu of good morning.

Tim grumbles something about his brother being too comfortable in Tim’s kitchen, but he doesn’t dare complain. Jason is probably the only person that uses Tim’s stove and one of the perks of having him over is that he does cook. A lot. 

The one disadvantage about having Jason over is…

A knife lodges itself on the counter in front of Tim when he tries to reach for the coffee pot. Tim didn’t even see him throwing it. He glares at his brother.

“Food first. Coffee after,” Jason says. 

“I’m too nauseous to eat, I just woke up.”

Again without breaking eye contact with the pot he’s stirring, Jason blindly reaches for a package of crackers casually left on the counter and hands it to Tim.

Tim makes sure to give him his best rebellious teenager glare before grabbing the stupid crackers and sitting down to eat them. Stupid Jason with his stupid boredom. Tim had forgotten Jason goes into full mom mode when he has nothing else to do and that he’s particularly obnoxious about Tim’s eating habits.

“I consume the necessary calories,” Tim mumbles over his cracker.

“Okay, Damian.”

Tim throws a cracker at him. Jason easily dodges without looking, which is kind of annoying.

After that, the two brothers fall into comfortable silence. Tim knows Jason wants to talk about their plan of action, but he knows Tim is nowhere near awake enough to hold a conversation. Besides, Jason doesn’t like being bothered while he’s cooking anyway.

By the time the food is ready, the crackers worked their magic and Tim no longer feels as though his stomach is ready to puke out its emptiness. He grabs dishes he hadn’t used in quite a while and sets the table for the two of them. The brothers start eating in silence, Tim slowly recovering his sense of self - no wonder he goes for so long without sleeping, he takes too long to reboot when he does - and Jason mindlessly scrolling through his phone. 

Then something on the small screen makes Jason choke on his food. 

Tim quirks an eyebrow. “You okay?”

“Hm… Timmy, you may wanna take a look at this.”

“What?” Tim takes Jason’s phone. “Oh, for fuck’s sake !” 

It’s another news article. The picture is fortunately less detailed, just a red and black silhouette against Gotham’s sky that may or may not be Red Robin standing over one of the many gargoyles. The text, however.  

RED ROBIN MAKES HOMOPHOBIC REMARK AND SHOCKS ADMIRER

Gotham’s newest vigilante busted an underground gambling den last night. Despite his heroic deed, his words after the fact were less than commendable. When questioned about his relationship with the Red Hood by one of the women he rescued, the hero allegedly said that there’s “Nothing gross between him and Hood.”

“Personally, I was shocked,” said the woman in question, Krystal Math, 25  years old. “Red Robin became my favorite hero when I heard he also has a dead-beat boyfriend. I was starting to finally see myself in one of those bats, you know? I couldn’t believe when he said being gay is gross. Never meet your heroes, I guess.”

   THE BIRDNEST

WonderWing sent a screenshot.

WonderWing: red robin is cancelled for homophobia, pass it on

Robin: Good. It’s about time we rid ourselves of him.

Cassandra Cain: Little brother does not approve gay rights? :(

yumm: im literally bisexual

spoiler alert: he avoiding the question

in the hood: #redrobinisoverparty

yumm: I hate this fucking family

 Tim hasn’t stopped pacing around the room since he read the most recent article. Those were his exact words by the letter, meaning someone had been listening. He doubts Krystal, bless her heart, was the one going to the news with his “homophobic remark”. 

Having basically given up on getting Tim to calm down, Jason is the one to get the porch door open for Steph. Because apparently she’s been learning from Jason and acquired his hatred for front doors. Steph knows how Tim gets, so she promptly ignores him and gets comfortable on the reading chair to check the article fully.

“This is nuts,” Steph says. “We were being careful. I made sure of it.”

Tim believes her. Batman and Robin are basically public figures at this point, even if they don’t interact with civilians if they can help it. Red Robin and the Signal were heard of and spotted around the city, but not a lot of people really  know  of them. Red Hood was basically a urban legend until recently and Black Bat sill is. Batgirl, however, is known for being a people hero. 

She was, back in Barbara’s time, stopped for a bit with Cass, but Steph embraced the old tradition whole heartedly. She would walk people home late at night to make sure they were safe, wave at little girls in the bus, talk to kidnapping victims until they were under heavy blankets handed by the police. Steph was extroverted and charming and she used that fully as Batgirl like she never could as Spoiler. That being said, she and Barbara always made a point to avoid pictures, security cameras and whatnot. If there was a hero good at hanging with civilians while unnoticed by the media, that hero was Stephanie Brown.

Tim’s phone is buzzing. He ignores it in favor of stomping around some more. 

“Well, something must have slipped your watchful eye,” Jason says, shrugging.

Steph glares at him. “Mine, perhaps, but are you implying someone went unnoticed by Oracle?”

“Well, someone obviously did,” Tim snaps, tossing his phone at the couch in frustration. “What happened after I left, Steph?”

“Nothing,” she says honestly. “I walked the ladies home. Krystal was a bit miffed but she didn’t say anything, so I thought she was just a shipper upset that her OTP wasn’t canon.”

“You think she went to the news after?” Jason suggests.

Steph frowns. “Why would she? She didn’t look like she had media connections exactly.”  

Tim’s phone, that bounced off the couch and fell with a soft thud on the carpet, continues to explode with texts. He sighs and stops to pick it up and finally answer them.

“Appearances can be deceiving,” Jason argues. Then turns to Tim: “You should look into her. I’m gonna check other possible sources.”

“Hm-hum, just a second,” Tim mumbles, typing furiously. “Damian is being a nightmare and asking for help on a case.”

“Wack. Are you telling him to solve his own cases instead of using your intell to impress Bruce?”

Tim glares at Jason.

“Really? C’mon, Timmy, we’ve been over this.”

Stephanie gives them a puzzled look. “You’ve been over… Dami being a nightmare?”

“Jason says that whenever someone is mean to me I should reply by attacking them where hurts the most,” Tim explains.

“He knows all of our weaknesses and he has the quickest thinking,” Jason says, frustrated. “The least he should do is stand up for himself with that knowledge!”

"Kinda rich coming from the guy that tried to kill him," Steph says, quirking an eyebrow.

"Steph," Tim scowls. "He didn't know me then and the pit rage--"

"Timmy," Jason cuts him off. 

Tim sighs. "Besides now I could off him in 20 different ways if he tried any of that shit again. There. Happy, Jason?"

"That's my baby brother."

Steph smiles at him. “You know what? You’re onto something, Jaybird.”

Tim interrupts his walk of worry again to smile a bit. Something about Stephanie and Jason agreeing on something is immensely satisfying.

Still, on the matter at hand, Tim says, “If I go off on Damian, Dick’s gonna get mad…”

“Then go off on Dick as well,” Steph promptly suggests.

Jason high-fives her. “Atta girl. Besides if Dick doesn’t want us to tell Damian to fuck off he has to work harder on teaching him not to be a little shit. Everyone here has a tragic backstory here and we all know Damian goes too far sometimes.”

Tim shakes his head again. “Regardless, Damian’s case will have to wait. We’re gonna go with your plan, Jay. And Steph…”

“Wow, no way, José. I’m just here as an eyewitness. I don’t want to get involved with homophobes and end up shipped with Jason or some shit.”

Tim glares at her. “I was going to offer you some of our leftovers, but since you’re not interested, that’s fine.”

While Jason laughs and Steph protests, he proceeds to look for his laptop, hoping this isn’t going to be a dead end. 

 “This is a dead end,” Tim declares.

From what he can find, Krystal wasn’t even paid for her impromptu interview. Apparently Vicki Vale showed up at her place to confirm the veracity of a story that she heard God knows where. 

Dick is in Bludhaven, but he insisted on facetiming them when he realized his brothers were struggling, even if he mostly just made worried faces from Tim’s phone as Tim, Jason and Steph exchanged notes. As a rule of thumb, Tim doesn’t involve his siblings in his cases since he became Red Robin, but this is definitely an all hands on deck situation. Tim isn’t desperate enough to get Bruce involved, but he’s getting there. Especially when Dick says:

“Babs couldn’t find anything in Vicki’s email or phone. She’s double checking all of Vicki's sources, but so far it’s been no good.”

“We could always get Vale and hang her by the ankles on top of some building until she talks,” Jason suggests. "Let's go old school on her."

Everyone ignores Jason. Tim stands for another mug of coffee. Dick lets out a frustrated sigh. Steph keeps watching all of them from the couch, where she’s been lying down and tossing gummy bears into her mouth for the past half-hour. 

When no one acknowledges him, Jason sighs and stands. “Alright, this’ been fun. I’m going to patrol.”

Dick frowns. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“He can’t vanish,” Steph says. “One thing is crashing Tim’s place to make sure he won’t get ambushed in his down time. If Red Hood goes AWOL he might as well admit he’s working with the Batclan.”

Jason nods. “If I don’t do my job, next thing I know Black Mask takes over my stuff.” 

“Can’t have Black Mask taking over his stuff,” Steph agrees.

Dick glances at Tim as though expecting him to disagree with the plan. Tim lets out a defeated sigh. “He’s right. Just… make sure to find a safe place to change into your gear so no one sees you. If there are any safe places, that is…”

Jason rolls his eyes. Tim knows he’s going full Robbie Downer mode, as Jason likes to call it, but he can’t help it. It’s not often that he finds himself without any ideas. He  should  have been able to solve this already. Since nothing comes to mind, he starts imagining unrealistic scenarios in hopes that they’ll give him some insight outside of the box.  AU in which I was never shipped with my brother by some nosey reporter. AU in which I went out Damian instead of Jason that night.

Tim groans in frustration. “Why did it have to be Jason? We could get away with me having a thumb war with literally anyone. If it was Batman out there, this wouldn’t be that much of a problem.”

“Maybe if you hung out with all your brothers and not just Jason there wouldn’t be as many rumors about you and Red Hood,” Dick mumbles.

Tim glares at the phone. 

“Really? You wanna go there? You wanna talk favoritism, Richard? Because you’ve been favoring Damian for-freaking-ever.”

“Drag him!” Jason cheers. 

“Tim,” Dick says, looking genuinely upset, “I love all-”

“Save it,” Steph cuts in. “We all have favorites Dick, there is no use denying it.”

Because Dick’s eyebrows are knitted in confusion, Tim clarifies: “Bruce’s favorite is Cass, yours is Damian, Jason’s is… I don’t know, his guns. Steph is my favorite, unfortunately. Steph’s favorite is Cass, Cass’ favorite is Duke, Duke doesn’t have favorites, he’s the only good person in this family, and Damian’s is also you.”

Steph nods. “You did it! You broke the Bat Family dynamics to its bare essentials!”

“And that is why Tim is my favorite. After my guns,” Jason adds.

“Jason, we do not rate our siblings.”

“That’s why you’re in last place, Dick.”

Ignoring Dick’s enraged noises, Tim sets his mug aside. “I’m going patrolling, even if today isn't my turn. Solo this time. Hopefully Red Hood and Red Robin being separate out there will help the rumors die down a bit.”

No one has a better idea - Tim’s least favorite sentence - so that’s what they do. 

 It’s another infuriatingly quiet night.

Red Robin stops a couple of muggings, scares the crap out of some drug dealers. At some point, he considers contacting Poison Ivy and asking if she has any corrupt CEO she wants help with. He could, you know. It’d stop Ivy from killing someone and on his last run with Harley Quinn she did let slip that Tim was Ivy’s favorite Robin. 

He almost falls mid swing at the memory, thinking he might be onto something, but then he remembers Harley hadn’t particularly recognized Red Robin as the third Robin. She was just ranting about how the new tiny Robin had no sense of humor and Ivy missed the last one. Besides of course Harley Quinn wasn’t feeding Vicki Vale some BatFanfic. Tim’s brain must be really burnt out if that’s the best hot take it can come up with. 

It’s almost 3am and he’s taking a pair of muggers that can’t be much older than Tim to the police. He’s about ready to call if a night when someone shouts:

“Red Robin!” 

He looks on instinct and his stomach drops when he sees Vicki Vale running towards him.  Crap.

“Red Robin, can I get a statement?”

He keeps walking. He’s just one dirty alley away from GCPD, otherwise he’d just tie the stupid muggers to his back and would use his grappling hook to get out of the situation, grapple safety be damned. The muggers gingerly attempt to hide their faces as the reporter runs to them swinging a digital recorder. Vicki acts as though she can’t see them.

“Red Robin, what do you have to say about the rumors of your relationship with the Red Hood?”

The rumors you created?  Red Robin quickens his pace and the muggers trip over themselves. He stares straight ahead, pretending he doesn’t notice the woman basically running in heels to keep up with him. 

“Are you ashamed of it? Is it because he’s a criminal or because he’s a man?”

Red Robin wonders if the muggers would walk the rest of the way and turn themselves in if he asked nicely.

“Don’t bother, lady,” one of the muggers says. “He’s a nasty bigot.”

The other mugger  nods and the two of them are wearing matching pouty expressions. Now Tim just feels bad. He didn’t become a hero for the recognition and he’s not in the business of doing PSAs like Superman, but he doesn’t want the strange socially woke criminal youth of Gotham to think they’re being arrested by a homophobe.

“I have no problem with two men in a relationship, I’m bisexual,” he tells the muggers. “Still, I’m not dating Red Hood. Just because I’m bi it doesn’t mean I’m dating every male vigilante I run into.”

At that, the two crooks look mildly surprised and suddenly they seem to feel a bit better about being arrested. Would you look at that. 

Red Robin delivers them to the police, painfully aware that Vicki Vale is nowhere to be found anymore. He feels like he’s going to pay dearly for being too prideful to let himself be mistaken for a heterosexual person. 

 Lo and behold, Twitter, on that very same morning.

@Gotham_Gazette:

Red Robin hints that he might be bisexual. “No, I’m not dating the Red Hood, just because I’m bi it doesn’t mean I’m dating every male vigilante,” said the hero on the rumors about his relationship.

        @dgraysonman hints??? he literally said he’s bi smh

        @stephssss wow only the male vigilantes? biphobic. let red robin date batgirl too

        @babsgeez be gay do crime, be bi serve justice

        @thomascommaduke no cops at pride, only Red Robin using a bi flag as cape.

“Timmy…” Jason starts.

“Don’t. Just leave me alone to die.”

“That’s fair, have a nice day.”

 At this point, Tim is surprised Bruce hasn’t intervened. As unaware of social media as Bruce can be, he’s always on the look for anything that might compromise their secret identities. Tim pulls two all-nighters in a row doing detective work and still makes no progress on his search for the person that sent Vicki that picture and overheard his conversation with Krystal. He fully expects Batman to jump him on his next patrol and give him a lecture.

When he comments that to Jason, he gets a confused look in response.

“You didn’t get a lecture? Bruce was the one that told me first. I had to hear about being careless for 20 minutes before I got home and could take off my comm.”

Tim frowns in confusion. Bruce had talked to him once or twice after the news got out and he didn’t comment anything on it. 

“That’s Batman’s psychological profiling,” someone suggests. 

Tim almost jumps out of his skin when Steph casually walks into the living room with a bowl of chips. 

“What are you doing here? And are those my clothes?”

Steph shrugs in the sweater that clearly doesn’t belong to her. “Jason and I are doing movie night.”

“Movie night,” Jason mocks. “She’s been here for the past two days. Did you seriously not notice, Tim?”

Tim’s jaw drops. 

Steph sighs and her expression turns guilty. “Fine. My mom is out of town for the week and Jason is a better cook than I am. Is it a crime to bum off your ex-boyfriend and his bizarrely talented in the kitchen brother?”

Before Tim can say anything, Jason interrupts: “What were you saying about Batman, Steph?”

She heads to the couch and starts looking for the remote, her feet propped on the coffee table. “B knows Jay will just shrug it off and deal with the consequences, hence the need of a lecture. If he annoys Jason, he’ll stop and reflect on it, even if out of rage. He knows Tim’s already overthinking and working his butt off to fix it, so he doesn’t want to add any pressure.”

Both Jason and Tim stand in dumbfounded silence.  Since when does Steph know Bruce so well?

She raises her gaze when the quietness stretches and quirks an eyebrow at them. “What? Am I wrong?”

“Hm. No. That’s pretty much what we’ve been doing,” Jason admits, if a big begrudgingly. “That’s annoying though.”

Steph simply makes a dismissive gesture and pats the sit beside her. “Tim, you need a break. Wanna join us?”

Tim hesitates. On one hand, the fact that Bruce trusts him that much is a tad touching… and knowing it makes him feel he has to solve this as soon as possible. On another… it’s kind of annoying that Bruce knows him so well and yet doesn’t think about offering any assistance. Tim is not stubborn enough to refuse a helping hand when he’s on a pinch.

“You’re not going to solve anything if you’re hallucinating from sleep deprivation, Timbers,” Jason points. “Besides we’re watching Avatar.”

“Fine,” Tim says.

If for nothing else, just to prove to Bruce that he’s  not an overworker and he can slack off in the absence of a parental figure.

Tim falls asleep in the middle of the second episode. Steph and Jason vow to take him to bed once they’re sure he’s completely out, but they only last until the end of the first season. The three sleep soundly on the couch for good eight hours and regret dearly when they wake up with necks too sore to fight crime for at least a day.

 Consequences. They always come.

Almost a week goes by in which the rumors are but an annoyance to Jason and a source of stress to Tim - but almost anything can stress Tim if he tries hard enough, so that’s not saying anything. Jason is still staying at Tim’s, but he’s considering going back to his own place when they go for three days with no new article and nothing unusual has happened. 

Until it does. 

It’ a rainy night Tim is going over reports for the next WE meeting when he hears a noise coming from the balcony. His stomach gives a familiar twist when he recognizes Batgirl hunched over the weight of one Red Hood. 

He rushes to her aid, already feeling nauseous. There’s no blood in sight but whatever happened must be serious if Jason is willing to let Batgirl give him a piggyback ride. Tim lets them drip water all over the floor and, in his panic, has half a mind to appreciate that Batgirl’s boots have enough traction that she doesn’t slip.

“What on Earth…”

“The most ridiculous thing,” Steph bables as she and Tim drag a very dizzy Jason to the couch. She then starts ranting so fast Bart Allen would be proud. “He was doing his thing as usual, but some of his people turned on him and there was an ambush and so many flipping people against one poor Hood and good god that guy shot his helmet at point-blank which,  damn , that was so stupid, of course the freaking helmet is bullet proof, it just ricocheted and…”

“Steph, calm down,” Tim interrupts. “Jason, can you report?”

When he gingerly attempts to take off his helmet, Steph takes over and undoes the safety measures before carefully removing it. There is a dent on the back part where he had been presumably shot. 

“Hm,” Jason grunts, squinting even behind his domino mask. “Ambush. Shot. Concussion. Very concussion. Ankle hurts? Prolly not broken, tho. Also stabbed?”

Tim nods. “Steph, get the medical supplies. Where’s the stab wound, Jay?”

Jason points to his thigh and there is an improvised bandage keeping him from losing too much blood. Considering how well done it is, Tim figures it’s Steph’s work. He nods and starts checking his brother’s vitals and making sure there aren’t other serious wounds.

When she comes back with the supplies Tim needs, Steph has her cowl down and a somber expression. She turns off the lights for Jason’s sake, the only source of light left on being the lamp near where Tim is already ripping off a piece of Jason’s pants to have better access to his wound. Steph sits by Jason’s side and grabs his hand, much to Tim’s surprise. He’s too busy taking care of the stab wound to ask, but he doesn’t have to. Steph breaks the silence:

“I’m so sorry, Jason.”

Jason gives her a confused look. “You saved my ass?”

“Yes, but…” Steph sighs and turns to Tim. “Babs is with the Birds of Prey tonight, so I was on my own. I was messing around with my comm frequency when I accidentally got into Jason’s. I heard the mess and it sounded like he was in trouble so I panicked. I went to get him and… Well, if there was any doubt that he’s working with the Bats, there isn’t now. It was too obvious that I was protecting him.”

Jason squeezes her hand. “Hm. Pigs.”

“Right. Then the police arrived and instead of leaving right away I stopped to make sure Jason wasn’t bleeding to death. More than a few cops saw me patching him up.”

Tim sighs. Well, shit. 

“It’s not your fault, Steph,” Tim says. “I mean… he literally wears a bat on his chest. People were bound to find out it isn’t just to stick it to Batman.”

“Is too,” Jason mumbles.

Tim ignores him. “The situation isn’t ideal, but we all prefer people knowing Red Hood is associated with the Bats than him being dead.”

“I died before.”

“We know, Jay.”

“Do not recommend.”

“We know, Jay.”

Steph fidgets a bit, still looking guilty, but ultimately nods. Tim is about to start stitching Jason’s wound closed when she says: “There’s more. You, hm, you know Renee Montoya?”

“The one valid pig,” Jason says. “I like her.”

“She was there. She helped a ton keep the other cops away from us before we could escape,” Steph says. “I think she wanted to check on Jason and…”

Tim stops moving. He knows Montoya, worked with her before and she’s a nice woman. That being said, she doesn’t have any connections to Hood. Why would she… Oh. The gay rumors. Damn wlw/mlm solidarity.

“What happened?” Tim asks, already fearing the worst.

“Hmmm, we’ll tell you, but I’m concussed, so you have to promise you won’t be mad.”

“Jason.”

Jason sighs. “Well. She asked about our relationship and… Hm. I might have told her we’re brothers.”

Tim stares at them. Steph is cringing and Jason is too out of it to care. At this point… Tim starts laughing, making the other two - even the concussed one - frown in worry.

“Aw, man,” Tim says between chuckles.  “What the fuck, am I right? I’m too old for this. Who cares? Not me! Fuck it. Fuckety fuck fucky-fuck.”

“I think we broke him,” Steph whispers even as Tim resumes stitching his brother.

They went from not-sure-if-real to a freaking cop knowing about their family in the span of a week. Tomorrow #TimDrakeIsRedRobin could be trending on Twitter and Tim wouldn’t care. Not anymore. Let them come.Literally everyone in his friend circle is a vigilante, a hero or a criminal at this point, he doesn’t even care about endangering anyone.

 It takes actually two days for it to hit the news. He’s alone in his office when Tam texts him a link to Gotham Gazette online. Judging by the lack of other words, Tim figures she’s cutting ties with him again.  

The newest article has no actual pictures, but a sketch of Red Hood standing with his guns pointed at the viewer and Red Robin standing behind him, his face only partially turned. The thing looks more like superhero fanart than an official sketch, but that never stopped Vicki Vale before.

 VIGILANTE FAMILY? by Vicki Vale

Red Robin, one of Gotham’s many masked vigilantes, was cause of intrigue recently. Many  people noticed the hero doing his work around Red Hood’s territory, something not even Batman dares on the regular. Speculation turned into a craze of theories when both red-themed vigilantes were caught sitting on a roof sharing a meal from Batburger and many thought perhaps there was more than your regular vigilante team up. 

Turns out the hero and the mob boss aren’t lovers, against popular belief. When questioned about the nature of their relationship, Red Hood snapped and confirmed one of the less popular theories: the two men are, in fact, related. “Red is right and he should say it,” said Red Hood to a bewildered policewoman. “Of course he’d say it’s [REDACTED] gross, he’s my little brother.” When asked about the conversation overheard by our reporter, the policewoman in question refused to give any more details and requested to remain anonymous.

It’s hard to be sure how such development came to be. The Red Hood has been active in Gotham for years as a mob boss and, more recently, a vigilante and ally to Gotham’s bats. While Red Robin is a newer vigilante, could it be that he was trained by the Red Hood? And how do the two brothers fit with Gotham’s oldest vigilantes? Unlike his older counterpart, Red Robin has been often spotted working side-by-side with the likes of Batgirl and Robin, making some question whether Red Robin is distancing himself from his criminal brother. However, sources spotted Hood being aided by Batgirl more recently. Could it be that his former sidekick is bringing Red Hood closer to the side of justice? More on the Red Twins as the story develops.

 THE BIRDNEST

spoiler alert: RED TWINS

WonderWing: R E D  T W I N S

send me a Signal: ~ * R E D T W I N S * ~

in the hood: uhhhh my bad?

yumm: dis is great

yumm: now im hoods stranged sidekick

yumm: i fucking hate u jason.

in the hood: hey, if you didn't want to be my sidekick you should've picked another color

yumm: screw u u dont own the color red

in the hood: I was born first

yumm: u died first 2

WonderWing: Tim!

spoiler alert: oof 

send me a Signal: wow Tim that was too far

in the hood: I’ve never been prouder to be your brother I taught you so well Timmy

send me a Signal: … I stand corrected. I sometimes forget everyone in this family is clinically insane

 “Hey Tim. There is discourse about you and Jason now.”

Tim lets out a whimper. 

“So apparently some people still ship you two. But those people are being cancelled because shipping incest is problematic.”

“Steph, are you planning on going home? I noticed you took one of my drawers.”

“There’s fanart of you two.”

“I don’t want to see it. That'll scar me for life."

“I’m DMing it to you. By the way there is civilian Red Robin fanart and for some reason they made you blonde.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I guess it’s more fun to ship people with different hair colors. Should we dye your hair?”

“Why.”

“That way when you finally hook up with Co-”

“Finish that sentence and I kick you out of this apartment for good.”

 With the cat out of the bag, they start doing different damage control. 

Red Hood is now openly working with the Bats, so Steph and Cass dismantle Hood’s former safehouses around Gotham which mostly means getting Jason’s books and bringing them to Tim’s place. Jason suggests the places should be converted into something useful for the neighborhood, such as libraries or a community center of sorts, so Tim starts working on what needs to be done by WE to make that reality. Tim also makes sure Bruce pretends not to know Jason is using a lot of money illegally acquired to getting himself new hideouts.

They dance around the topic a lot and nothing is really said until Steph brings it up. Steph, whose mother returned days ago. Steph, that definitely doesn’t want Jason to leave, because apparently she suddenly has a new favorite ex-Robin. Steph, that is currently eating homemade waffles in Tim’s kitchen, even though Tim is 83% sure she didn’t sleep over last night.

“Why doesn’t Jason just moves in?” she asks.

When neither boy replies immediately, she continues:

“I mean, it’s more practical, isn’t it? Tim’s place is already secure, he has a hero hideout downstairs and you two already work together all the damn time. Tim’s office can be converted into a room for Jason, because, let’s face it, I spend most of my free time here and Tim never uses it. I once saw him take his laptop with him to the bathroom and then return to the kitchen table instead of using the office. We wouldn’t even have to take the shelves, because Jason would fill them.”

They exchange a look. 

“You know, she’s right,” Tim says. He shrugs like it’s no big deal, really.

He isn’t nervous at all while Jason stands there, his expression unreadable. It’s not like he enjoys way too much having his brother around and got way too comfortable with having a roommate and a half (if you count Steph) on the past weeks. Tim doesn’t care, he’s cool like that.

“I mean. I guess having you as a roommate beats living alone,” Jason finally says.

Tim fails to hide his grin. “We can start working in turning the office into a room this weekend.”

Jason smiles back and messes his hair. 

Tim’s first theory is that Steph wants Jason off the couch so she has an official place to sleep, because apparently Jason’s cooking is that good.

His second theory is that she noticed how happy Tim is to finally share a house with family. The Wayne Manor had been home for a while, sure, but despite Alfred’s best efforts the place wasn’t the coziest. It wasn’t the same as sharing an apartment with a brother, bickering about sharing chores and openly discussing their night jobs before shifting the conversation to a video game they want to buy. Sharing actual meals and making sure one another wouldn’t end up dead in a ditch.

Tim decides to stick with his first theory, after all it’s easier for Steph to make Red Twins jokes if Jason and Tim are under the same roof. 

 Even without new gossip, the idea of vigilante brothers is too interesting for the general public to let go. Tim and Jason start acting mostly in the shadows and having no interaction with civilians at all and they’re still the topic of Gotham’s variety shows and online discussions from time to time.

Because they don’t slip again, Bruce has yet to bring up the subject with Tim, but the mystery remains. Who listened to all those conversations and how? Tim keeps expecting the other shoe to drop, to get a message demanding ransom for their secret identities, something,  anything , but nothing happens. Nothing freaking happens and he’s never been this frustrated.

That is, until, it happens. The ultimate betrayal. 

Dick’s next visit coincides with the time Cass is over for the week. Because Bruce is secretly a sap in the wrongest way, he suggests they all go patrolling together. Such great family time. 

Despite their initial protests, they must all be the same kind of freak, because they all agree. They split up soon to cover more ground, but keep their comms on so it still feels they’re all in a big menacing group. 

Red Robin is somewhere near the crime alley when Nightwing announces he noticed some of Two Face’s goons getting into a building. He checks his wrist pad for their locations and notices Nightwing isn’t that far from where he is. The next closest person is Red Hood.

“I’ll take care of it,” Nightwing says over the comms.

“Negative. Two Face himself might be there,” Batman intervenes. “Wait for backup. The Red Twins--” And he stops himself as though realizing what he’s saying.

“Batman!?” Red Robin gasps in a betrayed voice. 

Nightwing is already having a laughter fit over the comms almost drowning the sound of Bruce’s disappointed sigh.

“I’m sorry, Red,” his father says and he even forgets to use Batman’s scary voice. “Nightwing and Batgirl have been saying it so much that-”

“Save it,” Hood groans. “And stop laughing, Jerkwing!”

The worst part is knowing that, even if he solves the mystery, the Red Twins thing is probably going to follow him to his untimely death. 

 Tim all but lost hope when he gets an email from Barbara. “To my favorite Red Twin” says the subject. He groans, but opens the email, because one does not simply ignore a message from Oracle. Then he almost drops his phone. 

Attached there is a grainy picture of a young woman talking to Vicki Vale. The image had certainly been enhanced digitally as it’s probably from a shitty security camera, but you can still see the woman’s face clear as day. She looks like she’s handing Vicki something, her shoulders tense and her expression wary. The body of the message is, most likely, the woman’s personal info. Her name is Lisa Harris. She is 27 years old. She lives somewhat close to Jason’s territory. And, most importantly, Babs added to the end of the message:

The picture is from the night before the Red Twins article ;) Vicki didn’t talk to anyone other than her coworkers and our pal Lisa on that night.

Jason comes out of his room when Tim trips on the coffee table in his hurry to stand. “What’s up?”

Tim hands him the phone. Jason’s eyes grow wide. “I don’t care about subtlety. We’re both going after this chick.”

“Agreed.”

“Should we wait for Steph? She’s gonna be mad that we went when she’s in class.”

“Jason, Steph doesn’t live here.”

“Doesn’t she, though?”

“We’re not waiting for Steph. She’s not involved.”

“Aight, but when she’s bitching I’m gonna say I remembered her and you said no.”

 They leave their bikes behind first for stealth sake, but mostly because the place they’re going isn’t that far from their place. Tim shivers at the thought of someone so dangerous living near him. He wonders what kind of information Lisa might have gathered and for how long she’d been watching them. Is she a new enemy? Perhaps a member of the league?

The shitty building she lives in doesn’t suggest that. It’s just another grimy Gotham apartment complex that didn’t age well. The place they’re looking for doesn’t have a balcony, only a useless fire escape so rusty it would probably crumble under any sign of flames. It’s a perfect hiding spot, because nothing suggests a villain lives there. It’s just a building, home to many underpaid bachelors, nothing too suspicious about it.

Red Robin reminds Hood of that before they nod to each other and split. Jason goes into the building with a ton of confidence, for such a big guy trying to go unnoticed. Tim uses his grapple to reach the right window, not trusting that fire escape for even a second. 

The window is open and he finds himself looking at a place not that different from the one Jason lived before moving in with Tim. Mismatched furniture of the living suggests whoever lives there didn’t have money for fancy decor or that they don’t mind how the place looks. However, something about the place looks… well, lived in. It doesn’t look like a criminal temporary hideout, but rather someone’s place.

As he hesitates, a woman walks in. The woman of the picture, Lisa Harris. Her long blonde hair had been tied in a knot on top of her head and she’s getting ready for bed, if her oversized T-shirt and pajama pants say anything. She’s holding a bowl of cereal.

She reminds him of Steph and that causes him to hesitate for a second. What if this girl is innocent? Their evidence is circumstantial. Maybe she just happened to talk to Vicki Vale at the wrong time.

That hesitation costs him dearly. The woman appears to feel his eyes burning the back of her head. She glances at the window and their gazes meet.

Crap. 

Lisa inhales sharply and drops her cereal bowl. Before he can reassure her of anything, she’s bolting for the door. He pats himself in the back for his backup plan, because just as she opens the door she runs right into Red Hood’s chest. Lisa stumbles backwards, her expression horrified.

“Knock knock?” Hood quips.

She lets out a squeak and guilt makes Tim wince. Once again he opens his mouth to tell her they’re not here to hurt her when she… vanishes. 

She simply disappears right in front of their eyes.

“Shit, she’s a meta,” Hood hisses. 

Red Robin’s thoughts fly a thousand miles per hour, finally making the conexions he stupidly missed for so long. Of  freaking course.  He was so used to dealing with a bunch of idiots in colorful costumes and assassins and whatnot he hadn’t taken in consideration that ninjas aren’t the only exceptional enemies they face. And if his theory is correct. 

“She’s still here,” he says. “If I’m right, she can turn invisible. That’s how she’s been listening to private conversations.”

A soft gasp follows his statement and Hood is moving almost as fast as Red Robin’s insights. An invisible woman is still solid and her clumsy footsteps are still audible, so on the moment that follows Jason seems to embrace air. 

“No!” She cries out, flashing in and out of sight for a few seconds.

“Careful,” Red Robin warns.

Hood is wearing his helmet, but Tim knows him well enough to know his brother is glaring at him as if saying  duh?  

Lisa tries to stomp on Hood’s feet, she squirms and grunts, but he doesn't budge. Apparently invisibility is her only power and she looks terrified.

“It’s okay!” Red Robin hurries to say. “We’re not going to hurt you!”

She turns her frantic gaze to him. Her brown eyes suddenly become watery. 

Shit.

“Hood, let her go,” Red Robin says. 

“Seriously?”

“Yes. You’re not going to try to escape again, are you, Lisa? We just want to ask a few questions.”

He wishes they had waited for Steph.

Lisa hesitates, paralysed, but slowly nods. Her eyes never leave Red Robin once their gazes met, not even to check whether Hood is going to let her go or not.

“Hood,” he calls again. 

Groaning something about being too trusting, Jason lets her go. He is gentle about it, too, making sure to let her feet touch the floor carefully instead of simply dropping her. Regardless, as soon as she’s left to stand on her own legs, her knees give in and she drops on the floor. At that, Tim can tell even Jason is hiding guilt behind his helmet.

He shakes his head to regain focus and crouches in front of the woman. If at this point they just apologize and leave, they’ll have traumatizes this poor woman for nothing.

“Lisa Harris,” he starts. “That’s your name, right?”

She trembles when he says her name and that should have been the first red flag. He blames it on the stressful situation and moves on.

“I’m sorry for startling you,” he says. He keeps his expression empty, even if he again can tell Jason is cringing at the understatement. “No one here is going to hurt you. We just want some answers. Is that alright?”

Her hands are balled tightly on her lap as though she’s making a lot of effort not to move them - perhaps to punch them, defend herself? But again she doesn’t look prone to start a fight.

“You’re him,” she whispers, her voice heavy with… something. It almost sounds like affection. “You’re really the Red Robin. In my room.”

That  red flag is harder to ignore. He is about to check for other shock symptoms when Hood calls.

“Hmm… Red? Are you seeing that?”

He follows his brother’s gaze… and his chin drops. On the wall opposite to the door hangs a giant corkboard. On the corkboard, held by black and red tacks there are dozens of Red Robin pictures. Some blurry, some taken from so far that you can barely be sure it’s really Red Robin or not, the infamous picture of the thumb war (demon horns had been disturbingly scribbled on Jason on that one) and… He doesn’t have words. 

“You’re my hero!” Lisa claims.

“Is he? I couldn’t tell,” Hood says.

Red Robin punches his knee, which is all he can reach from where he is, and turns his attention to the woman in front of him.

“Lisa, for how long have you been following me?”

“Since you saved me,” she says. “Well… Hm. You didn’t save me. But you stopped a heist at the Central Bank a couple of months ago and I was there. I could've died without you.”

Aw, crap on a stick.

“Do you… do you know who I am?”

“You’re Red Robin,” she repeats.

“He’s asking about his identity behind the mask.”

The way she glares at Jason doesn’t suggest she had been shaking in fear moments ago. “He’s Red Robin,” she insists. “I don’t need anything else.”

“If you don’t know… how do you have so many…” Hood gestures vaguely at her creepy corkboard.

“I did detective work,” she says and glances at Red Robin as if expecting a pat on the back. “I noticed you always go on patrol on mondays, wednesdays, fridays and saturdays. Then if I wandered around long enough… It was just a matter of hard work and bit of luck, really.”

Damn. Now that Tim thinks about it, the one time he went on patrol spontaneously was also the night Vicki Vale found him by coincidence rather than magically knowing what happened. 

“Fuuuuck,” Hood groans. “I told B patrol schedule was a dumb idea!” Then, in a deep growly voice, “ It’s a matter of efficiency Hood, don’t be paranoid. Who’s paranoid now, Batloser?”

“Not the time, Hood.”

“Right. Proceed.”

Red Robin sighs. “Why did you sell my pictures to Vicki Vale?”

At that, Lisa looks suddenly ashamed. “I.. I’m sorry. I thought… I thought you were  involved  with  him  and I panicked. I thought… I thought seeing what it would do to your reputation would make you see that he’s not good enough for you.”

“Rude.”

“Hood.”

“What? She is.”

“I was trying to learn more about him, you know? I was. When I found out he was your brother, I realized you had no option, right? Family is family. I even told the news again to clean your record.”

So he had a stalker. A stalker concerned about his love life, no less, that’s… great. Just great. Of all the scenarios he considered they’d have to face, this is not one of them. Before he decides what to do, however, Lisa speaks up again. 

“You sound so… nice.”

Tim stares at her in confusion, unsure whether to thank her or not. Regardless, she didn’t sound like she was complimenting him.

“I mean… aren’t I supposed to be?”

“No! I mean… you’re… you’re dark and brooding and serious and you don’t waste time with civilians unless forced…” She frowns and Tim figures she’s thinking about the night with the strippers. “You’re… the night.”

Jason snorts. Tim punches his knee again. “Lisa, I’m pretty sure you’re thinking of Batman, not me.”

Her expression twists in such fury both vigilantes prepare to restrain her, but instead of directing her anger at them, Lisa scoffs.

“Don’t  get me started on Batman! All that crap about being mysterious and working alone? Then he joins the freaking Justice League? Just… Batman, in the middle of a bunch of rainbow wearing clowns. And then… all those freaking kids. Why does he have so many kids?”

“Lady, we ask ourselves that everyday,” Tim admits.

Lisa is wearing the same expression Krystal had when Red Robin denied his relationship with Hood.

“I’m sorry, Lisa, I’m grateful that you admire me, but you can’t keep following me like this.”

Her eyes teary again, Lisa swallows dry. “Clearly, if you’re  sorry  about it.”

They can’t exactly take her to Arkham for taking pictures. Tim feels less bad about the whole thing when the woman stands and starts telling them in a  very loud voice  to get the hell out of her house.

“Fine,” Jason says, heading to the corkboard. “But I’m taking this.”

“Take it,” she shouts. “I don’t need it anymore. You’re  just like Batman!”

And that’s how Red Hood and Red Robin find themselves standing in the middle of a dusty hallway, Hood with a conspiracy board under his arm. 

Well, that happened. 

 In the end, Steph  was  furious about them going to the stalker’s house by themselves, but there was not a lot she could do except doodle on every picture of the stalker board. 

There must be something very wrong with their sense of humor, because their text group becomes a mess of jokes about the stalker Robin being stalked. At that Tim has no problem exercising Jason’s lessons in holding grudges and refuses to help them with any of their cases unless they stop it. The thing is that all of them find the whole thing hilarious.

All of them except Duke.

“Give it a while,” Tim tells him. “You’re the most recent acquisition to the family. In due time your idea of funny will be just as warped as ours.”

“Hm. When was the last time you slept, Timmy?” Duke asks.

“Tuesday.”

“Today is Tuesday.”

“Hahahaha yeah.”

“... Jaaaaasooon! Come over here! Tim is going into The Ring territory! Do something about it!”

Bruce doesn’t find it funny either. He isn’t happy that there’s a deranged meta he didn’t know about, but Tim thinks that was the least surprising part of the whole ordeal. He reckons a lot of metas doesn’t want to be a hero or a villain, they’re just regular people that live regular lives and happened to win in the metagene lottery. 

Or… well. In Lisa’s case, not so regular.

And that’s why upon hearing the story for the first time, Bruce  completely freaks out. He starts considering possibilities from scaring the woman as Batman - “That’s a terrible idea, dad, you heard she likes that shit,” says Dick over facetime - or having her arrested - “Father, having bad taste in men is hardly a crime. She has yet to do anything to harm Timothy” Damian helpfully reminds him - and finally to fill out a restraining order - “For who, Karen?” Jason snaps. “Red Robin? Or you want to walk into that nut job and tell her she’s not allowed near Tim Drake-Wayne?”

Long story short, it’s chaos. Tim has had enough of a crazy night, so he sits back near the training area of the cave and sips the tea Alfred made him. Bruce is doing Tim’s stressed out circuit, pacing back and forth around the cave while his children follow him - Damian is holding the phone higher than his head so Dick can talk to Bruce at eye level - and they try to talk him out of doing anything stupid.

Most of them, anyway. It looks like Duke is definitely looking into the possibility of a restraining order.

Cass detaches herself from the mess and heads towards Tim. She looks calm, as Cass always does, and some of that calm transfers to him. When she takes a seat by his side, he smiles at her.

“Okay?” she asks. 

Tim shrugs. “Weirded out, mostly. I’ll be fine.”

She points at her then signs Tim’s house as a question. She’s asking him if he wants her to come over.

While Cass is one hell of a bodyguard, Tim thinks of Steph, who’s most definitely playing with his video games back at home, and of Jason, whose schedule mostly matches Tim’s, hence he is, more often than not, at one shout of distance. Tim can’t think of any place that feels safer than his home right now.

“I’m fine. Jay and Steph are taking care of me. I’ll just have to be twice as careful during patrol,” he says.

Cass nods, satisfied. She gives him a forehead kiss and leans against his side. The two of them watch their family yell at each other for the next ten minutes, matching serene smiles on their faces.

 Bruce settles for keeping Lisa under occasional watch. 

Barbara stalks her online and finds that Lisa has left a Red Robin fanclub (Tim did not know those existed) and closed all of her threads on the Red Robin subreddit (Tim knew about those, but kept his distance), making it seem that learning that Red Robin is just a polite-ish kid really killed her love. 

Bruce says he’ll keep tabs on her because he know she’s a meta, it’s not like he’s being overprotective, he totally knows Tim can take care of himself, really. 

Other than that, Bruce is way too happy about Jason’s new living arrangement. He even  almost smiles. 

 Tim… is fine. The whole thing is creepy, for sure, but he finds out that his siblings making so many jokes about it makes it easier to handle. Yay for their unhealthy coping mechanisms. 

He doesn’t think he will ever be okay with media, though. It’s annoying enough that he has to deal with reporters as Tim Drake-Wayne, he definitely doesn’t need the attention as Red Robin. 

Luckily for him, his siblings help him with that too. One time he’s wrapping a gang bust with Nightwing when a reporter comes running towards them, begging for a few answers. Red Robin cringes inwardly realizing there are no close buildings to use his grapple, but before he can say anything, Nightwing squeezes his shoulder. 

“Go, Timmy. I’ve got this.”

Tim smile. “Thanks, Dick.”

And he leaves the silent and swift way only a Bat can do. 

 Things are great. As great as they can be in Gotham, at least. Tim wakes up at 9am - an early time for a vigilante, but he got at least 5 hours of sleep, so that’s something - and heads to the kitchen. He finds Steph (who still swears she doesn’t live with them) and Jason bickering over pancakes they’re making. Smiling to himself, Tim mumbles a good morning and starts washing the dirty dishes from last night.

The peaceful morning is interrupted by Steph’s phone buzzing. She use a paper towel to clean her hands before checking it and…

“Uh… Timbers?” she calls.

He freezes, the pan he’s washing suddenly forgotten. “What now?”

Steph is trembling with contained laughter when she hands him the phone. Duke just sent her a link to a news article. Tim clicks and finds himself staring at the headline RIVALRY BETWEEN HEROES? followed by a clear picture of Nightwing and a blurry shot of Red Robin.

The article follows:

After dealing with an infamous gang of contrabandists that operated near Gotham’s harbor, Nightwing and Red Robin went their separate ways without much courtesy. Despite the short collab, it appears that Red Robin didn’t appreciate Nighwing’s help, his farewell words being a sarcastic “thanks” followed by calling Bludhaven’s hero a “dick”.

Tim raises his eyes to the other two. Steph is hiding her face into the crook of Jason’s neck, her shoulders still trembling a bit. Having read the article over Steph’s shoulder, Jason is biting his lip.

Tim deadpans: “This is the funniest shit that ever happened to me.”

The three of them explode in laughter and they cackle for a good minute, until the three of them are breathless and their cheeks hurt.

“I-I want to print that and frame it,” Steph manages between giggles. “Let’s hang it on the living room.”

“Good… ahaha… Good work, Timbers,” Jason says, smiling wide. “For that, you can have extra pancakes.”

Tim is still grinning when he goes back to his dish duty. Maybe being under the media attention isn't so bad after all.

#batfam #red robin #tim drake #jason todd #red hood #stephanie brown #red bros #poteto writing #lmao here take this

[theshortwavemystery]

NOTES FROM WATCHING THE FIRST EPISODE OF “RIVERDALE”

1. Riverdale is a bizarre town that seems cut off from everywhere else, temporally straddled between an eternal 1950’s—more accurately a 1950’s stuck in an endless repetitive loop. But it takes place in the late 2010’s. Even so, the decor in the town is vintage, and the characters recognize this. The activities of the kids are vintage. the internet and cell phones exists, millennials are named, but it doesn’t seem to matter. something is very weird here, as if all these people are ghosts. all the stock scenarios and characters are here, which is to be expected for a teen drama, but there’s an exactness, a literalism, that is too perfect to be unintentional. 2. what is this world? it seems to be a staging of a certain inertia in american culture, which changes in superficial ways—technology, new TV shows, music new taboos—but all if this somehow serves to reinforce, or justify a return to the “leave it to beaver” universe. 3. any reminder that these are modern kids—their frequent references to contemporary TV shows like Mad Men for instance—only serve to increase the spooky vibe. everyone in this town seems to be low key crazy, making the show feel like twin peaks but written by what’s left of your local shopping mall. 4. the show’s script is constantly making fun of itself to the point that we seem directed by it to avoid taking the drama seriously—it is perhaps a smoke screen, like the haze of the presumably northwestern woods that seem to surround the town (it is filmed in Vancouver). the gay best friend is named as the gay best friend, establishing him as a living archaism—i felt bad for him after this. 5. plot points are shown to be cliche—the fake lesbian kiss, once scandalous in the 2000’s, is brushed off as false and an erasure of real lesbians. the script fools us, indicating it means to aim for more intelligent territory. and yet, veronica’s confrontation with cheryl, her tough girl speech, where she reveals her vulnerability as a rich girl fallen from grace but also stands up for betty—this goes without an ironic comment, even thought it is also a cliche, but a more contemporary oneq—the “mic drop” moment. so we see how the naming of particular cliches, employed ironically, serves to hide others the show is earnestly employing. 6. veronica says she needs to be redeemed for her father’s crimes, how is that fair. 7. archie’s desire to make music seems like a stand-in for a recognition that he’s gay. they cover this up by making his character straight but i don’t buy it. because his music itself clearly doesn’t matter. this is similar to the dead poets society where the kid kills himself obviously because he’s gay and he’s afraid his dad will disown him. why? nobody kills themselves merely because their dad shames them for doing theater. the reason is simple: theater is already such a humiliating and abject thing to love that you have to be totally shameless to even start doing it. once you become a theater kid your dad has lost you. in the second episode, the gay friend of betty reveals that he agrees with me here. 8. archie is the decentered center of the show, not a particularly interesting character so much as a holding container for female desire/fantasy. he’s dumb, cute boy who’s kind of artistic and kind of jockish, but the complex psychology belongs to betty, veronica, cheryl so far—all plotting, calculating characters, whereas archie just wants to enjoy himself and be liked—and to be fair, these shallow needs get him in plenty of trouble, but they’re simple needs. but this is always what archie was, even as a comic book character. he’s kicked around like a football like a more jocular charlie brown. 9. archie’s problem is identiied as the problem of "all millenial men", who need to be told what they want—but this is really everyone’s problem. what makes the girls/women different is that they don’t care that they don’t know what they want—they just act on feelings, and try to make the world match up with the feelings. archie thinks he ought to know what he wants, and then do it. but the women, whose desires as women are not even encouraged from day one, are free from this tedious problem. this is why archie is the one who has to be the moral authority regarding his mutual witness to the murder with the hot teacher, while the hot teacher is only afraid people will find out she fucked a student. veronica brushes off archie’s identity crisis as a false dilemma, critiqueing the categories of “jock” and “artist” and insisting he can be both, and anyway who gives a fuck? but this whimsy and indifference toward boundaries can get devious with veronica, who is betty’s friend one second and hooking up with archie the next. 10. although women are still often denied full subjectivity in literature, in real life it’s always been the opposite—men tend to forego personality development in favor of power or the illusion of power, and end up more shallow, rigid and fragile, more prone to the whims of their entourage. they never really have to become anything in particular--masculinity functions like a hive mind. if male relationships superficially appear to have less friction, it is only because men are brutally conformist and end up with little personal to argue about, usually coalescing around some common interest and not prone to discussing their respective inner lives--except, occasionally to defensively deny their existence. so-called "sensitive" men only do this in more devious ways--it's obvious that jughead is the most devious character we've met so far. women, in contrast, are each a hive mind unto themselves, compelled to construct an array of selves, carefully deploying them to get by in a world structured by the male gaze and booby-trapped by the machinations of other women. this complexity is of course terrifying to men who either submit to it as a fetish or suppress it— and one way of accomplishing that suppression in literature is to create stories where the men are supposedly complex and the women supposedly shallow and dependent wholly on men--the typical gaslight job of the mediocre male writer. this is clearly a show that, whatever its other blindnesses, is not going to let that happen. 11. we are told through veronica that archie is more dangerous than he looks. why doesn’t the show want us to figure this out ourselves? this feels ironic on the writers' parts, another winking use of cliche. 12. everyone’s problem is a cliche—archie’s father pressures him to do sports to get into college, he wants to do something else. betty’s mom is controlling and betty is a people pleaser who already in the first episode explodes about how perfect she has to be all the time and can’t she just do something for herself for once? 13. the music is annoying and cloying but it also grounds the contemporary nature of the show, because of its peculiar sense of melodrama, which is endemic to this time period, and the neoliberal overvaluing of the self. 14. the video on this show seems filtered into oblivion, or photoshopped or otherwise conspicuously treated. just like the self-awareness of the script, it contributes to the sense of unreality. 15. more self-aware cliches: archie and betty grew up next door to each other—they’re stuck in a feedback loop of being the ____ next door. cheryl describes herself as the queen on stage at the dance. 16. classic literature is referenced oddly—betty loves toni morrison, even though by the end of the episode, we have been introduced to zero black main characters. is this self-aware critique of white fetishization of blackness? and there's also thornton wilder’s “our town”… veronica suggests that the high school is part of the lost epilogue from “our town”—wilder also presented a transparently fake and timeless town to stage his existentialist story in, one in which horrifyingly, dead people remain in a liminal space between death and life, vainly trying to communicate with the living they can still see. 17. every celebrity/media reference is bizarre. a thin veneer draped over an unchanging reality. "Riverdale" seems not so much about the dark underbelly of suburbia, but about the idea of suburbia is the dark underbelly itself. a murder has to happen because someone has to bring death here, lest everyone become paralyzed by their immortality. 18. archie’s “making a deal” with the hot teacher is way more erotic than anything he’ll do with b or v… why is this happening at the Dance lol, unless we are to read it this way? they have shared the most precious thing in this town, death... why does archie love the teacher and toy with his peers? because they can't give him death. clearly archie is blackmailing the hot teacher into continuing the relationship, but he does so seemingly unaware of his own motives. he lives in the age of youtube tutorials, he doesn't need music instruction. and here is another paradox of the modern gender binary--men think they don't know what they want, but unconsciously they know what they want--they receive their instructions from the Borg Queen of masculinity and pursue it ruthlessly, whereas women end up thinking they know exactly what they want, but unconsciously they don't, because it's fractured amongst their afformentioned hive of selves. This is why both traditonally-socialized genders are completely right in saying the other is full of shit. 19. “we have no past” goes the song josie sings—and maybe this is america’s problem—the past is empty, the past of ordinary suburbia, interrupted only occasionally by wars perhaps but untouched by cultural progress—and because we have no past we can have no present, only an empty recycling of the same void, the same problems, the same catharses—new episodes of the same show. we live forever at the cost of never changing. is riverdale a socially critical prestige drama LARPing in the ironic costume of a CW teen soap??? 20. all the characters are trapped in a carnival haunted house ride. the theme: adolescence. 21. cheryl’s party—brett kavanaugh could have been at this party 22. jughead is the narrator, and i like the idea that this is all in jughead’s head, which is why it’s so unstuck in time aesthetically, so stylized and knowing. and it's no wonder he's the most popular character, because he represents the writers themselves, and fandom is to have an illusion of a privileged relationship not so much with the characters, but with the property's creators--and to be hyperinvested and, if necessary, hypercritical of their choices. 23. the gay hookup is interrupted by the presence of a corpse—a classic trope in teen horror but it’s interesting to see it with a gay pair. it’s as if in the clash between the perpetual 1950’s aura and the contemporary references and morality, a gruesome surplus appears, the specter of homophobia. which, incidentally is a corpse of a man guilty of a sexual act that is still considered taboo—incest. a corpse symbolizes the death of innocence for a hetero couple, but for a queer couple it can’t just be that—it also must evoke the threat of actual murder. which makes this a very different moment. 24. jughead says riverdale has changed—but it has only been revealed to be what it always was—"full of shadows and secrets", as jughead puts it. he must be putting us on—this place is way creepier than Sunnydale, and that place had actual demons… but this is often what a change amounts to—not the addition of a new trait, but the acceptance of one that was already there. 25. jason blossom is a ginger like archie and he therefore seems tied to archie in a unique way. he dies on july 4th, given some fuel to my reading as a show with something to say about america’s self-image. 26. all the parents are single parents or in strained, unhappy marriages in this town. this us realistic, but that should tip us off: what in the show has been realistic so far? debuting in january 2017, "Riverdale" seems retrospectively shaped by the trump era-a teen drama not about the undead, as buffy was, but a teen drama which is itself undead, fitting for a president who also wished to raise the dead, and also what had never lived. riverdale’s preservation of the old “great” america is superficial—indoors, a very contemporary isolation and alienation reign, in contrast even to the desperation of actual 50’s suburbia. 27. is everyone dead already in this show? is riverdale purgatory? is that what explains its being unstuck in time and drenched in fog? but i’ve been to small towns in the northwest that look like riverdale—nothing has been updated since 1954. in order to seem fake, riverdale has to be even faker that real life, even more uncanny—and that’s a tall order.

#riverdale

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Roguish Women Part 2

Summary: Kate Rosseau is an American who fled to Paris to escape her past life. Now she's dancing and playing the part of a courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. There she meets Tommy Shelby who thinks she can be useful in expanding his empire. But has he been blinded?

Part 2: Tommy and Kate debate and reach an agreement. 

Tommy helped Kate out of her fur coat upon entering the hotel suite. The luxury of the ornate room wasn’t new to her. She had spent plenty of time in lavish rooms being spoiled by expensive food, fine wines, and Egyptian cotton. The black, white, and gold embellishments of the Art Deco style was familiar to her. She was used to the light of glittering chandeliers and passing by her reflection in the many mirrored surfaces.

Although the expensive decor wasn’t any comfort to Kate. Not when she had to fake affection and love. In fact, the atmosphere of hotels had begun to make her nauseous. She knew what was awaiting her.

But it still wasn’t exactly clear if those were Tommy’s same intentions. He had expressed interest in what she knew but not her services. Still, he was a man. A man who had become accustomed to the finer things in life and that no doubt included expensive courtesans.

Kate had changed out of her stage costume before departing with Tommy. She left under the guise that he was an expensive client who wanted to take her somewhere a little more intimate. To complete the appearance, she left in a seductive jade colored dress. The one made of silk that left little to the imagination and had a scandalous open back.

Tommy noticed this very quickly as she walked over to the sofa. The silk shifted with every movement, clinging to her body and revealing the curve of her hips. He cleared his throat and hung her coat up on the rack by the door. He was careful to maintain his appearance of business by leaving everything on but his coat. This wasn’t a situation to be comfortable with. He still knew very little about this woman.

“Drink?” Tommy asked while moving to the liquor cart by the large windows. He looked down on the lights of Paris still sparkling in the night.

“Do you have wine?” Kate settled on the plush sofa, grateful to be off of her sore ankle. She reached down to take off her heels and inspect the area. Luckily there didn’t appear to be much swelling.

“Merlot.” He answered after inspecting the lone wine bottle among the liquor.

She made a face. “I prefer Chardonnay. Don’t particularly like red. I’ll just have gin.”

Tommy poured her a glass of gin and whiskey for himself. He walked over with the glasses and set them down on the table by the sofa. He took a seat across from her so they could talk.

“Do you have someone back in England, Mr. Shelby?” Kate wondered. It seemed unfathomable that a handsome and wealthy man like himself wasn’t married. But perhaps he’d simply taken off his wedding band while he was in the Moulin Rouge. Some men did that, some didn’t seem to care and left them on. Kate wasn’t sure which was a worse sin.

Tommy’s mind went to the blonde barmaid he left behind in Birmingham. Grace had captured his attention but it had been a long while since he’d allowed himself to succumb to love. He hadn’t opened his heart up since he lost Greta. But he was getting dangerously close to that territory with Grace. “I’m not married.”

“Hm.” Kate didn’t remark on his answer. But it led her to believe there was someone. It was anyone’s guess why he was keeping it a secret.

“Tell me what you know about the Americans.” Tommy redirected the conversation.

She took a drink of the gin and grimaced at the taste. “I don’t understand why Europeans like their gin so bitter.”

He crossed his arms over her chest and stared at her. For a moment, he doubted his decision to bring her back to the hotel. She could’ve been reading his reactions and telling him what he wanted to know. Could this all be a ruse to get something out of him? Blackmail? Maybe she wanted a free ride to England or even back to America. What if she didn’t know anything?

Kate raised an eyebrow at his expression of displeasure. “Are you always so serious, Mr. Shelby?” She asked.

“I asked you a question.”

“And I asked you a different one.”

Tommy’s jaw tightened. “I’m not here to play games. Either you know something or you’re wasting my time.”

Kate looked slightly amused despite his intense tone. “I grew up in South Boston. They call us Southies. There’s a group there that runs all of the bootlegging operations.”

“The Gustin Gang.” Tommy nodded as this wasn’t news to him. “I’m aware. I’ve done my share of research.” It was necessary to do such investigations if he was really going to expand overseas.

“Then you’ll know that they’re weak. Easy to take over if you’re strong enough.” Kate leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “But if you’re so smart, Mr. Shelby, then you won’t need my assistance.”

He balked a little. Yes, he knew about most of the active gangs that controlled the smuggling operations on the east coast as well as Chicago and Detroit. But he didn’t have enough intel to know how they operated or what their weaknesses and strengths were. “I brought you here to give me information.” He replied without explicitly saying that he needed her help. Admitting that would only give her power.

“There are Italians in the North End, lots of them. It doesn’t matter what city you’re in, Boston, New York, Chicago, the Irish hate the Italians and vice versa. Neither of them like to share control. They’re looking for allies, strong allies.”

Tommy considered what she was saying. It was much like London, various gangs all pushing and shoving each other for a larger piece of the pie. Would the Americans find a relationship mutually beneficial? Could he even trust them? Could he trust that Kate wasn’t looking out for her own interests?

“That’s very vague.” He responded.

Her confident demeanor wavered a little. “Well, more in-depth information could get me in trouble. I don’t want to risk that for a man I don’t know very well.”

So they were at a stalemate. Both of them standing with their backs against the wall so neither of them could stab the other when they weren’t paying attention.

“You were in the war,” Kate concluded.

He eyed her for a moment before nodded. “Yes.”

“Where?”

“Here. Northern France.” The break in the conversation gave Tommy a chance to find his cigarettes and light one.

Kate watched him. Each movement deliberate and firm. He was a man who hid his weaknesses well. But that didn’t mean he didn’t have any. All men had a weakness. So did women. “You must hate America for coming so late.”

His blue eyes didn’t meet hers as he lit the cigarette. “There were many people to blame. I’ve got more important things to deal with now.”

Little did he know, the woman in front of him had been through trauma. No, she hadn’t been in an active battlefield but she’d fought her own personal wars. Came across enemies who were ruthless. Suffered enough to warrant building up her defenses.

Tommy decided to throw her an incentive. He wasn’t there to talk about the war. “You want to get out of here. If you can’t go back to America would you want to come to England.”

Although she perked up, Kate was suspicious about his intentions. She hadn’t given him enough information to warrant a reward. He’d been vague about his relationship status. Maybe he wanted to bring her along as some sort of toy. “I don’t want to be a whore.” She replied. “Not here, not in America, and not in England.

“What else are you good at?” Tommy replied callously even though he didn’t intend to come off so harsh.

She scoffed, her eyes widening in disbelief. “You mean what am I good at beside fucking men?” Her voice was incredulous.

“I didn’t-”

“I’m not an object, Mr. Shelby, I have plenty of redeeming qualities. Or do you have your head so far up your own ass that you can’t see that?” She demanded.

He subtly rolled his eyes. The woman was testing his patience. “Are you using me?”

“Are you using me? ” She retorted.

Another stalemate. Neither of them looked away or softened their glare. It was as if the world had never seen such a dramatic clash of personalities. A mysterious woman who held valuable information, although it was questionable how she acquired it. And a man who wanted nothing more than to rule an empire but had severely lost his trust for others.

Kate decided to break the tense silence. “Mr. Shelby, you must understand that I fled America for a reason. I’m not looking to stir up the pot again and have them out for blood. They have no issue sending men to come and find me. If I give you information that can be traced back to me, then I have a problem.”

Tommy prided himself on being a good judge of character. He rarely trusted anyone that was outside of his immediate family. It was easy for him to pick up on tells that someone was lying. And he saw the hint of fear hidden behind Kate’s slate-colored eyes. He cleared his throat and stood up to pour himself another whiskey. “Say I were to trust you. You gave me the information I want and in exchange, you come to Birmingham with me. I can give you work at my company. Legitimate work.” He clarified before she argued with him again. “If your information checks out and is valuable, you’ll be compensated. And if there’s a threat on your life, you’ll be under the Peaky Blinders’ protection.”

Kate fidgeted and was a little uneasy with the proposition. But it was the only lifeline she had to get out of Paris. She had men promising her large sums of money before. Enough cash to leave the Moulin Rouge and find a life of her own. But they were hollow promises that were never kept. They promised to bring her home and provide her with everything. But what was expected from her in return made her sick.

Tommy could be holding out. Maybe he would break his promise once he got what he wanted. Maybe he would bring her to Birmingham and still treat her like a whore. Still, the walls were closing in on Kate. She didn’t have another option. It was a calculated risk, but it was a risk for Tommy as well. Maybe that was why she stood up and reached out to shake his hand. Sealing the deal.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tommy was quite the picture sitting outside of a cafe. Sat at the small table, he was enjoying the Parisian sunlight while nursing an espresso and smoking.  He stretched out his legs a bit to keep comfortable. Activity bustled around him, men in fine suits, women dressed in the highest fashion, and mothers lugging along crying children. The romantic allure of the French language enveloped him and strangely eased his tension.

           Tommy assumed that coming to France would only trigger negative memories from the War. The rapid-fire foreign tongue that mixed with English in the trenches. The scent of their cigars. But the city was different enough to make him forget. Well, at least push the thought aside for a moment. He could never forget.

           A bright lilac covered cloche hat caught his attention. Tommy didn’t know whether the peacock feather stuck in the hat’s band was real or not but it certainly looked the part. Tightly wound blonde curls peeked out from underneath the short brim of the hat.

           Her blue eyes found his before he saw her hat. Kate walked towards him, maneuvering through the passing crowd. “Mr. Shelby,” She greeted and plopped herself down at the cafe table across from him.

           “You can call me Tommy.” He replied.

           I pegged you for more of a formal man.” Kate dug into her black purse for her compact mirror and lipstick.”

           Tommy watched her pull out the mirror, a small disk embellished with emerald stones. Most likely they were fake, and some were missing from the circular pattern. Her lipstick was a dark red. She flipped open the compact mirror and began to apply it. He saw her eyes poking up above the edge of the silver-plated mirror. That’s when he noticed the shadow under her right eye and the knot on her forehead. Injuries that certainly hadn’t been there when they’d spoken the night before.

           That morning, they had met in the lobby of the hotel the Peaky Blinders were staying in. Kate informed Tommy that she would be going to the Moulin Rouge to speak with her employer. He offered to go along with her but was turned down. Kate didn’t trust the British man yet. There was no need for him to be involved with her resignation. Mostly because she knew it would be ugly. Her boss, not the owner of the club but the manager, had a strong temper and often lashed out at the women. Especially women who were trying to escape their lives of night entertainers.

           “Who did that to you?” Tommy kept his tone even. He didn’t want to make it a spectacle of pointing out her injuries, lest she clammed up and denied anything happened.

           Her eyes flicked over the rim of the mirror to look at him. “Do you care?” The hand applying her lipstick paused, her lips parted slightly.

           “Yes.”

           Kate sighed and finished touching up her makeup. With a snap, she closed the mirror and shoved it back into her purse along with the tube of lipstick. “Some people don’t like to take no for an answer.”

           The cryptic answer didn’t satisfy Tommy. “Who did it?” He repeated firmly.

           A bitter smile crossed her face. “What? Are you going to act the knight in shining armor for me?” She accused. “Rest assured, Mr.-Tommy, I’ve met my fair share of men who had no issue roughing up a woman. They call it equality.”

           Tommy frowned. “That’s not how I operate.”

           The dark conversation about abusers appeared to amuse Kate in a twisted way. Perhaps she had become so accustomed to the brutal nature of some that she expected it. It simply became a way of life. Either she fought back, which was appropriate in some cases, or she expertly covered up the marks with powder the next morning. She didn’t fight everyone who aggressed against her. She chose her battles wisely.

           “How do you Brummies operate then?” She inquired.

           “If someone lays a hand on you then they lose their hand,” Tommy replied bluntly. “That’s what being under the protection of the Peaky Blinders entails.”

           “Why’d you call yourselves that?” She dismissed his explanation of his policy regarding abusers.

           He raised an eyebrow but reached up to slip off his flat cap, passing it over to Kate. “Razor blades sewn into the brim.”

           Kate examined the gray cap and gently pushed back the seam to see the blades hidden. She lightly pressed her thumb against the sharp edge, making an indent across her fingerprint. “Huh, so you blind people.”

           “When it’s necessary.” Tommy took the cap back from her and placed it back on his head.

           “So, what work do you have for me?” She folded her hands on the table, leaning slightly forward to address him.

           “It’ll all be explained once we get to Birmingham.” He answered and reached into his pocket to pull out a few coins for the coffee. “Until then, you should start compiling all the information you’re going to give me. I’d rather not leave a paper trail but if you must write things down to remember, then you may.”

           “How gracious of you.”

           He continued talking, skipping over her snarky remark. “Until then, I’ll have you meet me brothers and a few of my men who are here. For now, you’re simply my new hire. They won’t need to know you’re an informant.”

           “You keep secrets from your family often, Tommy?” Kate tilted her head to the side with a simpering glance. “That doesn’t make for good business.”

           Again, Tommy chose to disregard what she said. “I’ve already bought you a ticket for the ship. We’re leaving tomorrow morning at eight.”

           Kate waved over the waiter and ordered a coffee in French. She crossed her legs and picked up Tommy’s silver tin of cigarettes without asking. He didn’t stop her, instead just pulling out his lighter and offering it to her. After a few drags, she smiled coyly. “You must be excited to return to your sweetheart back home.”

           Tommy knew that he’d left his relationship status vague. He’d done so intentionally. “I don’t have anyone back home.”

           “I think you do.”

           “Is that so?”

           Her smile grew a little as he teased her. It was as if he wanted her to show off her intelligence, to prove herself. “You have a past; anyone can see that in your eyes. I also know you’ve had your fair share of whores. So, when you’re alone in a hotel suite with one of Paris’s finest and you don’t try anything, it usually means you’re holding out for someone. It’s honorable.” She shrugged. “Not many men have your...restraint.”

           He frowned. This wasn’t the conversation he was looking to have. But he figured it wouldn’t bode well if he arrived from Paris with a woman in tow. Grace would surely have a few questions. “You’ll meet her once you’re in Birmingham. She works at the bar I own.”

           “What’s her name?”

           “Did your boss do that to you because you said you were going to leave?”

           Kate smiled. It was fairly entertaining to her, the mental games that Tommy seemed to play in conversations. The man clearly liked control even when simply talking to another person. “So, what if he did?”

           Tommy pondered the idea. Would he be willing to risk getting revenge for a woman he hardly knew? Would he let a man who worked with vulnerable women get away with hurting them? It seemed like a good job for Isaiah and Finn. Get their feet wet a little bit. “Then he’s a bad man.”

           “Were you like this before the war?”

           “Like what?”

           His composure fascinated Kate. At the Moulin Rouge, men didn’t like when the women asked questions. There were several reasons. He was a high profile man who was risking a lot to have a little fun at the club. He felt talking interrupted the show. Or he simply didn’t see women as humans. Sometimes it was all of the above. But Tommy didn’t seem to mind the questions, even if he never answered them.

           “Like you want to make sure every bad man pays for his sins.”

           He exhaled a stiff snort of laughter and let his eyes wander out to the street. “I think I know how you came by all this information you claim to have.”

           Her lips quirked up into a smile. “Oh?”

           “You don’t drop an issue.”

           Kate grinned. She thanked the waiter who came over with her order. “Merci, I am on his tab, and make sure he leaves you a generous tip.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

           “Tom, of all the bad fucking ideas-”

           Tommy waved a hand at the liquor cart. “Take what you’d like and sit down, brother.”

           Arthur grimaced but did pour himself a drink before going to sit where Kate had been the night before. After a hearty swig, he held his hands up as if waiting for Tommy to hand over the explanation. The explanation of why suddenly a French whore was joining them on their return journey to Birmingham.

           “She’s got information about the Americans. Things we can use against them once we expand overseas.”

           “Expand overseas...hang on when did we discuss this?” The eldest Shelby demanded.

           “I’ve been playing with the idea. We’ve got the ability and we shouldn’t limit ourselves to Birmingham or London. Shouldn’t fucking limit ourselves to the continent.”

           Arthur frowned and finished his drink. “Think you’re biting off more than you can chew, mate. We’ve just done a deal here, why can’t we fucking focus on what we’ve got in Birmingham for the time being?”

           “You can focus on Birmingham, but she’s going to give us good information. I’m not saying we’re going to make a move on America tomorrow. It’ll take time.”

           There was obviously no point in trying to talk Tommy out of his decision. “Right, so what is she gonna do? Just sit ‘round your office talking? How’d you know we can trust her?”

           “We can’t.” Tommy admitted coolly. “But I’ve offered her a job in the company. One that’ll test her loyalty.”

           “So you’re risking our family and company because she might have some information on people we ain’t even fucking fighting with yet?” Arthur was appalled at the idea.

           Tommy leaned over the back of a chair with a glint in his eyes. “Yet. Arthur, yet.” He smiled slightly. “But when we do start fighting, we’ll be ten steps ahead of them. They won’t know what fucking hit them.”

           The desire for power in his brother’s eyes wasn’t unfamiliar, at least not in recent months. It seemed more than ever Tommy was itching for any opportunity to grasp more power. And it was far too late to try and cool him down. “You’re a fucking madman, Tom.”

           “And yet you keep following me into battle.”

Permanent Tag: @sansajonsastark​ @giftofdreams​

Masterlist 

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelbyxoc #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby one shot #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #ofc #oc #moulin rouge #arthur shelby #grace burgess

[the-y-generation]

Not My Type (Chapter 7)

Chapter Summary: What happens when complacency starts to creep in? The two encounter a close call that sheds a light on their…arrangement.

Pairing: Jimin x Orginal Character (I personally just haven’t written in Reader format, but barely even mention the character’s name)

Genres: Slowburn, some angst if you squint, friends with benefits, friends to lovers

Rating: M for this chapter

Status: Ongoing (Masterlist)

Author’s Note: I hate to be that person, but if you liked this or the preceding chapters, I’d appreciate it if you can share with me some feedback. A comment, or even just an anonymous message would be great! I just want to know what you think. And also, if anyone could tell me how to do the “Read More” feature on the app, that would be great.

Time was a weird thing when on the road. Life was not dictated by 9-to-5 hour work days, nor weekdays and weekends. Instead, it was chaptered by cities, hotel rooms, and media appointments. It was bookended by sold out shows, deafening crowds, and plane rides.

Days tended to blur into weeks, and weeks into months. Despite the unpredictability of every new city and each new crowd, some things could be depended on to remain the same. Monday teleconferences with Manager Sejin. Templated answers to recurring interview questions. Cold fast food dinners in dressing rooms.

And Jimin. 

It was surprising how easily they fell into a so-called rhythm with their new arrangement. One would have thought it would be strange and awkward, but they managed to keep the lines between the professional and private. No one was any the wiser. 

Studies show that it only takes 28 days to develop a habit. And seeing as they had crossed that line several times over, it was safe to say that they locked in several habits at that point - their subtle exchange of spare hotel room keys. Joint showers during the mornings after (with the occasional shower sex when she had her period. Who would have thought that Jimin didn’t mind that sort of thing?). Their sleeping position with her fingers in his hair, and his head on her chest.

Without meaning to, their physical aspect of their private relationship slowly bled into the public and professional. Nothing big, at least not often enough to be noticed, but it made Anna’s heart stutter every time she caught herself. 

They started out with small things, like Jimin ordering her a cup of coffee in the morning without being asked. Or her fingers lingering a beat too long when fixing his collar. Or Jimin reaching over to tuck a loose lock of hair behind her ear whilst in mid-conversation with Taehyung. Or her hands kneading soft circles on his nape when she’d catch him wince during or after a show, feeling for that knotted muscle that needed to be uncoiled. 

Small things that shouldn’t mean anything. And they don’t,  or so she tried to tell herself. If the rest of the boys or any of the staff caught on, none of them said anything. 

Taking their silence as ignorance, the secretive pair grew complacent. Naturally, as was the order of all things, it came back to bite them in the ass. Or in this case, stab them in the back.  

They were normally a lot more careful and in control. But for whatever reason, Jimin had decided that the sight of his road manager in a red A-line skirt was too much to bear.

In his defense, he tried hard. Really, Jimin tried so hard to keep it locked down throughout the day. 

But he found himself seething in the morning, during one interview when he caught a glimpse of a cameraman double taking on her ass. A red coil burned in his chest, making acid flow through his veins. He remained silent and stoic throughout the rest of the interviews, which was thankfully, not too uncharacteristic of him.

Things only got worse in the afternoon, she took Hoseok’s offered elbow to steady herself as they descended a flight of stairs. Jimin was right there, right next to her, yet she opted to take his hyung’s arm instead. Granted, it wasn’t like he offered while Hoseok explicitly did. But still, she could have said no and gripped his elbow instead.

But the final straw was in the evening. Jimin snapped right after soundcheck, when she passed by him in the dressing room to talk to Jin. Already second nature to her, she had absently caressed the exposed back of his neck, fingers instinctively curled to scratch softly at his hairline. The feel of her nails gently scraping his skin caused something in his gut to snap.

The next thing either of them knew, Jimin managed to lure her out of the room unnoticed, down the hallway, and into an empty stockroom. With the final shred of his sanity, Jimin flicked the door lock secure before roughly pushing the confused girl against the nearest wall.

“What are-” She began to ask. But the question was immediately drowned out, yet also answered, by his mouth descending upon hers.

Jimin caged her in his arms like a starved man, gorging on her mouth and neck while letting his hands find purchase around her waist. He held her to him tightly, almost as if he could fuse their two bodies together with sheer force. 

“Jimin!” She panted when he released her mouth, diverting his attention to sucking gently at his favorite spot under her jaw. “They are going to come looking for us.”

The delirious boy just hummed, not paying much attention to logic at the moment.

“You need to-” She took a deep breath, and bit down a moan, vaguely aware of the sounds of activity rustling on the other side of the door. 

“Fuck, what are you doing to me?!” She gasped, thoughts quicjly disappearing with every flick of Jimin’s tongue against her pulse point. She gripped his waist hard, already itching to feel his skin against hers. “You NEED to finish wardrobe and makeup.”

Jimin finally resurfaced, flashing a ridiculous boyish smile at her. How he managed to look like an angel, despite the sinful things he made her feel, should be considered illegal.

“We have time.” He grinned smugly, pressing a playful kiss against her lips.

“You’ll be late.” She growled back.

“Do you really think…” He paused, lifting her unceremoniously by her thighs, to wrap her legs around his waist and pressed her firmly against the wall. “That I can just go on stage with this?”

By this, he referred to the raging hard-on he was rotating into her warm core, unconcealable by his skin-tight pants. She groaned at the feel of him against her aching core, immediately flushed with the need to have him complete her.

“Why do you have to wear skinny jeans all the damn time?” She sighed against his plump mouth, diving in to capture his bottom lip between her teeth. 

Jimin chuckled against her lips, moving his hands to support her weight comfortably yet allowing his fingers access to her moist center.

“Jimin, we shouldn’t do this here.” She whined unconvincingly against his ear, trying her best to hold in an embarrassing moan when his thumb brushed against her receptive bud. “We’re on the clock.”

Jimin frowned against her mouth, which did not go unnoticed by Anna. He hated whenever she said that (not that he’d ever let her know). The Clock was the concept that kept things in clean black-and-white compartments. When they were On The Clock, they were simply road manager and artist. But when they were Off The Clock, they were two best friends who often liked to secretly fuck. 

One section wasn’t supposed to cross into the other. Yet here they were anyway, an hour before showtime with her legs around his waist and his hand under her skirt.

“Do you really want to stop?” Jimin mumbled against her skin, already making his way down her neck. 

Then, without warning, he pulled back to look her in the eyes. The seriousness underlying the desire in his gaze took her breath away. “Just tell me ‘no’ one more time and we’ll do as you say. Full stop.”

But one look at him - with his black hair gorgeously disheveled, lips swollen from her moist sucks and nips, and pupils blown wide with need - and she was an absolute goner. Logic took a backseat as her desire took over, making her skin overheat and her blood rush through her veins.

Plus, he had a point - he couldn’t just go on stage with a hardened length tenting the leather pants his stylist planned for him to wear tonight. It was practically her duty to help him rid of his want to prevent a scandal.

As a form of response, she pulled him in for another fervent kiss, urging a moan from the back of his throat. It vibrated from his tongue to hers, causing her to smirk against him. His sigh pushed into her throat, and suddenly, Jimin was everywhere. His mouth, his hands, his entire body warming hers.

“We need to be fast.” She panted into his mouth. They momentarily broke apart as she climbed off his waist and helped Jimin tug his Chanel shirt off. He stepped away from her to undo his belt and lower his pants while she pulled off her soaked underwear from under her flowy skirt. Then they came together again, bodies magnetized to be as close as possible. 

She still had her dress on and his pants pooled messily around his ankles, but they didn’t have the time to fully strip nor did they find it in themselves to care. Jimin lifted her up and wrapped her legs around his waist against, groaning when her slick, wet center pressed against his firm length.

A whisper at the back of her mind chided her at the circumstance’s complete lack of class. Nothing says “fuck buddy” more than a quickie in a closet. But the way Jimin held her gaze as he pushed into her shushed the nagging voice, releasing a velvety hiss when she dragged him in.

“So good, baby.” He murmured, pressing forward until he was completely sheathed in her. “So beautiful.”

She gripped his shoulders to support herself, basking in the glow of his compliments and adoring gaze. Jimin paused for a moment, allowing her to relax and adjust as he didn’t have time to stretch her out beforehand. Her clothed chest pushed against his with every deep breath she took, and a twinge of regret pricked at him as he wanted nothing more than to splatter sloppy kisses over her breasts. 

“Move now, Jimin.” She pulled him out of his reverie, gyrating her hips as best as she could to signal her intent. “We need you to finish fast.”

Ever obedient, he set a punishing pace, pounding in and out harshly like a madman chasing sanity. She could only grip him tighter to steady herself, biting her lip to keep from moaning out too loudly in pleasure, while Jimin muffled his groans against her shoulder. They were far enough down the hall that hardly anyone would come look for them here. But she didn’t want to take the chance of having an innocent passerby hear the lewd sounds of their actions inside the tiny room.

With both of them trying so hard to keep quiet, the sound of skin slapping against skin seemed to reverberate through the room, punctuated by the lewd squelch of her wet center every time he pulled in and out. Somehow, it just made things feel even more erotic and sensual, hearing the way their bodies moved together.

Heat blossomed at the pit of her stomach as he rammed into the right spot over and over again, making her all the more drenched for him. Her nails dug into the expanse of his muscled back, but Jimin was too far gone to register the sting of the scratched skin. 

Her thighs began to quake around him, but as much as she wanted to hurtle over the edge of ecstasy, it wasn’t about her right now. 

“What do you need, babe?” She muttered when his glazed eyes met hers. He twitched inside of her, and she could tell her was close. “Tell me what you need.”

“So close.” Jimin panted against her open gasping mouth. He darted his tongue out momentarily to brush against her lower lip. “I’m gonna…fuck, need to cum. Where?”

He was barely coherent, trying so desperately to hold on to the last shred of restraint to get her consent. She nodded, brushing the hair from his fucked out eyes.

“Mouth.” She responded, already beginning to unlatch from his hips. “Can’t have you dripping out of me, not in this skirt. Too hard to clean up.”

Jimin groaned at the thought of their joint desire slicking her thighs for everyone to see. But she snapped him out of it as she gently pulled his length of out her. They both shivered at the loss of contact, mouths meeting in a searing kiss.

He maneuvered them quickly in the cramped space so that they switched places. He leaned back on the wall as she descended on her knees and took his throbbing length in her hand. Short of breath and already weak in the knees, Jimin simply peered down at her, heart racing in anticipation for his impending release. 

She stroked a few times before guiding his length into her awaiting mouth.

“Fuck.” He cursed at the feel of her hot, wet mouth enveloping him. He shut his eyes in an effort to hold on to some restraint, gasping when she licked a thick stripe underneath him. 

“Not gonna last long now.” He confessed, looking down at her, as a coil of need quivered dangerously in his gut. She nodded, understanding what he meant, what he needed from her. She braced her hands on his muscled thighs as Jimin gathered her hair in one hand, keeping it out of the way.

Then he thrust into her mouth, gently at first so as to keep her from gagging around him. But every stroke, he increased speed and pressure, easing her into the pace he needed to release.

But he was close, so close, that he didn’t need to take long. Sure enough, with just a few strokes, the coil in his navel snapped and Jimin came undone. Her throat tightened around him as he came at the back of her mouth, urging him on. She watched him let go, taking in his desire and reveling in the wonder in his eyes.

He quivered as she swallowed around him, hissing at the tight heat of her mouth. He whimpered when she moaned around him, the sound vibrating through his sensitive length.

When he was done and had gone soft, Jimin pulled out of her mouth gently and lifted her back to her feet. Unsure of his strength, he pulled her against him, wrapping a loose arm around her waist. She reached up and embraced him by the shoulders, calming him with soothing caresses on his neck.  

As he caught his breath, Jimin bent down to gently brush a hand at her reddened knees, making sure no dirt on the floor had stuck to her skin. Then he pressed a kiss to her damp forehead, which she reciprocated with a kiss to his equally sweaty cheek. 

They stood there for several long moments, taking each other in and leveling their breathing back to normal. The electricity in the air slowly fizzled out into a gentle static that made the air warm and soft around them.

Once the buzzing under her skin quieted down, she noted his satisfied, fucked out expression and smirked. Jimin, on the other hand, still seemed a little dazed at what had just happened. So she reached over to pull up his underwear and pants, and tucked his softened length in for him.

Jimin hissed and twitched from oversensitivity, but let her complete the task. She chuckled at him, rubbing a teasing hand down his bare back.

“You didn’t come.” He spoke, breaking the silence once his lungs started cooperating. 

“It’s okay.” She smirked at him, wrapping an easy arm around his slim waist. 

Jimin frowned, but she had anticipated his reaction. He always made a point to ensure they were both satisfied each time, so this would mark the first time that only he reached his peak. 

“I’ll take care of you later.” Jimin promised, bopping her nose with his.

Giggling at his affectionate gesture, she gently pushed him off. “We need to get back. You have a show to do.”

Jimin nodded and retrieved his shirt, while she slipped her underwear back on. When they were fully clothed again, she reached up to help him fix his hair.

“You surprised me today.” She whispered, trying to wrestle a particularly messy patch on the side of his head where she unintentionally gripped a bit too hard when he grinded against her earlier. “What brought this on?”

“I like you in this dress.” He mumbled, suddenly shy at his confession. Jimin averted his gaze, hands resting easily on her hips as she continued her ministrations.

“You’ve seen me wear this dress a million times already though.” She laughed, fingers still in his hair. 

“Doesn’t mean you’re any less attractive in it.” Jimin admitted, flicking his dark eyes to hers.

Neither of them pushed the conversation further, suddenly aware of how much time they had left. 

“You should leave first.” She said, stepping away from his body once his hair was back to a somewhat decent state of disheveled. At the loss of his body heat, the room suddenly felt too cold. “It might look weird if we come back at the same time.”

Jimin didn’t reply, only nodding to give his agreement. He placed a gentle hand on her neck, turning her head left and right to make sure her skin was unblemished. Once he was sure, he ducked his head to plant one last kiss on her lips, before swiftly exiting the room. 

She counted off 3 minutes in her head, praying that no one needed her for anything important in her absence. Listening to ensure the coast was clear, she exited the room too, hyper aware of Jimin’s scent on her skin. 

Nobody noticed their absence, save for Jimin’s makeup artist who was all too used to his frequent tardiness. The show came and went without a hitch, and true to his promise, Jimin satiated her need that night. Twice, to make up for it. 

They got away with their backstage rendezvous. Or so they thought until 2 days later.

It was early in the morning. The whole band and most of the staff were having breakfast, with everyone taking their time before they had to check out of the hotel and board their flight back to Korea. The boys were huddled together in one table, while Anna was enjoying her meal with the stylists in another.

Suddenly, a loud wracking cough boomed through the room, causing her to turn in search for the source of the noise. It was Namjoon, double over his plate, clutching his phone in one hand and smacking his chest with the other. From her place, she watched Jin slide over a glass of water, which the other boy quickly took and gulped down. 

With his cough settled, the road manager deemed the situation handled and turned back to her table mates. But just under the cluttered noise of the room, she overheard Namjoon say “Jimin, check Twitter.”

There was something in his tone, curt and definitive, that piqued her interest. Call it intuition, she couldn’t ignore the prickly feeling in the pit of her stomach that whatever Namjoon wanted Jimin to check wasn’t great. And if it was bad news, it was her responsibility to inform the upper management. 

Curious, she opened her Twitter app to see if anything was happening on social media. Sure enough, Jimin was trending worldwide yet again. She clicked on the hashtag and, seeing the top trending tweet alone, she dropped her phone on her plate.

Her hands shook and her heart raced, a million worst case scenarios zipping through her brain at a hundred miles per second.

Social media was abuzz because of a circulating photo of Jimin during his Serendipity number. It was taken during the part of the choreography wherein he goes down to do a body wave on the floor. The photo was zoomed in, focusing on him alone. The back of his shirt had ridden up, exposing the majority of his back. 

His pale, near-ivory back, marked by angry red scratch marks.

Her scratch marks. 

Fuck.

Scrolling further, she found that fans were speculating what the marks were. Some hypothesized that they were scratch marks from allergies (they’re wrong). Others surmised that they were from sex (correct, but oh shit). The latter of the two popular theories was causing an internal debate amongst Armies, resulting in several follow up questions as to whether or not he was seeing someone, and if they should be angry about it. 

Heart hammering in her chest, she turned around to check on Jimin, only to find him already look back at her. His face betrayed nothing, still calmly chewing his food. But his dark eyes were stormy with uncertainty. 

Her attention was ripped from him at the blaring of her phone. It was Manager Sejin. The older man had seen the trending topic as well, and was calling to check on Jimin. He was leaning more towards the allergies theory, but still asked if he was seeing anyone.

Her blood ran cold and she gulped in panic, managing to stutter a neutral response about asking Jimin. Thankfully, Manager Sejin didn’t push the subject, content with the reassurance that the vocalist was okay. 

“Just ask him to post something about it, okay?” Sejin reminded before cutting the line. “It would reassure the fans. You know how some of them get.”

By the time the phone call ended, she realized that the band had already left the dining hall. One of the stylists explained that Namjoon had called for a band meeting, so they disappeared into someone’s room. 

Knowing it was best not to disturb them, she headed back to her room and tried not to think the worst of it, already going through several possible excuses and contingency scenarios to share with Jimin. It was not lost on her that one possible route was to call it quits on…whatever the hell they were.

But her heart seized at the realization that perhaps this may be the end of her and Jimin’s arrangement. Her breath let her lungs and her pulse raced as the world seemed to spin around her.

I’ll miss you.

She shook the thought away before they went further, chastising herself for being paranoid. 

She didn’t see them again until check out time, when the boys came down to the lobby with their bags in tow. Her eyes instinctively sought Jimin’s, but the alarm in his brown eyes warned her not to approach.

He didn’t mouth any words to her, but his thoughts were written all over his face. She froze on the spot, realizing what he was trying to tell her.

They know. 

Before she could formulate an escape plan, Namjoon blocked her path to the Concierge.

“Can we talk?” The band’s leader said. It was posted as a question, but his tone implied it was an order.

He gently led her by the elbow to a secluded corner of the lobby, far enough out of anyone’s earshot. For a long, tense moment, neither said anything. They stood face to face, but the tall man couldn’t even look her in the eyes. The awkwardness was written all over him, from the way his arms crossed over his chest to the way he nervously tapped his foot.

A tense quiet settled over the pair, the atmosphere so thick it was practically a fog, and she hated it. Hated this moment that Namjoon was walking on eggshells with her when he was her first friend here. 

“So, you know.” She broke the silence, deciding to forego politeness. There was no need to lie and prolong the awkwardness. 

Namjoon sighed in relief. “We know.”

She didn’t immediately respond, unsure of how to approach the subject. Namjoon didn’t seem too eager to elaborate on how they came to know either. 

“What now?” She asked, opting to simply move forward.

Maybe it was the helplessness in her tone, or the ridiculousness of the whole situation. But his gaze softened, and finally looked at her again like a friend.

“Look, here’s the thing.” He began. “This is a weird situation that none of us have been in before. But at the end of the day, you’re both adults and what you do behind closed doors is entirely your business. As long as you keep things professional, which you have, we’ll support you.”

She couldn’t help the smile that took over her face, and she immediately jumped up to embrace the man. But he quickly cut her off, dousing her relief with a warning hand on her shoulder, 

“But you two have to be more careful.” Namjoon continued, his tone taking a dangerous turn. “This time, we can brush this off as Jimin having to scratch himself because of an allergy or insect bites. But we might not be so lucky next time. And you know how the Army can get.”

Absorbing the impact of her words, she nodded in understanding. 

“If they ever find out the truth about you two, there’s no telling how they’ll react. We’ll always have your back, but you know there are things we can’t protect you from.”

“I know,” She replied, placing a hand on the leader’s arm. “And I don’t want to compromise you guys either. I won’t be the stain on your record.”

Satisfied, Namjoon offered her a fist bump and led the way back to the larger group. She finished checking them out of the hotel while the staff helped the boys load things in the awaiting vehicles. 

As she wrapped up the transaction at the front desk, she felt a hand on her lower back. Instinctively, she turned, already knowing whose gentle touch it was. 

Though wearing a face mask that covered half his face, Jimin’s ever-expressive gaze gave him away. 

We’re going to be okay. 

#park jimin fic #park jimin fanfic #park jimin #park jimin fanfiction #park jimin fluff #park jimin smut #jimin fic #jimin fanfic #jimin fanfiction #jimin smut #bts jimin #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfiction #jimin fluff

[yandere-daydreams]

I know requests are closed but I wanted to ask before I forgot... how would our fav yandere bnha boys deal with falling for/obsessing over a famous idol who was really popular? (Maybe they have a charisma or charming quirk?) like.. they couldn’t just take someone that famous right?? Or maybe they could?

I love the whole Idol+Yandere combination, for some reason. Just imagine any Yandere trying to deal with all the inconveniences and distractions that come with such a busy career…

Midoriya Izuku:

Izuku would be your biggest fan, in every sense of the word.

He loves the attention you get, especially if it’s positive. To him, you’re someone who should be treasured, loved, adored. The more people who see you as godly, the better. So, he’ll be at every fan meet-ups, every press junket, every show, just to show you how much Izuku supports your career. Of course, you’ll see all of these gestures as sweet, just a boyfriend trying to surprise his partner by waiting in a line of teenagers for two hours or showing up backstage. And besides, who wouldn’t want a Pro-Hero as their spokesperson?

But, nothing is ever that simple. When someone dares to say something bad about you, he can’t stand it. A late-night talkshow host once had the nerve to make a joke about you tripping on stage, and by the next morning, both of his legs were broken beyond repair. Everyone should love you, and when they don’t…. he hates it, to say the least. He’ll try to make you see that, but no criticism has ever been severe enough to warrant any reaction from you.

Izuku needs you to be perfect, to stay out of public view, to only let him see the real you. Other people won’t understand your flaws, they’ll misunderstand and hurt you. This would be considerate, if he wasn’t willing to speed-up the process.

He won’t be surprised when he comes home to you curled-up on your shared bed, crying your eyes out. Instead, he’ll fake a kind smile, sitting down next to you and pulling you into his arms. You’ll whimper, while Izuku just hums, stroking your hair as comfortingly as he can manage. “Do you want to talk about it, honey?”

“There’s… there’s an article,” You’ll explain, barely believing it yourself. “Some Gossip Magazine got an anonymous tip that I’m cheating on you, and sleeping my fans, and doing all these terrible things.” You’ll have to stop, just to stop yourself from sobbing again. “I don’t know who hates me enough to say all these things, but none of it’s true. Some people believe it, though. This YouTuber’s doing a fucking investigation, whatever that means.”

“Oh,” He’ll try to sound dejected, but it won’t be convincing. You’ll be too distraught to notice, luckily. “People are terrible, (Y/n). I really tried to warn you. This was bound to happen, eventually.” With a slight tug, your face will be shoved into his shoulder, his hold on your hair tightening. “But, we’ll get through this together, alright?”

You’ll nod, and he’ll order take-out and rent a movie, distracting you from the outside world. But, you’ll learn your lesson. And you’ll hold him tighter than you normally would, that night.

You can rely on Izuku. Anyone else, however, shouldn’t have that privilege.

Bakugo Katsuki:

Let’s get one thing straight, Katsuki doesn’t give a single fuck what your job is or who you are. And this’ll stay true… for the first few months, anyway.

He’s supportive of what makes you happy. He likes to see you smiling after a show, and glowing in the light of the public’s attention. And the fact that people all over the world are obsessing over how perfect you two are for each other… well, that doesn’t exactly hurt, either.

It’s your quirk that worries him, really. It’s mental, letting other people see you as their definition of ‘beautiful’. Normally, that wouldn’t be a big deal, but Katsuki’s painfully aware that someone is going to take it too far. It eats away at him, until all he can think about is some pervert breaking-in while he isn’t home and… he really doesn’t like where is mind goes next.  By the time you realize what’s happening, every door in your house will have a dozen locks on it.

But, in his defense, he’ll try to talk to you about his ever-growing paranoia.

He’ll pull you into his side, letting you relax. You two are on the way home from an interview, after all. You deserve to take a break. Your chauffeur is blocked off by a sound-proof divider, something Katsuki had insisted on. “Have you thought about getting away, for a while? A friend f mine has this place that’s secluded as hell. You’d like it.”

“Baby, are you still thinking about the incident?” Your voice will be sweet, but Katuski will still flinch. A crazed fan has tried to climb through your car’s window, a few weeks prior. Katsuki was thankful another Hero had shown up in time to help you, even if it meant he never got the chance to hospitalize the motherfucker. “We’ve got bullet-proof glass, now. And bodyguards, too. I’m perfectly safe.”

“I know, but…” He’ll sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. “What if you’re not? I don’t want either of us getting careless. Something could happen, and then I’d have to fucking live with myself.”

You’ll let out a low whistle, still trying to lighten the mod. But, when Katsuki doesn’t seem to back down, you’ll relent. “Fine, after I finish this album. I’ll tell my manager it’s for my ‘creative process’, or something like that.”

Katsuki finally smiles, silently pulling you closer and peppering your neck with short, grateful kisses. He already has something lined-up; a cabin in the mountains, one within driving distance from the city. There wouldn’t be any forms, or train tickets, or witnesses, or anyone but you and him. And if you know what’s best for you, you won’t argue when he tells admits that you’re not coming back.

Todoroki Shoto:

Now, Shoto is the only one who won’t even try to have a normal relationship with you. Hell, you won’t even know he’s interested until you’re in the trunk of his car.

Shoto doesn’t escalate, or ‘find out’ he’s obsessed with you. From the moment he hears your voice, sees how stunning you can be, he’s in love. And when he sees how popular you are… he doesn’t exactly take the news well. He wants you to be his, no one else can appreciate you the way he does. No one else deserves you.

So, he’ll keep his distance for as long as he can, buying his time and pretending he’s never heard of you. Shoto will bribe your bodyguards, installing his own ‘security cameras’, and making-up excuses to escort you places or attend your shows. When he can’t stand it anymore, he’ll tell you there’s an active-villain threat in the area. They’re planning on kidnapping you while you’re on tour, and he’s been asked to keep you safe. I mean, he’s still a Pro-Hero. If he says you’re in danger, you’ll believe him. The fact that he seems to just think of this as ‘saving another civilian’ helps, in a passive way.

And you’ll be so thankful for his protection, for such an important man taking time out of his schedule just to make sure nothing happens to you. It would only be polite for you to invite him back to your penthouse (under the condition that no one knows. To avoid a scandal, of course), just to spend the night, so he won’t have to pay for a hotel. Shoto will pretend to be reluctant, but really, he’ll just take this as yet another sign that you’re as desperate to be with him as he is to be with you.

Shoto will be so careful… he’ll wait so patiently for you to take a shower and let your guard down, totally unaware that he’s trailing only a few seconds behind you. Once your comfortable, too wrapped up in whatever you’re doing, he’ll come up being you, arms wrapping around your waist as he attempts to kiss away your tension. He won’t even cover your mouth when you scream. To be fair, he doesn’t have to. He knows your walls are sound-proof.

“You’re so beautiful…” He’ll mumble, more for himself than for you. “I should wait until we get home, but this won’t hurt, right? I don’t think I’d be able to stop myself.”

“Todoroki-” You’ll have to grit your teeth, driving your own nails into your palm when he bites down on your shoulder. Your voice will be shaking, but if Shoto minds, he won’t show it. “My neighbors will hear, they’ll call the police.” He won’t respond, his arm trailing further up your chest. You’ll try again, more frantically, this time. “Please, don’t do this. I’ll… I’ll never be able to forgive you.”

Shoto just laughs, brushing the hair out of your face. He’s still behind you, but that’ll only make things worse. You’ll be able to feel his steady, calm heartbeat, along with every single breath he takes. “I know, angel. But, I don’t think you’ll have a choice.”

He wants you, and that’s all that matters. He doesn’t care that you’re famous, or that people will look for you, or that you don’t want any part of this. Essentially, nothing changes. If anything, seeing other people adore you will only fuel his obsession more.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere scenerio #yandere headcanons #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia imagines #my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia imagines #my hero academia imagines #yandere my hero academia #yandere my hero academia imagines #yandere katsuki #katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #yandere bakugo #yandere shoto #shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #yandere todoroki #izuku x reader #yandere izuku #midoriya x reader #yandere midoriya #yandere deku #deku x reader

[c-is-for-circinate]

So I’ve been thinking about Much Ado About Nothing this week*.

In particular, I’ve been thinking about how badly I want to see a version--in my head it’s a modern adaptation a la ‘10 Things I Hate About You’, but you could literally do it with the original Shakespeare, you just need to get very coy with emphasis and make some interesting acting decisions in later scenes--wherein Beatrice and Benedick are a lesbian and a gay man surrounded by oblivious straight people on all sides.

At the beginning it’s hilarious, because B and B obviously know what’s up with each other and everybody else has the most ridiculous heteronormativity blinders on.  Benedick with his endless string of best friends eyes the ass of every male actor on stage or screen.  Beatrice goes around wearing converse and flannel and actual rainbows.  They are massively catty to each other in that way media for years taught us gay men and lesbians can be, the way that says ‘your entire gender is the enemy and I don’t even have to worry about offending you because you don’t want to date me either’, the way that says ‘I see way too much of myself (and my secret unhappiness) in you and hate you for it’.

And the pair get to roll their eyes at the Ridiculous Straight People Shenanigans at the costume party, and Claudio is an idiot and everything is ten times more complicated than it has to be and it’s hilarious.  The Straights decide that no, this can’t possibly be real animosity, they must be In Love!, and they all actually think they’re right, and it’s hysterical.  B & B overhear the whole matchmaking plot and are stunned, and it’s still really funny because everything they thought they knew is wrong, oh god, have they just been really terrible at flirting this entire time, I thought the other person knew I was gay.

(They each independently have to decide, ‘do I want to let my friends and family keep thinking I’m a total asshole and my singlehood is sort of suspicious, or do I want to actively explain to my extremely Christian cousin and my military buddies what “homosexual” means?’  They each independently decide, well fuck, maybe I will date this other person.  I’ll date them so good they can’t even handle it, and everybody will see how awesome I am at Being Straight and Dating The Opposite Gender, and also probably they’ll break up with me in like two weeks because I bet I can date them better than they can date me without even wanting to, so there.  It’s still funny, at this point.  Mostly.)

And then the Hero-Claudio sex scandal erupts, and the shenanigans of straight people aren’t funny at all any more.  Maybe they never were.  Maybe it was all, always toxic, when people were being oblivious and making assumptions and deciding that everybody had to want the sort of relationships they wanted and getting jealous at costume parties.

Maybe I love nothing in the world so much as you is Benedick trying to get on top of this passing thing while he can, before the sharp slavering maw of toxic heterosexuality turns on him too.  Maybe it’s two people who’re figuring out they understand each other better than anybody else they’ve ever met, and right now, that counts for everything.  Everything is double-layered, beards and closets and also two people in the middle of this mess from very much the same place who understand each other and agree about what’s important in ways they never thought they would.

At the end, when everything is Fine and Happy as though Claudio didn’t just nearly destroy the woman who’s about to be his wife, as though the Prince didn’t try to help him, as though everything is fine, when B & B declare they really aren’t in love with each other at all, it’s not denial.  It’s a release, a confession, the closest either of them have ever gotten to saying in public “I do not at all like women; I do not and will never like men”.  It’s a promise to each other, don’t worry, no matter what you overheard, I’m not in love with you.  The world still works as you knew it to work.  I know you’re not in love with me, either.  I get you, too.

And The Straights protest and laugh and produce terrible love poetry written by people who scribbled it down because they were supposed to, for the form of the thing, and Benedick says, “I’ll have thee”, or some modern equivalent, and it means--look, we’re not going to tell them, neither of us wants to tell them.  So I’ll stick with you and protect you from the questions for a while.  And Beatrice says she’ll have him back for pity and to save him from dying over it, and means that she gets it and will protect him back.  They have a whole conversation with Meaningful Looks and a few words and body language that nobody around them quite gets.

And maybe, if it’s a modern adaptation and we go off-script, they move away from this terrible small town with its compulsory heterosexuality and its abusive expectations, and set up a two-bedroom apartment together somewhere in all wlw/mlm solidarity of a nearly happy ending.  The couch pulls out so one of them can take it on the inevitable day that Claudio’s jealousy goes too far yet again and Hero is ready to need somewhere else to go.

It’s far from the only way the story could go, but damn if I don’t want to see it done this way and well.

*Do I have a thousand other things to be thinking about and actual fics to be writing right now?  Of course!  Is this mostly because I put the Tate-Tennant Much Ado performance on as background noise last Saturday while I knit?  Probably, but in the interim I’ve also watched the Brannaugh version, read half the AO3 offerings, sat through a bunch of New Zealand teenagers recasting it as a series of vlogs, and also finished two sweater sleeves, so really, I think we just chalk this one to hyperfixation being a bit desperate.

#shakespeare #much ado about nothing #C writes stuff #or avoids writing stuff by thinking about other stuff #I am not a director and this is not meant to be a written novel #but maybe if I put it out there it'll exist in the world eventually in some form anyway #that's the eternal hope of Tumblr after all #isn't it?

[dcomposing]

jumin route rewrite???

ive had.... Issues with jumin's route since the first time i played it and im waiting out a 3 hour layover which means its time to self indulgently fix all of those problems right now in excruciating detail

for the record, i dont mean any disrespect towards cheritz -- i love mysme dearly and this is purely a self indulgent experiment to see what my ideal jumin route would have been! if you like his route as is thats totally fine! it just wasnt for me lmao

this was super fun to write and if this picks up i might do another route rewrite (and i might do it even if it doesnt because it was just that fun lol)

anyways this is REALLY long (literally its like 3k words all in outline form) so its gonna go under the cut lol

okay so: issues i had with jumin’s route that i want to address:

it moves WAY too fast — i mean all of the routes do to a certain degree; they’re only 11 days long but like... you’re literally engaged to him by the end of it which iirc, is something that is only replicated in seven’s normal ending (and even then i think its only implied?) and i get that the point is that jumin goes all out for the people he loves and is VERY certain that he loves you but it just feels... way too soon for my liking ESPECIALLY because you’re his first love! it just makes it feel like he’s caught up in the rush of being in love for the first time and isn’t thinking things through which... isn’t exactly the making of a great relationship lol. so for this re- write we’re gonna slow it WAY down because... oof. 

the sarah and glam plot line happening concurrently with the mint eye/possessive jumin one makes the route feel overly busy. i actually have a similar issue with the echo girl/mint eye overlap in zen’s route but that’s a topic for another day lol. so i’m gonna try to delineate between the two a bit more so there’s less overlap.

SPEAKING OF possessive jumin lol... maybe its just my Personal Background bleeding in, but possessiveness is a really big red flag/trigger for me and i felt like it went WAY too far in his route. dgmw, i understand that its meant to be a character flaw and something he’s meant to overcome but i just feel like there are simpler ways to show that side of him without it becoming... as scary as it got. i wasn’t sure how to deal with it though -- i think it would best be expressed through smaller actions and the minutia of dialogue with the others (e.g. jumin refusing to send a photo of you into the chat room when zen asks if you’re alright, locking up elizabeth, etc.)

the canon first kiss with jumin happening both without your explicit consent AND just to drive sarah away is.... icky to me. especially because he MAKES EYE CONTACT WITH SARAH while kissing you??? i hate that cg lol. it just takes what should be a moment about the two of you and turns it into him using you to prove a point and i don’t like it at all. it’s not romantic and it feels... out of character for jumin to use someone he cares about like that. i have similar issues with the proposal happening right after he exposes glam and sarah. so lets make the kiss more genuine and nix the proposal entirely because it happens too quickly for comfort anyways.

with all of that in mind, i decided a fake dating plot would probably work best (and like i said, this is self indulgent and i’m a SUCKER for fake dating stories sooooo). it makes sure we hit all the beats of the glam/sarah plot line without shoving him and the mc into a relationship too quickly. it also means we can keep their first kiss as a big “fuck you” to sarah, but this time mc gets to be 100% in on the joke AND they get to have a “real” first kiss later on! that’s two (2!) kisses for the price of one folks.

i also decided that in order to streamline the plot a bit, the glam and sarah plot should end earlier, allowing for the mint eye plot to take center stage instead of being shoehorned in around a larger love triangle plot line. also glam and sarah are annoying and i don’t want to deal with them for six full days. the only downside is we don’t get to see v dunk on sarah at the party :-(

in lieu of a proposal for the necessary Big Romantic Gesture at the party, i thought it would be nice if jumin whisked you away from the party to paris or somewhere far away for a ridiculously extravagant first date literally in the middle of the party. not only is it ridiculously grandiose in and of itself, but in abandoning the party halfway through, it shows that jumin has grown into a more relaxed and spontaneous person through knowing you! he’s ready to throw caution to the wind and have fun with you (plus, Big Romantic Date cg!!)

day 5:

VN mode where we essentially get the exact same scene of chairman han telling jumin he wants him to marry sarah to make the merger with sugar round go more smoothly BUT this time jumin blurts out that he’s already with someone and that he didn’t want to go public with it yet. he assumes his father won’t press further, given that they’ve always had a mutual respect for one another’s privacy, but at glam’s insistence, chairman han says he wants to meet jumin’s partner. oh no!

jumin laments his situation to the rfa, resulting in pretty typical responses. zen laughs, yoosung is sympathetic but also kind of wishes it were just that simple for him to meet a wife. jaehee is worried that the inevitable fallout of this will result in more work for her. everything is business as usual until seven is like “ur so rich why don’t you just pay someone to pretend to date you lolol” and jumin (being, well, jumin) runs with it 100%. because they don’t have time to vet candidates (they’re supposed to have dinner with his dad tomorrow night!) he decides it should be someone he knows, but the majority of the other rfa members are already acquainted with his father via rfa events, making it more likely that he sees through the ruse. mc, however, has never met him, making them the perfect candidate! who would have thought lol

so they decide to move you into the penthouse that evening BUT before that can happen, they have to clear it with v because bomb, hacker, mint eye, etc. (yes this is how i’m choosing to do the bomb reveal lol). bonus, v gets to chide jumin about his dumb lie and we get a fun bff conversation with them!

final VN where you show up to the penthouse and you and jumin establish the parameters of your “relationship”. you decide that you’ll both sleep in his bed, just in case a cleaning staff member walks in and notices that he and his partner sleep separately and it ruins everything. establish what physical contact is and isn’t cool, etc, etc. you also decide that when the time comes, you’re going to tell his dad that the entire debacle with sarah put so much strain on your relationship that you had to break up. the hope being that chairman han will feel so bad about ruining things for jumin that he won’t try to force him into something like that ever again.

days 6-8:

you have dinner with his dad and answer pretty typical “meeting the parrents” questions. he asks what you guys did for your first date and jumin tells a 100% fake story about taking you to dinner on top of the eiffel tower and kissing you beneath the stars and the chairman is satisfied. that doesn’t mean that glam and sarah are though. they decide to do some sleuthing to prove that you guys aren’t really dating.

this is the fun part where we get to hit most of the beats of ur typical fake dating story! you and jumin get to know each other really well, albeit kind of superficially (favorite foods, fun childhood stories, etc. etc. nothing too heavy yet.) you guys cook together for the first time, cue cg of jumin with like... idk tomato sauce on his cheek or something. you watch a movie together and elizabeth falls asleep on your lap and jumin dies on spot idk

this is also where your first kiss happens, and pretty much in the same way except its much more mutual and he doesn’t look at sarah this time because his focus is on trying to make it look like he doesn’t even care that she’s there because you’re the only thing he cares about. (which.... isn’t actually hard for him to do at all)

chatrooms are pretty typical for this timeframe — you guys all know the drill. the other members are like “wow they seem really close” and speculate on whether or not you guys are actually together. zen is worried that jumin is going to force himself on you (wolves, etc.). yoosung is jealous that jumin gets to hang out with you. jaehee is upset that jumin is neglecting his work.

VAGUE mentions of weird activity on the messenger, but nothing too serious sounding. just enough to make jumin nervous -- esp with sarah and glam on his back still. this is when he locks elizabeth up. 

 day 8, the chairman learns that sugar round is worthless and that glam and sarah have been duping him the whole time. they’re disgraced and are never heard from again so... problem solved but this also means that you and jumin no longer have a reason to stay “together”... and you’re both kind of falling for each other so obviously that’s no good. you spend one last night in the penthouse before resolving to break things off officially in the morning. the other members talk about how sad you guys both seem to be parting.

BAD STORY END 1:

if you shy away at the fake intimate gestures (hand holding, hugging, etc), and pointedly answer incorrectly when asked a question about jumin that you should know the answer to, your ruse fails and you guys are caught faking the relationship. to avoid the scandal breaking to the press, jumin winds up marrying sarah anyways.

the branch point for this one would be right before the kiss scene, if you’re on track for the good end then the kiss happens, if not, you’re forced to shove him away when he goes in for it, revealing to sarah that you guys are frauds.

the cg would be him and sarah at the press release for their engagement announcement. sarah’s all smiles and jumin is... pretty understandably miserable looking. a reporter asks him about the other person he was in a relationship with prior to his engagement to sarah, and he reads off a line about how sarah captivated him like no one else ever could in an emotionless voice.

BAD RELATIONSHIP END 1:

if you do fine during the VN portions, but aren’t active enough in the chats, then the fake relationship plan works, but afterwards its just... really awkward. once the whole mint eye thing ends you’re pretty much just excommunicated from the rfa since you... didn’t really seem to like them all that much.

day 9:

a huge attack on the messenger happens, coupled with explicit threats directed at mc, sending everyone into such a panic that ending your fake relationship is the last thing on anyones mind. jumin is so fucking scared that he’s going to lose you, and muses in the chatroom about why he’s more scared for your safety than he would be if it were, say, yoosung being threatened (cue yoosung’s crying emoji lmao). everyone else is like “well clearly its because you’re in love with them”

anyways. they decide its for the best if you continue to stay at the penthouse and in spite of everything, you’re both... kind of relieved lol. 

everything is all fine and dandy until elizabeth III runs away, ramping jumins anxiety up to 11 like... right away

this is where we really start to see behavior more along the lines of what happens in his route, you suggest the two of you leave and search for elizabeth, and he refuses to let you go, etc. etc. 

it sort of turns into a fight, but it all works out in the end. he tells you about rika and elizabeth and why she means so much to him, and you guys talk about how fear of losing someone important to him can��t rule his life, and that its one thing to be careful, but another entirely to try to control someone else’s behavior because of fear. 

you convince him to get some sleep, assuring him that elizabeth will turn up soon and that he’s going to be alright. you guys fall asleep next to eachother without even thinking about it. its not until jumin mentions something about waking up next to you in the chat the next day that the rest of the gang is like “uhhhh,,,, why are you guys still sharing a bed”

MEANWHILE lol seven and yoosung arrive at mint eye and find elizabeth, just like what happens in canon. they decide to bring her back tomorrow.

BAD STORY END 2:

obligatory mint eye ending. if you’re too aggressive and forward with jumin and don’t give him time to properly process his feelings, he doesn’t offer to let you stay at the penthouse, relying on seven’s assurance that the apartment is totally secure (it’s not). saeran breaks in and takes you away.

this branch happens pretty early in the day, before elizabeth escapes.

i thought about a cg for this one but tbh... there are so many saeran and mc at mint eye BE cgs that idk what i could come up with that wouldn’t be super derivative lol

BAD RELATIONSHIP END 2:

again, because you’re only talking to jumin and not the rest of the rfa, he assumes that you don’t like being in the rfa very much BUT he still likes you... a lot and is very worried about your safety re: hacker, AND because he still hasn’t really dealt with his issues regarding v/rika/emotions, you guys decide to just straight up leave lol. you move to a different country where he can pretty much continue doing his work remotely while keeping you safe.

the cg for this one is the two of you in a different cushy apartment somewhere. you’re making dinner while he works. its... stable, but noticeably stiff. neither of you are talking much and his dialogue is pretty stilted. its pretty clear that he regrets abandoning his friends and is unhappy.

day 10:

3AM chat with zen where he speaks entirely in thinly veiled hypotheticals about you guys. (“well, if i thought i could have a shot with someone i really loved, i think i would take that chance and tell them, even if i might get shot down. and even if that person was a huge ass who my sexy white-haired best friend hated. i would tell them how i felt”)

seven secures the messenger again and the threat is declared neutralized! you’re safe to go home but neither you nor jumin want that at all.

yoosung brings elizabeth back around 9, and it proceeds pretty similarly to what happens in his route: he’s wary about taking her back because he feels that he’s mistreated her, you’re like “whoa buddy you’re going too far in the opposite direction here” and you and v have to convince hm that its going to be okay. the only real difference is that v doesnt also have to convince him to let you go. he just says something about how the two of you seem to bring out the best in each other, and that jumin is brighter when you’re around. 

later, jumin (tries) to make you lunch using the cooking skills you taught him a few days ago as a final payment (since you refused actual money) for all of your help, both with his father and with elizabeth, but he winds up ordering in instead. its very cute BUT its super awkward because neither of you has said anything about not wanting to leave.

finally you have to face the music and pack your bags. you hug jumin goodbye and make him promise to still get lunch with you sometime before heading back to rika’s apartment sadly.

everyone is like “yo what the fuck???” and its actually yoosung of all people who is finally like “this is ridiculous. you two clearly have feelings for each other and you need to deal with it” 

jumin is absent from most of the chatrooms for the rest of the day  though, so he doesn’t really see anything until he forces himself to log on later that night and is like “oh”

and YES of course this is going to culminate in a typical romcom scene where he has driver kim race to the apartment so he can pound on the door and apologize to you and tell you how he feels!! maybe it even happens in the rain just to maximize romance. the important thing here is that you finally kiss him for real this time and its perfect.

BAD STORY END 3:

pretty much jumin’s BE2, if you werent assertive enough with him re: his possession/control issues on day 9, he never gets over them. when elizabeth is returned he locks her back up and insists that you continue to stay with him as well, canon BE2 ensues.

i gotta hand it to cheritz. its a really good bad ending and theres not much i wanna change about it. its so scary in a calm sort of way, which i think is the perfect vibe for a dangerously unhealthy jumin. if only people would stop fetishizing it lolol

party (GE ver):

you and jumin mingle with the guests and the other members for a bit, but as the evening goes on, jumin gets restless. he pulls you aside and tells you that, while you did a wonderful job planning the party, he can’t help but regret that your guys’ first

date is technically a work function. especially when the fake first date you told his father was so perfect. he then decides that the two of you have been there long enough to fulfill your obligations, and that no one could really begrudge you if you “took off” a little early. you guys fly to paris that night and have that dinner on top of the eiffel tower.

the ending cg isn’t a kiss one, but a more simple, sweet one of the two of you in a dimly lit restaurant, jumin listening to you talk with the most tender, loving look in his eyes.

party (NE ver):

you and jumin mingle with the guests and the other members for a bit, but as the evening goes on, jumin gets restless. he pulls you aside and tells you that, while you did a wonderful job planning the party, he can’t help but regret that your guys’ first date is technically a work function. especially when the fake first date you told his father was so perfect. he laments the fact that if he was caught shirking responsibilities to take you on a real date, the press would have a field day with it, but promises to make it up to you, and take you out on a proper one tomorrow.

this cg is the two of you dancing at the rfa party, jumin resting his chin on the top of your head and daydreaming out loud about everything the two of you could do on your real first date.

#jumin stans please dont come for me jfgjflkjlkjdl #jumin han #mystic messenger #mysme jumin

[izahi-an]

I am pissed and proud and worried

The story goes like this. I woke up at 4am this morning to go to work and, since I had 15 minutes to spare before actually having to get out of bed, I checked tumblr after two days of ghosting social media because of the aforementioned work and not feeling so great lately and to say I was shocked is the understatement of the year.

SO. Let’s backtrack a little.

I don’t think I have ever made a post on his blog ever since I created it (like 5? 6? years ago... maybe even more, can’t remember) for like&reblog purposes only, for the times when depression would kick my ass and I would look for the smallest of comforts.

This being said, I am only writing this to VENT!

I remember it as clearly as if it was yesterday, my first brush with k-pop, SHINee’s Sherlock on TV. That was what got me interested in the music, what made me look it up and hear more, watch more but I still remained a lowkey fan. I kinda had an on-and-off relationship with k-pop as a whole, dipping my toes into fandoms for a while then backtracking as soon as things got too intense, and by intense I mean fandom wars, which is something I do for every fandom because seriously I just want to enjoy something I like without getting mood poisoning from it. So I have seen my fair share of k-pop scandals, hate, controversy, and whatnot, followed some of the issues and got myself bump of the forehead from the amount of facepalming every time an issue was raised because an idol showed any trace of being actual humans and not mystical perfect entities.

With this premise let me tell you, in and out so many fandoms I can say one thing for sure. I have never seen more chill fans than MONBEBEs.

Admittedly I have only entered this fandom not too long ago, although I have known of MonstaX for more than a year now, but kinda kept my distance like I have done with BlackPink and BTS in which I am now much more invested into (as one can see from the amount of Suga on this blog). ‘Cause I liked the music but was scared of the fandoms and the mere thought of fandom wars made me shiver - like can’t you just love them all or just love one and leave the rest the fuck be. So I just listened to the music (which, by the way, totally has the kind of vibe I like and damn me for sleeping on them for so long), looked at some pictures, learned the names, seen a couple of interviews, watched the MVs and tried to learn the lore, nothing too drastic. 

Until I stumbled upon some random interactions between the members and the fans. What left me flabbergasted were not the boys loving their fans, because a lot of bands do, but the fans, the MONBEBEs, y’all, being the coolest people on the planet as it was proven in the past few days. Therefore, as Jooheon and Changkyun slowly lured me in (because I have a soft spot for rappers and it shows) what actually made me join this fandom were the other fans, the amount of support and love they give to the group and the chill atmosphere ESPECIALLY. 

So I started to watch interview after interview, clips, shows, lives performances everything I could get my hands onto. And I started to love all of them for the amazing people they are. I had one image in mind of each member initially, based on the MVs and their general concept in photoshoots (imagine my shock when I saw Monsta X-Ray for the first time) and they were all completely shattered afterward.

I remember seeing Wonho as the muscle playboy show off with a permanent smirk on his face (don’t kill me I got that impression mainly from him doing rude things with his face on stage and mainly being shirtless at some point during performances) and almost getting whiplash when I saw how he usually is when is not giving people heart attacks. The gap and duality are serious with him and I loved him instantly when I realized how big of a heart he has inside such a big body. 

Wonho is one of the most loving and caring idols toward his fans I have ever seen. Even I can tell despite being here for a short time now and I cannot believe what is happening right now.

So I woke up this morning at 4am and coincidently had time to check tumblr before work and I was FUCKING PISSED.

This morning there was already the news about Wonho quitting. I went from heartbroken to outraged in the 10 minutes it took me to get a first grasp of the situation. It only got worse as the day progressed and I read more about it, getting a grasp of the timeline of this whole fiasco (yes, I ignored my work most of the day because I could not focus on anything else that wasn’t finding out what the hell happened in the couple of days I didn’t use google). I was floored by how quickly things progressed with this situation. 

I have had time to think and form my opinion on this and what I think is: I don’t care. As in, even if all the accusations turn out to be true, there will be literally no change in the way I see Wonho and it will not change the fact that I think he is a good person with a big heart, who loves his family, members and fans more than he loves himself. If anything this scandal made me love him more, because he is a human with a past, with mistakes behind his back, from which he tried to move on from and tried to be better to respond to all the love and support he has received. 

I know SK has a more conservative way of thinking and is hard to forgive even rumors any illegal activity, but I also wonder how can they be so blind to people whose names come up only when some scandal is involved, because really what has HSH done relevant that isn’t trying to ruin people life? ‘Cause I only heard this name when some scandal was brought up. The other thing is the timing of this news is a bit too convenient. Right on comeback when it will do the most damage and put more pressure on the band and the fans. Seriously, if the claims were true and so important why wait for so long? If it had to be 2019, why right during comeback? For what reason has no one taken action against HSH until now and when will someone do something?

I have so many questions and so little answers but I am FUCKING PROUD of all the actions and efforts that all MONBEBEs have made so far. I hope they will not give up anytime soon. Because this is not just about Wonho anymore, this has become about all idols who have suffered such treatment before and to stop this from happening to other idols in the future. These haters need to know not to fuck with fans just because they are bored and this time they have seriously fucked with the wrong fans. The quiet ones are the scariest, no joke.

I stand with you MONBEBEs and with Wonho because he deserves this and much more. And now that I have reached the end of the day I can’t help but be worried for him and for the members. I can’t even imagine what he must be going through. I hope he is well and can find some comfort in all the love and support we are trying to give him. 

I hope we will at least have some news about his condition in six hours now when it will be 4am again and this time there will be better news when I wake up.

#StarshipFightForWonho #WonhoComeBack #WonhoWeLoveYou #monsta_x

[bubypjm]

why bighit is trash

or, alternatively, a list of things that bighit, an entertainment company/music label, should start doing and stop acting like a small company.

im puting everything under a read more bcos its a lot, for one, and im also sure that not everyone wants to read it or cares lmao

a little disclaimer;  i speculate and connect things based off of the things we are shown/told, i will spoil some parts of their recent movie AND its not bighit-positive, obviously

okay to start this off, bighit released an official statement to say that bts will be going “on an official and extended period of rest and relaxation” and that’s honestly one of the best things that bighit has done for bts.

the statement is linked, but since i will be referring to a fair few points on it i will also attach it here

the issues start with the opening sentence.

“for the first time since their debut” bts will be going on an official and extended period of rest. to rephrase, for the first time in 6 years, the 7 men of bts will not be surrounded by cameras, will not be expected to attend any rehearsals or interviews and will not be expected to produce or write lyrics. they will not have any responsibilities tied to their work. or, that is what we all had assumed, but as we now know the members were expected to film content on what they do during their break and, if jungkooks video is anything to go by, they were also expected to edit and send it in to the company for “review”.

judging by the release/filming of Hoseok & Becky G’s CNS, it seems like their “break” does not include solo activities. or does bighit consider the building of ones own reputation as an individual artist an “extra” and not a part of ones work?

“enjoy the ordinary lives of people in their 20s, albeit briefly”

this just hurts. it was bighits responsibility to make sure that they got more chances to enjoy their lives.

the good

bighit reminding uglies to stay the fuck away from them during their short break.

okay, the statement aside, i want to talk about a few other bighit-bts related things.

bighit staff and sasaengs

- stalkers appearing in hoseoks bday vlive (no its not staff, the girls’ accounts were found on instagram. they were quite pleased with themselves) were was the security ? how did the girls know which room the boys were in ? doesn’t bighit rent out the entire hotel floor ? does that mean they were allowed in ? why ? did they pay ? do their parents have connections bighit could use ?

- giving away members clothes, providing concert entrance, giving away members numbers ect

the thing that occurred during hoseoks vlive was not looked into, as far as i am aware, however Jimin’s Gucci concert shirt being 'lent’ to a stalker was.

However, minimum to little effort was put into the case because no staff was fired, no disciplinary measures were taken and no consequences occurred.

- during either DNA or Fake Love comeback stages on music shows, some armys were not permitted entrance and some privileged people were taken backstage to meet the members (which is NOT allowed, at any point. those are PRIVATE areas for the idols to rest and prep for the stage) source 1 & more if you look around.

- not firing a manager that hit jungkook source (some speculate he was fired, others speculate he was removed from being a manager and took another position within bighit.)

- bighit restricting any and all interactions with the members among staff. according to one of the backup dancers during Not Today and/or Singularity, bighit staff was very strict about NOT speaking with the members.

take the last point as you will. I have my own thoughts about it

- no subs on army kit content, no subs for bangtan bombs (other channels have them. bighit claims themselves to be a global company but doesn’t move as such). its all well and good to say “you’re stanning a korean company, learn korean!” and this may work for bangtan bombs, but what about army kit content? why isn’t that subtitled? or should that be dismissed with “you don’t have to buy it”?

the good

- giving bts a private jet and not making them go through public entrances and exits. thank u bighit

the movie

this will contain spoilers.

- big hit staff filmed the members during their vulnerable moments.

jungkook nearly passing out, filmed and slotted into the movie. the members crying and clearly feeling emotionally vulnerable ? recorded and snipped into the movie. this would’ve been fine if the members were fine with it, but jungkook was clearly trying to hide his face from the camera and jimin expressed not wanting to show himself in bad conditions.

- treatment of bighit staff

we all know that jungkook had to sit out during some stages during the love-yourself tour. what we didn’t know was that he got stitches without any medication that would ease his pain because he had to go on stage.

jungkook hurt himself so badly that he needed stitches, but was not allowed anything to subdue the pain while getting the stitches because it would not make him stage-ready. the staff members watched as he screamed while getting stitches.

now, i don’t really care whether it was jungkook’s decision or not. nobody in their right mind would let someone they care about go through with something like that. there will be other stages, there will be other concerts. however, idk why i find this surprising since jungkook was hit by a staff member before and the only reason why he got fired was bcos it was spotted in the bg of a bangtan bomb and armys demanded for the man to be fired.

- secondly, jimin’s neck and dropping out of the graham norton show.

i cannot find the translation rn, but while deciding what to tell the fans with regards to what happened to jimin and why he isn’t able to perform with the rest, namjoon tries to opt for telling the truth in a gentle way while one of the staff members suggests a white lie as to not worry the fans.

this has also happened before with the korean vs english statement regarding jungkook’s heal injury. the korean explanation stated that it was serious, while the english one explained it more casually. i cannot find the sources currently, but if you look around yourself you can find them. 

bighit.

- keeping supreme boi employed

- forcing jimin and jin to sing in female key in fake love, despite both of them expressing their struggle with reaching such high notes.

- not providing a vocal coach while on tour (jimin had to ask jungkook for advice)

- vocal line still have not got their own studios despite expressing their want for it, yet txt members have their own studios already. source

- members having less and less influence over the groups music. even recently yoongi mentioned that the songs he makes don’t match with bts’ music/style anymore source

- bighit being immensely difficult to work with overseas (strict venue rules regarding staff, changing things last minute, not being time-efficient)

- leaving taehyung’s stage name out of promotional works/promo tweets

- not taking action against death threats made against taehyung

- forcing jimin to speak about his death threats during a live, global interview in korea

- not cleaning up the copyright matter over using michael jackson’s song “black or white” in the festa performance of jimin and jungkook - resulted in their performance being taken down 

- no bangtan bomb behind jimin creating his song “promise”, while recently there have been videos released of jins, jungkooks and taehyung’s solos

- bighit shooting down collaborations and picking and chosing the artists that collab with bts, despite the members wanting and expressing interesting in collaborations with said artist (why did we get a chainsmokers collab before a tinashe one? a khalid one?)

- bighits deal with dispatch. dispatch is known for exposing scandals and relationships among idols, so the fact that they get an exclusive peak into the bangtan life is interesting and rather worrisome.

-however, one of the dirtiest moves that bighit pulled was during the break between DNA and Fake Love. as we know now, that time was very hard for the members. it was in that gap that the members spoke of disbanding, there were rumours/concerns about jungkook’s well being and fans also pointed out taehyung’s odd state.

during this time, instead of allowing the members time and space to decide everything, bighit had applied for the legal copyright regarding everything bts. the group name was copyrighted, as were the members stage names, fandom name among other things (there are articles on naver, if you’re interested).

SPECULATION

i just want to stress that these are my thoughts and you are welcome to disagree and have your own opinions.

Although we know that the members have re-signed the contract with bighit for another 7 years, I do believe that their pens were pushed by bighit’s copyrighting run. the members had 2 choices; either bind yourself to another contract and stay with that which you have built for years, or drop everything and start anew. however, something tells me that bts didn’t sign the contract with no leverage.

namjoon had said previously that although the group started with 7 boys with the same goal, it now consists of 7 men on one boat, each with their eyes set on different horizons. i believe that with namjoon’s collaborations with more and more overseas artists (honne, fall out boy, lil nas x ect), he may have gotten himself more opportunities for solo work.

similar could be said about yoongi. the man is a musical genius and with his production of suran’s wine and heize’s we dont talk together, yoongi may also end up branching in that direction.

taehyung has expressed his interest in fashion and photography a lot over the past years. seokjin has not acted at all in his life, despite starting off to do just that. hoseok began to branch out with CNS but jimin and jungkook have seemingly little to no outside projects, either (though you could count wiom for jungkook)

the boys’ previous contract was, clearly, restricting and very demanding. i think that their new contract allows them a lot more freedom and room to establish a reputation as individuals. that isn’t to say, however, that bighit let the boys end bts as a whole and permitted them to go off and start solo careers.

from what is happening now and what has happened in the past, I do not believe that bighit would let bts disband, you can decide if that is for better or for worse. however, the only way to keep bts together and satisfied, is to give room for the members to do that what they want. i think that we may start to see some more solo projects from the members, and a lot more control and influence from the outside over bts’ music, concepts and management. ever since LY: Tear had been released, i find myself thinking that their next release will be the last one before a mass hiatus due to enlisting. this time, however, i feel like it may be their final release and concert tour before the group steps back for a while.  bighit debuted a new group and is pumping a lot of money into it. they had also recently obtained an entire new company that not only has a lot of trainees of its own, but also manages Gfriend - an already debuted and established group. bighit is no longer the little underground company that relied on 7 boys to bring it out of its debts. however, it will not let its biggest source of income fall away because, at the end of the day, bighit is a company. the most likely scenario, to me, is that once seokjin and/or others enlist, bts as ot7 will go on a break, but bighit will still get to cash in through the boys’ solo work. so, we may see sneak peaks of their solo careers here and there, but bts will remain active as 7 until it can’t no more.

#bighit #bts #long post

[traveling-madness]

Gwenvid part 2/2

(1/2)

23. - How do they hug? Kiss? Tease? Flirt? Comfort?

In public or alone? David is a hugger either way but kissing/teasing/flirting around other people, (or gosh forbid around THE KIDS) is inappropriate. Gwen is less scandalized by it, but sometimes pda can make her nervous or uncomfortable depending on the day. In private, especially during the early stages of the relationship, they both blushed a lot whenever any flirting kissing or cuddling was concerned, now they’re more comfortable with each other but Gwen still likes to say less... appropriate things sometimes, just to bring his blush back. David is more frequently the comforter, but if he needs it Gwen will always step in, even though she doesn’t always know what to do.

24. - Any doubts about the relationship?

Mostly on Gwens part, she’s convinced she isn’t good enough or happy enough or energetic enough, and even though she tries not to show it David still ends up reassuring her quite a bit. He’d never admit it, not even to himself, but sometimes he worries he’ll push her too hard or too far when he’s just trying to make her happy.

25. - How much time do they spend together? Do they share their feelings, or hold things in?

A lot of time over the summer, When they aren’t at work together David sends “I miss you <3″ texts every few hours. Gwen says “Miss U 2″ and he calls asking if the band broke up. Of the two of them, David will almost always be an open book, the only time he holds things in is when he thinks what he has to say will hurt Gwen. Gwen is still unlearning the habit of pretending she’s ok around him, He’s told her that isn’t healthy, but the fucker is so positive she feels like an eternal storm cloud in comparison and figures he’ll get sick of her.

26. - How do their friends feel about their relationship? Their families?

David has a penpal in almost every state and at least 6 countries. He traveled a lot in college and made friends anywhere and everywhere. All of them know about Gwen. Every. Single. One. Gwen has a handful of close friends and she talks about him when significant others come up. It’s not that she doesn’t want to talk about him, she just doesnt want to be THAT girl who never shuts up about her boyfriend.

27. - Do they have kids? Grow old together? Split up?

My brain says its not realistic but my heart says they adopt Max and live in a cabin in the woods. Still gettin cable and wifi out there though.

 28. - What are their vacations like?

Another thing they have to take turns picking. They take Max to Universal Orlando or Disney at least once though.

29. - How do the handle disasters or emergencies? Minor injuries? Sickness?

David is better in emergencies, he’s definitely the one to pick if you’re stranded in the wilderness. He’ll cry for an hour or so if injured, but once Gwen patches him up he’ll pretend it never happened. He almost NEVER gets sick and Gwen thinks it’s terrifying. Gwens approach to sickness or injury is to put on a bandaid and sleep it off. Gwen grew up without health insurance and David thinks THAT’S terrifying.

30. - Could they manage a long distance relationship?

They do, by about 8-10 hours when it’s not summer.

31. - Do they finish each other’s sentences? Pick up any phrases or habits from each other? Know when the other is hiding something?

Gwen got him hooked on romance novels and indyfolk music, David introduced her to farmers markets and houseplants.

32. - Do they ever get into trouble? Is it serious, or are they just mischievous?

The only rule they break is dating a coworker. And honestly? does that matter if your boss is in jail? Sometimes I wonder if they’d get questioned (potentially at gunpoint) about Campbell’s activities and how much they know.

33. - What kind of presents do they get each other? Do they only do it on special occasions?

David either hand-makes gifts or spends hours picking between the most perfect things. Gwen stresses for days about what to get him but really she could make some shitty macaroni art for him and he’d cry. David gets or makes her little things even when there’s no occasion and then she feels bad for not getting him anything.

34. - Do they have any pets?

David want’s a dog, Gwen is worried about taking care of the dog. David gets a golden retriever lab mix from the local humane society. Gwen fucking loves the dog. she would kill a man for this dog.

35. - Do they bring out the best in each other, or the worst? Do they have a fatal flaw?

The best generally, they’re really well balanced.

36. - What’s their greatest strength as a couple? Their weakness?

Strength is working together and keeping each other on track. Weakness is not always understanding each others wants and needs because they’re so different.

37. - How much would they be willing to sacrifice for the other? Any lines they refuse to cross?

Gwen sacrifices sleeping till 2pm and staying inside watching netflix on all her days off. David sacrifices going out on days she really needs to be lowkey, and also sometimes the hot water because she takes long showers. He wouldn’t stop working with kids though, and once she found a steady job she wouldn’t... start. working with kids.

38. - What are they like in the bedroom? Any kinks/fetishes/turn-ons? Anything they won’t do?

LMAOO Nah they’re pretty damn vanilla. Some experimentation with pegging sure. And David has “Accidentally” Tied himself to the bed frame while “practicing knots” at the convenient time she’d be getting home from work.

39. - Who initiated the relationship? Who kissed who first?  When did they realize they were in love?

The best way to put it is the relationship initiated itself. David kissed her first but it was on the cheek, and he said he was sorry because he didn’t ask and that was very ungentlemanly of him. Gwens response was to very, very awkardly tell him to “Do it again but at least the fucking right way this time. That’ll be gentlemanly or whatever.” He knew he loved her since long before they were dating. She knew since a week into the relationship. He said it first, and she didn’t believe him.

40.- Any special memories? Do they have a special place they like to go to?

David has a spot in the woods he goes to think or work on a project or even sometimes let off steam on the rare occasion he really needs to. Gwen is the first person he’s brought there. 

41. - Are they party-goers? What are they like when they’re drunk? Does it happen often?

David doesn’t drink. Gwen used to drink but also used to get horrible migraines from most grain alcohols and isn’t the biggest fan. She’ll have the occasional glass of wine or sometimes a rum and coke (the Fave™) but that’s about it, especially since they’ve been together, alcohol makes him a little uncomfortable.

42. - Do they let each other get away with things that would normally bother them?

Absolutely, Gwen couldn’t take that level of positivity from anyone else, and David always figured he’d have a 100% dry and sober kitchen.

43. - Do they talk often? What about?

Yes, mostly about their days and plans for the upcoming week, in the summer about work or sometimes the kids,occasionally the future.

44. - Are the comfortable with each other? Anything they have to have their privacy for?

Yes, David especially. Gwen is still working on not bottling things up from him though.

45. - Any special dreams or goals they have as a couple? Any heartbreaks? Regrets?

David wants to get married, have at least one kid, or adopt, he isn’t picky, and he’s willing to start with a dog. Gwen is nervous but really wants this to work out, she regrets not liking kids.

#Gwenvid #non-movie bables