#i literally have spent the last three nights AT THE VERY LEAST wanting to fucking kill myself. because every single day its the same shit.

[seventh-district]

.

[flippedorbit]

hope my mom realizes she’s 90% of the reasons i want to die on a daily basis

[mediumgayitalian]

When Nico asks him out, there is vomit on his scrubs. His hair is disgusting. The bags under his eyes are actually the size of Texas, and he was born there so he says it in good confidence.

Also, it goes right over his head.

“Gods, yeah,” Will sighs, relieved. “Yeah, I could —” He laughs, a little hysterically, scrubbing his hand over his face and trying to blink the sudden onslaught of dizzy away. “I’m starving. I am — tired of this stupid room. I could use dinner out.”

“Great,” Nico says, rocking back on his heels. He twists his skull ring around his finger, like he does when he’s nervous, but there’s a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth that Will has learned, in the past few weeks of his help in the infirmary, is a smile. “I’ll — um, I’ll pick you up at seven?”

Will glances down at the rapidly-drying splatter of vomit spreading from his right shoulder all the way down to his belly button. The nasty brown-yellow colour of it clashes so violently with the mint-green of his scrubs that it might be a felony, actually. The one whole spaghetti noodle smack in the middle of it does not help.

“Yeah, I’ll need at least that long in the shower.”

Nico’s face goes through a very complicated string of emotions. “I think you look nice,” he offers.

“You and I have very different definitions of ‘nice’, di Angelo,” Will snorts. He gestures behind him. “Bye, Nico. I’ll see you in a few hours?”

“Right. Bye, Will.”

“Hey, first name status!”

“Shut up, Solace. Go change your shirt.”

Will snickers, jogging down the Big House stairs with a backwards wave. He hustles past campers jogging towards their daily activities, ducking into the Apollo cabin before someone can ask him for something.

It’s been a busy few weeks.

The Giant War was…well. It’s over, now, is the point, but it was not without casualties, and it was not without injury, and injury, and injury. Plus the flu that just had to hit right before the Romans were about to head back to California. Will has spent more nights in the infirmary in the last few weeks than he ever has, including after the Titan War. Understaffed does not begin to cover it. He had to beg Cecil for his secret Redbull stash after his third straight day on his feet, praying to his father, his aunt, and any other god who was listening to keep his hands from shaking. Without Nico’s help — well, he doesn’t want to think about how things would have gone without Nico’s help.

He’d slept through his promised three days in the infirmary. Will had restitched his werewolf scratching (—his werewolf scratches his fucking werewolf scratches his fucking shitting goddamn werewolf scratches that he stitched with sewing thread and left for gods know how many days and Will is going to quit his job, he is, he is going to live in a hut in the Florida Everglades and chase questers away with a fucking broom—) as he slept on the first day, then spent the next days glaring at him in seething jealousy.

He had wanted to sleep. He had wanted to sleep so godsdamn badly. And yet. He was plastering salve on the translucent fingers of a dumbass who pushed himself too hard.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Will had mocked, ignoring the yelled you’re losing it, Willy! from Kayla as she passed by. “Nyeh nyeh nyeh. I can shadow travel wherever I want. Nyeh nyeh nyeh. Catch me I’m about to pass out. Nyeh nyeh nyeh.”

“I never asked you to catch me,” muttered Nico, groggily, and Will had screamed.

Not his best moment.

Luckily, his string of colourful cursing had killed any idea that Will was scared of him, or something, and the list of chores he’d doled out the second he made sure Nico could walk had put the idea in the grave.

He still can’t quite believe that Nico actually, like…listened. But he’s a good bandage cutter (very accurate) and, as a super fun bonus, the Romans were all scared of him, so when they tried to get out of their cots while their limbs were literally hanging onto them by a thread, Will just had Nico stand behind him and glare at them until they sat their asses back down.

(“You are without a doubt the best nurse I’ve ever had,” Will had grumbled, sticking his tongue out at Austin, who lazily tried to trip him. Nico had rolled his eyes, huffing as if he thought Will was joking.)

“Wow,” says Cecil, sitting in Will’s bed for some reason. He rakes his eyes up and down his body, whistling appreciatively at the towel around his waist. Will rolls his eyes and starts digging through his dresser drawers. “Look at you! So human-like! No zombie eyebags to be seen!”

“Showers don’t erase eyebags, dick for brains.”

“True, but you’re so hot when you’re not covered in blood and vomit that I can overlook them.”

“Kiss my ass, Cecil.”

“Really? Is that permission?”

Will laughs, admitting defeat. He tugs on a pair of boxers, then tosses a few clothing options on his bed.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s good to be out, Zeus’ beard. Nico’s taking me to dinner; d’you know if it’s cold in the city? And I should probably wear real shoes, right, Annabeth mentioned something about New York bacteria —”

“Woah, woah, hold on, William, pause there for a second.”

Will looks up, frowning. “What?”

“Nico’s taking you to dinner?”

Cecil’s eyes are wide. Reflexively, Will pats his chin, paranoid he’s got something on his face.

“…Yes? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing! Nothing, nothing.” Quickly, Cecil schools his face back to its usual smirk, leaning casually against the bedpost. (He misses. Mercifully, Will decides to let it slide and wait for him to straighten himself. He’s a good friend, like that.)

“Well, obviously something.”

“Nope! I’m just —” He softens. “I’m glad you’re taking a break, Willy. We’ve been worried about you. Remind me to send him a lock pick set.”

“Most people send fruit,” Will suggests gently. He cuffs Cecil playfully on the jaw, rolling his eyes when Cecil catches his hand and presses a loudly exaggerated kiss to it. “Or flowers. Also, don’t call me Willy.”

“Sorry, Willy.”

“Gods, you’re infuriating.”

“Mhm. And yet you adore me. Oou, wear the grey plaid shirt, it makes your eyes look bluer. And for the love of Hermes, do not wear shorts.”

———

At seven o’clock sharp, there’s a knock on the doorframe.

“Uh, hi?”

“Nico!” Will says brightly. “Hi! You don’t have to wait by the door, dorkus. Come in.”

With a second of hesitation, Nico steps in. The usually creaky floorboards are silent under his black Chucks. Will chooses to believe that’s on purpose, because it’s cooler.

“You can sit if you want! Unless we gotta leave right away. I wasn’t actually sure, are we just going to McDonald’s or something? Also, I told Cecil he couldn’t come, I figured three would make it a party or something but lemme know if we’re bringing friends along and —”

“We’re not,” Nico interrupts.

“—tell them.” Will blinks at him, then smiles. “Just you and me, then.”

Nico clears his throat. “Yeah.” He glances up at Will, and away again, like he can’t hold his gaze for too long. He looks a little flushed. “You, uh. You braided your hair.”

“What? Oh!” Will touches the French braids on either side of his head, smiling. “Yeah, I finally had the time. Keeps my hair back better than much else. Hey, Nico, you good? You looked flushed, maybe you should —”

Nico catches his hand. He smiles.

“I’m fine, Solace. You just look nice, is all.”

Will snorts. “No kidding. Anything’s better than the vomit shirt.”

———

Nico refuses to answer any of his questions about where they’re going.

Or, well. Will asks him and endless string of questions and receives only hums or nods in response, except for the odd huff of laughter when Will pouts.

“C’mon! Can’t I just know where we’re going?”

“You’re about to.”

“I mean now, Death Breath.”

“Well, now I’m definitely not telling you.”

“Ugh.”

Nico places a fleeting hand on his elbow as they reach the base of Half-Blood Hill, stalling him.

“Wait.”

Will pauses, listening. His heartbeat picks up. Monster? Monsters?

He glances over at Nico, noticing the tension in his face, the twist to his mouth, the —

Oh, no he doesn’t.

“Hold it, Gerard Way!”

Nico startles.

“What?”

“I know that face! You are not shadow-travelling us to the city, no way, no how, do you want to dissolve —”

“Will,” Nico interrupts, laughing softly, “Will, trust me for a second. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

Nico blinks. Will flushes.

“That was fast.”

“Well! Well.”

“I’m not shadow-travelling,” Nico promises, changing the subject when it’s clear Will has nothing to say. “I’m just summoning our ride. I promise it won’t drain me.”

“…Fine.”

Rolling his eyes fondly, Nico screws up his face again. The tiny freckles on the bridge of his nose are more obvious when he wrinkles it. Will has to shove his hands in his pockets to keep from touching them.

One moment, there’s nothing but empty road in front of them. The next, there’s a massive fucking limo, driven by what Will can only describe as a ghoul.

“There,” Nico says happily. “Our ride!”

He jogs over to the sleek black limo, leaving Will gaping. With a quick hand to keep the driver from getting up, he opens the back door, gesturing broadly.

“C’mon, Sunshine.”

Will recovers quickly. He’s never been in a limo before — hell, he’s hardly ever been in cars. He slides into the black leather seats, gaping, barely noticing Nico ducking in and closing the door behind him.

“Cleveland and Merrick, please, Jules-Albert.”

Limos are crazy.

If hotel mini bars were, like, physical places rather than tiny bottles in mini fridges, they would look like limos. The windows are tinted, so the interior is dark, illuminated a softly glowing red by strips of LEDs. There is an actual TV screen, although it’s not on. Will feels like James Bond.

“Gift from my dad,” Nico explains. “He knows he can’t always be there to drive me around, so he got Jules-Albert to take me places. He’s cool. He even answers to me, technically, and not my dad, so if anything happens back here he won’t snitch.” Nico gets so violently red he damn near goes invisible under the LEDs. “Not that — I mean, it’s more like —”

“That is so cool,” Will breathes. “Oh my gods, Nico, you are literally the coolest demigod in the world.”

“Hah,” says Nico weakly. The limo (!!) slows to a stop. “We are — here, let’s go!”

Nico practically throws himself out of the limo. Will takes one last look, thanks Jules-Albert, and hurries out after him.

———

“You gotta be kidding me.”

“What?” Nico looks at him defensively. The corner of his mouth twitches. “I thought it was pretty funny.”

Apollo Restaurant Diner, reads the garish, flashing yellow sign. Seniors half-off!

Will nudges Nico’s side as they walk in. “You should ask for the discount.”

“Keep it up and you’re paying for yourself, Solace.”

Nico guides them into a booth by the window before he can say anything. In seconds, a server is strolling up to them, popping their bubblegum and grinning.

“Welcome to Apollo’s, where if we don’t predict your order, it’s free! I’ll get you guys some sodas, and…hm. Fries to share, I think.”

They’re off, ponytail bouncing, before either of them can say anything.

“Well,” says Nico after a moment. “I guess we’re having fries.”

Will snorts. “You love fries. You love anything fried and battered, because there is nothing you love more than poor decision making.”

“Caught me, Solace.”

“Aw. I thought —”

Their server pops back in with their sodas, nodding as they thank them.

“— I thought I was bumped up to first name status! You called me Will earlier.”

Nico slurps obnoxiously at his cherry coke.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Did too!”

“Not a jury in the world will believe you, Solace.”

Will blows his straw wrapper at him. Nico barely dodges, laughing — a real, open laugh, where some of the guard drops from his shoulders, where his smile is wide enough to show his teeth, where his dark eyes cringe near shut.

“You’re so lame. Get your stupid straw wrapper away from me.”

Will feels like he doesn’t respond for ages, mesmerized by the crooked curve of Nico’s smile. There’s mischief in that smile, and oddly it makes shyness bloom in Will’s chest, it makes the tips of his ears red, makes him duck his head.

Will’s saved from trying to come up with a comment by the massive — truly gigantic — platter of fries set between them.

“Holy shit,” breathes Will, alarmed.

“Holy shit,” breathes Nico, eyes wide. The smile grows wider. “Holy shit!”

Will’s stomach growls. He’s reminded how truly hungry he is, and without another word, the two of them dig in.

They end up ordering another platter. Will theorizes that, in total, they eat at least seven whole potatoes.

“How many fries do you think is in one potato?”

“A yukon?” says Will. “Like, twenty-five, at least. Wait, hold on, pass me your napkin, lemme do the math.”

“Gods, you are such a nerd.”

Will loses count of how many times they refill their sodas. Too many. Camp food is usually very healthy — as head medic, Will has to set an example, but it’s just Nico, here. Will eats himself into a minor food coma and relishes in it. When Nico asks if he wants to order one of the giant milkshakes, he doesn’t hesitate.

“Duh. Strawberry.”

“Gross, Solace. Vanilla or nothing.”

“Basic ass bitch.”

“At least I’m not vying for strawberry!”

By the time Nico gets up to go get their bill, the sun has long since set. Will realises he forgot to put his watch back on after his shower, and has no idea what time it actually is.

“Nine-thirty ish,” Nico says, opening the limo door for him. “We’ll be back at camp at ten.”

Will grimaces. “Fuck. Will Jules-Albert chill overnight? If we try to go back to our cabins, the curfew harpies are gonna eat us.”

“Scared, Solace?”

Nico’s eyes are bright and teasing. Will wonders how the hell other campers find him so frightening — the little twitches of his mouth are so obvious. Some people are just oblivious.

“Of course I’m scared, you dickhead. What am I gonna do, sing a hymn until they go away?”

Nico snorts. “You worry too much. They’re afraid of me, you know. They’ll steer clear.”

“You have a lot of confidence in how much you scare people, which is crazy for someone who’s five eight.”

“Oh, piss off.”

Will grins. “Never.”

The drive back to camp feels shorter than it is. The limo’s seats are stupid comfortable, and Nico is a warm presence beside him, and more than anything, Will is exhausted. Last time he slept was — Thursday? He’s pretty sure? He definitely slept on Wednesday, and he’s pretty sure Kayla locked him in the back office with a pillow on Thursday. But maybe that was this morning.

“Will, hey.” A cool, calloused hand brushes over his forehead, and he leans into it, humming. “Get up, you loser. We’re here.”

Will groans. “Five more minutes.”

The soft, gravelly chuckles are the most musical things he’s ever heard. “Up you get, Sunshine, or I’ll let the harpies eat you.”

That gets Will up fast. He shoves Nico away, who’s still snickering at him, grumbling as he crawls out of the limo.

“It’s like you want me to die of stress.”

“Nah.”

They wave goodbye to Jules-Albert, who disappears in a blink. Halfway up the hill, a hand closes around his. Will glances over to Nico in surprise, but he looks resolutely ahead.

“I can feel you freaking out.” He clears his throat. “I told you, Solace. I’ll protect you.”

“That’s not what you said,” Will grumbles, but it’s hard to get his attitude across when his cheeks ache from smiling.

Nico ends up being right — the harpies steer clear of them. He looks very smug about being right, smirking all the way up to the Apollo Cabin door. He walks him up the creaking steps, pausing at the door. He lets go of Will’s hand, which is kind of a bummer. Will had liked holding his hand — physical proof that Nico was becoming more comfortable with him.

“So,” Nico says, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“So,” Will parrots, grinning. He grins wider at Nico’s scowl, gently illuminated by the soft glow of the Apollo cabin. “I had fun tonight, Nico. I needed that.”

Nico’s whole face softens. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” Will smiles at him again. “Thank you.”

For a second, Nico’s slight smile melts into a more serious expression. Will finds himself lingering, searching Nico’s face. Waiting.

Quick as a dart, Nico leans up and presses a kiss to Will’s cheek.

“Oh,” Will breathes, eyes wide. His fingers come up and brush the spot Nico kissed, skin tingling.

Nico looks at him nervously. “Was that okay?”

It takes Will a solid few seconds to answer. Even then, it’s not any recognizable words — more of an embarrassing hnnnnngh wha.

Nico grins. “Goodnight, Sunshine.”

“Nico — wait.”

“Harpies, Sunshine.”

Will could swear he sees Nico’s shoulders shaking with laughter as he walks away. Which — huh! Pardon! Excuse.

“Nico! Was! Was this a date!”

“I’ll see you in the morning, Will.”

“Nico!”

Nico disappears down the bend without answering. Will manages to catch the curve of his smile before he goes.

He doesn’t sleep a wink.

[stop-talking]

So I'm stuck on this shithole island, and I can't even have a smoke? (pt. 4)

Derek Danforth x fem reader

Word count: 2.9k

Tags: 18+, Derek x fem reader, no use of y/n, angst, lots of fluff, enemies, enemies to lovers, fluff, (very) slowburn, sass, banter, misogynistic undertones, (Derek is a prick), suggestive themes, mentions of drug use, withdrawals, rehab, masturbating, caught masturbating, overall mature themes.

slight trigger warning for thoughts of death?? (except Derek isn't really suicidal he's just a drama queen)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

It's been nearly twelve hours since you accidentally walked in on Derek doing the unspeakable, and you're still kicking yourself for it.

In an attempt to make it up to him, you'd spent the morning making a nice breakfast. Unfortunately, it's almost noon now, and he hasn't left his room.

No way in hell are you going to go knocking on his door. Not after last night. The image of him finishing into his own hand while making eye contact with you is still burned into your brain. Fuck, he ended up covered in cum. And that stupid fucking face he made...

Oh god, think of something else. ANYTHING else.

You turn your attention to the breakfast you'd prepared for the two of you. The cold breakfast. Sighing, you scrape the eggs and bacon into a container for later.

Why did you even open the damn door? Obviously he was jerking off. Horny bastard. Of course, when you'd heard the whimpers and moans coming from his room, you'd assumed he wasn't feeling well.

Which was a valid assumption to make, right?? I mean, he sounded absolutely pitiful, what were you supposed to think? You swore up and down he even called out your name once or twice, but fuck, you didn't want to think about the implications of that.

And so, after knocking and saying his name a few times, you had decided to just go for it. How were you supposed to know he was doing... that??

"It's not my fault." You grumble to yourself, blindly shoving the leftovers into the fridge and trying to shrug it off.

Then again, even if the initial situation wasn't your fault, you still owed him an apology. You'd absolutely been staring. Gawking, even. It probably took a good five seconds before you'd come to your senses and slammed the door, but five seconds was enough for him to... oh god. Stop thinking about it.

You try physically shaking your head to dismiss the perverted images plaguing your mind. It works... sort of. As you make your way up the stairs to his bedroom, your stomach knots with guilt.

Just about anything sounds more appealing than knocking on his door right now. Unfortunately, that's what you're about to do.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Derek's plans for the day only include one thing, really. Rotting in bed and wishing he was dead.

He figures if he locks himself in his room long enough, the three weeks will eventually pass without him having to show his face to you ever again.

Or he'd die first. With the way he felt right now, that would honestly be fine too.

He groans into a pillow, desperate to hear something than the pounding in his head. He's been trembling all morning, a sign he really needed a fix.

The guilt has been eating away at him almost as much as his stupid withdrawals. He replays the scene from last night over in his head for the millionth time, internally screaming at himself for not covering up. Or locking the damn door.

He knows there's nothing he could have done to change what happened. The timing was just too... perfect. Looking at your pretty face while he came was literally a dream come true.

The aftermath, unfortunately, was a nightmare.

There's no way you don't hate him now. Or at least feel completely disgusted. After all, you'd slammed the door and left him.

So this is his fate. Rot in bed until he wastes away. It's all he deserves, really, for being such a fucking pervert.

"Derek? You still alive?"

He nearly falls off the bed in his scramble to make himself look presentable.

"...Yeah." He eventually croaks out, trying to smooth his curls with one hand and pull the blanket over himself with the other.

"Can I come in?"

Derek begrudgingly agrees, sitting up against the headboard in an attempt to look less pathetic.

You slowly swing the door open, looking visibly relieved when he isn't... exposed. Like last time.

Before he can even think about what he's saying, the words roll off his tongue.

"I'm sorry." You both say at the same time.

Wait, that doesn't make sense. What do YOU have to be sorry for? He's the one that fucked up. Derek's brow furrows as you take a seat on the edge of his bed.

"I- I mean it." He stutters. "I really didn't... didn't mean for you to see that."

He avoids your gaze, turning away as you place a hand on his leg. Well, on the comforter covering his legs, but close enough.

"I know." You seem equally uncomfortable, silently looking around and examining his bedroom. And it is HIS room, decorated to suit his tastes. Unlike the other guest rooms in the house, which are all decorated in shades of pastels and beach-themed paraphernalia.

He squirms a bit, starting to get self-conscious of his own design choices. The dark wood furniture with gold accents stand out against the emerald green walls. Under usual circumstances, he'd feel proud of the expensive atmosphere. Right now... It all felt gaudy.

"I love all the animal print." You say, eyeing a pelt hanging on the wall above his dresser.

Derek winces. Yeah, okay, maybe it was a bit much.

"I picked out these decorations, like, 5 years ago. Cut me some slack." He grumbles, crossing his arms and giving you a pouty look.

"It looks nice." You smile, scooting a little closer to him on the bed, your hand trailing further up his covered legs.

"Don't lie."

"..."

"Okay, It looks like you gave a redneck with no prior knowledge of interior design an unlimited budget and a kilo of cocaine, then set him loose and told him to go crazy."

Damn. He'd be pissed at that if you didn't look so... warm. Even with the harsh words, he could tell you were only teasing.

"To be fair, I probably was on cocaine when I picked all this shit out." Derek snorts, gesturing around to the clashing animal prints, gold-rimmed mirrors and paintings, and wood accent pieces.

That little comment seems to make you waver. Shit. Bad joke?

"Not anymore." He tries to assure you, putting his hand on top of yours. You still haven't moved it from his thigh. "I haven't had anything like that since I got here, and it sucks. I feel like shit."

He slumps slightly against the headboard, letting his put-together act fall. Not like it was a very good act, anyways.

"I believe you, just... I feel bad. I'm sorry for last night."

Derek winces as the topic gets turned back to last night's activities. You didn't even have anything to apologize for, as far as he was concerned. He'd let you watch him cum any day. Make a show of it, if that's what you wanted.

Fuck. Stop thinking about it.

Derek struggles to listen as you ramble, instead staring into your pretty eyes and overthinking the way his hand is still on top of yours. You're saying something about how he shouldn't stay in bed all day, how he needs to keep a routine or he'll end up in a slump.

"...so can we just forget about what happened and move on? I don't think I can stand 17 more days of awkwardness." You finish, giving him a pleading look.

Forget about what happened? Derek's heart sinks into his stomach. He doesn't want to forget. Even though he hates himself for it, he loves what happened last night. He'd re-live it over and over again if he could, minus the part where you freak out and slam the door.

"Derek?" You ask again, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Oh. Yeah. Forget about it, please." His face heats up and he finally takes his hand back from yours, nervously running it through his hair instead. He might not what to forget about what happened, but he sure as hell wanted you to forget about it.

"Done." You give him a relieved smile and hop off his bed. "Alright, I'm gonna wait for you downstairs. Come meet me soon or I'll drag you down myself."

Derek does as asked, going through the motions of his normal morning routine. That didn't go as bad as it could have, all things considered.

At least you don't hate him.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

When Derek eventually trudges downstairs, you already have lunch heated up for him. Or... breakfast? It doesn't really matter.

He refuses to eat at first. Stubborn man. He says he feels nauseous, but how does he expect to get better with no food in his stomach?

After practically forcing him to eat, you settle down on the couch with him and try to decide on a movie.

"We are not watching another stupid action movie." You grumble, snuggling up in one corner of the couch while Derek takes a seat on the other end.

"Well I'm not watching some cheesy chick flick."

"Then what do you want to watch?"

Derek shrugs.

"Oh my god, Danforth. Just pick. Comedy or Horror?"

"Comedy."

"Okay, Adam Sandler or Jim Carrey?"

He pauses for a bit, furrowing his brow in a way that you might find adorable if he wasn't being so damn difficult.

"Sandler."

"Okay then, we're watching Billy Madison." You turn your attention back to the television and smile to yourself as you search for the movie.

"I don't think I've seen that one." He starts to shift in his seat as the movie starts, looking restless. What's his problem?

"Do you want to...?" You look over at him, trailing off and patting your lap.

He nods, and immediately lies down on his side, cheek against your thigh.

"Thanks." He mumbles, looking more relaxed by the second as he makes himself comfortable on your lap.

"Mhm." You hum, turning your attention back to the movie.

Unsurprisingly, it doesn't take long for him to start getting restless again. You pretend not to notice the way he occasionally glances up at you, keeping your gaze fixed on the television.

His hand finds yours, slowly tugging it towards his head. You take the hint and run your fingers through his hair, chuckling at how needy he's being.

"Don't laugh." He groans, leaning his head back slightly and melting into your touch. "It feels nice. And I've been feeling like death."

"You'd better not die on me, Danforth. No one would come to pick me up for another two weeks, and I don't think your corpse would fit in the freezer."

"You could chop me up." He offers, shifting so that he's lying on his back, looking up at you with his head across your thighs.

God, that smug look on his face. Why did the bastard have to be so cute?

"Okay, this is getting morbid. Shut up and watch the movie." You do your best to scold him, but it's hard to keep up the façade while gently carding your fingers through his hair.

"Make me."

Without hesitation, you slap your free hand over his mouth. His eyes widen for a moment, the smug look replaced with... something else.

Muffled noises come from his mouth as he attempts to speak through your hand, but you just laugh and continue petting him.

That is, until you feel his tongue on your hand.

"You're lucky you look so pitiful, Danforth, or I'd push you off the couch." You grumble, wiping your hand off on his shirt as he smirks up at you.

"Pitiful?" He scoffs, shoving your hand away from his chest.

"Yeah, sad and pitiful. You're a mess." You taunt him a bit, but your words are just as soft as the gentle touches you've been giving him.

Derek straightens best he can while lying your lap. "I'm not pitiful." He grumbles. "Stop pitying me."

His little act gets another chuckle out of you.

"It'll be easier if you stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"With those puppy eyes."

Derek's brow furrows, and he frowns up at you while you tug at his curls.

"I have puppy eyes?"

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Derek spends the rest of a movie in a blissed-out state on your lap. Physically, his body is a wreck. He feels weak, shaky, and all-around ill.

But emotionally? He's giddy. The way you've been treating him lately... there's no way you don't like him.

Fuck, no, don't jump to conclusions. Just ask. Yeah. Simple.

As the credits roll, Derek finally works up the courage to speak up.

"Why do you put up with me?" He asks, shifting to look up at you while his head rests against your thigh.

You pause mid-way through stroking his hair, and Derek is scared you might be able to hear how fast his heart is beating. He can sure hear it, at least.

"What do you mean, love?" You finally respond, untangling your fingers from his curls and setting your hand aside.

That makes him groan out loud. See? Exactly that sort of thing. Always calling him love. It drives him crazy.

"You're just so damn nice to me." He sighs, tossing his head back slightly and closing his eyes.

"Oh? Should I be mean?"

"Maybe." He lets out an amused huff, but there's a twinge of bitterness in his voice. It isn't really a joke. You're just too nice. He doesn't deserve it.

You seem to pick up on his shift in attitude, because you start running your fingers through his hair again.

"It's my job to take care of you, you know. At least for the next... 17 days or so."

Right. Your job. Derek can't help but sigh. He finally finds someone who seems to be interested in him for reasons that aren't monetary... but only because his mother is literally paying them.

"Oh, don't be like that." You scold him, and start to nudge him off your lap.

Derek takes the hint, sitting up. Before he can stew over your words further, he feels you pulling him into an embrace.

The angle is slightly awkward, with his back against your chest and his head resting on your shoulder, but he appreciates it nonetheless.

"Stop... you're gonna make me soft." He grumbles, but makes absolutely no effort to stop your arms from wrapping around him. He melts back into your touch, eyes fluttering closed.

From this close, he can smell your perfume. He's caught a whiff of it a few times before, usually when you get up close and personal with him in the kitchen. It's a soft, sweet, floral scent. Extremely different than the expensive, in-your-face scents of most women in his social circle. He's started associating the smell with comfort.

"Maybe that's my plan." You muse, giving him a tight squeeze before finally letting him go.

If only you knew just how well it's working.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

"Stop! You're getting sand everywhere!" You swat at Derek as he accidentally kicks sand onto the blanket you've spent nearly ten minutes arranging.

"It's a beach, sweetheart. There's gonna be sand." He scoffs, but carefully brushes off his legs before returning them to the large quilt.

After dinner, you'd realized you accidentally let him go an entire day without going outside. So, you'd dragged him out to go stargazing with nothing more than a blanket and a couple of flashlights.

"There's a difference between lying on top of it and being buried in it." You elbow him as he gets just a little bit too close. There's plenty of room for you to both stretch out, why does he have to be so clingy?

"I'm cold." He whines, grabbing at your arm.

"I told you to bring a jacket."

"I didn't think you were serious?! What kind of a beach is cold?"

You roll your eyes at him. It's not even cold, honestly. Just a bit brisk. There's a soft breeze coming from the ocean, smelling slightly of salt.

"Just cover up with the blanket."

"It's covered in sand."

"And who's fault is that?"

"..."

"Please?"

You finally turn to look at him, and you can feel yourself giving in almost immediately. God damn it. There's no way this man didn't know he had puppy eyes. Fuckin' manipulator.

"Fine. C'mere."

Derek scoots closer and you throw an arm around him, letting him rest his head on you.

You both lay like that for a while, staring up at the sky and listening to the soft crashing of the waves.

The moon is full tonight, illuminating the seemingly endless sand and water. There's a forest made of palms and ferns off to the side, and the leaves all ripple in the breeze.

"It's really pretty." Derek finally sighs, eyes still looking skyward.

"I know. You can actually see all the stars out here. In the city it's harder... light pollution or something." You shrug, making his head bob slightly as it rests on your shoulder.

Derek just hums in agreement. Poor thing. He looks exhausted, even though he slept until midday.

"Hey, don't fall asleep on me now. Not sure I could carry you back."

"I won't... promise..." He yawns and scoots a little closer, his arm reaching over and wrapping around your waist.

You should probably push him off, but damnit... he just looks so peaceful.

You rest your free arm on his, keeping him glued to you. It feels nice, all of it. His warmth, the cool breeze, the sound of the ocean, the twinkling stars... fuck. He's really growing on you.

Derek doesn't keep his promise, falling asleep in minutes.

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Author's note: This chapter took FOREVER!! There were just so many different directions I could have taken the story from the last chapter. Hope y'all enjoyed the one I ended up with!! It was mostly fluff, I know... but Derek is just so cute. I can't help it.

Thanks so much for being patient, and for all the kind comments & asks!!! Feel free to send in literally anything, I don't get many messages in my inbox.

Part 5

[gennyanydots]

Forced to go to the strip club

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x spitfire!wife

Part of the “Spitfire Universe”

Not necessary to read the other parts but helpful.

Summary: It’s Bob’s bachelor party and their babysitter cannot handle them. Reinforcements must be called in. Reinforcements are sleepy.

“Hello?” You say as you answer the phone sleepily. Who the fuck would be calling at this time? What time was it anyway? You went to bed way later than normal and you feel like you were pretty asleep so it’s got to at least be 2 in the morning or something.

“Is this Mrs. Hangman?” A male voice, that you don’t recognize, on the other line asks. You laugh at that. You didn’t realize when you married Jake you were actually gaining two new names instead of one. You were expecting Jake to be the one calling since his name came up on your phone when you looked for half a second before answering. Whoever this is must have gotten a hold of Jake’s phone somehow.

“Yes, this is she,” you say with a yawn.

“Hi, umm, this is Bob’s cousin. I was the designated babysitter tonight and umm I was told well uhhhh,” the man trails off, clearly trying to figure out how to describe whatever is happening to you.

“You were told what?” You ask. Tonight was Bob’s bachelor party. You figured that the squad would be getting into some sort of shenanigans, hence the need for a babysitter. You specifically didn’t ask any questions. You didn’t want to know. You also didn’t want to have to answer questions when you went out for the bachelorette party tomorrow night. So you knew literally nothing about what your husband and his friends were doing. Bob’s wife to be had come over along with Natasha and the three of you spent the evening watching trashy tv shows together while painting your nails and doing face masks to look your best for the tomorrow night. A girls night in before the girls night out. Plus, someone had to stay home with Eli and Radar. Jake’s on kids duty tomorrow.

The three of you ended up going to bed around midnight, way past your normal bedtime. Natasha passed out first on your couch before you lead Bob’s girl upstairs to the guest bedroom. Usually you try to go to bed at the same time as your son, you feel like you should have tonight since you knew he’d be up at 5 just like normal, only you would be the one getting up with him instead of Jake. You were not looking forward to that. Damn your husband for his early morning runs. You wish you would have taken Penny up on her offer to watch Eli tonight for you so you could have a stress free night in and a nice morning to sleep in tomorrow so you’re well rested for the fun.

“ Umm, you see, Bob told me earlier that if I uhh couldn’t umm,” the man trails off again. How long does this man expect this conversation to last? You have sleeping to do and you’re moving past being annoyed straight into being pissed off at this man.

You roll your eyes and huff, “Give the phone to Rooster.” You figure Bob’s cousin wouldn’t know who Bradley was if you used his real name. Bradley’s the easiest to distinguish from everyone else. Easy to spot.

“I don’t remember which one that is,” the man replies. Of course he didn’t. That would have been too easy for you.

You sigh, why did it have to be your husband doing something dumb, “Hawaiian shirt.”

“He’s drunk.” At a bachelor party? Shocking. You would have never guessed. You’re gonna lose it on this man. You really are.

“Yeah, I’m sure he is. He’ll at least tell me what’s going on without pussyfooting around so please hand the phone to the very tall man with a mustache wearing the obnoxious shirt before I start yelling at you and wake up my baby,” you say, very quickly losing your patience.

“Yes ma’am,” he says before you hear the background noise get louder until you hear Bradley say, “Why are you handing me a phone? I have my phone. It’s not mine!” to Bob’s cousin and then some mumbling.

Finally you hear Bradley say, “Hello?”

“Bradley,” you say.

“Hey! Hangman’s been talking about you! Hey Hangman! It’s your wife! Hi hangman’s wife. How are you? We miss you!” Bradley says, all a little too loudly.

You laugh, “Hi Bradley. I’m good. How are you? Miss you too.”

“I’m so good. I’m having so much fun. Not as much fun as your husband though.”

“How much fun is he having?” You ask.

“So much fun,” Bradley says laughing.

You roll your eyes, at least you’re getting farther than you had with Bob’s cousin. Bradley is at least answering you, “What’s he doing? Where are you guys?”

“He’s dancing on the stripper pole! Very badly. He’s bad at this. I’m sorry your husband can’t dance. I’ll teach him if you want. I’m surprised Coyote’s best friend is this bad at dancing,” Bradley says. You’re starting to hear a slur to his voice.

“It’s okay. He’s usually better when he’s not drunk like that,” you explain.

“He’s really, really drunk, me too, but he’s like bad really drunk. If he spins much more he’s gonna throw up. Gross. I don’t want to see that. We should have someone come get him,” Bradley says then you hear him gasp, “I should call his wife! She’ll come get him.”

You shake your head as you listen to him and wonder exactly how much alcohol is in his system, “I’ll come get him.”

“Oh my God did I call you with my mind?! I don’t remember calling you! I’m magic! I knew it!” Bradley says, excitedly.

“Sure Bradley, you’re magic. I need you to text me where you are so I can come get him, okay?” You ask.

“Okay. I gotta use my phone. This isn’t my phone. I don’t even know whose it is. The background is you and your son. Weird. That’s creepy. Honey, I think you have a stalker. I’ll protect you. Don’t worry. Nobody will get you or Eli on my watch. Uncle Rooster will protect you both!”

“My hero,” you say and yawn again. “Okay, Bradley take out your phone.”

You hear shuffling and then hear, “Okay. Done.”

“Good job. Now I need you to share your location with me.”

You hear a few taps then receive a notification from his phone then hear, “Boom! Crushed it!”

You laugh then smile, “Perfect. You did so good, Bradley. So proud. I’ll see you soon, okay? Don’t leave, none of you, until I get there. That poor man Bob put in charge did not sound like he had you all under control. Lord knows you’re all a handful and a half. Bye Bradley.”

“Bye bye!”

You hang up and stretch your arms over your head. This isn’t what you wanted to be doing. You wanted to sleep. You don’t want to go to a strip club to corral a group of drunk men, including your husband, and get them all to leave. This wasn’t your job. You weren’t on Dagger duty, and yet, here you were pulling on a pair of sweatpants and throwing on a sweatshirt to get in the car. Why wasn’t Pete babysitting? Unless he’s also there and drunk off his ass. Or maybe he’s sick of them after being with them all week and instead stayed home for some peace and quiet. Smart man.

You tiptoe into the guest bedroom and quickly but quietly wake the soon to be Mrs. Floyd to let her know what was happening. You couldn’t see well in the dark but you’re sure she rolled her eyes at the situation then held her hand out for the baby monitor. Thank goodness for friends who get it. You handed it to her with a quiet, “Thanks, I’ll be back soon! Hopefully.” before you quietly went down the stairs and slipped your feet into some flip flops.

You just grabbed your keys and wallet and stuck them in your hoodie pocket along with your phone. It felt weird not taking a diaper bag with you for once. You quietly went into your garage and open the door to get your car out. You really hope the noise doesn’t wake up Eli or Natasha who had still been snoring on the couch. You grab some water bottles from the garage fridge and toss them onto the front passenger seat as you get in your car and soon you’re on your way to the strip club. Thankfully it was only about 15 minutes from your house so it doesn’t take long for you to get there.

You park your car and climb out then head to the door. The bouncer looks at you funny but doesn’t question you as you hand him your ID. He checks it and hands it back as he tells you to have fun. You roll your eyes. Does it look like you’re there to have fun? You’re pretty sure your hair is a mess and you might even have pillow marks on your face still. If anything he probably thought you were some jealous wife coming down here in a blaze of fury but that’s not the case at all. You have no problem with strip clubs. You couldn’t care less that your husband is here. These women and some men potentially are just doing their job. Your only problem is you’re here when you want to be fast asleep. You’re pretty sure if the guys don’t immediately listen to you that the party is over that you’re going to have a full on temper tantrum. You’ve watched your toddler have enough of them so you’re basically an expert.

You look around and don’t find anyone who looks familiar. You spot a waitress and quickly walk over to her and ask where a bachelor party might be. She points you towards the VIP room and you thank her before heading in that direction.

There’s another bouncer in front of the door who stops you before you can enter and you just sigh, “Listen, you close in like a half an hour. It’s probably going to take me that long to round up all those guys in there and convince them it’s time to go home. Do you want to deal with their drunk asses and it take you three times as long for you to get them to listen or do you want me to do it and I’ll have them outta here in no time? Because if you want to then by all means go ahead. I’ll go back home and go back to sleep. My son is going to be up in like three hours. If you don’t want to then I’m gonna need you to let me through so I can collect them. I promise you I know them all. This is Robert Floyd’s bachelor party.”

The bouncer nods and holds the door open for you, “Yes ma’am. I apologize ma’am.”

You nod at him and walk in to a mess. There are guys everywhere. A couple you don’t know. One very scared looking man by the small bar. You assume that’s Bob’s cousin. You head over to the bartender, completely ignoring Bob’s cousin, and ask them to turn the room’s music off which they do as you stand on a chair you find. Once the musics off, immediately you hear a bunch of groans and hey’s and you roll your eyes. Whiny babies.

“Hey!” You yell to get their attention.

They all turn to look at you and you take the site in. Bob has a bra hanging from his neck and lipstick kisses on his cheek, you quickly take out your phone and snap a couple shots of that. Bradley’s Hawaiian shirt is inside out. Your husband is holding onto a stripper pole leaning backwards, couple pictures of that one too. Javy was getting a lap dance but the stripper stopped when you yelled, picture of that. Mickey was on Rueben’s back for some very odd reason, picture of that one. Logan and Billy were seated on a couch, double fisting some beers. And both Brigham and Neil have their heads down at the bar and you took a picture of that too. The men you don’t know were all scattered about amongst the others. You honestly expected worse but it didn’t sound like Bob’s cousin could handle anything worse.

When the men all see you there are excited shouts.

“Hangman! That’s your wife!”

“Baby!”

“Mom’s here!” (That one made you roll your eyes but you’re not surprised)

“Oh no! We got caught!”

“I know you!” (Yes Logan, you two have met many times.)

You shake your head at the lot of them.

You put a single finger to your lips until they all quiet down, “Okay, here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to do this step by step.”

The men all nod at you. Good. You didn’t feel like dealing with any defiant little assholes.

“First! Whatever dollar bills you brought with you for tonight need to be given to the nice ladies who took their clothes off for you. And you’re going to thank them for their time. Bob give back the bra.”

Bob immediately blushed bright red and the men all proceeded to follow your directions, even making sure to thank them. One man walked up to you and held his money out and you shook your head, “Not me you dumbass.” You pointed him towards one of the strippers and sighed, these guys are going to have to make it up to you. You’re taking an extra long nap tomorrow and someone had been watch your son. You feel something around your waist and look down to see your husband has wrapped his arms around you.

“Good job, now number two, you’re going to all cash out at the bar. Get your cards back. We’re not leaving our credit cards here. Make sure you tip,” you say gesturing to the bar.

Jake reluctantly lets you go before following your directions. This step takes them all a while and you end up sitting down on the chair until the bartender gives you a thumbs up and Jake is back to standing as close to you as he possibly can.

You stand back up and your husband wraps his arms back around you, “Okay third step, look around you for trash. If there are cups take them to the bar-“

The bartender interrupts you, “We can handle that. Don’t worry. It’s our job.” You shoot him a glare and he immediately holds his hands up in surrender and says sorry.

“- Like I was saying, if there are cups take them to the bar. If there’s trash there’s a trash can in the corner. We aren’t leaving this place a mess.”

The men all get to work quickly and it doesn’t take long before everything is picked up and vaguely looking clean. To get Jake to listen this time you had to push him off you and point at some trash before he sighed and picked it up and threw it away then returned to his spot.

“Fourth step, make sure you have your wallet, phone, and keys and/or anything else you brought with you. Like a sweatshirt or a hat.”

Everyone immediately starts patting their pockets and nodding. You tap Jake’s shoulder to get him to let go then sit back down and turn to Bob’s cousin, “What was the plan for afterwards. Are they going somewhere? Is there a way to get them to wherever?”

Bob’s cousin shrugged, “We rented a limo to get here and I think the plan was to Uber back to wherever you were staying for the night.”

You shake your head at him, “You think or you know? You’re the worst babysitter. You should know the plan.”

Bob’s cousin hangs his head and apologizes.

You look around before finding Bob and quickly yell his name, gesturing for him to come over to you.

“Hi, Mzzz Hangman. Whass zup?” He says slurring this words.

“What are you doing after this?” You ask.

He scrunches his face for a minute or so before going, “Oh! Theresssa limo to take us to tha hotel and then we go to sleep and then brunch and then more sleep at homes.”

You laugh listening to him, “Thanks. Knew I could count on you.”

Bob beams at the praise.

You stand back up, once again Jake holds onto your legs, “Fifth step, nicely walk out to the limo and get in to go back to the hotel. Mr. Competent over here,” you point to Bob’s cousin, “Will give you further instructions when you accomplish that. I better get a good report for him or I’m gonna be mad at you all!”

That ones followed by most of the men saying a quick, “Yes ma’am.” before they started their journey to the parking lot.

You stop at the little bar and leave Bob’s phone number with them in case anything gets left behind.

You follow after the others and stop at the limo to make sure they’re all accounted for, which they are, except one. You look over at your car and see Jake leaning against it with his hands in his pockets.

You turn to Bob’s cousin, “Do not lose them. Have them drink water. Get them straight to their rooms. They should all pass out. I’m taking mine with me so you have one less. You’re lucky.” You turn to the others, “Be good! I want a good report saying you were on your best behavior!” You’re answered with a bunch of giggles as you pat the top of the limo and shut the door.

You unlock your car and watch Jake scramble into the passenger seat. You laugh and walk over, getting into the driver seat, “Did you think I wouldn’t let you come home?”

He shook his head and pouts, “I don’t wanna play with my friends anymore. I want my wife. I want to sleep in my own bed. I want my puppy. I want my baby.”

You laugh and lean over to kiss his cheek, “My poor, sweet husband, forced to go out and spend time with his friends. Didn’t have any fun. Definitely didn’t enjoy getting drunk and seeing mostly naked women.”

His mouth breaks out into a goofy grin, “That was nice but I would much rather see you mostly naked because then I could just make you the rest of the way naked.”

You laugh and shake your head, “Okay, let’s go home. If you want your baby so much you can get up with him.”

Jake perks up, “I can?! I miss him! We’re gonna play so much!”

“You say that now. When he wakes up in two and a half hours you’re going to be so sleepy,” you say as you start the car and start driving home.

Jake shrugs, “Worth it. I’m sleeping with the baby monitor. I’m getting up with my baby. I don’t care what sleepy Jake says. I promise I’m getting up.”

And surprisingly that’s exactly what sleepy Jake did in three hours when your son woke up. How nice of him to sleep in a half hour.

The bachelorette party

[vigilvntes]

Vigilante Hotline - Adrian Chase x Reader

A/N: hi. my brain works in mysterious ways and i had this idea earlier on when i responded to an ask and now here we are, three hours later with a silly little vigilante fic. it's literally just text interactions, vig's texts are the ones that end with 🧜‍♂️ (obviously). but yeah. i had a lot of fun writing this, and i'll be SO happy to write more if y'all want it?? idk. anyway enjoy i guess!

Warnings: mentions of groping/non-consensual touching (grabbing ass, etc), creepy men, mentions of violence/injuries, language (are we surprised), and just vig being generally unhinged as always. (let me know if i've missed anything!!)

Word count: 2.9k. oops.

Summary: You text in to Vigilante's 'Vigilante Hotline' after a bad encounter at the club.

likes, comments and rbs are very much appreciated <3

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

You've heard of it, of course you have. It's the town's worst kept secret. The little side hustle that Evergreen's favourite local murderer-slash-vigilante (who's conveniently named Vigilante) runs at the weekend, when the clubs and bars are busy and the creepy assholes come out to play, preying on and harassing unsuspecting victims who, by the end of the night, are probably too drunk to even remember their faces when they wake up.

The cops know about it, too. They've made weak attempts to shut down his operation over the last couple of months, but really he's doing them a favour. They're already in over their heads with calls when the Friday night crowd hits the town's nightlife, so why not just let him operate under their noses? At least, for now. Until they can apprehend him.

So, yeah. You know of it, but you've never utilised it before, because truthfully you've never really had a reason to. You like to party, but your nights out are usually spent with your girlfriends, keeping a close watch on each other and avoiding interactions with men who look like they're bad news like the plague. It's a system that works, one that keeps you out of trouble and away from bad pick-up lines and hands where you most definitely don't want them to be.

Tonight is different, though.

Your friend bailed on you at the last second, a family emergency, and you were already dressed up, so you decided that instead of wiping off your makeup and changing back into your sweats, you'd go out anyway. What's the worst that could happen?

You soon found out that the worst came in the form of Brett Lucas. A guy you knew in high school, someone you haven't spoken to in years. He found you at the bar, used the shittiest lines you've ever heard, and then bought you a drink. You decided to entertain it, because if he was willing to fund your night, then why not? You kept your hand firmly over your drink while he made derogatory jokes about other women and commented on your body and your dress. When he asked you to dance, you agreed, hoping you'd be able to lose him on the crowded dance floor.

That didn't happen, though. Instead, he got a little too touchy-feely, kept his hands firmly on your hips and pulled your body close to his until he got brave enough to slide them on to your ass and squeeze. Hard. You freaked out, told him to back the fuck off, and instead of showing any remorse, he cussed you out. Called you a fucking slut and told you that you're a bitch for leading him on and making him think he had a chance at getting into your pants.

Now, you're standing just down the street from the club, staring at the oddly professionally made poster that's been flimsily taped to a lamppost, a little picture of the all-too familiar masked man that you've seen on the news and wanted posters right in the middle.

Vigilante Hotline

Have you been a victim of a fucking creep in a club who just won't leave you the fuck alone?

Did the guy at the bar use his worst pick-up line and then immediately assume that you're into him and it's okay to touch you without your consent?

Do you wish you could fuck them up without having to face the consequences yourself?

It's your lucky day, because I can fuck them up for you!

Text their name and/or a description to the number below and I'll make them wish their mom swallowed!

(This part is just to cover my ass so, if I accidentally beat up or kill the wrong person... my bad!)

You chew down on your bottom lip, looking between your phone and the poster. You've never really been a vengeful person, you've never wished harm on anyone or caused harm to anyone, but in this moment, it's tempting. You're a little bit tipsy, irate and unsettled. The one night you decide to go out on your own, and this happens? It's a little too tempting.

But is what happened enough to contact a guy who's known and wanted for murder? Is what he did enough to warrant the beatdown of a lifetime?

You sigh to yourself before slipping your phone back into your purse, deciding that it's not worth it. But as you begin to walk away, you remember his loud, jarring cackle whenever he cracked himself up at his own shitty jokes. The way his eyes never met yours, always trained on your chest or your thighs. His gross, sweaty hands roaming all over your body before they went to grope you on the dance floor, thinking you wouldn't react because you were surrounded by other people and it'd be too embarrassing for you to make a scene.

No. Fuck it. That asshole deserves it.

You spin around quickly and pull out your phone, adding the number to your contacts and quickly typing out a message, sending it before you can even give yourself another second to think it through.

'Hey. First time texting in. Need some help. Brett Lucas. White blonde dyed hair. Awful beard, doesn't match his hair. Around 5'9. Wearing a pink shirt and black jeans. Got handsy with me. Grabbed my ass on the dance floor. Don't kill. Just rough him up a little, please.'

You don't even have a minute to breathe before your phone pings. Fuck. Alright. He's fast.

'Sick. A first time user. Happy to help. Where can I find him? 🧜‍♂️'

'He was in Dazy Nights, downtown. You know where that is?'

30 seconds pass. Your phone pings again.

'Yep. Got it. Thank god for GPS. Don't worry, first timer. I'll fuck him up the ass so hard his he'll wish he'd never even been born, as advertised. Not literally, though. I'm not gonna actually fuck him up the ass. That'd be weird. But not because I'm homophobic. My dad is gay. More because he's a creep and he touched you inappropriately. 🧜‍♂️'

"What..." You mumble under your breath as you read the text, an incredulous giggle escaping you. This guy, whoever he is, is seriously fucked in the head, you decide. A little funny, too. But you can't complain too much. You contacted him, you made the choice to text his number and incite some indirect revenge. So you just shake your head, and text back.

'Thank you. I appreciate it. Again, don't kill. Just get him good.'

'Noted! No problemo. But if you ever do need me to kill, don't hesitate to ask, first timer. Seriously, I'm so down for it. Guys like that deserve it. 🧜‍♂️'

You decide to cut the conversation there, sliding your phone back into your purse. You feel a little sick to your stomach as you walk yourself home, guilt and regret stalking you the entire way, following you into your home and crawling into bed with you.

But as you lay there, wide awake, you remind yourself of what he said. Guys like that deserve it. And maybe he's right. Maybe this is for the best, maybe next time fucking Brett will think twice before making unwanted advances. Maybe you've saved someone else from the suffering the same fate as yourself at his hands.

That thought helps you sleep a little easier.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

Monday rolls around quicker than you'd have liked it to, and all you've been able to think about over the weekend is that short conversation you had with Evergreen's own Vigilante a few nights ago. You spent all of Saturday morning re-reading the messages. Saturday night was spent in front of the TV, with some rom-com you've been meaning to watch playing as background noise while you thought about the messages. Sunday, you tried to distract yourself. You went out for brunch with a few friends, but as soon as you made it through your front door, your mind wandered right back to him and that silly little mermaid emoji that made his threats of murder seem a little lighter.

You wonder if he actually did it; whether he made good on his promise to fuck him up so badly that he'd be wishing he was never born. Part of you hopes he did, that he managed to find that fucker before he made it home and gave him a beating he'll never forget. The other part of you hopes that he missed out on the opportunity, if only to subside the quiet, yet nagging, guilty conscience in your head.

Work is a welcome distraction from the weekends events. Deadlines that need to be met, lunch with your co-workers, and your micro-managing boss that never seems to leave you the fuck alone when you're trying to do your job. It's all incredibly exhausting and boring, but at least it gives you the chance to take your mind off of what happened at the weekend, and the masked vigilante that's been invading your thoughts all weekend.

You haven't thought about it all day, until you pull up to the grocery store after work, and you see him. Brett.

He hasn't seen you, you're safely locked away in your car, but you can see him. He's standing outside the store, cigarette in hand, talking to a guy who you can only assume is one of his friends – he looks like he's just as much of an asshole as Brett. From where you're parked, you can see the shiner of a black eye on his face, dark blue bruising that extends to his forehead. There's numerous cuts and scrapes on his cheeks, and it's looks like his lips have been completely bust up.

It makes you feel slightly ill, looking at him, knowing that you're the one behind this. But at the same time, you can't help but smile to yourself, feeling weirdly... satisfied.

You grab your bag and pull out your phone, unlocking it and scrolling through your texts until you find the chat with the contact you've named 'VH'. You stare at your screen for at least a minute, re-reading the short conversation from Friday night over and over again. You want to text him. Hell, you've found yourself wanting to text him again all weekend, and you can't quite seem to place your finger on why that is. What would you even say to him? 'Hey, thanks for doing at great job at fucking up that guy's face, I really appreciate it'?

With a sigh, you lock your phone, trying to kick the urge to converse with a vigilante to the curb. But before you know it, you're typing in your password again and sending him a 'Hey'.

You keep the chat open, but you make a point out of looking away from the screen, hoping that if you don't look, he'll reply faster. Minutes pass by, and you're slightly disappointed by the absence of the jarring pinging of your notification bell. Then you remember that he probably has a life outside of being Vigilante. He's most likely just a normal guy, with a normal job and friends and family, he probably doesn't spend all of his time checking whatever burner phone he uses to run the hotline.

Just as you're about to lose hope that he'll respond, your phone pings.

'Woah, hey. First timer's a second timer already? Did you get yourself into trouble just so you could talk to me? 🧜‍♂️'

It pings again, a few moments later.

'For the record, that was a joke. If you're in trouble again, I'm sure it's not your fault and I'm more than happy to help. Though I gotta remind you that I usually only do this hotline stuff on weekends, but I'd be more than willing to extend my hours. For you. What can I do for you? 🧜‍♂️'

You feel your face heat up, a grin beginning to creep across your lips as you read the two texts. 'For you'. That's oddly sweet. He's oddly sweet. You know what he's done, you know he kills people. You've heard the whispers around town, stories from the people who've been lucky enough break the law and survive one of Vigilante's attacks. Yet you can't help but be taken in by how... charming he is. Sure, this is only the second conversation you've had with him, but he's been so kind. Funny, too, in his own way.

The rush you get from texting him is intoxicating, and it only makes you want more. So you type out a response, and hit send.

'Nothing! I didn't get in trouble again. I wouldn't want you working overtime for me. But I did wanna talk to you. Just to say thank you for what you did for me. I saw Brett. You got him good. Gave him a real shiner of a black eye.'

Just a minute later.

'HA. Yeah. You should have seen it. He took a real beating. He cried like a fucking BABY. Begged me not to kill him. I made him apologise for harassing women, too. It was HILARIOUS. You were right about the beard, btw. Definitely makes him look even more of an asshole🧜‍♂️'

You're surprised to see a video loading up on your screen.

'He definitely didn't mean it, life or death situations call for desperate measures I guess. But at least you can laugh at him and his stupid fucking face. 🧜‍♂️'

Although you're hesitant to press play, you do so anyway. There, on your screen, is Brett. Beaten and bloody, begging for his life, and apologising through his tears for being a creep. Saying sorry for using bad pick-up lines, and objectifying women's bodies, and... groping asses on the dance floor. You freeze up when you hear that, a wave of panic washing over you. Does he... does he know that you're the one that sent Vigilante after him? Fuck. You didn't even consider the possibility that he'd put two and two together and figure out that it was you who texted in. You have to know if he knows, if Vigilante mentioned anything specific about why he went after Brett.

'You're right. That's funny. But I need to ask you something.'

'Anything! 🧜‍♂️'

'Does Brett know that I'm the one who texted you? Did you mention anything about me or what happened?'

You chew on your bottom lip as you await a response, and when you read his reply, you're more than relieved.

'Nah. I didn't say anything. I wouldn't. Vigilante-client confidentiality, and all that. He was the one that mentioned names. A whole list of them, actually. Kinda concerning how many women he named that could've been the one to contact me about him.🧜‍♂️'

'Okay. Cool. I guess I just never thought of the consequences of texting in. I didn't consider that maybe he'd know it was me. Had me kinda panicked for a sec.'

'Don't worry, I made it clear that if he ever tried to approach or contact you or any of the other women he named, I'd find out. And I'd kill him for it. You're safe. I got you. 🧜‍♂️'

For what feels like the hundredth time in, you find yourself smiling down at your phone as you read his text.

'Thank you. I appreciate that :). Hopefully you've taught him a lesson. Maybe he'll stay home when the weekend comes around. I think he'd be doing everyone a favour.'

'Hopefully! Listen, I gotta buzz. Work stuff. Not Vigilante work. I only do that stuff at night. Like my actual job kind of work. But I'll talk to you later, first timer. 🧜‍♂️'

'Yeah, of course. Sorry for bothering you while you're at work. And thank you, again.'

You take a deep breath before sending another text.

'My name is (Y/N), btw <3'

'First timer has a name? Fucking sweet. Obviously I know you have a name but you never told me, so in my head I've just been calling you first timer. But now you're (Y/N), which is cool. So talk later, (Y/N)! 🧜‍♂️'

'<3 🧜‍♂️'

You throw your phone on to the passenger seat, like it's burning hot to the touch and it's just scalded you. Did you... did you seriously just send a heart to Vigilante? And did he seriously just send one back? Wait, no. The heart isn't the biggest problem. You just told him your name. Your real name. What if he finds you? What if this whole funny-charming-kind thing is just an act, and you end up bleeding in a dark alley within a month?

"Fuck..." You mumble, leaning your head back against your seat, wondering what the hell you've just gotten yourself into. Wondering if you should just block his number and never think about him again.

It's a stupid idea, getting involved with someone like him. One that could leave you hurt, or dead. Anyone would call you crazy for it. You probably are crazy for it. But that's not enough to deter you from reaching for your phone and grinning down at it when he texts you later that night.

'Hey. 🧜‍♂️'

It's a dangerous game, but one that you're more than willing to play.

[monbons]

WIP Wednesday

Posting actual WIPS on a Wednesday? Imagine that.

As long as we are all baring our hearts on tumblr, I have to admit that I have been struggling to write anything since I wrapped up Eternal Life (back in the first week of April). At first I figured I was simply burnt out since I wrote all 42k words of that fic in just about a month, but given that I've started three separate WIPS since then and made zero progress on any of them, I'm wondering if I am just out of stories. I hate all my words--even though I really love some of these concepts. So, as you may have noticed, I've been distracting myself with sewing projects because good progress is so clearly visible there...

Anywho, to motivate myself, I decided to post a snip of each today and hope that having bits out in the world will motivate me to finish at least ONE of them! All untitled. Set up and snips below the cut.

Very creatively titled "Party Robot," this WIP is a silly/fluffy one-shot inspired by an article I read a while ago about a growing trend in American weddings. This one is the furthest along and will likely see the light of day eventually...

A nervous bounce.  From a robot. I recognize that bounce. “I thought you said Shepard was working tonight.” My voice is tight. “He is.” Bunce replies, similarly strained. “What did you say he does again?” Panic rises in my chest.  “He’s in entertain–”  Whether Bunce trails off or I simply don’t hear the rest is irrelevant because the music has changed from easy dinner instrumentals to much-too-loud techno and the show is clearly starting. As the synths build, driving towards a crescendo, my brain reels with the growing realisation that Simon would never just abandon me at the last minute, would never send me anywhere alone, certainly not my cousin’s gay wedding, which is every kind of milestone given his Old Families lineage and Pitch blood specifically and– “PARTY PEOPLE!” The DJ booms into the mic. “Have the grooms got a treat for you!”

A multi-chapter AU I have lovingly nicknamed "Baz in a Bubble." It is sad and angsty and is proving significantly more difficult to execute (despite having a complete outline) than I once thought it would be. Who could have guessed having one home-bound character would make me too sad to write? Thanks to @thewholelemon and @hushed-chorus who've listened to more than their fair share of my griping about this one. Anyway, here's the first bit of BAZ POV:

There are exactly 297 stars in the sky above me. I count them while lying in my bed every night. They do not twinkle or flicker hello like real stars. Instead, they glow a constant yellowish-green that reminds me of the colour artists always make toxic sludge in the cartoons I grew up watching. It's the colour of superhuman villains and their evil plots. Of poison. Of danger. It's the colour of the plastic star stickers Fiona put up on my ceiling when I was 10 and spent the whole year crying and begging her to go outside. Just once. Just for a minute. Because I was starting to forget what fresh air smelled like or how it felt to have grass prickle against your bare feet or how the stars lit up the night sky in Hampshire. There are no stars in the middle of London. Not outside my window. Not in this room.

And then the WIP I have the least progress on (literally almost nothing) but I so desperately want to write and could really use a thought partner to help me brainstorm/plot/figure out what the hell I'm doing--- a canon divergence where Simon successfully exposes Baz as a vamp and Malcolm steps the fuck up as a father. Here's a bit of Simon POV:

It didn't matter anyway. Pitch Manor was empty. While [the Mage] ranted and raved, I wandered into Baz’s living room. The TV was still on. Peppa the Pig was playing. A half-dressed Barbie was splayed on the couch next to a small bowl of grapes, all cut in half. I picked up the doll and brushed her tangled hair out of her face.  Why didn’t I know Baz had a sister? A family that ate snacks together in front of the TV? Parents who loved him so dearly they fled their whole lives under cover of night? In the days that followed, I sat in meeting after meeting with the Coven, listening to The Mage. He demanded the casting of tracking spells, pushed through more dark creature reforms, and rambled about the miscarriage of justice and the dangers of harbouring monsters.  But Baz wasn’t a monster.  He was just a boy.  A scared boy.  A boy who ran because he wanted to live. 

Anyway...here's to accountability via tumblr. Maybe once I've slept for several weeks and feel more refreshed I won't be so frustrated by every word I know, or more precisely, all the beautiful ones I can’t seem to find…

Thanks for the tag @bookish-bogwitch. Cannot wait to devour the new chapter of BPD!

Hellos and high-fives to all. May your words (and art) be faring better than mine: @raenestee, @cutestkilla, @roomwithanopenfire, @facewithoutheart

@emeryhall, @artsyunderstudy, @aristocratic-otter, @larkral, @rimeswithpurple

@drowninginships, @valeffelees, @shrekgogurt, @blackberrysummerblog, @iamamythologicalcreature

@run-for-chamo-miles, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @arthurkko, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @youarenevertooold

@beastmonstertitan, @supercutedinosaurs, @rbkzz, @fiend-for-culture, @theearlgreymage

@brilla-brilla-estrellita, @skeedelvee, @ic3-que3n, @talentpiper11, @ivelovedhimthroughworse

[ahonice]

it doesn't matter

jamie drysdale x fem reader (ft. trevor zegras)

word count: 4.3k

warnings: drinking, sexual themes and mentions of sex, cursing, jamie being a fake swiftie (dw that is taken care of), reader has a guilty conscious, fluff (some angst i think), happy ending (those are rare on this blog), not proofread because i accidentally queued this so it posted on its own oops

note: i rewrote this about three times over the past two months, hope you guys are pleased with the final outcome. any and all feedback is greatly appreciated. hope you guys enjoy. have a great day, love y’all babes <3 !!!

+++

“hey you’re single right?” your head shot up at the sound of trevor, one of your closest friends, voice. you had known trevor since you moved to anaheim for college, on your first day in town he accidentally took your coffee from the pickup area at starbuck and you chased him down because you would be damned if you spent ten dollars on an iced coffee that you wouldn’t of been able to drink. it would’ve been a lie if you said you didn’t have a crush on him, he was so funny and kind and not to mention the fact that he is genuinely gorgeous, but you never acted on anything because you were worried he wouldn’t reciprocate your feelings, and the fact that the two of you have had one too many drunken, and a couple sober, hookups didn’t help either.

“of course i am, or else what we did last night would’ve been morally wrong, why?” your heart rate picked up, thoughts running a mile a minute. was he about to ask you out? did he actually like you back the way you dreamed he did? was our relationship finally gonna be something more than friends who fuck at times?

“i wanna set you up with my roommate, jamie. i think you guys would like each other.”

+++

it was a crushing blow, not only did trevor just inadvertently just tell you your feelings are one sided, but that they are so one sided that he thinks his roommate would be a better match for you than himself. you felt sick to your stomach, this was in no way a heartbreak, but that doesn’t mean it can’t hurt.

“earth to y/n.” trevor’s voice shook you from your trance, you had completely forgotten he was there. “you good? you haven’t said a word in like five minutes.”

“yeah i’m fine, um who is this guy? i don’t think i’ve heard you talk about a jamie before.” you wanted this to be a joke, for trevor to say he was kidding, maybe jamie wasn’t real and he just wanted to see if i was open to a relationship right now. 

“well he’s on the ducks as well, seems like your type. brunette with blue eyes, he’s got nice eyebrows too, just a couple weeks older than you, i know you don’t like extremely tall guys so him being 5’11 is perfect.” the more trevor went on about jamie the more you realized that jamie was in fact a real person and did seem like my exact type. “he has freckles too, i know you love those on guys and he looks good in the color green, he checks off all your boxes y/n.” you hated that he did. 

“can i see a picture before i agree to anything?” you didn’t want trevor to get suspicious when you said no, so you wanted to seem like you were at least considering it.

“absolutely.” looking over at trevor’s phone you let out a small sound of surprise.

he was gorgeous

“trevor why have you never told me about him before?” you said, grabbing his phone to go through all of his instagram posts. “he is literally beautiful!” 

“i honestly didn’t even think about it, but jamie saw you at our party last week and asked about you and i knew i had to make you two happen.” trevor said, taking his phone back. “come over tonight. we’re having a party before the season starts, you’ll be able to meet jamie.”

+++

it didn’t take you very long to get ready, your hair and makeup having already been done from your errands earlier in the day, but you did struggle picking out an outfit as every twenty year old girl would. you didn’t quite know who it was that you were dressing up for, in previous months it was always trevor. you were always hoping that he would see you and you would end up staying with him until the morning. while that was usually the case, the second part of your fantasy never came true. the part where trevor realizes he has feelings for you that go further than seeing you as a good fuck. but now there was jamie, you hadn’t even met him yet and you were still wanting to impress him. maybe trevor would see you with jamie and it would make him realize his feelings for you. but jamie seemed nice, once trevor left you looked him up and watched a few too many tiktoks and interviews involving him, he seemed like the polar opposite of trevor and that might just be what you need, it also doesn’t hurt that he was just about one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen in your life, trevor was not lying when he said that jamie was your exact type. settling on a simple pink top and black jeans you made your way towards the uber trevor had ordered for you, palms sweaty and legs slightly shaking as you confirmed where you were headed before you saw your apartment complex disappear in the distance. 

+++

“y/n thank god you’re here, i was starting to think you were pussying out.” trevor loudly yelled as he approached you, great he was already at least three drinks in. “catch up” he said once he was standing in front of you, handing you a beer. 

“i don’t drink this crap, you know this.” you said, shaking your head as trevor silently continued to push the can in your face.

“fine, i bought you some caymans. they’re in the garage fridge, but don’t take too long, jamie is excited to meet you.” you ignored the way his eyebrows wiggled as you began walking towards the garage.

once you were in there you grabbed two drinks, just so you wouldn’t have to come back out for at least half an hour, as well as a shooter. you needed the liquid confidence that would come from the tiny bottle of pink whitney. 

once you made your way back into the party you walked around looking for trevor, stopping a couple of times to greet those you knew, before you found him sitting with the man of the hour.

“y/n! come here, meet jamie.” trevor waved you over, you took a generous sip of the alcohol in your hand before making your way over, sitting down on the couch. trevor in the middle of us, as he began rambling to no one in particular about something you didn’t quite know, your ears tuning him out as the sound of your heartbeat in your ears took over all your senses. 

“y/n, are you even listening to me?” trevor asked you, gently poking the exposed part of your waist.

“no.” the laugh you heard after that made a bush creep up your neck, jamie’s laugh was just as beautiful as he was.

“rude, anyways y/n this is jamie. jamie, this is y/n.” he motioned the two of you towards each other as he talked, jamie reached in front of him to offer you his hand. “now get to know one another, i’m gonna go play pong.” trevor stood up before you could protest him leaving you alone with jamie.

you expected it to be awkward, but it wasn’t. conversation was flowing between the two of you like you had known each other for years, you talked about the basics, what tv shows you enjoyed, favorite movies, taste in music, which then led to a thirty minute discussion about taylor swift and how jamie claimed he was a swiftie but couldn’t name any songs that weren’t played on the radio

“i have a lot to teach you i guess.” you were definitely making it obvious that you were interested in him, but you didn’t care. you’d usually be so shy around a guy so cute, but something about jamie made you calm, that was the simplest way to put it.

“i would love that.” the blush on his face matched yours. you smiled at him, contemplating whether or not you wanted to ask the question you had been wanting the answer to all night.

“so why have i never seen you around or met you before? i’ve known trevor for almost two years now, and i’m over here quite a lot.” 

“i usually just stay in my room all day, especially during parties, i’m not the biggest fan of them.”

“then why are you out here right now and not bunkered up in your room?”

“i wanted to meet you, to get to know you.” jamie answered, scratching the back of his head and giving you a sheepish smile. “i came downstairs last weekend to grab something from the kitchen and that's when i saw you, i really lucked out that you are friends with trevor or else i probably never would’ve been able to find out who you were.” 

you nodded at his response, informing him that you were glad you were friends with trevor too.

“speaking of him, i was hoping to see him again before i left.” you told jamie, standing up from your spot on the couch noticing his slightly upset expression. “let me give you my number, i would love to see you again, maybe begin my lessons on taylor swift to you.” 

“i would love that.”

+++

after exchanging contact information with jamie you made your way outside towards the pong tables, hoping that trevor would still be out there. 

“hey trevor, i was just about to leave, wanted to say goodbye.” you said approaching him in the dimly lit yard.

“you’re leaving already? i didn’t even get any time with you.” he pouted, resting his chin on your shoulder his arms loosely around your waist. 

“sorry trev, but i got to know jamie. don’t let this get to your head, but i think you might be a pretty good wingman.” you joked, your arms around his neck gently running your hands through the ends of his hair. it wasn’t abnormal for the two of you to be so affectionate, so this felt normal.

“good, i’m glad.” his tone didn’t sound like his statement, but you could easily chalk that up to the alcohol in his system finally wearing him down. 

“why don’t i help you get into bed? basically everyone has left already.” you suggested, forcing his head up to meet yours at your eye level.

he smirked before responding. “i like where this was going.” 

“nothing like that buddy, besides you just set me up with your best friend that wouldn’t be a good idea, don’t you think?”

“that's not fair, you can’t do that.” he mumbled, his head dropping back down into the crook of your neck. “you can’t say you're taking me to bed, and then not take me to bed the way i want you to take me to bed."

you rolled your eyes at his comment and began dragging him back inside and up towards his room. once you wrestled him out of his jeans, giving up on putting pants on him because of his multiple attempts to lure you into bed, you got him to lay down and made sure he was comfortable before you headed downstairs to get some water and pain killers for him to take once he woke up in the morning. 

“goodnight trevor.”

you made your way outside onto the front lawn while you waited for your uber to arrive. you usually would’ve taken trevor up on his offer to spend the night with him, but something about even just thinking about doing that was now making you feel guilty. it wasn’t like you and jamie were in a committed relationship or anything, but he seemed to genuinely like you and was actually interested in getting to know you and you didn’t want to do anything to sabotage that.

+++

from: unknown number

can we meet up today for coffee or lunch? i would love to start becoming a real swiftie.

to: unknown number

am i right in assuming this is jamie??

from: unknown number 

yes 🙃

to: jamie🤭

i would love to meet up.

to: jamie🤭

could we get lunch? i am literally starving because of my hangover.

from: jamie🤭

absolutely. send me your address, i’ll come pick you up. 

+++

you were in full panic mode, you had no idea what to wear and the fact that it was visibly obvious that you were hungover didn’t help at all. you told jamie to give you at least thirty minutes, after he told you that an hour was too long. 

you took the fastest shower you ever have in your life before tackling the biggest issue, your outfit. you went through every drawer, bin, and your closet before you decided on biker shorts and a crewneck. you could only hope that jamie wasn’t planning on taking you somewhere with a dress code. 

makeup was applied and your hair was pulled into a claw clip before jamie texted you that he was outside, you did some final touches before you made your way out of your apartment complex. you lucked out seeing that jamie was in a comfy outfit just like you were. once you were buckled up jamie handed you his phone and told you to pick the music before driving off.

+++

“so what is your all time favorite taylor swift song?” jamie asked once he joined you in the booth you found for the two of you, he had taken you to in and out claiming he was craving a burger, and you didn’t complain because you would never pass up the opportunity to fuck up some animal fries.

“i don’t have just one, i think it is humanly impossible to have just one.” you told him, taking a sip of your lemonade before continuing. “i do, however, have a list of my top sixteen songs by her in no particular order.”

“sixteen songs? that’s insane.” 

“she has over two hundred songs, you’ve got a lot of listening to do.”

“well why don’t you give me your list of songs, the only ones i really care about are the ones you like.” you blushed at his words, before stating all of your favorite songs by her. his only responses were “i don’t know that one, never heard of it, i know that one, wait no i don’t”

once you were done and jamie confirmed all the songs were now added to his spotify you two began eating as you gave him a run down of her career.

“so who is your favorite and least favorite ex of hers?”

“i hope you don’t have plans for the rest of the day because i have a lot to say on this.”

+++

“do you want to get dessert? there is a nice ice cream place a few minutes from here.” jamie asked while you two were walking around huntington beach. you didn’t even realize how long the two of you had been hanging out until he asked if you wanted to get dinner, and now three hours after that when he is now asking to get dessert. 

“yea i would love to.” he smiled down at you and you made the move to hold his hand. “sorry, i hope this is ok, i just wanted to hold your hand.” you blushed, turning your head away from him.

“it’s ok, i wanted to as well.” he blushed as well before he began leading the way towards the ice cream shop. 

+++

“i had a lot of fun today, i was honestly a little nervous that with both of us sober it would be a little awkward, but it wasn’t and i would like to see you again. soon. sorry if that is a bit forward.” you told jamie as he pulled up in front of your apartment.

“i’d like to see you soon too, like tomorrow soon. are you busy tomorrow? we could get dinner, a nice place this time, not that in and out and qdoba aren’t nice it’s just-”

“yea i would love to, just send me the restaurants info before so i can figure out what to wear.”

“you’ll look beautiful in whatever you wear y/n.” you blushed at jamie’s comment before leaning over and giving him a kiss on the cheek. you were quick to get out of the car, yelling a goodbye as you ran into the front doors of your building.

+++

“finally you’re back. where the hell were you? i’ve been here for hours.” 

“how the hell did you get into my apartment trevor?” you asked the boy who was sprawled out across your couch eating your food. “stop eating my wheat thins asshole.”

“i found your spare key, i mean hiding it on the top of the door frame is just a horrible idea y/n.” trevor said as he went back into your kitchen, hopefully to put your snacks away.

“what are you doing her trev?” you asked, taking your shoes off before making your way into the living room.

“where were you? you’re never out late, and i got here at like two and it’s now eleven. did you pick up a shift?” trevor was quick to join you on the couch, grabbing a blanket and throwing it over the two of you.

“no, i was actually with jamie, he picked me up at noon to get lunch and then we spent the whole day together.” you blushed remembering how much fun you had today and how it was the first time in a while that you had enjoyed a date that much.

“oh, i didn’t realize that you two were getting along that well.” trevor said, reaching towards the table to grab the remote. “what the hell did you two talk about for nearly twelve hours? jamie cannot be that interesting of a guy.”

“we started off talking about taylor swift and how he is a fake swiftie, just like you are.” trevor cut you off with a gasp and hit you with the pillow he was using. “and then we talked about our childhoods, stories from school and growing up where we did.” you smiled at nothing, just reflecting on this one story jamie had told you about his worst halloween costume, which you then one upped with your own horrible halloween story. “thanks for pushing me to meet him trevor, i know it’s only been a day but i feel an actual connection with him and i can’t remember the last time i felt that with a guy.” 

+++

you and jamie had been going on dates multiple times a week for the past month now and tonight the team had the night off and jamie was taking you to his favorite restaurant for date night. you weren’t dating, yet, but both you and jamie have spoken about it as something you both want. it’s just up to when the timing is right.

“where is he taking you out tonight?” trevor asked you as he joined you in your bedroom. you called him over to help you pick out an outfit for tonight.

“cortina’s” it wasn’t a black tie restaurant, but it wasn’t a jeans and a tshirt restaurant either. “i was thinking my black leather pants and then a nice top, maybe my pink top with the mesh sleeves?” you were met with silence from your best friend, “hello? earth to trevor.”

“sorry what?” you rolled your eyes before entering the bathroom, changing into the outfit you had in mind. “what do you think?”

“i think that jamie isn’t coming to pick you up for another two hours and that gives us plenty of time to have some fun.” trevor said, wrapping his arms around your waist and giving you open mouth kisses on the exposed skin of your neck down to your shoulder, you let yourself revel in the feeling before you snapped back into your senses.

“trevor stop.” you pushed his arms off of you as you distanced yourself from him. “trevor you can’t do that, we can’t do this anymore.”

“why not y/n? you and jamie aren’t dating, there is nothing wrong with it. it’s been a month and i’m getting frustrated.” he groaned, flopping down onto your bed.

“that is not my issue trev, don’t blame me. i can guarantee that there are at least one hundred girls in your dm’s right now who would be willing to hook up with you, go bother one of them.” you snapped back at him, not in the mood.

“i don’t want some random girl, i want you y/n. aren’t you in the mood even a little bit, it’s been a month for you too.” you avoided his eyes as you made your way to your vanity to begin your makeup. “wait have you been fucking jamie? what the fuck y/n?”

“trevor you have no right to be upset, we are nothing. you were the one who set us up. isn’t this what you wanted?”

“no this isn’t what i wanted, i should’ve just made jamie make a move on his own. if that was the case you would still have no idea who the hell he was because jamie is too much of a little-”

“get out.” you cut trevor off before he could say anything worse. “trevor get out and don’t talk to me until you manage to get your head out of your ass.”

+++

“is everything okay? you seem a bit off.” jamie asked, he was right. after your argument with trevor you had been a bit out of it, the guilt of what you had done with trevor in the past was eating away at you. “could we talk about it later? i don’t want to ruin dinner.” your voice was shaky as you spoke.

“yes of course, but i’m gonna be honest i’m a little worried now.” jamie said, playing with the napkin on his lap. 

“i am too, don't worry.” your attempt at a joke didn’t help, but thankfully the waiter came to take our orders. 

+++

dinner was terrible. 

you two tried your hardest to have everything be normal and how things had been in the past month, but both of you were worried about what you had to say. jamie was scared you were gonna break things off with him, he was already nervous for tonight because he was going to ask to make things official between you two, and now he was even more on edge. while you were worried that after you told him about you and trevor’s past that he would no longer want anything to do with you and would break things off before they even got fully started. 

“so can you tell me what is going on?” jamie asked once you two had exited the restaurant and were sitting in his car.

“i want you to know that this started before i even knew you existed and it stopped the moment i met you.” you took a couple of deep breaths before continuing. “trevor and i had been hooking up, for nearly the whole time we were friends, but i swear to you the second i met you i cut it off. i’m really sorry for not telling you sooner, it’s just that i really, really, like you and i didn’t want anything to jeopardize that, even though keeping it a secret probably wasn’t the best alternative.” you looked out the window, avoiding his gaze, afraid of how badly he was judging you right now. “i understand if you don’t want to continue this anymore, you can just drop me off right here and i’ll uber home.”

“y/n. i don’t care.” you finally peeled your eyes away from the reflection of the cars in the side view mirror to see jamie looking at you with a smile. “your previous relationships are none of my business, yes it is a bit uncomfortable that he is my roommate and one of my closest friends, as well as one of yours, but i really, really, like you too so that doesn’t matter to me.” you smiled back at him, a few tears building up in your waterline. “i was actually going to ask you if you wanted to be my girlfriend, and i still want to. so y/n would you make me the happiest man alive and officially become my girlfriend?”

“yes jamie, i would be honored.” you leaned over the center console and kissed his cheek, to not distract him from the road. “it sounds like you proposed jamie.” you laughed. “are things going to be weird around trevor for you?” you hated the idea of being the cause of their falling out, or to have any team problems sprout from this.

“yes.” jamie replied bluntly. “and i’m definitely not the biggest fan of you two hanging out without me there, at least for a little bit, but it’ll all work out. i won’t let it get to me or my game, but the second he makes a comment about you it’s over.”

you giggled before replying with a short “got it.” and placed your hand over his.

“and don’t worry, i never plan on going anywhere without you drysdale. you’re gonna have to start coming to girls' nights too.”

+++

note: i actually rewrote this three times and each time the plot was different, the last version was so much juicer and had so much drama (trevor realized he was in love with reader, but he was too late dun dun DUNNNN) but i cut that out because i couldn’t get the wording right. anyways i hope y’all enjoyed, leave feedback (any and all is appreciated), have a great day, i love y’all babes <3 !!!

[desceros]

Okay I have something of a long post/ask/critical analysis of Symphony AU that I want to address. you're free to ignore it if I'm just spouting off insane copium. Or whatever you want to do with it lol. This is more about the turtles that about the Violist.

First I'm gonna talk about Donnie because he's arguably the easiest one to talk about. And take less time. He spent at the very least 15 years of his life knowing exactly five people, three brothers, his dad, and a bestie/pseudo big sister. They're all people who completely understand/grew up with him. And he's used to people adapting to his needs without having to say anything because he's, well, they're brother/son. Speaking from a purely canon standpoint in Rise you can see it, Raph refuses to tell Donnie they hate his gifts because it'll crush him. Stuff like that. Leo calling him a "weirdo" doesn't really mean much of anything considering he's Donnie's brother, and this is about pineapple on pizza.

This is all to say I see how Donnie just didn't bother communicating this was all for his touch experiment. As far as he's basically aware, she already knew. He wasn't going to read between the lines because he'd grown accustomed to the way his brothers, April, and dads act. Which, in hindsight, bit him in the ass because the violist literally doesn't know him aside from "purple turtle science man".

So. I get him. I get where he's coming from even if it ended up kinda fucking up the violist. That's all part of the learning curve of knowing people who don't already know who you are and whatever.

Now for Leo, maybe this is REALLY just me on my copium life support but I see where he's coming from too. Again, when you look at it from a canon lens I see where Leo is coming from. He's always been protective of his family, even more so than Raph at points. He didn't trust Big Mama immediately, even though the rest of his brothers did. He was perfectly willing and happy to DIE IN THE PRISON DIMENSION to keep his family safe. Like, let's not forget he, as well as the others, has a ton of unchecked trauma that he's definitely not willing to address to anyone. A decade of unaddressed trauma will do things to someone's psyche, intentionally or not. The guilt of almost killing his brothers has been festering inside him for over a decade now, this doesn't really seem entirely like a "my brother touches you and not me >:(" thing.

The way I see it Leo's acting out because he's actually just terrified of someone hurting his family again. It's definitely not okay, and it's condemnable. But as someone who's done some pretty fucked shit when I was dealing with my depression before meds, I've been Leo before. That man needs help, and fast.

We've also seen, from Symphony AU that he's mostly accepted the violist as part of the family now. The comments he makes about her being "Donnie's toy" are, again, things he seems to be saying to get a rise out of Donnie. We know he's been doing that for a while. And I wouldn't really put it past him for continuing to try and do it now that Donnie's not allowed to do his experiments anymore.

I had a way better way of wording this last night but I ended up watching TMNT 1987 instead but to summarize my thoughts, I sympathize with both Leo and Donnie and don't believe either of them are irredeemable monsters. If I'm somehow wrong about Leo and this is all just conduit to getting Donnie and the violist together then I'm gonna be so :(. Mafuyu Main Story chapter 14 even.

Or, again, maybe I'm just coping lol.

oh i'm all about symphony copium. breathe deep, anon-chan, hahahaha

aaaaand in true desceros fashion this got way too long so i'm tucking it under a cut. rolls eyes at myself soooooo hard

you're largely correct, though i will specify that for donnie it's not that he "didn't bother" to communicate what he thought was going on, so much as he thought he did.

i invite you-slash-everyone to read this passage from when the agreement was struck to see what i mean. i've removed all of viola-chan's thoughts and interpretations for you, and left you with just the core of the conversation, color-coded for clarity on who's speaking:

“We have… exhausted the limits of touching that I would perform with most people.”  [...] “…What do you mean?”  “I mean that all of the myriad mechanical touches I have experienced so far in my life, we’ve covered together. [...] I’ve become completely enured to them all, so long as you’re the one doing them. There is, of course, an obvious next step, but I wanted to discuss it before we begin.”  “To… touches you haven’t done?” [...] “Correct." [...] “I… don’t understand." [...] “I’m referring to more… intimate touches. We’ve… already been pushing at the boundary a bit, so I wanted to be very specific and clear." [...]

“I… take it you don’t scent your brothers.” “No, I don’t." [...] “Donnie, I—[...] I like you. You know that, right?”  “You aren’t very good at hiding it, no. [...] I, of course, like you as well, though I’d like to think that has been well demonstrated over our time together.”

[...]"…Intimate touches. [...] Like… what, petting? Kissing? Sex? What are we talking about, exactly?”  “All of it, ideally. [...] I’m quite curious to study how I’ll react, especially considering the whole touch aversion situation.” [...] “…Do… Do you wanna try it? [...] …Us, together, I mean?”  [...] “Really? With… With me?” [...] “Of course, I—[...]Donnie, I… of course. I’d be stupid to say no, right?” “Oh, that’s such a relief. [...] I’ve been making spreadsheets of things I’ve wanted to try for several days and wondering how best to bring it up, especially considering—well. It’s quite helpful that you did so yourself. Excellent work, consultant.” [...] “Well, I’d like to amend our agreement on how turtle time is going to go, from now on in light of all this, [...] We’re partners, now, so we have to take care of each other. [...]” “[...]Very well. If those are your terms for partnership, I accept.”

see how differently it reads without viola-chan's thoughts staining it? stripped of her thoughts, you can easily see where the miscommunication happened. other than a few incidental pieces of dialogue that don't affect the meaning of the convo, this is it.

in donnie's mind, he and viola-chan were very much on the same page. "partnership". "agreement". these are words that viola-chan uses. when he refers to spreadsheets, she just rolls with it. as far as he's concerned, they're talking about a scientific study here. he did communicate, and well. it's just... viola-chan put things there that he didn't. and that's not her fault, because at this point she hasn't picked up on how to communicate with donnie yet. and it's completely rational to assume, when discussing sex and romance and hearing someone say "i like you"--and then going on to kiss and have sex with that person--that it's a romantic relationship. as stated in the fic, my personal opinion (which to be clear, as someone who stands on death of the author, this *is* just my opinion) neither of them did the other ill. they literally just didn't know how to communicate yet. so i 100% agree with you on being able to see donnie's side of this. i have another long-ass ask somewhere in the meta tag discussing the lack of socializing specifically, if you're curious for more of my thoughts on that.

i also agree with you largely with the leo portion of your analysis. i... can't go into as much detail on his side of things, but rest assured that before everything is over, viola-chan and leo are going to have more than one conversation. and the two of them, despite everything, really do mesh well and talk about things, so it'll be a satisfying resolution, i think.

anyway WOW that got way too long but teal deer, i agree and love deep meta-analysis of my stuff so don't apologize in the slighest, yeehaw

[gvfgal]

The Art of Life: Part Four

Part Three

18+, minors evaporate!!

A/n: FINAL PART IS HERE!!! This was a fun cute little series to write, and I’m definitely gonna write a cute little smutty epilogue (because there clearly wasn’t enough in the story). BUT ITS DEFINITELY NOT OVER, I STILL HAVE SOME TRICKS UP MY SLEEVE 😏 But for now, enjoy.

Warnings: Brief mentions of sexual content, little angst, big fat happy ending!

Word Count: 3.5k

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

One month later…

Josh had pretty much accepted the fact that he’d never see you again, other than on the big screen that was waiting to broadcast his film to the hundreds of festival attendees.

He knew what you said that night in your apartment, “we both deserve someone who can be there for us…”, but he was a fool for taking it so literally. That night, your mouth said one thing, but your eyes were telling a completely different story, and it was the one he really should’ve listened to.

But instead, he went and completely ruined the best thing that happened to him, all for some girl that couldn’t even compare to you. It lasted all of a week before they went their separate ways.

It had been a hard month leading up to the festival, Josh getting little sleep due to him putting finishing touches on his project and beating himself up for the careless mistake he made. The look on your face when you saw him at the cafe haunted him whenever he closed his eyes.

He felt drained, all he wanted to do was sleep, but the much anticipated night had finally arrived, so he’d have to hold on just a little while longer.

The field that the festival was being held in was bursting at the seams with life, students, their families, and well known figures in the New York film industry poured in as the various screens scattered about played different projects that his peers worked tirelessly on.

Josh’s family was somewhere in the crowd, and he spent a little time strolling with them before wandering off by himself for a moment of peace and (somewhat) quiet before his showing.

Since they’d arrived a couple days prior, they’d been hounding him nonstop about your whereabouts. He had to admit to them that he’d fucked up, which earned him a nice scolding from his mother, exactly what he needed in the moment. He was trying his hardest to enjoy himself, but he found it very hard to do without your presence.

Josh wiped his sweaty palms on his pants as he sat anxiously behind one of the large screens that was displaying one of his classmate’s projects, his was up next. He didn’t know why, but every couple of minutes, he found himself scanning the crowded field of festival goers in search of your face.

It was stupid, he knew that, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“There you are,” Jake’s voice called from behind him, causing him to turn abruptly.

“We’ve been looking everywhere for you, why'd you run off?”

“Just needed some air,” Josh sighed.

Jake sat in the cool metal chair beside him and took a bite out of the funnel cake he was eating, “what’s going on? Are you nervous or something?”

Josh shook his head, for some reason, he wasn’t nervous at all.

Silence lingered for a moment, then Jake spoke again, “it’s y/n, isn’t it?”

Josh looked at his far too smart twin, then dropped his head into his hands, “I fucked up Jake, big time. And I don’t think this is something I can come back from,” he looked back towards him, “how did I manage to fuck up this badly?”

Jake opened his mouth to respond, but one of the sophomore film students came zipping around the corner, “Josh, you’re up in five.”

He sent the girl a thumbs up, then turned his attention back to Jake, who was offering him a sympathetic grin.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it too much. It’s life, everyone fucks up once or twice. And if you’re a Kiszka, that number doubles automatically.”

They both laughed a little before Jake gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, “but you’ll also never know what will come of the situation if you don’t at least see.”

He stood from his chair, “blessesed are those who ask the questions, brother,” he spoke in a Shakespearean manner, “or something like that anyway.”

The rest of his funnel cake was finished in one bite, and he tossed his trash in a near by bin, silently scolding his brother for choosing a place of refuge directly next to it.

Josh was standing now, and Jake began tugging on his collar, making sure his twin looked as presentable as possible for his big moment.

“I’m gonna go find the bunch, you know you got this, right?”

Josh nodded, and Jake sent him one more firm nod, “see you out there, then.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The crowd applauded as Josh’s professor stepped away from the podium, allowing him to step forward and introduce himself and his film.

His entire family was sat front row, Karen sending him a thumbs up. At the end of the row, there was an empty seat. It was meant for him, but he couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to see you sitting there instead.

Josh cleared his throat, “good evening, everyone. My name is Joshua Kiszka, I’m the director of the film you’re about to see, and I just want to thank the festival directors for letting me share my-… our story.”

He could feel his nerves surfacing, his hands beginning to shake as he clutched the mic between them, “This film is something that is very close to my heart. I-it follows the journey of a young art student, who I shamelessly plucked out of the library one rainy morning, and we were stuck like glue from that day forward,” the audience chuckled, “when I met y/n, I was immediately drawn to her. She’s beautiful, yes, and her talent speaks for itself, but what really struck me was her ability to see the beauty in the people and the world around her. She found inspiration in the most unlikely of places, and her art was a reflection of her unique perspective. She herself, is a truly inspiring person, with a passion for creating art that’s contagious. Watching her work was like watching a magician conjur up a spell, each stroke of a brush or pencil adding another layer to the world she was creating.”

His eyes sought out Jake, who gave him another signature nod of his head.

You got this, big brother.

“But y/n is a lot more than just a talented artist. She’s also a person that radiates warmth and kindness,” Josh began smiling to himself, “her smile… it lights up any room she finds herself in, her laughter is so infectious, and it wasn’t long before I found myself falling in love with her.”

He looked down for a moment then back towards the crowd, “unfortunately, I guess life had other plans for us, and though things may not have worked out the way I expected them to, she still continues to inspire me. After filming, when I sat down to piece this film together, I wanted to capture the essence of her spirit and the beauty of her art. But as I worked, I realized this film was more than just about her art, but about the art of living.”

“You see, y/n taught me that life isn’t just about achieving goals and accumulating accolades. It’s about finding joy in the little things, appreciating the beauty of the world, and the relationships we build with others and the experiences we share. She showed me that art isn’t just something you create, it’s something that you live, day in and day out.”

Josh sighed, feeling more relaxed as he saw the smiling faces in he crowd, “so in this film, you’ll get to see y/n’s journey and the impact she had on me. You’ll see how her art reflected her soul, and how her spirit inspired me to live my life with more passion and purpose. To be honest, I didnt know what I was looking for when I set out to make this film, but I ended up finding everything I ever needed. I hope this film can inspire you in some ways, too. I hope you’ll see that love, art, and life, are all intertwined, and that the beauty of it is all around us, waiting to be discovered. Without further ado, I present to you ‘The Art of Life’. Thank you.”

Applause rung out as Josh exited the stage and took a seat next to his mother.

The projector came to life with harsh white light, before the film began rolling.

The first thing to appear on the screen was your face, angelic in so many ways, and when it did, Josh’s heart sank into his stomach. You were sat in front of your gallery of work in a more formal interview style. He remembered that day vividly, it took the both of you from sun up to sundown to complete that section of filming. He smiled at the memory.

“Introduce yourself,” Josh’s voice rang out through the speakers.

You shifted in your seat, “my name is y/n, and I’m an artist.”

It didn’t occur to him until then how much he missed your voice.

“And what does being an artist mean to you?”

Your lips pursed as you digested the question, “well, to be an artist is to see the world with a different set of eyes, to observe every detail and every hue, to capture the essence of beauty and turn it into something new… something more personal…”

As you continued speaking, the scene cut away to a clip of you laughing in your apartment as you worked on a piece, the faint sound of your laughter causing the hair on his arms to stand up straight.

“…but being an artist isn’t just about creating to me, it’s a way of life. As a painter, you’re given this blank slate full of potential, and you’re given all these various tools and options, and you’re tasked with creating something beautiful. Life is the same way when you think about it…”

Another clip from when you two visiting the art gallery on your first day together, you were standing admiring one of the pieces.

“Life, like painting, is full of contrasts, dark shades and bright hues, light and shadows that last. It’s all those imperfections that make it unique…”

You and Josh running through the rainy streets of New York, you with copious ammounts of art supplies in your clutch.

“… so to me, being an artist simply means being alive. Living, learning, growing, experiencing… and creating.”

Josh could feel something stirring inside of him as he watched you on the screen. The film cut to you standing on the windy harbor, and Josh turned to gauge everyone’s reactions. Every eye was glued to the screen as you began speaking. They all seemed to be just as captured by your beauty as he was.

In that moment, there was no doubt in Josh’s mind what he needed to do. He sprang to his feet, moving towards the nearest exit.

Karen gave him a wild look, but his heart was too preoccupied to pay any mind.

His slow pace turned into a light jog, and soon he was full on running.

“Does anyone know where the final art gallery is being held?” He shouted to anyone who would listen.

“Shut up, man. I’m watching a movie here,” someone shouted back.

“It’s a film, not a movie, genius,” he quipped back.

“South Harbor and 30th,” a female voice rang out.

He thanked the mystery voice, hastily exiting the venue and heading exactly in that direction.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You were still on your first glass of champagne as you surveyed the gallery, watching people dressed in their Sunday best partake in cocktail hour. The room was filled with chatter and the soft hum of classical music.

These kinds of events always had you on edge, rubbing elbows with snobby art elitists wasn’t your cup of tea, it was simply a part of the profession you chose. But you often felt uncomfortable and out of place, just as you did right now.

Your parents were a no show, but that was to be expected, they hardly every crawled out of their small corner of the world for anything other than weekend casino trips, so their absence wasn’t missed. But Josh… oh how you longed for his presence. Even after seeing what you had a month ago, you couldn’t stop yourself from yearning for him. But you figured that season had come and gone, leaving you alone in a room full of crowded people as you waited to present your finished piece.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Another hour rolled by before it was time for the artwork to be unveiled, and one by one, you listened to your peers give rehearsed speeches about their work, and soon enough it was your turn to do the same.

As you stood at the small podium, scanning the crowd in front of you, you suddenly forgot all the words you’d gone over dozens of times in your apartment. Eveyone’s eyes were on you, and you shifted your balance on your feet, tugging at your long black gown and steadying yourself in your uncomfortable shoes. The room was eerily silent as everyone waited for you to speak, and after trying and failing to remember what you wanted to say, you decided to simply let the words flow.

“This… this painting that I’m about to present is very near and dear to me, something I worked on tirelessly, and it’s of someone who’s very important to me.”

You paused briefly before continuing, “I met this young man one day in the library when he asked me to be the subject of a film he was making, and though I was a bit hesitant at first, I agreed. I didn’t know what to expect going into it, but I thought why the hell not? It’s not every day you get to be the main character in an underground film, right?”

A few people in the audience chuckled, “but what I didn’t know is how much that man would change my life. You know as an artist, you’re trained to pay attention to details, colors, shapes, those kinds of things, and I’ve pretty much convinced myself that I was an expert at doing so. But after Josh entered my life, I started seeing things a bit differently, a bit clearer. Josh has a way of bringing out the brighter side of life, a side of life I didn’t know I was missing out on,” your eyes began to burn from the tears that began to brew, “and I feel so lucky that I was able to experience that with him, no matter how short it may have been.”

“So I painted this portrait in hopes to capture his essence so that I could share it with all of you, because as much as I wanted to keep it all to myself, something that beautiful deserves to be experienced by many, if only captured in a single moment. After all, that’s the true job of an artist.”

A few smiles appeared in the crowd, and you dropped your head with a soft chuckle, “it’s kinda funny. I started off being his muse, but he ended up being mine…”

You were speaking to yourself now without even knowing, and when you realized that the room was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop, you snapped out of your trance.

“Anyways, without further ado, I present to you ‘Quintessence’.”

The large black cloak that was draped over your painting fell to the ground as the audience erupted into applause, all of their focus shifting from you the the canvas behind you.

There were a few gasps and excited murmurs that slowly melted away your nerves, but as you turned to get a look at the painting, Josh’s eyes seemingly staring right back at you, the tension returned.

You stood back with the rest of the spectators to take in the painting, your first real time doing so since it was completed.

The painting was in fact of Josh, but it depicted him as some sort of angelic being. His face held a serene expression, encased by a soft white glow that brought out the curvature of his features. The idea came to you the night of your first date, Josh’s naked body pressed against yours. The light from a street lamp outside casted its light perfectly across his face, bringing forward the most beautiful parts of him.

His arms were outstretched as if he were in flight, his wings extended behind him, and his head tilted up towards the heavens. His body (which you decided to paint as close to the real thing as possible), was draped in a gold fabric that shimmered in the light, another idea from that night when Josh stood at the foot of your bed wearing only your bed sheet. His halo glowed a similar color, it’s luminescence bleeding into the background of the painting.

The background took on no real form, just swirling colors and shapes that gave the piece more of an otherworldly feeling.

Overall, it wasn't your usual style of art. It appeared as if it belonged in the renaissance section of some posh museum, but as you stood marveling at it, all you felt was a sense of pride. You were actually proud of it. All you wanted to do was show Josh in the way you saw him, and you had to admit you did just that.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Once all of the art had been presented, you took the time to stroll around the gallery by yourself, admiring the work of your peers while sipping on champagne that was far too expensive for your taste. You hadn’t realized how much time you spent browsing until you made it back to the front, the once large crowd that congregated in the area now much smaller.

You sat your empty champagne flute down and began making your way back to where your piece was, silently cursing yourself for not sticking around to answer questions like you were supposed to. By now, anyone who might have been interested was more than likely gone.

As you rounded the corner, you expected the area near your painting to be a ghost town, but to your surprise, there was one curly-haired patron standing directly in front of it, observing in deep thought.

Though his back was turned to you, there was no mistaking who it was, and a small smile began to spread across your face.

“What’s your analysis of this painting?” You asked softly, repeating the question he asked you on the day you met.

You could tell he was already well aware of your presence, not frightened by the sound of your voice coming from behind him. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he shifted on his feet and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I see,” he began, pausing briefly to give the question more thought, “I see the best version of myself. A slightly less handsome version,” he teased, causing you to chuckle, “but it’s the version I’d like to be all the time.”

He finally turned to look at you, and his face was just as angelic as it was in the painting, maybe even more so.

“It’s the version of myself that you bring out.”

Your heart began beating wildly in your chest, your heels digging further and further into the ground as his eyes burned into you. They wandered down the length of your long black dress, then back up to your face.

“I miss you, y/n.”

All you wanted was to melt into his arms and tell him that you missed him too, but your pride took over in the moment.

“I guess the brunette in the coffee shop wasn’t enough?”

“No,” he responded with a scoff, catching you off guard, “no she wasn’t. In fact, I don’t think any woman will ever be enough for me, any woman except you. My muse.”

He was standing directly in front of you now, running the back of his fingers delicately across your cheek, “I know what you said that night, about us deserving someone who could be there for us, and I thought I agreed with you, but I don’t. I deserve you, y/n. And I think it’s safe to say you deserve me too. We deserve each other,” your eyes closed as he continued to speak, “could you even imagine anything other than this? Anything other than us?”

His thumb came up to wipe a single tear that slid down your face, “no,” you whispered, “I can’t. I don’t want to.”

Josh shook his head at you, “then let's not. Let’s not complicate it, okay mama? We’ll figure out all the details as they come, but let’s just fucking do it.”

More tears were falling now, only they served a different purpose. You nodded you head, wrapping your arms around him to pull him closer, “okay, let’s fucking do it.”

He smiled down at you as his other hand found your face, pulling you in for an intoxicating kiss. It lingered on for a while without progressing before Josh pulled away from you breathless.

“Hey Picasso,” he grinned, “I think I love you.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Taglist: @welllauragvf @why-ami-on-here @objectsinspvce @josh-iamyour-mama

[smolcinnamonchipmunk]

Im very sorry, but I need to vent, even if it's out in the void because the whole missing stray thing is getting to me way more than it should be, but I tagged the things (animal death mention) and am going to trauma dump a bit, IGNORE THIS IF YOU DONT WANT THAT. It's messy, and whatever, but I've sobbed more the last two days than I have since the end of last year

I think one of the reasons the stray going missing is hitting me so hard is because literally day before the storm came in one of the people who's seen me frequent the area with her (I've talked to him a couple of times with her) was like "I'm moving tomorrow, and I wish I could take her, but she always runs away when I try. Guess you're her human. Try to find a good home for her, yeah?" and all the staff at the cornerstore who I've badgered the last several days if they've seen her have all said something similar about me being 'her human', and how she likes me, and 'she never lets me pet her or anything' (yeah, because I've spent the last TWO MONTHS TRYING TO MAKE HER COMFORTABLE AROUND ME) and I promised him I'd take care of her, and literally the next day a massive storm and flooding and she's been missing, and I just

Idk, I literally looked at her Wednesday as the guy told me to help her and thought "Should I try to scoop her up again tonight?" because I've tried picking her up before and she freaked out, so I was like "Nah, I'll wait til she's a little more comfortable", and IM SO MAD AT MYSELF NOW

I know there's not really a way for me to know that there would have been flash flooding even if I knew the storm was coming (which I had no clue about until it happened the next day), but I'm still so angry at myself because even if I didn't succeed in wrangling her back to my place, at least there's the chance that she'd be safe inside with me right now instead of potentially drowned or eaten by coyotes. I was supposed to protect her, I was already going to, but then I PROMISED I WAS GOING TO TAKE CARE OF HER AND I FAILED NEXT DAY. And now, I might never see her again, and I've just been wandering around calling her name and waiting three hours a night for a cat who'll probably never come again, and I wish I didnt care as much as I do

I feel like I need to stop caring, at least enough so the universe leaves me the fuck alone with irony because this whole thing is just reminding me of when I called my mother to say I was staying at my apartment for the holidays because I didn't know how much time my KD elderly cat had, came home to her already passed, AND when I dropped her off in the middle of the night for a necropsy because this was my first time dealing with a deceased pet and checked the mail, THE FUCKING INK PAWPAD SET I GOT TO GET HER PAWPRINT BEFORE SHE PASSED WAS IN THE MAIL

[songliili]

2023 writing roundup

i was tagged by @hgejfmw-hgejhsf and @rockyroadkylers!

i feel like i've spent my whole year writing, but i also know that i've spent months without doing it so i can't say how much it was month by month. but i posted three fics this year so like. that's an achievement!

let's see what we got.

January:

the great dean court off - Supernatural, 21.8k, M (chapter update) [someday i will finish it, i promise]

Of all the things Dean expected to find when he came back from the bathroom break, a folded piece of paper with "hey, if you’re not gay, my friend thinks you’re cute. here’s her number 316-557-9608 (and if you’re gay, here’s mine 316-997-2018)" written on, was not it. - Or the one where Dean organises a dating contest because he's bi and can't decide between two options.

September:

I Had Some Time (With You) - Supernatural, 23.9k, E

It's 2005 when things go to hell. Well. They go to hell for everyone except Dean, ‘cause he was ready for it. Well. He was ready for the apocalypse, not for the gorgeous man who fell into his life, quite literally. OR A Destiel rewrite of Bill and Frank's love story as shown on HBO's The Last of Us episode 3: Long Long Time that uses elements of both universes.

November:

we all have a hunger - RWRB, 22.9k, E

Alex’s journey of self discovery started one random night five years ago, when he was scrolling his favorite porn website to relax after midterms. He chose a video with the preview of two guys in the threesome category, thinking nothing of it, and came so hard he thought he was going to pass out. The threesome didn’t happen, the girl just sat there looking at the two guys going at it, just like Alex did. After that night, saying that the tall, blond and gorgeous actor with a fucking sinful shoulder to waist ratio didn’t do it for him was a complete lie, so maybe, maybe, Alex could be excused when he freezes up when said man - even more tall, blond and gorgeous in real life - stretches a hand toward him and says “I’m Henry, Pez’s ‘best mate of honor’, as he says.” with his perfectly infuriating British accent. — OR: Henry is a porn star, Alex is a fan.

December:

Fill My Stocking - RWRB, 6k, E

Alex has spent the past fifteen minutes talking with David about his favourite treats. Not that the dog answered, but Alex was undeterred and kept going, uncaring that Henry had asked him to give him an hour and then he’d join him in hanging up fairy lights and mistletoe everywhere. Very well. If Alex wants Henry’s attention, he'll have it. It's probably not what Alex thought he’d accomplish with his little scheme, but it's a compromise between Henry's needs and Alex's wants, and that's all that can be done. OR: Alex wants some attention and Henry has to get creative.

Upcoming in 2024:

part 2 of the pornstar verse (title undecided):

picks up the day after the ending of part one, it's alex's first christmas in london

Like Father, Like Son:

alex is a horse trainer and has a crush on arthur fox. he's the trainer on set for arthur fox's new movie (a queer western). his son, henry fox, visits the set and well. alex is fucked.

I hope you don't mind. (part 3 of the pornstar verse):

henry's bad days and how alex helps him go through them

Other things I hope I manage to put out next year (or at least start writing):

Your body is the Sistine Chapel:

what if dean was as tattooed as he was supposed to be? which tattoos would he get? for whom would he get them?

untitled airbnb fic:

alex travels to london as a reward for finishing college, and henry is his airbnb host whose dog likes alex a little too much.

untitled mandalorian!alex fic:

alex is the mandalorian, david is grogu. that's all i have for now.

untitled scarlet witch!henry/sword agent!alex fic:

inspired by this tweet. i have nothing more than this to give you atm.

i posted 62.406 words this year, and written many more. i'm fairly new to writing, so this is a real accomplishment for me. my biggest goal was to post a fully finished chaptered fic, and i did! then i started a series, and wrote something shorter than 7k, and i have so many ideas for future fics that i genuinely don't know where to start. i hope i manage to post at least a couple next year!

tagging: @affectionatelyrs @firenati0n @absoluteaudacitywrites @gayrootvegetable @leojfitz @anincompletelist @ssmtskw @littlemisskittentoes @cactusdragon517 @read-and-write- and everyone else that wants to join!

[transmutationisms]

I apologize if there's something already on your blog about this and I didn't find it, but I was watching tailgate party and realized that Shiv had spent the entire episode pacing around one apartment complex 6000 steps over and that the Roys do this a lot.

My memory of the last few seasons is fuzzy (<- binged it before and now doesn't remember shit) but I feel like the Roys spend a lot of time in very large, usually open spaces, with wide walls and tall ceilings, and usually ones we've seen before or are expected to see again and that a lot of important scenes happen *outside* of these spaces. Important meaning either big moments or iconic ones or sometimes just transitonary. Kendall had his Next-Jesus moment out in the ocean, Tom started throwing water bottles in that cramped ass escape room or talked about his marriage out on the beach, the entirety of Kill List happens outside of ATN offices, Logan meets Mattson for the first time on a personal island, Roman went to a random one story office environment for a fucking business school and was never the same character (well. compared to S1 Roman) again, they have that reverse Jesus thing over cruises on a cruise ship, etc. I feel like plane scenes could both fit into this or break it depending on the season but at least for other scenes I feel like there's a pattern here.

Outdoor spaces or parts where they actually put their shoes outside onto sidewalk always feel semi important to me but it doesn't even have to be outdoors specifically. Like, even just the honeymoon suite was different enough from every other building we'd seen the show have, and that's when Shiv admitted to cheating!

Do you think there's something to this, or do you have your own thoughts? I'd be interested to hear more if only to appeal to my ego ;-). There's other things that could connect to this like the grey-white-brown-dark blue color palette damn near every scene is in vs. scenes with real color inside of them and Kendall's asking why Sophie was "on the street" being indicative of how he thinks she should be raised (based on how he was raised and also how he can recognize the manipulation and abusive inherent to his father's parenting but not the more subtle isolation and neglect) and the fact the Roys are literally running an actual rat race while trapped inside Waystair Rocyo 1/2 the time but I have to stay focused on one thing when I write shit down even if I'm connecting dots in my head or else this ask won't even be remotely legible.

[If you already wrote about this - sorry! I hope this makes sense. Either way, have a good night, and fingers crossed something fun happens at Logan's funeral. I still want Tom to fight someone. It won't happen but it'd be funny as hell lol]

yeah i haven't really written anything comprehensive on this, but i do think there are a few interesting points with regards to how the show uses the characters' environments. forgive me for bullet-pointing lol, maybe you can help string these things together into something more cohesive. but:

yes, the characters often spend most of an episode trapped in one location, even one building. in part i think this is a function of the presence of playwrights on the writing staff, and the way many episodes flirt with the three classical unities of tragedy writing (time / place / action). so, lots of episodes are 1 day only, or 2 or 3 max, and often a character will be mostly confined to one location during that span. in part this helps make each individual episode really tight internally, but it also contributes to that persistent sense that the characters are trapped (within their circumstances, company, family, etc)

indoor vs outdoor is an interesting thread. one thing that has always stood out to me is that the show has a tendency to use natural sunlight not as refreshing, enlightening, etc, but as blinding, overwhelming, and even dangerous. the sun almost kills logan in s3, there are those shots in 2x10 and 3x09 where everyone's squinting in the bright light, there's a similar effect in 'austerlitz', etc. this contributed to the overall sense of discomfort that the roys experience, despite all their material luxuries; it also contributes to the sense that nature and the natural world is an alien, external force that appears threatening—this sense also comes out in all of the animal metaphors they use, which emphasise the brutality they see in the animal kingdom and in nature generally

if we're talking places, i also must bring up the presence of bathrooms on the show. these are quotidian rooms, but also dangerous ones, in the sense that they exist to purge a civilised society of its filth, and the whole process tends to be marginalised and wilfuly ignored. so, i've always liked that succession has a lot of scenes set in bathrooms, and often characters are able to speak differently in the bathroom—sometimes more intimate (kendall and stewy, tom and logan in 3x05), or more direct (greg and logan in 2x08), or they're allowed to say things they couldn't elsewhere (roman and mencken). bathrooms are also sheltered personal spaces, where the characters can retreat and hide (kendall using them to do coke, shiv practicing a smile in 1x02, greg rehearsing his congressional testimony)

the waystar offices obviously have that very 21st-century glass-and-steel aesthetic that telegraphs new money, a certain neoliberal attempt at severance from systems of social and cultural meaning-making, etc. so, moving the characters to other locations is effective because, in contrast to the kind of soullessness of the waystar building, it makes the other places stand out and emphasises the meaning we can glean from the sets alone (like, the gut-punch of dodds's house in contrast to the sort of corporate default)

in regards to the idea of control and confinement within luxe spaces—yes, this is clearly something we see many of the environments convey (the ultimate expression of this being the anti-suicide wall that logan puts up to pen kendall in). this is really a discrete material expression of how waystar operates in a broader sense, constraining people whilst appearing to create more options and more freedom (also a basic characteristic of neoliberal modes of production, lol)

again i'm not sure i have a thesis statement here unifying all of these observations lol. but i do think the show does well at using its environments and settings to tell us a lot about the characters, the company, and the broader world they inhabit.

[bailaconox]

basically the only photos i took at ateez in toronto hamilton 12.02.22 🤧❤️‍🩹 i had the best day of my entire life yesterday and i cannot thank ateez enough for filling me with so much love and happiness ❤️

just me rambling about my whole ateez concert experience under the cut ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

I CANNOT BELIEVE AFTER TEN FUCKING YEARS OF LIKING KPOP I FINALLY GOT TO EXPERIENCE A KPOP CONCERT IN ALL OF ITS UNIQUE GLORY!!!!!!!!!!

FIRST CONCERT IN OVER THREE YEARS AND AFTER THE SHITTIEST FUCKING LUCK WITH TICKETING AND CONCERTS IN GENERAL..... IT ALL FINALLY PAID OFF?????? THE UNIVERSE ALIGNED JUST RIGHT SO THAT I COULD FINALLY HAVE THE BEST EXPERIENCE OF MY FUCKING LIFE AND THERE IS NEVER A MOMENT I AM NOT EXTREMELY THANKFUL TO ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED TO GIVE ME THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE LAST NIGHT

first ever top tier vip first ever vip ga first ever soundcheck first ever true barricade first kpop concert in person first ateez concert first time everything went about as perfect as i dreamt it would

despite being wristband number 337 i was one person away from touching the barricade, left side of the stage at the corner where the catwalk meets the main stage, so fucking close either san or seonghwa is literally covering me in the crowd photo 🤧😭❤️‍🩹 WHICH IM NOT MAD ABOUT AT ALL THAT FEELS LIKE A TOTAL FUCKING WIN IN MY BOOK!!!!!!!!

the crowd wasnt pushy and agressive and shoving

and i saw ateez with my own eyes in person in real life just a few feet away from me.. they're really real... they are so real and so beautiful and sweet and talented and pretty and funny and amazing and good and wonderful and damn near perfect

god i really dont wanna sound crazy delusional but i really believe seonghwa made Prolonged Eye Contact with me 😳😳😳😳😳😳 like i spent the whole concert no phone except once and i just. was Looking at them. so amazed captivated mesmerized. and i want to believe seonghwa saw me just STARING in a very stunned fashion and made eye contact and just like. smiled laughed a little smirked a lot maybe thought it was funny how i was like 👁👄👁. this at least is the story i built in my head and will choose to believe!

and i dont think it was me he called out but during the part where hongjoong split the crowd and made my side say "break" he said someone forgot and did it like a full two seconds after everyone else aND HE WAS LOOKING WAY TOO CLOSE TO WHERE I WAS STANDING LIKE I DONT THINK THAT WAS ME BUT SOMEONE IN A ONE TO TWO PERSON RADIUS FROM ME DID THAT AND IM SCARED IT WAS ME BC I DONT FUCKDKIEUNG REMEMBER WHAT I DID!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

god i made the best call ever though by not taking photos because i just got to LOOK AT THEM!!!!!!!! RIGHT THERE IN FRONT OF MY EYES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! my justification is that i absolutely hate looking through any concert videos or pictures i have ever taken for some reason. combined with the fact that 10000000% of why im there is to SEE THEM LIVE IN THE FLESH IN REAL LIFE so i dont wanna end up staring at my phone the whole night bc it wouldnt feel as real as looking at THEM you know???? and every other person has enough concert footage to refresh my memories so im more than happy with that choice! i only took these couple and one video to prove where i was standing in the crowd lmao

as per usual at concerts every moment in line and before the soundcheck was a fucking nightmare but oh my fucking god i got one of the best spots in the whole venue and every part of that show made up for the shit i dealt with about a million times over!!!!!!! i GET it now i GET why people do this i GET why they fight for vip and barricade !!!!!!!! the experience of not only looking directly at them, but KNOWING FOR A FACT THEY SAW ME TOO, is something ill never ever ever get used to.. i feel so fucking grateful for getting so damn lucky.. it was one of the most amazing things i've ever experienced and my god. i want more

but i dont expect all my concert unluckiness to have vanished bc im not financially in a place to arrange the logistics of all that on my own! im not kidding when i said the stars fucking aligned just perfectly to create this entire experience, there were so many tiny things that could have gone wrong or prevented me from going altogether but... for once... for the only time ever in my life up to this point, everything was perfect and i had the perfect day and i got more than i ever dreamt i could.

it felt so special to not just be there for all of my own reasons, but having it be ateez's first time in canada and the last show of this tour. the hello82 video and watching that with them and singing star 1117 was .. magical honestly??? and also made me realize i've never been to a concert before where the artist got super emotional and cried on stage??? but there was more love in that room than i've maybe ever felt in my whole life and there are no words to explain how special and important every single second of that night truly was... and i will never forget how it felt to be there, to finally be there, to be there of all places!!!!!!!!!!

and i love ateez with all my heart and soul. oh my god. i just realized if i started liking them in late august of 2019. i started liking them either right before or right after the last concert i went to. i saw the jonas brothers in august 2019 and i started liking ateez in 2019 and i havent been to a single concert in three whole years until last night. with ateez. and i get it now, why the universe aligned the stars for me, for this. oh my god

[lgcdowoon]

home for the holidays.

A RANDOM SOLO NO ONE SHOULD READ : ft. dowoon’s sister COUNT : 1.09k

“ya! dowoon-ah, what’s this!?”

he looked up at his sister confused on what she was yelling at him about this time. he had come back to his family’s apartment for their break, needing some space away from the dorm and the  “hmm? oh--yeah...crazy right? to think i had two left feet a year ago” he gave a half hearted laugh. it didn’t reach his eyes or his brain or his observant sister.

she squinted her eyes at him and smacked his shoulder. ow he thought, what the did he ever do? “shut the hell up dowoon! what about singing? that’s what you did all of this for, to sing. use that stupid voice of yours you spend so much time worrying about.”

maybe that wasn’t the right moment to take a sip of his tea, which was filled with honey because he always put honey in his tea because it helped his vocals, proving her very point. “well i’m still singing, i sing in the...some of the songs.” he defended. he was singing, performing--living the dream and all that. spent the last three months doing ‘all that’ at hyper speed. “it’s what i wanted.”

“but it’s not.” she insisted and dowoon knew she was right. he didn’t want to agree. he was grateful for a second of screentime, a single line. he didn’t want to be greedy. “how many times have you watched shine? cried at a shin high note? if you can pull up your watch history and prove that agito isn’t there--”

“hush!” he roared. it was strange coming from him, he didn’t roar. but he continued on, ranting and raving. “not everything is perfect okay? you can’t have everything you want. so i may not have ‘vocalist’ next to my name. so the concept isn’t blue hour. so i may have to figure out how to rap and dance and be scary and sexy and loveable all at the same time.” he sat down on his bed, where he dreamt those very dreams that had propelled him to where he was now. this bed was hope, optimism, and naivety. this bed hadn’t seen all the nights he had--sore and exhausted, but all too restless. he spoke again, calmer and more mature than she’d ever seen him. “i’ve made it this fucking far and i’m sure as hell not going to ruin it because it’s not everything i dreamt it would be when i was thirteen.”

the woman was too stunned to speak, literally. she was shocked, her little brother never spoke that way unless it was important. the last time she had heard him yell was in arguments with their mother over whether he could train or not. she knew when he wanted something, he would morph and change himself for it, but never ask anyone else to do the same. he wasn’t looking at her. he had his head in his hands. she walked closer and rubbed his back soothingly. “i just don’t want you to...let go of your principles, your desires, your dreams because it’s...convenient.”

“nothing about this is convenient. i don’t want to be all woo is me but it’s been hard the last...two, three years. just the last couples months have almost knocked me out.” he stated, taking another sip of his mug. “but, this is what i’ve been given and i thank god everyday i’ve been given it. there are hundreds--maybe thousands--of kids that wish they were lucky enough to get in the door of that company, nonetheless make it through training and into a group, in under three years no less. i’m lucky, extremely lucky, do you not get that?” it wasn’t the picture he wanted, but it was a hell of lot better than two more years of training. “and i want to do it. i do. i enjoy my group, our music, and--the fans are awesome, so kind and thoughtful. i get to go to these amazing places, do these amazing things, and i’m getting paid! i’m saving up so i can buy mom a proper house...all doing something that i do really enjoy. and i’m good at it--performing at least.”

“okay, okay. i’ll stop.” she conceded, holding her hands up. “i just--i’m just looking out for you, you know?” she offered, walking closer to her brother, her confidant. they may not see each other as much as they used to, but they trusted one another like no one else. “you’re my cool idol little brother” she scuffed his hair up, he smiled. “i gotta do my older sister thing when i can, alright?”

“i know...it’s something i haven’t really let myself think about. it was a mess through the end of the year...and i just wanted to enjoy that i’d made it. that i actually did it.”

“you more than deserve to bask in the glory of it all.” then, more softly which was hard for her, “i’m proud of you.” his sister was almost the antithesis of dowoon. she was rough and loud and blunt and protective. she’d stepped between him and many bullies in their youth--and he knew she’d stand against the ceo himself if it meant protecting her little brother. 

he hugged her warmly. “thank you, i love you.”

“blah blah, love you too or whatever.” she rolled her eyes and dowoon rolled them back at her still with a smile on his face, but squeezed her against his body again. they let go and dowoon was unsure of 

“this means you’re gonna have to be good at rapping. like really good. can’t make me look like a fool for stanning tz, alright?”

“i’m doing extra rap lessons now. i’ll be fine.”

“freestyle, now. i’ll do the beat.”

“what--?”

she had already started doing an okay beat with just her mouth “go, come on show me the money, do it.”

he laughed, but started to feel the rhythm “my name is dowoon and i’m gonna--”

she abruptly stopped, waving her hands up in protest “no no god no.” she looked disgusted, making dowoon burst in laughter. he thought his sister should have been the famous one out of the two of them, she could make him die laughing. “get back in the practice room...listen to eminem or something...jesus that was already bad.”

“you didn’t even give me a chance!”

“i didn’t need to. stay out of the writing studio, kay? don’t need you ruining my favs’ verses.”

he rolled his eyes with a smile. “alright, alright. i’ll stick with company approved lyrics for now.” she hummed in agreement. then, both of their heads shot up when they heard their mother call them in for dinner, instantly running to fill their plates with whatever deliciousness their mother had prepared for them.

[bigskydreaming]

Okay, so you know “Justice League meets Batman’s kids, who they’d previously been unaware existed” AUs?

So picture that.....but this time, instead of them just having no knowledge of any of these other Gotham vigilantes at all....the Batkids all migrate to various cities as they get older and become known as their protectors - Dick in Bludhaven, Tim in San Francisco, Cass in Hong Kong, etc....

Meaning they’re all established figures, the Justice League are aware of them as solo local heroes who stick to their cities and so they just don’t interact with them much if at all, or else some are members of team lineups but are particularly vague about their histories or life outside of the team’s adventures....

So the big reveal isn’t that they become aware of all these other Gotham vigilantes all at once....its that some big conflict or whatever requires a huge team up of all available heroes, and in the aftermath, they figure out that like.....despite being known as solo heroes who work alone or loners outside of their team settings, 80% of these heroes all not only seem to already know each other, they seem to be related.

And so naturally they all turn to Batman, who has profiles on every known hero and they thus figure had researched these individuals too and just never mentioned this little detail, and they’re like, “Did you know about this?”

And then Nightwing turns to him too, arms crossed and is like, “Yeah Dad, did you know about this?”

And the infamous Red Hood is all: “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have never met any of these people before in my life. Lives? Whatever.”

And then Red Robin moodily grates out “I have no siblings.” Since he’s nursing a grudge since Dick and Jason broke into his apartment the night before and replaced all his custom Red Robin gear with Darkwing Duck merchandise and his vengeance will be swift and also totally disproportionate because things escalate quickly in this family, that’s true in every universe.

Cass meanwhile has deftly skewered Jason’s lie by walking over to him and brazenly patting down the man with many many guns with no fear whatsoever. He squawks and futilely attempts to bat her hands away as she riffles through his many pockets, but he doesn’t seem shocked, just annoyed. Eventually, she pulls away and triumphantly reveals a box of Hello Kitty themed band-aids.

“So these are yours then? Just for you?” Black Bat asks smugly. Red Hood squints at the box.

“What the fuck? How long have those been in my jacket? Why are those in my jacket? Did you freaking plant them in my jacket just on the offchance you could at some point in the distant future use them at my expense?”

Black Bat frowns, puzzled. “Yes?”

“Oh come on, Dead Hood,” Spoiler says with an exaggerated toss of her head meant to convey she’s rolling her eyes beneath her own mask. She skips her way across the room to Black Bat and then drapes herself languidly all over the smaller woman. Who in turn doesn’t so much as twitch beneath the sudden added mass as Spoiler holds out her hand towards the box of band-aids. 

“One please. I have a boo-boo,” she says with easy familiarity straight into the intimidating cowl of Black Bat. Only then does she deign to finish her train of thought with Red Hood.

“I mean seriously, are you saying you don’t have potential blackmail set-ups, pre-rigged releases of incriminating material, and a random assortment of traps, pratfalls and mortifying scenarios in place for the express purpose of being able to humiliate any and all of your siblings at any given moment, without any need for additional prep time?”

“Is this true, Little Wing?” Nightwing whirls on the larger Red Hood with a faux-scandalized gasp. The founder and leader of the Titans, formerly the Teen Titans, renowned for his stratagems and calm competence when directing squads of supers in the heat of battle while he keeps pace with nothing more than naturally acquired acrobatics and a utility belt that apparently uses the same technology as Wonder Woman’s invisible jet....now appears to be....staggering with the back of his hand pressed to his forehead, moaning about how he felt....faint? 

What is happening right now, several dozen superheroes want to know. Is this a drill? Are they supposed to be checking for signs of a mental ambush from undetected psychic saboteurs? Did they all hit their heads at the exact same time and are now experiencing some kind of shared mass concussion?

Look, that wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to ever happen on the Watchtower. 

“Have I failed you so utterly?” The veteran child hero bemoans with a dramatic twirl - that when contrasted with his stern demeanor of a mere ten minutes ago - makes the fears of telepathic infiltration seem less paranoia and more....concerningly probable. “Did you learn nothing from me? Did you learn nothing from B?”

He stops and jabs a finger up at the sky. “Quick, everyone! What is the very first rule of Living While Batty?”

As if by rote, over a half a dozen voices chime in from all over the room, causing various heroes to jump. Spooked by yet more and more vigilantes joining in some kind of mass recitation like they and they alone have some kind of clue what the hell is going on and everyone else just hadn’t been invited to the party. Which is just rude, honestly. Nobody likes feeling like they weren’t invited to the party. Not even superheroes. 

“If you’re not going to bother preparing for every possible contingency and at least six impossible ones, you might as well just stay in bed.”

Even the Red Hood joins in the Illuminati chant or Cub Scout pledge or demonic ritual or whatever the fuck that just was, though his slumped and exasperated posture gives away every hint of sulkiness his headgear otherwise would have kept safely hidden. He’s surprisingly more...expressive, than most who’d only known of him by reputation had expected him to be. The day continues to yield surprises.

“Of fucking course I do,” he growls out, snatching the box from Black Bat. She doesn’t even fight to hold onto it, just lets it go with a knowing smirk. “I wasn’t surprised by the idea of it, I was just surprised she bothered with such a weak effort. Like yeah whatever, actually those could be mine. I use those all the time at home. So what?”

He aggressively yanks one of the band-aids out of the box, fumbles with the peel-off strips with one hand and he roughly rolls up the sleeve of his jacket with the other. Then just slaps it on his forearm and raises said appendage high, showing it off this way and that. “See?”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Signal drawls from the other side of the room, nodding his head approvingly. “Totally convincing. Nice job walking that one back, you really showed them.”

Red Hood’s head snaps in his direction with ominous intent. “Watch it, Day-Glo.”

Signal just snorts.

“Yeah, like I’m gonna take constructive criticism on my name and costume from a dude who’s spent the last several years calling himself Red HOOD while running around in a freaking HELMET.”

“Its not meant to be literal, you fucking pedant.”

“So wait, its not literally a helmet? Huh, does it at least protect your head literally, or just like...symbolically? Like if Bane were to clock you across the head, would your concussion just be a metaphor? What’s the treatment protocol for a metaphorical concussion? Fluids, bedrest and a philosophical prescription of two chapters of Chicken Soup for the Soul as needed?”

“Laugh it up, KC and the Sunshine Band,” Red Hood bats back. “You just got yourself disinvited from Thursday night’s poker game.”

Signal just grins and folds his arms over his chest cockily. “Please. You’ve been looking for an excuse to ban me for weeks, cuz you know until you can prove I’m using my ghost vision to cheat, you can’t actually bring suit against me for it in Family Court.”

“That, and also Family Court isn’t a real thing, you toddler. Stop validating Wing-a-ding-ding’s obsession with Shitty TV Nostalgia and just call it that thing where Oracle traps us all in a room until we settle our latest fight without anyone getting stabbed.”

“Yeah, but like, say that five times fast,” Spoiler pipes up. “Its just not practical. Family Court’s way easier.”

“Says the one who’s not even in our fucking family.”

“And yet I grace you all with my sublime presence anyway,” she blows a kiss at him, beatifically unbothered. “You’re welcome.”

The Red Hood scoffs and rounds on his heel, zeroing in on Batwoman in the far corner.

“Hey Auntie B, my siblings are all dead to me and I just helped stop an alien invasion so I deserve nice things like a fun Saturday night. Can you get me into Dad’s fundraiser so I can crash it? He won’t put me back on the list until I promise not to bring any C-4 with me and I won’t promise not to bring any C-4 because he should just trust me that I won’t when I say I’m not gonna and he won’t trust me that I won’t until I admit I shouldn’t have brought any to that sting last month where three tiny little yachts blew up through barely any fault of my own, and I’m just not gonna do that ever because I have convictions and I feel I shouldn’t have to be punished for that. Y’know?”

Batwoman blinks at him. “Kid, I’m not gonna lie to you. You’re my nephew and I love you, but I stopped listening three seconds into all that.”

“Ugh, fine. Can you help me crash Dad’s event tonight so I can teach him a lesson about why he should just trust me not to make a scene so I don’t have to always make a scene to make a point.”

“Tempting as you make that sound,” she says wryly, “I have a strict policy for dealing with you lot and your......everything. I only worry about tolerating one of you at a time, and there’s seven of you, and seven days in the week. You each get your own. You know perfectly well its Robin’s day today. You get me on Tuesday, just like always.”

“Auntie B, we’re not like other families, are we?” Red Robin’s delivery is sarcastically childish and his question clearly rhetorical. Most of his attention is fixated on whatever it is he’s doing with his wrist-mounted computer. 

“No sweetie, we’re all severely fucked in the head and a little bit too comfortable with that.”

“Just checking. Oh hey, Hood, I just emailed you a patch for the hole in your firewall I exploited when replacing all my shit using your accounts just now.”

“You did what?”

“Used your accounts to pay to replace all my stuff that you fucked with last night?” Red Robin says slowly. “Did you not realize that I’ve been sticking within ten feet of you for the past five minutes just so I could clone your devices and do all that while BB and Spoiler kept you distracted? I gotta say, bro, I feel like that’s on you then.”

Red Hood swivels his helmeted head in the direction of the aforementioned two. Black Bat waves. Spoiler shoots him an utterly unrepentant thumbs up.

“You’d side with your ex over me? That’s what its come to?”

“My only allegiance is to chaos,” Spoiler says brightly. Black Bat shrugs.

“Plus he bribes better.”

“Hateful,” Red Hood points at Black Bat, moving on to level the same finger at Spoiler, who curtsies in acknowledgment: “Hateful-er.”

Then the finger rounds the bases to aim judgmentally at Red Robin. “Hateful-est. And that was all Nightwing’s idea anyway, not mine.”

“Oh, I assumed as much,” he says casually. “Your idea of a prank tends to have more of a Carrie vibe. Or be a literal literary reenactment.”

“Its called an homage, 4chan.”

“Whatever, plagiarist. And anyway, I couldn’t go after ‘Wing for payback on this one. He used an Immunity card. If you didn’t want me getting back at you, you should have used one too."

Red Hood looms aggressively. Red Robin ignores willfully. Round and round they go. Superheroes who can survive excessive G-Forces are getting dizzy just watching them have a largely motionless stand-off. That shouldn’t be how that works, but whatever. All the most infamously reclusive and isolated heroes in all hero-dom are apparently part of the same one big reclusive and isolated family of fucked up weirdos and they’re all officially bonkers. Nothing makes sense anymore. Reality broke. Try another stall.

“Okay, but see, in order to have an Immunity card, I would have to participate in one of you losers’ stupid Immunity challenges,” the Red Hood drags out with exaggerated patience. “And I’m just not going to do that, on account of those all being fucking stupid. You see the problem there?”

Red Robin just shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you, bro. You can have principles or you can have an Immunity card. You can’t have both.”

Meanwhile, on another side of....the same room.....look, its like, an octagonal room, probably. It has a lot of sides. Robin fends off questions from an aggrieved looking Superboy.

“You never told me you had a bajillion brothers and sisters!”

“Yes but I never said I didn’t either.”

Superboy rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah, so I should just assume everyone I meet has a bajillion secret brothers and sisters?”

“Well clearly it would have worked out in your favor in this instance if you had, now wouldn’t it?”

“Assuming of course that you can trust what has been said or implied here today and I am actually related to any of those numbskulls. Which I am not actually admitting to,” Robin tacks on hastily.

Superboy eyes him dubiously. “You joined in the same creepy chant all the others did and then got super self-conscious and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Which uh. I did.”

“First off, your interpretation of body language is abyssmal. I do not get self-conscious,” Robin says with a delivery that probably could have benefited from being a little less self-conscious. “And second....that proves nothing. I guessed what they were going to say.”

“Word for word,” Superboy says super-skeptically.

“I’m very good at guessing things. You know this.”

“Okay. Guess how much I believe you right now then.”

Robin glares and folds his arms grumpily across his chest. 

“And what was that anyway? Was that like....you guys’ family motto or something like that?”

“Oh no,” Spoiler pipes up. “That’s much shorter.”

Superboy balks at that. “Wait, you guys actually have one of those for real?”

“Yup,” Steph says, counting out the words with her fingers. “He who laughs last....probably works for the Joker. So tranq him just to be safe. See? Only sixteen words. The first rule of Living While Batty is way longer, and what we said was just the abridged version. You should hear the original, before Black Bat put her foot down and refused to memorize it unless sizable edits were made.”

Superboy hovers between her and Robin now, both in mid-air and on the verge of taking Spoiler’s words as an invitation to hear just that. A low growl arises from Robin’s direction.

“Must you?” He asks the older vigilante, with a most put upon expression.

She looks at him pityingly. “Do you actually need me to answer that? Like, we’ve met, right? Hi, I’m Spoiler.”

“Wait, so Robin said that I just never specifically asked him if he had a bajillion brothers and sisters, and that’s why he didn’t tell me, so that means he wouldn’t have just lied and there’s not some code of secrecy that flat out forbids telling other people stuff, right?” Superboy realizes excitedly.

“Yes, excellent direction. Go on,” Spoiler says, steepling her fingers. Robin buries his face in the palm of one hand.

“Soooo, what other stuff could you tell me about Robin’s super top secret family that I wouldn’t think to ask about but that he would tell me about if I knew what questions to ask?”

She claps once, lightly but with emphasis. “Well done. You’ve passed the first barrier. Untold secrets await you behind just a few more.”

“I’ll get you for this,” Robin vows calmly. She waves a hand at him.

“Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you do it before January 1st, remember? You’ve promised retribution like ten times already this year and those don’t roll over, y’know. Rules are rules.”

“Enough!” Thunders a voice then, from the front of the room. Well one of the fronts anyway. Like sides, it has a lot of them, but this is the one where Batman’s standing. All eyes snap to him. Which is kinda just what eyes do when Batman says stuff like that. Its like his superpower, except he doesn’t actually have superpowers, which is what makes it scary. But where the snapping of the eyes (directional) is usually followed by Batman saying something else besides just “hey look at me,” here he pauses in the wake of his own call to attention’s waning reverberations. Uncharacteristically silent.

Not that, y’know, he’s normally Mr. Talkity Talk, but usually his silences feel like he has the words to fill them, he’s just withholding them. This though, this feels more like he doesn’t have any words at all. And he’s as confused by it as any of them, and most everyone else is confused by Batman being confused, and its this whole trickle down economy of confusion and its wrecking havoc on the value of the golden silence standard.

Of course, not everyone present is rendered spellbound with confusion.

“C’mon B,” Nightwing cajoles, leaning forward and practically radiating delight. “I think you know what you have to do now. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Its not likely to come around again.”

Red Hood snickers beneath his helmet and chimes in. “Yeah Pops, go ahead. You do this and you’ll actually have my respect for a whole twenty four hours. No, wait. Sixteen. No! Eight. Yeah, eight. Still a good deal.”

“Carpe diem, B,” Red Robin grins, leaning back as if to enjoy the show.

“Hey! Infringe on my trademark one more time, dude,” Signal throws a faux-glare at the former. Red Robin just quirks an eyebrow.

“And what, you’ll start saying Yum every time you eat a burger? Oh no. I’m hoist by my own petard.”

Signal flips him off with a grin and then redirects his attention back to Batman. “Yeah seriously though B, you kinda gotta do it now. Because if you don’t do it, then you’ll forever be the guy who didn’t do it, and you don’t want to be that guy, do you?”

“Yeah you really don’t want to be that guy,” Spoiler shouts out. “Nobody likes that guy. He’s the worst.”

“Do it, do it,” Black Bat starts chanting beside her, steadily picking up speed and volume. Several others start joining in. Even Robin appears to be slightly anticipatory, albeit trying very hard to hide it.

Batman sighs, and somehow everyone manages to hear it. Stills. Waits for....something? Nobody but them seems to have any clue what, but the air is thick and heavy with portentiousness. Something is about to happen, and all most of the heroes present could say for sure is it was something they never would have in a million years seen coming.

Finally, Batman straightens with the resigned air of a man about to have oh so many regrets. He crosses his arms, shakes his head, and in an absolute deadpan monotone, says:

“You are awful children. You know you’re killing me. You’re killing your father.”