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scoobydoodean · 1 month ago

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Sam and Dean are having a covert fight the entirety of 7.13 "Slice Girls", from the very beginning to the end over the very different ways they're coping with Bobby's death.

Sam is pushing them to hunt more (which is typical—also see: 2.02, 3.11, 4.09), while Dean is exhibiting the same depression symptoms we've seen all season, expressing deep cynicism about the job (ex: 7.05, 7.09) fantasizing about escape, and seeking drinks and conversation with strangers in bars as a distraction.

We open 7.13 with Sam driving and Dean asleep in the passenger seat, and it's immediately apparent that Dean didn't want to go on this hunt, and Sam really really did. It's also apparent that Sam is bothered by how Dean is coping, and Dean is bothered by how Sam is coping... Probably because Sam's way of coping (hunting) is the exact opposite of what Dean would like to do.

SAM: Is that Bobby’s? [DEAN takes a drink from Bobby's flask.] SAM: I didn’t know you kept that. DEAN: Yeah, mine sprung a leak. SAM: You know, most people would just carry a – a photo or something for a memento. DEAN: Shut up, man. I’m – I’m – I’m honoring the guy, all right? This is, uh, grief therapy, kind of like you and your wild-goose chase. SAM: Wild-goose chase? DEAN: Yeah.

Sam's clearly worried about Dean's drinking, and has been for a while, but he's too antsy to address the subject outright, so he teases instead. Dean reads the underlying judgement and argues that what he's doing is no less destructive than Sam pushing them to drive through the night for a case that might not be anything. The thing is, this is absolutely a weird situation that's right up their alley as a potential case. Dean just didn't do the reading, because he didn't want to go on a hunt to begin with.

SAM: Four guys murdered in two weeks, hands and feet cut off. DEAN: Yeah, well, some guy with a foot fetish run amuck. SAM: Grown men thrown so hard they went through walls. Did you – did you even read the article? DEAN: No, I was napping.

Sam then reminds Dean that they agreed the previous episode that it was best to stay busy to cope with Bobby's death... or rather—Sam said he wanted to work to cope with Bobby's death, and Dean agreed that that was best for him too but didn't mean it, then practiced fake smiles in the driver's seat.

SAM: Well, anyway, what else you got going on? Dick Roman’s a dead end for now, you might as well – DEAN: Stay busy. SAM: Exactly. DEAN: Yeah.

At the forensics lab, Dean has an odd interaction with the forensics expert, bragging about their health care benefits package as "FBI agents". This annoys Sam, who's all business. Dean's small talk full of lies feels odd—but might reflect his desire to escape to a job that provides them with actual pay and health insurance (hell—as Bobby's emergency contact, he might be dodging calls over Bobby's insurance over his stay in the trauma center).

Dean begrudgingly admits there's a case here, and Sam wants to begin research, but Dean nopes right out of that.

SAM: Let’s get a bite to eat, go back to the motel, haul out the laptop. DEAN: That’s a great idea. Actually, that’s a brilliant idea. Here’s my counter. You do that, I’ll go undercover, go mingle amongst the locals and see, uh, what kind of clues bubble to the surface. SAM: You’re going to a bar.

Sam tries to call Dean out for bailing, but Dean doesn't actually give a damn that Sam wants him to work, so he basically just goes, "yep" and takes off.

At the bar, Dean again imagines himself as a normal person, talking with Lydia about having a decent year in terms of income. Sam and Dean have spent a lot of the season squatting in abandoned homes because their money situation is so bad (Dean complains about this in 7.09 and 7.12), and Dean burned 15 grand he managed to scrape together (probably from Bobby's estate) on payments to Frank. Lydia talks about not being ready to settle down. Dean at least pretends to agree (this is 8 episodes after his last attempt at a one night stand required a pep talk to convince himself, "One night stands are what you do").

Next, the brothers fight at least two separate times about Sam finding an expert (Preofessor Morisson) to do some of the lore search they used to rely on Bobby for, with Dean grumbling (essentially) about how no one can replace Bobby, and Sam being annoyed that Dean's grumbling when they have no other choice if they want to solve the case.

After that, things start to take a turn from what happened at the beginning of the episode with Dean denying the obvious. Sam starts making some really weird accusations and denials that just don't make sense.

First, Dean contacts Lydia because he realizes he left his flask at her house. Sam insists on the narrative that Dean's catching feelings, when it's blatantly obvious that Dean just wants to retrieve a flask with sentimental value because it belonged to Bobby. Then Sam's teasing Dean over Lydia not answering his calls, inferring that Dean is wounded by rejection, instead of very clearly just wants the flask. Right after another complaint from Dean about Morrison:

SAM: Dean, you know what? I want to call him, too, okay? Believe me. But Bobby's not here. So we're settling [for Professor Morrison]. DEAN: Yeah. We sure are. [DEAN looks at his phone.] DEAN: Damn it, why hasn't she called? SAM: Who? Lydia? Wait, so some girl's actually dumping you the morning after? DEAN: I think you're enjoying this a little more than you need to. Screw it. I'm going over there and getting the flask.

I think we can make an argument here that Sam's denying the significance Dean assigns to the flask because it represents 1) Dean's worsening relationship with alcohol 2) How that relationship to alcohol in season 7 is attached to Dean's grief over losing people he loves (Cas and Bobby).

Second, Sam weirdly pretends that Dean's description of Lydia's toddler talking like an adult and growing to the size of a 6 year old with hours is not weird and that Dean is just being crazy somehow... and it's even weirder that Sam pretends it's not weird and that Dean is being crazy, given Dean shares this information about Lydia with Sam after Sam finds out that the bar where Dean met Lydia is directly connected to the disappearances of several men who met one night stands there.

One the phone, Sam complains that Dean hasn't met up with him:

SAM: You never showed. DEAN: I'm outside Lydia's. SAM: Oh, come on, man. What, are you obsessed or something? DEAN: No, I'm telling you. I have been eating at the buffet of strange all afternoon. SAM: Meaning what? DEAN: I'll tell you the second I know. But something ain't right. SAM: Or you're obsessed. DEAN: Shut up. I'm serious.

Then later in person, Sam repeatedly denies that Dean could possibly know what he's talking about:

SAM: So what? I mean, so maybe she has another kid she didn't tell you about. DEAN: Nope, just the one. Emma. But that night, when I was with her, she didn't have any. And I was at her place, man. There was no playpens, no blankets, no rubber ducks. SAM: Right. Like you would have been focused on that kind of thing.

and,

DEAN: Then, all of a sudden, boom – baby. SAM: Yeah, the one you thought talked. DEAN: Oh, it talked. And not baby talk, either. SAM: Now you know so much about child development?

Dean eventually gets genuinely irritated:

DEAN: Lydia's handing this kid who's calling her mommy over to these two women, right? But this is not a baby. No, no, this kid's got to be five. And same name – Emma. SAM: You know, George Foreman named all his sons George. DEAN: Are you deliberately messing with me?

Sam just shrugs. I think Sam's denying the stakes here because he doesn't want to believe yet another person he cares about might be in danger. He'd prefer to believe Dean is just playing Dean Winchester, Playboy Who's Caught Feelings. It's only after they get a lore update from Professor Morrison matching Dean's story that Sam relents.

Third, Sam blows up at Dean when he suggests Bobby is haunting them through the flask... except... Sam also clearly thinks there's something to it? Dean sees a paper move and immediately reports it to Sam as a sign of ghost activity, and Sam doesn't hesitate to take out the EMF meter... but then he notices there's a nearby powerline and gets condescending about how it's obviously interfering with the readings. Dean suggests maybe the flask is haunted, and Sam gets mad.

SAM: We burned him, Dean. DEAN: So what?

They know that objects can be haunted. They know that.

SAM: So, what are you suggesting? DEAN: I don't know. What are you?

Dean knows Sam thinks he's crazy.

SAM: Concentrate on something else. DEAN: Why? SAM: Because it's [raising his voice and stepping close to DEAN] not Bobby! DEAN: Could be. SAM: No, it couldn't be. DEAN: Why not? SAM: [loudly, very close to DEAN] Because we want it to be.

The thing is, Sam immediately does something that contradicts his vehement rejection of Dean's theory that Bobby moved the papers!!!

SAM snatches the piece of parchment from the bed. DEAN: Maybe it's useful. SAM: It's in a pile of "maybe it's useful." Besides, it's in Greek. Nobody reads Greek. DEAN: Yeah, except Greeks. Oh, and Bobby. SAM: And Professor Morrison. DEAN: Really? SAM: I'm going, Dean. You stay here, keep the door locked. Don't go anywhere. I mean it.

Wow wow wow.

Anyway though. Is it any wonder Sam lectures Dean at the end of the episode for hesitating to kill his own daughter, insists that she wasn't really his, and then when Dean says that is objectively false, Sam calls him crazy?

SAM: You know what? Bobby was right. Your head's not in it, man. When Cas died, you were wobbly, but now...

Finally, Dean snaps back.

DEAN: Now what? Oh, what, you're dealing with it so perfect? Yeah, news flash, pal – you're just as screwed up as I am! You're just... bigger.

Sam doesn't get to pretend he's fine just because his coping strategies involve hunting to escape instead of drinking. Like Dean, he is avoiding certain realities to cope with his grief and fears. Hell—one could argue he does that much more than Dean during this episode.

Excerpts from 7.13 transcript on the good SPN wiki

#pk rewatches spn number ?#7.13 #season 7 #the flannel business #bad therapist sam #i just stopped #dean and drugs #emma #sam and bobby #dean and bobby #dean and grief #sam and grief #sam the hunter

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tastybluesprite · 27 days ago

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Nighttime Errand (Supernatural)

Here’s my second Supernatural fanfic! I love these guys so much. Not much for me to say other than I hope you like it.

Warnings: Tickling, mentions of alcoholism, also this is not to make Dean seem like a massive alcoholic (yes technically he can be considered one in the show but still), it’s not meant to be alarming, this fic is supposed to be purely fun.

Summery: Dean wants to go out on a beer run during the night. Sam is not for that.

The motel room smelled faintly of mildew, but it worked like any other motel they’ve been to. The two brothers were both doing their own thing, Sam was doing more research for their next job, and Dean was flipping through channels on the motel TV for the hell of it, drinking the last bottle of beer they had

Not long after, it was finished. Dean sighed as he shook it a bit.

He didn’t exactly consider himself an alcoholic (that much anyway), but he still at least wanted to stock up for the next day. Plus he felt he had to get out for a bit anyway. He was getting a bit antsy.

“We’re out of beer.” Dean announced with a sigh.

Sam, sprawled out on the bed with his laptop, barely looked up. “Yeah, because you drank it all.”

“Gonna go to the store,” Dean said, grabbing his jacket.

Sam glanced at the clock on the nightstand, raising an eyebrow. “It’s eleven o’clock at night, Dean. Can’t it wait until morning?”

“Nope.” Dean snatched up his car keys from the table and turned toward the door.

“Dean,” Sam said warningly, sitting up straighter. “You’re not seriously going out now just for beer.”

“Why not? It’s beer.”

Sam groaned, rubbing his temples. Before Dean could make it to the door, Sam stood and, in one swift motion, plucked the keys from Dean’s hand.

“Hey!” Dean whirled around, glaring. “Give those back.”

“No.” Sam said firmly, holding the keys behind his back.

Dean narrowed his eyes. “Sam, don’t you start.”

“Dean, it’s late, you’re tired, and we don’t need you getting pulled over or worse just because you’re out on a beer run.”

Dean took a step forward. “I’m not going to get pulled over. Just hand them over.”

Sam shook his head, backing away toward the far side of the room. “Nope. You’ll thank me in the morning. You can’t get too drunk, we still have a case to work tomorrow.”

Dean’s demeanor turned a bit more playful, but still glaring. He inched toward Sam slowly.

“What are you… Dean, wait!” Sam tried to sidestep as Dean lunged at him, but the motel room didn’t leave much room to get around. Dean tackled him onto the bed, pinning him down easily. Sam may have been taller and bigger, but Dean knew his baby brother lile the back of his own hand.

“Give me the keys!” Dean barked, reaching for Sam’s hand.

“No! Get off, Dean!” Sam shouted, twisting and squirming as he tried to keep the keys out of Dean’s reach.

Dean’s frustration quickly turned into amusement as Sam wriggled beneath him. He remembered the countless times that they’ve done this when they were kids. He remembered exactly what he would do to make Sam give in. Dean’s grin slowly turned wicked.

“Oh, you’re getting it now.” he said, his voice low and teasing.

Sam froze for a second. “Dean… what are you- g-gYAh!”

Dean didn’t respond. Instead, he darted his hands to Sam’s sides, digging his fingers gently into his flank.

“Dehean nohoho!” Sam burst into high pitched hysterical giggles, his body bucking wildly. “Stohohop, plehehease!”

“Not until you give me the keys.” Dean replied simply, grinning as he kneaded his fingers into Sam’s ribs. “Man, I forgot how ticklish you are!”

“AHHahahaha ihihim nOHOhot!” Sam cried out. The loud, bubbly laughter pouring out of him reminded Dean of back when they were kids. Sam had the same little habits. Little squeaks in his laughter, his feet kicking out. His hands trying to reach for Deans arms to push uselessly. Sam was bigger now, but way too ticklish for his own good. It made Sam’s size meaningless.

“Oh, really? What’s this then?” Dean teased, moving his hands to Sam’s belly and squeezing just above his hips.

“PLeHEHeHahase! Nahahaha NOHOHot thehehere!” Sam shrieked, trying to twist away.

“Not the belly, huh?” Dean grinned as he sunk his fingers into it over Sam’s shirt and vibrated his fingers in. An old trick. And it clearly still worked. Sam’s laughter turned up louder and more frantic, writhing as his back arched.

“Oh and what about here? This still bad for you?” Dean’s hands darted to Sam’s armpits, wiggling his fingers in the sensitive hollows.

Sam howled with hysterical laughter, his arms instinctively snapping down to try to protect himself. “DEHehehan! Stohohop! I cahahahan’t!”

“Can’t what? Give me the damn keys?” Dean teased, his grin widening. He missed seeing his brother like this. So carefree, happy. He hadn’t heard Sam’s genuine and real laughter since they were kid’s.

Sam didn’t respond, too lost in his frantic, uncontrollable laughter as he pawed weakly at Deans chest and arms. The car keys were miraculously still in Sam’s fist.

“Hey remember that one spot I know you just loved?” Dean smirked, trailing his hands back to Sam’s ribs. “You always got weak right about…here.”

Dean’s fingers found the soft part of Sam’s ribcage, right at the bottom where the floater ribs were. He gently dug his fingers in lightly, kneading the area.

“NAHAHAHA! DEHEHEAN! NOHOHOT THEHEHERE!”

“Bingo!” Dean said triumphantly with a wide grin, focusing his efforts on the spot. “This was your ultimate weakness, wasn’t it? Just these little ribs right here and, boom, you were gone!”

Sam was completely in stitches now. His laughter now high pitched, frantic, and desperate. His body writhed and twitched helplessly beneath Dean. “PLEHEHEASE! AHAHA! OKAHAHAHAY! OKAHAHAHAY!”

Dean paused for a moment, his hands still resting on the soft spot on his ribs. “You giving me the keys?”

Sam nodded frantically, gasping for air. “Y-yehehes! Juhust stohohop!”

Grinning, Dean plucked the keys from Sam’s hand and climbed off him.

Sam rolled onto his side, little giggling still leaking out weakly, as he tried to catch his breath. “You’re an ass.” he muttered between gasps.

“Yeah. But now I’m an ass with car keys,” Dean said with a smirk, jingling them triumphantly.

Sam shot him a glare but didn’t move to stop him as Dean grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

“See ya later Sammy!” Dean said with a wink before disappearing out the door.

Sam sighed and rolled to his back. His breathing and nerves finally stabilizing.

He smiled to himself despite the torture Dean just put him through. It felt good knowing Dean was the same old goof of a brother that he was when they were kids.

Thx for reading!

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imagineteamfreewill · 1 year ago

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Cursed

Title: Cursed

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: Brief heavy drinking, suggested dub con (nothing actually happens besides PG-13 touching, but more is suggested and the reader does not want to participate), cursed Dean, language, angst, a little fluff

Summary: Dean’s cursed after a witch hunt and Sam and Y/N are left to deal with the consequences.

A/N: This is a super random one shot I started writing in 2018 that I just recently found in an old WIP folder. I’ve changed it a lot from what it originally started as, but I hope it’s enjoyable nonetheless. As always, thanks for reading and for supporting me in all the ways you do!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

“Dean,” you sigh. You steal the sweaty, half-drunk beer bottle from his hand. “You can’t just drink until you black out!”

He rolls his eyes at you, pulling another bottle from the paper carton beside him. It’s already empty and he huffs in annoyance, setting it aside before grabbing the fourth and final beer from its slot.

“Dean!”

He doesn’t respond, instead choosing to pry the top off the bottle and take a long swig, then let out a satisfied sigh. The bottle cap clatters to the concrete beneath his pool chair. He smacks his lips and you try to disguise your disgust, even if he won’t care either way.

Frustrated, you stomp back to the motel room and push the door open, slamming your room key and the bottle you’d taken away on the table in front of Sam. The door hits the door jamb on the wall before bouncing back and slamming shut with a bang.

“Your brother is going to be the end of me!” you growl.

Sam looks up, eyebrows raised as he tries to transition his mind from the lore he’s been reading to what you’ve said. “Hmm?”

You groan and run a hand through your hair, inwardly praying for some patience, then look back down at him. “I said,” you begin, unable to even vaguely disguise how you feel, “that your brother is slowly annoying me to death! Please tell me that you have a cure, or at least a counter-curse! I don’t know how much longer I can take this!”

“I haven’t found anything so far,” Sam replies, shaking his head apologetically. He reaches for the beer bottle and you snatch it away, grinding your teeth in frustration. Though you want to take a sip of it yourself to make the next few hours—or days, depending on how long it takes you and Sam to find a cure—easier, you grip it hard in one hand for a second before sighing and putting it back on the edge of the table. Just because Dean was drinking himself to death, doesn’t necessarily mean that his younger brother had to suffer.

“Just… Just figure something out. I need to go back to keeping an eye on Mister R&R out there.” You gesture towards the door, then press the heels of your hands to your eyes. You’re exhausted; not only had yesterday’s witch hunt been nothing more than a dead end, but somehow, Dean managed to get himself cursed. It’s up to you and Sam to find the witch and a cure, and Dean’s no help. The curse has left him incapable of doing any actual work, instead convincing him that all he should do for the rest of his life is relax. All you’ve done for the last day and a half is chase after him to make sure that he doesn’t break any laws or get himself hurt.

“We’ll figure it out, Y/N. I promise,” Sam reassures. “Why don’t you try to get some rest? Maybe we can convince Dean to come relax in here. If we’re lucky, he might sleep, too. Sleeping isn’t work—if we spin it the right way he might go for it.”

You nod wearily and pick up the beer again. You dump its contents down the bathroom drain before tossing the empty bottle in the plastic trash can. “Are there any more of those in here?” you ask, heading back out to the main part of the room.

Sam turns in his seat to glance around the room, then shakes his head. “Nope. I think Dean got ‘em all already.” He closes his laptop and pushes the chair back from the table, standing and grabbing your keycard. “You take a shower and I’ll go get Dean. You look like hell.”

Snorting, you send Sam a grateful look and go over to your duffel, where you pull out your bag of toiletries and one of Dean’s old t-shirts. After a second of thought, you grab a pair of shorts, just in case he’s feeling grabby. “Gee, thanks.”

The sound of the door closing is Sam’s response. You shut your eyes for a second, soaking in the still, peaceful silence of the room before going into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you. It’s the first time since yesterday morning that you’ve been alone, and it’s the first time it’s been so quiet, too.

Minutes later, you’re scrubbing yourself down and ignoring the way that the dirty water pools around your feet as you rinse away the grime from the past two days. It feels good to finally be clean. You’re just rinsing off your face and hair when you hear the bathroom door open and you freeze, carefully peeking open an eye to stare at the frosted white shower curtain. The person on the other side doesn’t move, nor do they make a sound.

“Sam?” you ask after a second. “Is that you?”

“Guess again,” Dean replies, a bit too cheerily for your liking.

You can only see his vague silhouette through the shower curtain, but you can clearly picture the arrogant smirk on his face. It’s been one of the few expressions on his face since he’d been cursed. The others in the rotation have left you equally as irritated.

Pursing your lips, you quickly finish rinsing off and turn the knob to shut off the water. “Hand me my towel,” you say, sticking a hand out around the curtain. It’s a request you’ve made many times in the past, yet now it comes out harsher, more like an order or a command than a simple task.

“Why? It’s not like we haven’t seen each other naked before,” Dean counters.

You sigh, your arm dropping slightly as you keep it held out. “Dean, come on. This isn’t you. Please just hand me my towel.”

“Of course it’s me,” he says. “I’m just wondering why my girl won’t let me see her wet and naked. We could have a lot of fun that way…” His fingertips brush your forearm as his silhouette moves closer, and you snatch your arm back.

“You’re cursed, Dean. We’ve talked about this. Now please, hand me my towel.” Dean only hums in response and you growl quietly to yourself before yelling, “Sam! Sam, get in here!”

A moment later, the bathroom door squeaks open again and you hear Sam shout in annoyance.

“Jesus Christ, Dean! Put on some clothes!”

“Of course he’s naked,” you mumble under your breath. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

Dean chuckles and you shift your weight from one foot to the other, trying not to slip and fall. The chill from the bathroom has started to set in now that you’re no longer under hot water, and goosebumps have broken out over your damp skin. You shiver.

“Sam,” you call, a little louder so you can be certain that he’ll hear you. “Sam, please just hand me my towel. Your idiot brother refuses to.”

You feel the rough fabric in your hand as soon as you stick your arm out again, and you quickly yank it inside the shower with you before Dean can snatch it. After wrapping it around yourself, you pull the shower curtain open to find Dean buttoning his jeans, his upper half still bare.

“Thanks for putting pants on,” you say, pushing him out of the way so that you can get to the sink. Hopefully, your praise will incentivize him to do what you ask. Maybe he’ll be more willing to nap that way. It’s only a thread of hope, but you’ll cling to it until it breaks.

You wipe the fog off the mirror with your hand and peer at your reflection for a second before grabbing your comb and starting to comb out your hair, shivering when cold water drips onto your bare shoulders.

“Let me do that,” Dean says. He grabs the comb before you can answer and picks up where you left off, leaving you to hold up your towel in silence. His hands are gentle and for a moment, you forget that he’s cursed. This is something he does for you all the time. It’s one of the ways he shows you that he cares for you, even when he’s wrapped up in his own thoughts or when the two of you are too tired to even talk.

When the thought pops into your head, however, you begin to analyze the situation, trying to figure out exactly how this is helping Dean relax. So far, he’s only done things that help him relax, not others, which means that this somehow has to be more beneficial to him than it is to you.

Narrowing your eyes slightly, you reach up and take the comb from his hands, ignoring the spark of electricity that runs up your arm when your skin brushes against his. “Why are you doing this?” you ask, crossing your arms over the top of your towel as you turn to face him.

Dean shrugs, glancing at his reflection in the mirror behind you. His expression seems more normal than it has since the witch hunt, and you grip the edge of the towel a little tighter, watching him carefully. Has the curse been broken somehow?

“Dunno. I like playing with your hair, I guess.” A familiar, lazy smile crosses his face as he meets your eyes a second later, and he takes a step forward so his hips pin yours against the bathroom counter. “Plus, I know what happens when you get relaxed and you feel taken care of.”

Scoffing, you push Dean off of you and toss the comb down, then grab your shirt and shorts off the counter. “Get out. I need to change. Go…” You pause, frantically wracking your brain for some suggestion he might actually go for. “Go wait for me in bed, okay? Yeah? I’ll come join you in a minute.” You hope that your words sound promising enough, even if you don’t really plan on doing anything with him while he’s cursed. You couldn’t stomach it.

Dean dips his head to stare down at you with the same lazy, drunk smile on his face as before. “Okay. I’ll be waiting, sweetheart. Don’t take too long.”

He slips out the door, finally leaving you alone, and you quickly push the door shut and flip the lock—something you should’ve done in the first place. You shudder, then glance at your phone on the counter.

“Come on,” you mutter. “Anything is better than this.”

Reluctantly, you force yourself to pick up the phone and send a short, carefully worded text before setting it aside and changing into your clean clothes. Rowena’s response comes just as soon as you’re dressed, and you close your eyes when you read her message, relieved. After forwarding it to Sam, you carry your things out to the main room, only to find that Dean’s just where he had promised he would be. A quick glance around the room shows that Sam has chosen to make himself scarce, and you silently curse his name in every language you know.

“Hey there, Y/N,” Dean drawls, directing your attention back to him. His jeans are unbuttoned again, though not unzipped, and you swallow the lump in your throat at the sight of his half-naked frame sprawled out on the bed, trying to focus on the task at hand. You need to sleep, and you figure that if Dean is sleeping, he can’t get into any trouble. It’s getting him to sleep that will be the problem.

“Hey,” you casually reply. You set your things down in your bag, taking a minute to rearrange them with your back to Dean. You hear noise coming from the bed as you plug your phone in on the TV stand and you slow your movement, listening as Dean moves the pillows and blankets around to his liking. When you turn around again, the extra pillows are all on the floor and he’s settled in the middle of the bed, his arms crossed over his chest as he regards you with a cocky smile.

“You gonna come over here or what?”

Forcing a smile of your own, you cross the room and grab a pillow off the floor, then crawl into bed with Dean. His hands immediately go for your hips in an attempt to pull you on top of him, but you push them away.

“Roll over,” you say, tucking your wet hair behind your ear. “Let me give you a massage first.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, clearly liking your suggestion, then moves over to lay on his stomach. You get to work, doing your very best to get him to relax as much as possible.

You must’ve massaged Dean’s back and shoulders for an hour before you finally hear him let out a soft snore. Your hands are sore, but relief floods you and you carefully move to the opposite edge of the bed and lay on your stomach. You close your eyes, desperately hoping that you’ll fall asleep quickly so you can get as much rest as possible before he awakes.

When you wake up, you can hear Dean arguing with Sam, their voices hushed despite the anger lacing their words. Slowly, you open your eyes and lie still, listening. You’ve rolled over onto your side in your sleep, so you can stare at the wall and watch their shadows as they argue.

“Dean, you can’t go out right now. Y/N is sleeping and I’m not going with you,” Sam huffs. He’s all at once placating and annoyed with his older brother, the same way a parent who’s fed up with their child’s antics might speak. “I have better things to do than pick up chicks at a bar, including finding something to help break whatever curse you’re under.”

“I don’t need your help, Sammy. I’m fine! And I’m not going to a bar, I’m just going to get some food from the taco place down the street!”

“Really? You’re not cursed? Is that why you were taking up most of the bed and Y/N’s only got the edge? Because that’s not like you, man. You’ve been acting differently since we got back yesterday.”

“I told you, I’m fine,” Dean hisses. “Just drop it.”

You listen intently for whatever Sam has to say in response, but it’s too quiet for you to make out anything. After a minute, the door to the parking lot opens, then slams shut. You don’t hear Sam go after his brother, nor do you hear anyone moving around the room, and you frown against your pillow.

Confused, you sit up in bed and rub your eyes before going over to the window, carefully pulling the curtain away from the edge so you can peek outside. It’s pitch black outside. You hadn’t glanced at the clock on the nightstand as you’d crawled out of bed, but you’re certain it’s the middle of the night. You’d slept for almost eight hours, which is practically a miracle.

The boys are just outside the door, on the walkway that runs from the motel office and past every room, all the way to the end of the building. They’re still arguing, but Sam looks more shocked than frustrated. The parking lot lights flicker for a second, and when they come back on, you realize that both Sam and Dean are staring at you.

Feeling a bit guilty that you were caught eavesdropping, you drop the curtain. Then, you step over to the door and pull it open so you can stand in the doorway. Though it’s dark out, Sam and Dean are close enough where you can see them clearly in the overhead lights, and you look between them.

“Is everything okay?” you ask.

The two brothers glance at each other, their unspoken conversation ending with Dean’s shoulders slumping, before Sam bitterly answers, “Dean has something he’d like to tell you.”

“Okay…” You turn your attention to Dean, unsure of what to expect.

It takes him a minute to speak up. “I, uh… I wasn’t cursed.”

You stare at him for a second, trying to understand how his behavior the past 36 hours lines up with that statement. “What?”

“There’s no curse. I wasn’t cursed before, and I’m not cursed now. I’m fine,” he says.

Anger is starting to rise up into your chest and you clench your hands into fists. Slowly, in a way you hope will get you the clearest answer possible, you reply, “What do you mean there was no curse? If there’s no curse, then why have you been acting the way you have?”

Dean has the decency to look ashamed, and he looks away to stare at the window leading into the motel office. The employee manning the front desk looks asleep, with one hand propping his head up on the laminate countertop. The vacancy sign in the window flickers. Sam leaves and heads to the Impala, but you only spare him a glance. A few moments later, the car starts up and drives off toward the main part of town.

“I don’t know. I needed a break from the responsibilities. I wanted to live like there was nothing to worry about, just for a day,” Dean tells you after the parking lot returns to silence once more.

You can’t decide if you’re more shocked at the revelation that he’s not cursed, angry that he’s done what he did, or saddened that Dean felt the way he had, yet he hadn’t felt like he could talk to you about it. You would’ve given him the best day off ever, had you known that’s what he needed. Instead, he’s taken advantage of you and his brother, and he’s treated you poorly in the process. He’s acted like a complete and total selfish asshole.

“I can’t believe you,” you finally scoff. You cross your arms over your chest, but you drop them back down to your sides almost immediately. Angry tears fill your eyes. “You are so selfish! If you had just said something, we could’ve done whatever you’d wanted, but instead, you had to act like you’d been cursed! We were worried sick, Dean!”

You step forward into his space, jabbing a finger at his chest. “I was terrified that we’d never find a cure, and the way you treated me?” You scoff again and shake your head. “Unbelievable. Unbelievable, Dean! I can’t believe you’d treat me like that. I can’t believe you’d treat Sam like that! Do you know that we were this close to making a deal with Rowena?” You bring your hand up between his face and yours, holding your thumb and index finger only an inch apart to emphasize your point. “This close!”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he answers, his voice quiet. He stares down at the sidewalk.

You drop your hand back down your side. “Are you?”

He nods and lifts his head to look up at you. In any other situation, you might’ve broken at the grief in his eyes, but you’re too furious to back down now.

“Y/N, you gotta believe me! If I’d known how out of hand this was going to get, I wouldn’t have done it, but by the time I realized how far I’d taken it, it was too late! I hadn’t thought of a way to get rid of the fake curse without it being too big of an issue, so I had to keep rolling with it.”

You shake your head again, shocked and disgusted that he’d done something so drastic. Throwing up both your hands, you take a step back towards the motel room. “You had to keep rolling with it? I can’t. I can’t deal with this right now! I’m going back to bed.” You turn and start to dig for your keycard in your pajama pocket, even though you know it’s not there.

“We can talk about it whenever you’re ready,” Dean says. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

“You know, I honestly don’t even know if I want to talk to you,” you snap, turning to face him again. “And I’m not sure that there even is a way for you to make this up to me, Dean. This is so far beyond the realm of things that you could’ve done that I can’t even wrap my brain around it!”

You stomp back to the motel room door and yank on the handle. Predictably, it doesn’t budge, and you let out a shriek of frustration. Dean silently offers you his keycard, holding it by your hand though he stands just beyond your view. You snatch it from him and shove it into the slot above the handle. When the light turns green, you shove the door open and step inside, then slam it behind you again, leaving the Dean standing alone on the walkway.

Though you’d said you were going back to bed, you’re too riled up to sleep, so you grab your toiletries and head to the bathroom for your second shower of the day. Thankfully, this is the nicest motel you’ve had in a while. The water pressure may not be great, but the hot water lasts for a long time and there’s nothing suspicious growing anywhere in the bathroom. Once inside, you lock the door behind you and toss your stuff onto the vanity, ignoring it when it slides into the sink instead of staying on the countertop.

As you stand under the hot spray of the shower, you stare hard at the wall. You half-listen to the room, too, just in case Sam or Dean comes back in after you, but mostly you let yourself stew.

Dean’s a great guy. He’s an even better boyfriend, despite all his flaws; he’s attentive, kind, protective (to a fault), and he makes you laugh. He knows when to be gentle and when to leave things be, especially when you’re in a mood. You love him. That thought makes you frown harder, and you cross your arms over your bare chest. You love Dean, but he’s treated you so poorly that you can only doubt if he loves you in the same way. Surely someone couldn’t do something so horrid to someone they loved?

One of the boys knocks on the door and you ignore them. You’d been so wrapped up in your thoughts that you hadn’t heard them enter the room. When they knock again, you roll your eyes and drop your arms, then grab the conditioner.

“What?” you snap.

“Sam came back. We’re going out to get some food. Do you want your usual?” Dean asks.

Huffing, you squirt a handful of conditioner into your palm and close the bottle, and you practically slam it onto the shelf in the shower. It immediately slips off and clatters to the floor, narrowly missing your foot. You curse and leave it there.

“Y/N?” Dean asks again.

“Sure! Fine! Whatever, Dean! Get whatever you want for me, I don’t care!”

“Y/N—”

“Just leave me alone? Okay?”

There’s silence on the other side of the door, and you think for a second that Dean’s actually done what you’ve asked for the first time since the hunt, but then he asks,

“Do you need a break? From me?”

You pause, your hands frozen where they’ve been working the conditioner into your hair, and you stare at the shower curtain for a moment or two while you think over Dean’s words.

“I don’t know,” you finally reply. “I’m angry, and I’m really fucking hurt. Do you know how exhausted I was, Dean? How worried I was that the second I stopped making sure you didn’t do something stupid, you’d get hurt or arrested? I didn’t shower after the hunt, and I’ve barely eaten anything.

“And when you came in here while I was showering earlier? I was so scared you’d do something that you couldn’t truly agree to. And then, for a minute, when you combed my hair, it was like everything was normal again. I guess it was normal, but I didn’t know that then, did I? And then, after a while, I thought you were doing it just to come onto me, and you played that up. You made me so uncomfortable, Dean, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop you from doing something if you were really dead set on having sex with me. If you’d really been cursed, you wouldn’t have been in your right mind to agree to anything, and I would’ve had to live with that thought if something had actually happened! I was so terrified of that, and yet the whole time you were just pretending! Like it was a game to you, or something!”

There’s a strangled noise from the other side of the door and you close your eyes, hands trembling. Dean doesn’t speak again for a minute. When there’s only silence, you start rinsing out your hair, and then you turn off the shower and grab your towel from the bar.

“I don’t know how to make it up to you,” Dean says, startling you as you reach for your comb. It’s exactly where you’d left it last night, after you’d thrown it aside. You stand on the cheap bath mat, holding the tiny plastic comb as you wait for Dean to continue.

“I probably never will, but I want to try. I know I’ve messed up, and I know I did horrible things. You have no idea how horrible I feel and how sick it makes me that I made you so uncomfortable. I should’ve stopped right away. I shouldn’t have even pretended to want that from you. If you can’t forgive me for what I did and how I made you feel, I’ll understand and I’ll leave you alone forever, but I love you, Y/N. I never meant for this to happen. I don’t know what got into me.”

“This isn’t like you, Dean,” you interject, quieter than before. You feel deflated after his speech. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” he says, almost pleading with you, as if you have all the answers. You wish you did.

You lean sideways against the door. It’s cold against your shoulder and you hold the towel tighter, staring at your blurred reflection in the foggy mirror. “Why didn’t you just talk to me?”

“I don’t know. I should’ve. My head’s messed up and I was afraid you wouldn’t react the way I needed you to.”

“It’s okay to feel scared when you talk about how you feel, but we’ve gotta be honest with each other if this is going to work. You have to be honest with the person you’re dating, no matter what. That’s a big thing, Dean.”

“I know.” He pauses. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

The two of you stand there in silence, each of you on opposite sides of the door. Finally, you straighten up and turn the handle. It unlocks automatically and you pull the door open to meet Dean’s eyes. He looks shocked that you’re facing him so soon, and though his eyes flicker down at the white towel you’re still wearing, he mostly just holds your gaze, waiting for you to speak first. His eyes are red and puffy. He’s been crying, and though he’d mentioned that Sam was back, the room is silent.

“This kind of thing can never happen again,” you tell him firmly. “If it does, I’m out. I’m telling Sam that, too, so that if you pull something like this again and then try to find me, he can stop you.”

Dean nods. His voice breaks as he replies, “That’s fair. You deserve to be with someone who’s good for you, even if it’s not me.”

“And we have to talk about how we’re feeling, even if it’s hard. Maybe we should come up with a plan for when you feel this way.” Dean nods again and you look down at the comb in your hands. You pause for a second to collect your thoughts. “Dean, I’m still angry with you, and I probably will be for at least a little while, but I’m also hurt that you felt you couldn’t talk to me. I know Sam probably is too, but I do understand how you feel. You’re not alone in this.”

“I know that now,” he softly answers.

You look up. “Do you?”

He nods. “I’m sorry,” Dean repeats.

“I know.” You look back at the comb, then up at him again. “You can start by combing out my hair and braiding it in those fancy braids you pretend not to know how to do.” You hold out the comb and when Dean opens his mouth to protest, you raise an eyebrow at him. “You wanna fix things? This is step one, Dean.”

He sighs and takes the comb, his shoulders slumped dramatically. There’s a hint of his normal self in his expression now. You step further into the bathroom to allow him room to stand behind you.

Dean’s hands are gentle as he begins to comb out your wet hair. You glance up at him in the mirror. He catches your eye almost right away, then smiles slightly. You smile back, just enough for him to see it before he focuses back on your hair, the first olive branch that you’ve extended him.

Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please consider reblogging my work so that others can enjoy it too.

I do not consent to have my work posted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. If anyone sees my work anywhere other than my personal tumblr, Patreon, or ao3 accounts, it has been reposted without my permission.

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daddysfangirls-dc · 8 months ago

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The Arrangement

Ch 1 Old Habit

Damian Wayne x OC!Female

Damian sighed, and she began to move, unlatching herself from him and moving away. He looked at her, confused. " I know that sigh. It's your 'I have to leave' sigh." Despite her thoughts and feelings, she moved away, allowing him to begin his departure.

"I didn't realize I had become habitual."

"No, I've just known you long enough to see the small tell." She watches him as he puts on his mask and heads for her window. " Robin?" he turns back towards her. " Thank you, and Good Luck." And he vanishes into the night.

"Looks like you're falling back into old habits," Tim flinched so hard that he swore his heart stopped. He blamed his sleep deprivation on why Jason got so close without being noticed. He needed sleep.

"Stop," Tim whined as he tried to swat Jason's hands away from his laptop.

"Stalking Robin truly is a pastime for you," Jason teased as he scrolled through the pictures of Robin, aka Damian.

"What a minute, go back!" Tim was sure his heart stopped this time as he flinched so hard he fell out of his chair. Fortunately, Dick caught him and sat him up straight. Tim was going to bed after this.

"Who is that?" Dick asked. Tim rubbed his face before looking. Robin stood next to a girl in a red and black Kimono with the League of Assassins insignia.

"I don't know"

"When did you take this picture?"

"I don't know"

"How-"

"I haven't slept for 73 hours. I am surviving on power naps, energy drinks, and caffeine. I don't remember everything. Forgive me if I miss a few details." While complaining, Tim worked to get the details of that photo and other similar photos. He knew that things could slip past him with his lack of sleep and had programs to back up his work on such occasions. He pulled up the dates and locations on each photo.

"All of these took place within the last week or so," Dick said, scrolling through the details.

"I didn't get my first clear picture of her until today. Haven't run it through any database yet."

"We'll take it from here. Got to bed," Jason said, pushing Tim out of his seat.

"But-"

"Nope, time for bed," Dick said as he pulled Tim away and towards the door. Jason could hear Tim's weak protest down the hall as they went. " Tim is snug as a bug," Dick said smugly when he returned. Tim was too tired to fight Dick's swattling. A Win in his book.

"Nobody," Jason said as Dick sat down at the counter next to him. " Every database, every agency, this chick doesn't exist."

"Not a surprise," Dick said " It is the league. Does he know when or why she came into town? What's her relationship to Damian?"

"I don't know; there are no notes. All I got was pictures, nothing else. At least not that I can find."

"We'll have to talk to Tim when he wakes up. And look into her. We'll also keep a closer eye on Robin during patrol. "

It was obvious from the body language that Damian not only knew the girl but was comfortable with her. While Dick was suspicious and cautious, especially with the league, in the case of Damian, he did not wish to jump to conclusions that might get him hurt. They'd wait. Damian was home now and in bed; they'd wait until they had more information and more people. They'd wait.

"We can't keep meeting like this," Robin said as he walked up to her, as she tied up the unconscious men. She wore her usual black and red kimono and mask but was bare of any weapons aside from her grabbing hook. She tried never to carry a weapon in Gotham at Robin's request. She looked at him, confused. " Almost every time we meet, it is surrounded by unconscious thugs. It's the standard now."

He didn't say anything, instead calling Oracle to tell her that he had come upon a drug bust and handled it on his own. He'd take the lecture later. He listens for the chorus of disapproval for a bit, then mutes his comm again. She hung her catch, and the two left before the police arrived.

"has my mother contacted you?"

"Not yet. Then again, she thinks I'm still in South America. I finished my mission earlier and didn't tell," she said, leaning back against the wall. He looked over the edge, watching down below.

"How many days do you have left?"

"Three, not including tonight."

"Time is in our favor then."

"Only if you let it be. Do you have plans after this?" she asked, leaning on his waist as he leaned over the edge.

"No"

"Do you want to come over? Watch a movie? and have late-night snacks. Just spend a late night together."

"Acceptable"

"Come to my place when you're done," she said as she saluted him and then disappeared into the shadows. He'd go back to her safe house later on. And spending some alone time together without beating up thugs. He'd like a light of peace or semi-peace. If only for an hour or even 30 minutes. Just time with her.

#dc comics #dc universe #fanfiction #robin #batman #damian wayne #damian al ghul #fanfic #damian wayne fanfiction #damian wayne fanfic #damian wayne al ghul #damian wayne x oc #damian al ghul x oc #the league of assassins #The Arrangement

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fictionstudent · 1 month ago

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How to begin writing TODAY!

Writing is like a plant. It needs time, care, and love. Your stories won't write themselves—you need to put in the time to learn to write, and then actually write them down, y’know.

All of it takes time. A lot, I’m afraid. And it takes even more time to start seeing any form of results. People spend years honing their crafts before they even self-publish a single novella on Amazon.

That's why people don't get anywhere if they don't enjoy just the writing part—you can never earn from writing until you’ve spent a lot of time and resources into the craft. It’s kinda like YouTube—you need that watchtime on your channel before you can monetize. But the thing is: writing doesn't have a watchtime feature. You can't quantify how far you’ve come and how far you’ve still got to go.

You need to discipline yourself if you wanna get somewhere. But… how do you do that, lol? Here’s my two pennies on how to start writing, and keep up at it.

***

#01 - When to Start

You can’t pick up your laptop one random day and just start writing a story. Nope, that's not how it works, even though some might say otherwise.

A good writer should understand when is the right time to start typing the words out, y’know. If you have an idea for a story, you need to have some form of outline. Yeah, you can be a pantser—it’s a term used for those fiction writers who write without an outline—but at least you need some form of story. Know the beginning, at least. And know your characters.

Know something about your story, and the direction you want to take it, before you start putting pen to paper.

The reason I’m suggesting you this is because just inspiration is not enough. It can get you somewhere, but after a point, you might feel lost. Stories often end up in places where you might not want them to be, and then you just feel disheartened. Or, ideas might just stop hitting you after some point.

An idea of where to begin is enough, but you also need an idea of where to end. I’ve personally tried several times where I just had a single-line idea of a plot, and I wanted to create a story out of it. Didn't work. I personally need some loose outlines to start first.

What I’m trying to get at is you should know what’s the best time for you to start writing your story. Some don't write a single word before they know exact what happens when, and how. Some, like me, need some loose outlines. Some don't need outlines at all—just the first scene is enough to get them started.

Know what you are—a pantser, planner, or plantser—and start only when you feel like you have enough ideas that could keep you going for a couple weeks. Or if you feel like you could churn enough ideas that could keep you going.

***

#02 - Time

Writing takes time. And if you wanna get somewhere, you need to have a schedule.

Y’know, different writers might commit different amounts of time to writing. Some write once or twice a week, some (liek me lol) write everyday. And, you need to know which one works for you.

And—and I hate to be the bearer of bad news—it doesn't depend on you. The amount of time you can spend on writing depends more on your life. Are you a student? Or do you work?

And how many friends do you have? How busy is your work?

You need to take care of all these aspects of life that you can't mess up with, and then softly rearrange them all to fit something like writing in it. That’s why I hated the times when I shifted schools, houses, or when I was promoted to college. Because those shifts meant that I had to rearrange my day’s schedule again, and somehow fit writing in it.

And, before you start rearranging everything, I need to tell you something else—you need to be realistic about it. You can't just come back from college and sit back to write, y’know. If you generally take some rest during that time, take your rest. Please. Don't cut down on the time you rest or eat or sleep.

Why, you might ask? Is it because I care about you fellow writer? NO!

The thing is: it just won't work. You need sleep and food and rest to keep functioning, and if you think you can cut on that time and allot it to writing, you won't be able to keep on doing it long-term. You’d relapse. There would be days you’d be hungry, or sleepy, or tired, and you’d think you should just rather go take care of yourself instead of writing. And then you’d do that. And soon, you’d stop writing altogether.

I wrote at six to eight in the morning everyday for a couple of months. But I’m just not a morning person. I can't sleep before twelve in the night, and so I was sleeping for, like, four-five hours a night. You can't keep on going with that sort of schedule.

Firstly, I was sleepy all the time. When writing too, yeah—even though I’d just woke up and taken a bath—but also during my lectures. I slept through all of my political science classes and nearly failed that course. Zero-on-ten experience, not recommended.

Secondly, like I said, you’d relapse. Be true to yourself. You can't keep going on like this, man. Going to bed at one, waking up at five won't work for long. A recipe for disaster.

That's why I urge you to be realistic with the schedule that you make for yourself. Yeah, make a schedule. And appoint time for writing only where you know it’d work. Take enough rest, sleep, and use enough Instagram too.

***

#03 - Know When to Skip

Yeah. There are, no doubts, going to be days when you just don't feel like it. Writing feels like a pain, ideas don't hit you anymore, you’ve just come from a stressful day at work and are tired. We’ve all been there.

At that point, you need to ask yourself: are you really tired, or are you just tired for writing?

I mean, if it’s the first, you should probably work on your schedule. If it’s a one-day thing, that’s fine. Skip it.

But, if it’s the second reason, you need to dig deeper. Why does writing tire you now? Why are you not interested in your story anymore? Where’s the spark gone?

There's a high chance that you’re just not motivated to write this story, y’know. Writing can be a pain for a lot of reasons.

One thing you need to keep writing is to keep yourself motivated. To keep yourself interested. Because that’s how you’d be willing to spend more and more time as days go by, y’know.

And, if it’s the second reason: don't skip. Sit down. Write. And think about what’s not working. And why is it not working. You need to diagnose this problem yourself, and then fix it.

***

#04 - Know When to Go on a Break

I can’t even stress on how many times I’ve tried skipping on trips with my family just because I wanted to write. And I should stress even more on how many times I’ve kept myself going on when I was burnt down to my core and needed a break.

When you’re too pumped up, you do all that stuff. But, as they say, even a lot of something is bad for you. Same with writing.

It’s kinda hard to believe, but that’s true. Firstly, don't skip on stuff. Live your life. If there are days your friends are calling you for a party, and that means you have to skip writing—do it. Skip writing.

Go travel with your family. Go live life, man. You don't just need the skills to write, after all—you need these experiences too. So go get ‘em.

Secondly, know when you’re burnt out. Regular hiatuses are important for any author. Don't start working on the next book of your trilogy if you’ve just completed the first. Go take a break first.

Don't push yourself too hard. I did that. Very recently. I was burnt out to my core, and it was hard pushing myself through. But I loved writing, so I made sure I took out two hours of my day for that.

But my story suffered. I lost all interest in it. Writers’ block hit me hard—even though I was working on a second draft, so I mostly knew where I was gonna take the story forward. I averaged around three-four hundred words a day—and that’s when I could actually write something—even though I used to average around fifteen-hundred a day. A big fall. And, there were days I just wrote a hundred words in two hours.

Those were some hard times, to be honest. I literally thought that I was probably growing out of it, and I was afraid if I did. Luckily, it was just a burnout, and a two-week’s break was enough to get me back.

And I’d scrapped the old project, lol. It was seriously bad.

Anyway, what I mean is that you need to know when to take breaks too. Writing is not just about writing. It’s also about learning about life.

***

Conclusion

I have an important announcement to make today. I’ve finally launched my very own newsletter! Yeah, that’s right. Now you’d find a really annoying click-me-master link at the very end of every single one of my blogs.

So, if you want more blogs like this one straight onto your inbox, click here!

I hope you have a nice day. Meet’cha next time!

#writers and poets #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writeblr #writing advice #creative writing #writers life #on writing #writing

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mariposa-writes · 2 years ago

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Good Sleep - LaMelo Ball

Summary: hate writing these, so just read and find out.

A/N: This man is the love of my life (and his brothers).

It was hard, dating an NBA player. Not that it was Melo's fault. He tried to make things as easy as possible. He called whenever he could, making sure to at least check in on me once a day.

It wasn't like I made things any easier. I took a lot of pride in my job and it felt like a lot of the time when he was home, I was busy working.

Which is what I am currently doing. Its around midnight, when I hear the garage open, I know it's Melo. His team was supposed to get back earlier tonight, but their flight got delayed due to weather.

After a few minutes he enters our room. I moved in with him a 6 months ago, since I practically lived there full time anyways. We both also thought it would be a good way to spend more time together.

"Hey, babe." He says walking over to me and giving me a quick kiss on the lips. He heads into our bathroom, getting ready to shower. He hates how he feels after plane rides, always complaining about being dirty. "What are you working on?" He calls from the bathroom.

"Just work stuff." I respond, not having the time to explain. I have to have these reports ready by Monday. I'm a CFO for a major clothing company in the US. We are currently working on expanding to European countries.

Melo showers while I work and before I know it he's climbing into bed. "Babe," He whines, "when are you going to bed?"

"I don't know, soon." I answer, dismissively. He frowns, looking up at me from where he's laying.

"You work to hard. Your not even 22 and your the CFO for a major company. I worry you're gonna work yourself to death." Melo's always hated how hard I work. We've been dating since we were both 19.

I was getting ready to graduate college, when he was getting drafted into the NBA. Being born a genius helped me fast track my schooling and career.

I started interning with the company I currently work at when I was 17, the summer after my junior year. I started working with them when they were just a start up, but in the past four years they have rapidly grown and I've been a part of the process the whole way.

This company is like my baby and I'm the one that has to track everything to make sure we are achieving our goals. I never intended on working here this long, but I love the people I work with (the pay isn't bad either).

They promoted me to CFO when their old one left to work for a bigger company. What an idiot, they didn't have believe in the company and soon ours will be bigger than the one they are working for.

Three hours later and I'm still working, Melo's passed out. After he fell asleep I headed to the office he set up for me, not wanting to wake him.

I have a blanket wrapped around me, with my headphones in and a cup of hot chocolate sitting on the desk. Once I get this done, I'll be on Monday and present to our investors I will be on vacation for the next 9 days.

I haven't told Melo yet, wanting to surprise him since our schedules rarely line up.

I look up from my computer, when I see the hallway light turn on. I take my headphones out, knowing it's Melo. He walks into my office, frowning. "Babe, go to bed." He groans.

"Ok, just give me a few minutes."

"Nope, you always say that and then a few minutes turn into another hour or two and then you're only getting like 2 hours of sleep before you head into the office." He walks over and shuts my laptop, before pulling me out of the chair.

I whine and protest the whole way back to our bed, but he doesn't seem to care. He makes me lay down and tucks me in like I'm a little kid, before climbing in bed next to me.

Once he's in bed his, arm wraps around my waist as he pulls me closer resting his head on my stomach. "Finally, I can sleep now."

"You've been asleep this whole time." I argue.

"Yea, but now I'll get good sleep. I only get good sleep when you're with me." I smile, even though he can't see me. I continue playing with his hair, before we both drift of to sleep in each other's arms.

#lamelo ball #melo #nba #lamelo ball x reader #lamelo ball one shot #nba players #lamelo ball imagine #LaMelo Ball #Melo ball #basketball #charlotte hornets #lamelo x reader #lamelo ball fanfics #lamelo ball fanfiction #melo x reader #melo ball x reader #ball brothers

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franki-lew-yo · 3 months ago

Text

Worst year of your life so far

It's hard not to feel like every time a moderately good and nice or even great thing happens to me I ought to expect and inconvenience or a TERRIBLE thing to happen right after. This is genuinely why I'm afraid to be happy. I don't have an exact religion, I'm just certain that I am in fact an evil person or at least some evil person's revitalized soul. Since November of last year my life has been, in this order:

>Receive notice that I might owe SSI 15k because a miscalculation says they're overpaying me. I don't have 15k or stashed away 15k. I've been using every cent of money given to survive and pay back overdue fees. Life coach is sure I won't have to pay anything. I don't believe her.

>Find out that the location of my jobsite is being terminated within a week before the site is closed down. Can not be moved to a new location. The chain is dying. No location has room for me.

>Spend the days up to Christmas helping my coworkers who were a lot of times my only non-family communication, tear apart our store and then become strangers. The worst part is when they have me throw out hundreds of dollars of boutique clothes because the company wants to write it off as a reduction, DIRECTLY into a garbage bin. We'll be terminated from any further locations if we're caught trying to save or sneak away with anything. It's Christmas time and here's some clothes for needy people and my company is literally throwing them in a landfill. I just watch.

>Is repeatedly told by my job coach, REPEATEDLY, that I will get a job at a place which shares my old workplace's union. Nope. I don't. They string the both of us along for four months. By the time we move on to a new place in mind THAT job opportunity fizzles out after too many tries. My job coach and I have a fight and he doesn't talk to me or wants to see me. I feel nothing but shame. He and his wife are going through their own crisis.

>While ALL of this is happening I'm watching an active genocide a take place in real time. I try to do my daily clicks and boycott as much as possible. Come August I use up the rest of my unemployment money donating to any vetted fundraiser I can. I hope, I HOPE every time that THIS MONTH must be the last month of this slaughter. The powers that be have to do something...the answer is a resounding no. More and more innocent families are butchered. I can't offer anything really substantial.

>TWICE. TWICE IN ONE YEAR- my EBT gets cut off until I repeal it.

>My sister and I are both unemployed and in mental (in her case physical anguish). We blow up at each other more than once, especially over politics. She gets a job that she hates and is dangerous before the thankfully quits. She gets another job and is layed off for no reason in the same week she gets it.

>Can't afford a real dentist. Have to do a dentist-intern who tells me to watch my cavities that I have but no they can't do anything about it.

>My laptop's mouse stops working. It's fine for tablet but it means I need to use an external mouse for everything casual and writing. I'm already avoiding doing too much digital artwork on account of not wanting to wear down my system. Oh also my screen has a shadow on in.

>My mom is evicted from the house she and her boyfriend have lived in for years now and is forced to live in my grandpa's house which HE'S been forced to move out of. It was also a house I had lived in for awhile as well and so all of my sister and my own childhood things have to come back with us to our apartment. We don't have room. I'm going to have to downsize so many of my things.

>Catch covid because I was too stupid to bother with a booster. It delays getting me my new job and tasting anything for a month. Also delays me getting to work on the art I need done by September/October.

>Dog gets a bad flea infestation almost immediately after this because of summer heat. Also she wasn't on flea medication when it happened.

>My new job is two days a week rather than three. Lesser pay than what I used to have. All throughout October my schedule is cut to one day a week. I can never truly finish my job for my supervisors like they need to of me.

>Life coach assigns new job specialist; the one who got me my job. New specialist tells me all about Tiktok and how I need it and how I ought to download and post more on there. When I ask her for help navigating the platform and for her to help me on my social media art campaign; she shuts me out. Tells me repeatedly she's not versed in social media and tells me to instead take an online class. That's not what I want from her I want her to support me as an artist and that means occasionally just following my pages. She gives me a hard "no". Literally all my plans for a semi-active youtube, tiktok and instagram campaign fall apart. If I can not be supported even emotionally what's the POINT??

>I learn just this night how I unintentionally deeply hurt one of my oldest friends on the platform when I get the courage to ask if she's really upset with me or not. She blocks me mid me trying to ask for more information on the incident that hurt her. I do think I wronged her, but it's that I didn't even know I did that HURTS. Another one of my friends is right in the way of a frikin hurricane.

>Sister/Roommate is diagnosed with a condition that makes drawing difficult. I try not to draw near or around her as much as possible. It hurts. We are both still artists.

>Next door neighbor who's made creepy sexual comments about me to my sister throws dog poop on my sister's car at night. He thinks it's our dog even though I'M THE ONE picking up our dog's poop every single time.

and finally

>Country elects the same admitted fascist we kicked out for starting a riot.

Art, fandom and my dog is literally all I have. It is my one and only escape and happiness. I would be proud of myself and how much I've matured since just last year, but I can't. I can't be because I'm too miserable and so is everyone else around me. People tell me it's my fault or not my fault, people tell me I can help but won't or that I can't help at all. It's never enough. I wish I could be a better friend towards every one of you. I wish I could be a better creator. I wish I could find the time in my schedule to find a time in my therapists' schedule to see me again. All I ever feel like is an entitled garbage heap for even complaining when so many people are suffering to such an insane degree. Even the campaign people coming to me about how they want me to reblog their posts trigger me on account of how so many seem to forget they've already talked to me before. The fact that I am forgotten by circumstances where people can't remember anyone's username hurts me when it shouldn't.

I just want it all to stop.

----

And, for the first time, I actually want to thank you if you somehow read any of this. This is going to get deleted soon (or maybe not) because it is a trauma dump and TMI.

And yet I genuinely needed to get all of that off my chest. I am INCREDIBLY stressed out and hate to feel bad for myself because that just makes me hate myself and then feel more bad for myself AGAIN rather than do what I keep saying I want to do and help people. I wish this clarity and odd inner-peace wasn't brought about by such turmoil and inner pain. I wish that so much. I guess to quote Art Spiegelman quoting someone else: "Samuel Beckett once said: 'Every word is like an unnecessary stain on silence and nothingness.'...but then again, he did say it."

#vent #rant #hurt #hurt/comfort

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claiestve · 1 year ago

Note

some isaac fluff/comfort to recover from your last one? 😭

maybe when lover has a really long day with their cases and isaac takes care of them? 🥹

(also love you and your amazing writings 💗)

𝐘𝐨𝐮 & 𝐌𝐞 ꨄ Isaac

˜”* ❝𝙅𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙖 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙩𝙤𝙪𝙘𝙝, 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙥𝙨.❞

⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ɪꜱᴀᴀᴄ ʜᴇʟᴘꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴜɴᴡɪɴᴅ.

⎯୨⎯ " " ⎯୧⎯

“Pickle, I’m gonna go somewhere later, wanna come?” You hear from the other room. It doesn’t ring any bells though because you were so engrossed in your work. Not even looking anywhere that wasn't your laptop. The case you were working on was extremely stressful because there were so many possibilities and you couldn’t afford to make any mistakes.

The problem with this was, you didn’t have much time for Isaac. He wasn’t too clingy because he knew fully well how much the job takes over the brain. However, he found himself being more… eager. Eager to see you, to hear you, to finally be near you while you guys sleep, all of it. You guessed he was just feeling affectionate but it never crossed your mind that it would be because of your absence.

“Pickle?”

You still didn’t answer. It’s not like you didn’t hear it. Your body was just so numb to any vocal cues because of how dangerously long you’ve been on this case.

The door knob rattles a bit before the door opens. Standing in the doorframe is Isaac with a frown on his face. You saw him but it didn’t alarm you like it normally would’ve. On a normal day, you would’ve been very quick to ask what was wrong even if it was something tiny. Not today though.

Isaac approaches you reaching for your hand.

“You’re doing it again.” He says with a frown.

“Doing what?” You ask without looking away from your work.

“You know what. You’re being unresponsive.”

Ironically, you didn’t answer to that. Isaac sighs and sits down next to you. At first, he waited for some kind of acknowledgment from you but after a while, he realized you wouldn’t give any. He sighs a little louder but it’s ignored by you. He tries going for your hand but you didn’t even flinch at that.

As you're staring at the screen, you can only wonder if you would be able to finish this case with the right information. You seem so lost in the case but your chaotic thoughts are quickly silenced once your screen goes black.

“Hi, Pickle, this is the real world.” Isaac sarcastically greets you but you’re not too fond of it. Of course, Isaac doesn’t care. He wants you to relax, at least for a minute.

“You’re so annoying.”

“You weren’t answering me! Plus, I missed you.”

“We’re being clingy now, Isaac?” You smile at him. He laughs a little and leans his head on yours.

“Come to bed, Pickle.”

He gently drags you out of the study by your hand.

“I thought you were going somewhere?”

“It can wait for tomorrow. I’d rather go with you tomorrow than leave you like this but unsupervised.”

He proceeds to take you into the bedroom where you immediately feel at ease even being in there. You could feel a huge weight coming off your shoulders being replaced with excitement to lay down and sleep. Isaac helped you into bed, making you lean on him.

“How do you feel about oatmeal for breakfast tomorrow, Pickle?”

“Don’t tell me you are planning on making breakfast. I’ll do it.”

“Nope. Tomorrow, you’re going to lay here until it’s time for you to eat.”

You two share some laughter along with other banter. You appreciated Isaac and his efforts. He was always willing to do stuff for you. He’d be unserious, for you. He’d be ‘clingy’, for you. He’d do anything for you. You looked at him and sighed.

“Thank you, Isaac. It’s been really exhausting these past few days and I’ve missed you a lot.”

“Of course. I noticed how bad it was getting and I had to step in.”

“I love you, Isaac.”

“I love you too, Pickle. Sleep well.”

He kissed your forehead before pulling you in closer.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

so my dumbass asked for requests a while ago and i realized that half of them i didn't do so im making up for it now

thank u 4 requesting, ily

#zsakuva #asmr #sakuverse #zsakuvaxreader #isaac #isaacrhodes #ifusawthelastposthatideletednoudidntthatwasanaccident

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piedpiperart · 2 years ago

Text

Phantom of Gotham 21

Chapter 20

While the bats were at the gala, Tim and Jason looped in Steph and Babs at Jason’s apartment. They’d brief the others on the plan once the Gala was over, assuming they had a plan by then. It was grating on Jason’s nerves just how hard to track the GIW was. Babs did the best she could tracking the van through the CCTV while Tim tracked down their finances to figure out any buildings they might’ve purchased.

The problem was that everything was relatively difficult because while the GIW worked for the government, they’d obviously made some ghostly upgrades to their system. Even after swapping info with Phantom and Frostbite, they hadn’t yet had a chance to go through the specifics. From what Tim could gather from the GIW’s files, there seemed to be a ghost with technology powers who had been held by the GIW for a while before escaping.. That particular ghost might’ve upgraded the systems under duress. The bats had a pretty strong feeling that Phantom might’ve rescued him.

Speaking of Phantom, there’d been no sign of the friendly ghost. Not a word since Danny was taken, and the trio was hoping he was at least safe. They didn’t put much hope into it though, considering Phantom’s job was to protect Danny and now both Danny and Phantom were gone. Tim tried not to think about how Phantom was technically a king, and the amount of war crimes the GIW were racking up against the Realms.

“That’s it,”Jason stood abruptly, snatching Tim’s eighth mug of steaming hot coffee from the counter. Tim looked up from his laptop with a scandalized expression. Jason stared him down mercilessly.

“Jas-”Tim started, making pathetic grabby hands toward the mug, but Jason merely held it out farther out of his reach.

“Nope,”Jason said firmly. “We’re taking a break. You at least need a shower and a nap.”

“But Danny-”Tim protested, standing upright, only to sway a little. Jason gave him a pointed look and Tim scowled. At this point, the bags under his eyes were almost pitch black.

“Babs, Steph and I can take over while you take care of yourself. Sleep for at least 6 hours,”Jason said sternly. “If you don’t, you’ll pass out before we even get to rescue him.”

Tim scoffed, one that frustratingly ended with a yawn. Okay, Tim could see his point, but he also wasn’t sure if he would be able to sleep when his friend was in trouble. He’d seen the autopsy scar on Danny. He could only imagine what sort of torture he was being put through. “4 hours,”Tim bargained. Jason had set his coffee on the counter, shooing Tim towards the shower while he glanced longingly at his mug.

“No less than 5,”Jason said, and with one final push Tim found himself in the bathroom alone with the door shut. He sighed. Tim knew Jason was right, that he had to be at his best if Red Robin wanted to rescue Danny successfully. And Phantom, assuming they had both of them. So, reluctantly, Tim started the shower. Only five hours, he thought. Then he could get back to rescuing his friends.

Jason let out a breath, pulling Tim’s computer close to him and sitting down on the barstool. He took a swig of Tim’s coffee and grimaced, wondering how the kid could stand to drink something so bitter. “You should take a break too,”Steph called from where she was on another laptop on the couch. In front of her was a map of the city and a pile of old markers that may or may not still work. “Take a nap for a bit, Babs and I can take it from here for an hour or so,”Steph said, and Jason reluctantly nodded.

“I’ll be back in two hours,”Jason muttered, leaving for his bedroom. He’d been up later than usual the night before, and his usual daytime sleep was interrupted by Danny’s capture. He’d been up since then and it was around 11 pm. Usually, he took better care of himself but he was worried about Danny. Jason knew he had a soft spot for the kid, especially since learning of their tragically similar backstories. Danny and Phantom were just kids. He didn’t want to think about what was going to happen to them in captivity.

Jason sighed heavily, knowing he would be more effective at finding them if he got some sleep, making his way to collapse onto his soft bed. Behind him, Steph lamented about managing workaholics to Babs and bragging about how they have an actual sleep schedule.

-----

Seven hours later, mostly well-rested, they’d come up with three different locations under GIW funding in the Gotham area. They’d looped in the rest of the team and set out with a plan. Spoiler and Nightwing went for the warehouse on the north side, Batman and Robin went for the one closest to Bristol, and Red Hood and Red Robin were assigned the one by the docks. It was precaution to hit all three at once, considering with this they especially weren’t taking any chances. It limited the risk of them alerting the others and moving.

Oddly enough, B and Robin had also encountered a man looking for Danny at the Gala. Vlad Masters, billionaire and owner of Dalv Co, was a pretentious creep according to Robin. According to Batman, he had an unhealthy obsession with Danny and could possibly be involved in his disappearance given their strained relationship. Jason was sure Danny might have some sort of power that attracted billionaires, but he tabled that info to look into after Danny’s rescue.

Jason took a breath before pulling off his signature helmet in favor of his red domino. He didn’t want to freak the kid out even more when they rescued him, and the domino was a lot less intimidating. Red Robin gave him a curt nod before grappling to the top of the building. He was going to get into the control room to get eyes on the inside of the situation while Jason broke in the old fashioned way. His goal was to find wherever the prisoners were being kept.

“I’m in,”Red Robin’s voice crackled over comms, and Jason relaxed minutely. “I don’t see anything on Danny, but it looks like they got Phantom here.” Jason could hear the grimace in his voice as the keyboard clacks sounded.

Jason cursed, dashing around a corner when he spotted a white suit. “You’re close, take a left and his cell should be on the right,”Red Robin informed. “They have one other prisoner here but it’s not Danny. I’ll unlock the cells, you head for Phantom and I’ll get the other one.”

Red Hood confirmed with Red Robin before stealthily booking it to the cells. He creeped down the pristine white halls before coming across a bunch of doors, one glowing an unsettling green. He figured that cell was the only one in use and made his way to the door. He thanked Tim in his head when the door clicked open without any resistance, and he quietly made his way inside, shutting the door behind him in case any white suits came by.

Scanning the room, he could see nothing but pristine white walls with a sad looking slab that was probably supposed to be a bed protruding from one corner about a foot or so from the ground. Squinting, he couldn’t see anyone inside until he caught a glimpse of movement in the shape of a black shadow tucked under the bed.

“Phantom?” Jason called out quietly, approaching the bed warily. He heard a faint rumble, almost like a growl that had him halting about two feet from the bed. Puzzled, he crouched down until he was able to peer underneath the metal bed. His eyes widened as he saw what looked like Phantom curled up in the corner, a ghostly tail in place of legs wrapped around him. Bright glowing green eyes peered at him suspiciously from the shadows and Jason let out a breath.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now,”Jason called out softly, holding his hands up placatingly. Something was wrong though, Jason knew. There wasn’t any recognition in Phantom’s gaze, only wariness and a bit of curiosity. “I’m Red Hood, remember me?”

No response. Jason bit the inside of his cheek as he thought of a way to coax Phantom out from under the bed when he spotted a glint of metal under Phantom’s chin. Was that-? Jason shifted, Phantom’s eyes tracked his every movement, and he caught a better glimpse at what looked like a metal collar around Phantom’s neck.

“Found Phantom,”Jason gritted out into his comm, barely containing his anger. “They got some kind of collar on him and he doesn’t seem to recognise me. I’m gonna try to coax him out but I might need your help.”

“A collar?” Red Robin repeated, seemingly multitasking with something. “Ah, got it. I’ll send you the collar schematics in case you want to try hacking it, but I’ll see if I can find the tech they are using to get it off.”

Jason grunted an affirmative, sinking to the ground in front of the ghost. “Hey, it’s alright, okay buddy?”Jason called, feeling his pockets for anything that might help the situation. He came across a few protein bars and figured it was worth a try. “I’m here to get you out of this place. Think you can come out of there?” He asked, gently tearing into one of the protein bar packages.

As expected, there was no response, but he saw Phantom’s eyes locked on the bar so he figured he was on the right track. “You hungry?” Jason asked, breaking off a piece and holding it out to the kid. He perked up a little, sniffing the air once, but still looked wary of Jason. He frowned, but instead tossed the piece of bar close enough to Phantom to be within arms length but not hit him.

The ghost flinched, but seemed more interested in the food as a hand sneaked out of the curled up ball and snatched up the bar. Phantom sniffed it before unceremoniously shoving it into his mouth, showing off sharper than usual teeth for Jason to see. Red Hood sighed in relief when Phantom seemed to look over at him expectantly, losing a bit of wariness.

Hood broke off another piece, getting a chirp in response as Phantom spotted it in his gloved hand. This time, Jason didn’t toss it to him, but instead waited patiently for Phantom to creep out from the corner. He was cautious, but it seemed the taste of food after who knows how long was more motivating at the moment. Jason didn’t even know if Phantom ate human food, but was willing to try anything to get him out of this place quickly. He didn’t want to have to resort to dragging him out of his hiding spot.His green-eyed gaze shot from the bar to Jason rapidly before a hand darted out to grab it. Jason took a moment to look over Phantom while the ghost chewed on the piece of bar.

Phantom seemed to not have any ghost powers because of the collar, but had crawled out using his tail like a snake and holding himself up with his arms. Jason saw his ears and teeth were pointier than usual, and his white gloves looked more like claws. His bright green eyes seemed duller, but his pupils were blown super wide. The ghost looked paler than normal, and his white hair oddly still, considering it always flowed like it was in water whenever Jason had seen him before. Now his hair was laying flat, bangs drifting over his eyes every so often.

A chirp brings him out of his head and he looks to see Phantom a lot closer than before, looking from his hands to his pockets to his face expectantly. Jason let out a huff, breaking off another piece of bar and handing it over. It was quickly snatched up by the ghost, and the distraction gave Jason time to examine the collar around his neck. It was silver with glowing green parts. Unhappily, he thinks he might have to restrain Phantom in order to get it off. Hood didn’t see any openings for a lock or key to be, and as if reading his mind, Tim’s voice came over the comm.

“On my way with the key and the other captive,”Tim informed.”One minute away. How’s Phantom?”

Jason hummed, feeding Phantom another piece and shifting himself to a better position on the ground. “Be ready to get the collar off as soon as you come in,”Jason murmured into the comm. Phantom’s eyes met his, tilting his head curiously before his gaze darting to Jason’s hands for more snacks.

Suddenly, the door clicked, and Phantom looked over at the entrance with his ears pinned back. He was tense, ready to bolt as the door started opening, but Jason’s hands darted out fast and latched onto the collar before Phantom could retreat. His right hand gripped the collar while his left restrained Phantom’s arms as he pulled the ghost against his chest as gently as possible. Phantom let out a yelp and then a growl as he struggled in his restraints. Jason repositioned the hand on the collar to lessen any pain, when Phantom promptly bit his hand. Jason was thankful for his thick gloves preventing those sharp teeth from doing any damage, but even through the gloves he could feel pinpricks of pain on the surface of his skin. Felt like kitten teeth through all the layers though, so he was sure it wouldn’t draw blood.

Phantom was well-restrained, despite the writhing of his tail pinned with one of Jason’s legs. “Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,”Jason soothed, and he jerked his head towards Phantom when Tim came through the door quickly with some sort of mechanism in his hand.

“Shit,”Tim cursed, and rushed over to Phantom’s side. The ghost did not like another person approaching and promptly started struggling harder. Jason held him easily though, since the ghost was much weaker thanks to the collar. His fangs were still buried in Jason’s glove, but as Tim came closer to the thing on his neck, the growls turned to whimpers and panicked rumblings.

“Sorry,”Tim grimaced, but quickly pressed the device to the side of the collar and both glowed green before the collar broke apart with a short hiss. Quickly, Tim gently unwound the collar from Phantom’s neck while the ghost processed what just happened.

Slowly, Jason let go of Phantom as the grip on his hand loosened, ghost slumping over. Tim backed away a bit, giving space while he multitasked with a wrist computer. Jason kept his eyes on Phantom though, steadying him with a hand to his back gently. The ghost blinked, shaking his head and reaching up to rub his eyes. This time, when Jason and Phantom’s eyes met, there was the barest hints of recognition. The ghost let out a warbly chirp, hands going to feel around his neck. Jason gently guided his hands away from the red marks around the kids neck before moving to stand.

“You alright buddy?” Jason asked, keeping a steady hand on the ghost as Phantom looked around, finding Tim. Phantom didn’t answer, but he did start floating up to Jason’s eye level. It seemed sluggish and slow compared to Phantom’s usual way of floating through the air gracefully. His tail seemed to glitch, turning into two or three wisps before consolidating into one again. Parts of him even went invisible, almost uncontrollably before returning to normal.

“Looking at the schematics of the collar, it was designed to bring out Phantom’s ‘true form’,”Red Robin commented with a frown. “It looks like Phantom might’ve been disguised as Danny when they brought him in, so to get him to drop the disguise they used the collar. So, Danny might still be safe.”

“I don’t think it just restricted his ability to shapeshift,”Jason grunted. Phantom was having issues with flying so he ended up with his hands curled onto Jason’s shoulder for support while the rest of him trailed behind. Phantom still seemed to be slowly regaining his functions, chirping quietly to himself or to Jason a few times as he got himself situated. “It’s like the collar shut down his brain along with his powers.”

“That... might be what happened,”Red Robin sighed,”At least it seems like he’s coming back to normal, albeit slowly. I’ll get in touch with everyone else. If they haven’t seen Danny at the other places then he might be laying low.”

“I doubt he’d be laying low while his friend was stuck here in his place,”Jason commented dryly as he followed Red Robin out of Phantom’s cell and into the hall. Then he remembered something. “What about the other prisoner?”

“Oh,”Red halted, then turned to Jason. He pulled back his cape a little to reveal a floating green blob with two little red chocolate chip sized eyes. Jason’s eyes widened. “Found this little guy in a fishtank. I think he’s more like Cujo? Not as sentient, I guess. But he seems fine with staying with me for now,”Tim rambled. Jason nodded absently.

“Only you Double R, only you,”Jason shook his head fondly. Phantom seemed to perk up at the sight of the floating blob, but remained curled around Jason’s shoulders like a giant snake. “Come on, let’s get them out of here before we run into anyone.”

Red scoffed. “Their building security is surprisingly lax compared to their digital files,” But kept walking anyway. “This way, we’re almost out.”

Jason swore Tim jinxed them with that sentence, and was proven right by the faint click sounding behind them. Both vigilante’s reacted in an instant, spinning around to face a lady in a teal jumpsuit. Phantom’s claws dug deeper into Jason’s shoulder armor at the sight of her.

“You’re not going anywhere with it. That ghost is government property,”The lady growled, pointing what looked like a ghost weapon at them. She continued monologuing about how they shouldn’t be protecting ghosts like Phantom, that it was just manipulating them, etc. Hood wasn’t paying attention to her speech, but keeping an eye on Phantom so he wouldn’t disappear on them. Tim shuffled closer to Hood, masking the movements as he armed himself with batarangs. The Lady had her hood down, showing red hair cropped short and dark red goggles resting on top of her head. Jason frowned, then realized why she seemed so familiar.

She was Danny’s mom.

The same one who vivisected her own son.

Before Maddeline could get in another word, Jason had his gun drawn in a rage and fired a shot into her thigh. Her eyes widened in shock and then pain as she yelped and collapsed to the floor, unable to stand. Tim sniped the gun out of her hand with the batarang at the same time, causing it to clatter to the ground a foot away from them.

“You better quit while you’re ahead,”Jason drawled, fiddling with his gun menacingly. “You may hunt ghosts with your little toys, but you’re no match for real guns like these. That was a warning shot,”Jason nodded to her thigh, where it was sluggishly bleeding onto the floor. The woman stared up at him incredulously. “Next time I catch word of you hurting ghosts, or even making weapons against them, the next bullet is going in your head.”

The lady nodded rapidly, opening her mouth to speak but only a whimper came out. Honestly, Jason expected her to be a bit stronger. After what she did to her own son she deserved worse. “Got it?”

“Y-yes,”Maddie stammered, clutching her leg as tears streamed down her face. “B- but it took my son- my, my baby boy. I need it to- to find him,”Her voice broke at the last word, but Jason had no sympathy for her.

“If this is what you do to innocent creatures,”Jason sneered, gesturing to Phantom, who was clinging onto Jason like a frightened cat. “Then I don’t think he wants to be found. Not by you.”

Red Hood turned to go, leaving the pathetic excuse for a scientist crying on the floor. Red Robin said nothing as he followed, and Jason was relieved that the kid didn’t bring up the whole ‘no killing’ rule. Bruce definitely would’ve. Once they made it out and headed to their vehicle- one of Jason’s cars, considering they didn’t know what shape their rescuee would be in and a motorcycle wouldn’t work to carry them all safely- Red Robin helped him maneuver Phantom into the car.

Only, the ghost refused to part from Jason, so he ended up in the backseat with Phantom curled up around him, patting him gently like he was looking for more treats. Jason noticed how Phantom still seemed to glitch out of his powers, sometimes his hand going invisible, or floating randomly before settling back in the seat. He hoped it wasn’t painful for him, but was glad things were coming back.

Jason relented, pulling out another protein bar to feed the ghost with while Tim and his little blob ghost sat in the front seat. “Ready to go?” Tim called softly from the front. Jason confirmed and Tim drove off. “The others didn’t find much at the other places, but while we were on our way out, there was an emergency with Arkham. I told them we’d be fine with Phantom while they brought the escapees back,”Tim said dryly.

Jason huffed in response, but his thoughts were elsewhere. The rest of the ride sat in silence, only broken by Phantom’s occasional chirp for more food and chewing noises. Jason wondered not for the first time if ghosts could even eat human food. His thoughts came back to the woman in the jumpsuit and he frowned. He didn’t regret it, but wondered if it was the right call to make. She had been trying to find her son, in the end.

“She deserved it,”Tim said quietly but sternly from the driver’s seat. Jason fought a smile and relaxed into the backseat. Neither of them mentioned the sudden lack of tension in the car after that.

“You think Danny’s somewhere safe?” Jason piped up from the backseat a couple minutes later. Phantom perked up beside him, blinking slowly. He still seemed out of it from what Jason could tell, and he was still glitching a lot.

Tim was silent for a moment before answering, making Jason tense. “I have some theories.” Tim settled on.

“Can I hear them?” Jason pestered, patting Phantom on the head to settle him down. He didn’t have any more snacks but that didn’t stop Phantom from trying to phase his grubby little ghost hands into his pockets.

“It could be that Phantom was disguised as Danny and got captured, leaving Danny safe somewhere. That would explain why we found Phantom and not Danny,”Tim said, keeping his eye on the road. Jason tried to catch a glimpse of his face through the mirror but couldn’t get a good angle with the wriggly ghost next to him.

“Or it could also mean that Danny is Phantom.”

Chapter 22

#Phantom of Gotham #dcxdp #dpxdc

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xxsycamore · 22 days ago

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Fanfic Writer Wrapped - 2024 Version!

I saw @rjthirsty do this and figured it's a great excuse to ramble for a bit! The last days of the year were hectic for me and I couldn't say much outside of the statistics I put together for my Writing summary, so I'll do that now. Credit goes to @asirensrage !

What fic did you work on the most this year? Without a doubt, Monster Villains Night (NSFW). I totally underestimated what I was getting into, with it hitting 7,825 words overall. It was Halloween Eve when I came up with the idea for it, 12 different smut scenarios with 12 different monsters, thinking "what if... Nine Nights but without the plot and with shorter scenarios... I can get it done RIGHT NOW!" - I didn't. I remember I was drinking and when I returned to my laptop later that night, already sleepy and tired, the wip left at scenario #2, I was mad at the thought of missing the holiday's timeframe so I came up with the idea to divide it into 3 parts, four scenarios each. I willed myself to write the remaining two for part 1, a bit half-assedly, and posted it. Thinking that I'd get the two other parts done with in the next couple of days. Part 2 was posted a whole month later 😭 The reason? The nature of the fic itself. The focus is the monsterfucking, of course, and since I haven't written that before, I wanted to do it justice. But also this is anonymous sex, so another key feature is putting just the right amount of traits and mannerisms of the characters so the reader can have fun guessing who is who. But also we can't get straight into it because sexual tension is important. But also, it has to make sense where and how the deed is done with that fixed setting of a party in Crown castle. And returning to the first point, do you know how demanding Monsterfucking is? You have to know your monster, and you have to make use of their inhuman traits in ways you might not have considered if all you wrote so far is human sex. I mean, that's the exact mental gymnastics that make me love writing, the problem is that it's not happening as fast as I want it to happen. A large chunk of me working on this series was brainstorming and researching different monsters. Matching monsters with suitors. Coming up with the stupid adjectives for the titles, HAHA. It all kept me stimulated for a long time, and I admit it took me so long because somewhere along the way I started thinking "if I'm gonna write monsterfucking once, then might as well write it properly", going all in. Some scenarios reached 1k words because of that, and I'm not a fan of the inconsistency in both the length and the quality, but oh well! I got stuck on scenario #8 for a while, but as the year approached its end, I got motivated to finish at least this part - and the satisfaction of posting it somehow motivated me to write all the remaining scenarios the very next day, I don't know how did that happen. Now that it's all been done, I'm really proud of it! In the end, the idea has been executed. It was a small ark in my writing journey, another new thing I tried!

Did you have any fic writing goals? Did you meet them? Yes, I do actually set writing goals at the beginning of each year! I never know how busy or stressed I might be during the upcoming year, so I try to make the goals as realistic as possible - setting a total wordcount that is far below what I usually reach, for instance. Some of my goals are "write at least 1 of the special napo fics that I've been planning to write since 2020" (i failed to do this one, again) and "write the remaining requests" (I'll be frank here i don't even know what this is referring to but i nope i didn't do it, i have a fresh batch of requests however). But I don't put a big importance on those goals, so it's all fine!

How many fics did you work on this year? 111, ficlets and headcanons included.

How many new fics did you post this year? Almost all of them.

Did you update any old/previously posted fics this year? What were they? Oh, the Napoleon kink headcanons! I'll be updating this series from time to time, and requests for them are always open. Other than that, I finished Paradiso Terrestre (NSFW), the birthday mini-series for Napoleon that I started last year.

Do you have a favourite fic you wrote? Nine Nights (NSFW), but King's Game (NSFW) is a close second.

What’s your favourite passage that you wrote this year? Good thing I've made a handy compilation of passages from all my works this year! (under the cut of this post) I'd pick this one, from Nine Nights (NSFW) - Your gaze moves from Liam’s pretty lips curling in a small laughter as he conversates with Harrison, to Harrison stretching out while he listens; to Elbert’s tall frame as he looks out the window next to them, to Alfons staring at him, putting one leg over the other as he stirs the steamy liquid in his cup. - Nothing special about it at first glance, but this is the turning point in the fic - this thorough observation shows that the reader's principles have already snapped, she can't help but fill her head with impure thoughts.

Favourite line of dialogue this year? “…What’s a Nissan Pulsar?”

Favourite POV? (or rather what POV did you use the most this year?) Reader's POV, of course! I love using it and directing the attention towards what I assume would be most interesting about the situation for the person who's reading the fic. Also, reader's POV in Napoleon fics feels so natural because I'm practically writing my own POV, hehe! I tend to be a bit more self-indulgent in those, but I still keep a general Reader's POV in mind.

Did you find yourself repeating a word or phrase in your writing this year? If so, what was it? I'm sure there's at least one I'm not aware of HAHA... It's definitely something in the smut fics, a specific description of an action...? Maybe the way I describe the climax. Also, while I try to avoid eponymous adjectives (I just don't like those! the blonde, the French, the taller man, etc...) but for some reason I've replaced Alfons' name with "the hedonist" at least a couple of times. I just like it, I don't know why.

How did you help other writers this year? (i.e. leaving comments, reviews, beta reading, offering advice, etc) Similar to what happened to my writing in 2024 compared to the previous year, I've also left fewer but longer comments. I can't help myself when I think "this small detail here, the writer would be so happy to know I noticed and appreciated it, so I have to make sure I point it out!" and suddenly I've written a lengthy comment once again... I want to find the balance about this too, just like with my own writing, so that I can have the energy for a larger quantity. Because there are so many fics I like but sometimes I stupidly leave without saying anything because "I can't find the words to say anything worthy for the quality of this fic" - while at the same time knowing full well as a fellow writer that a mere keysmash is more than enough........ It's hard! Other than that, I wrote a post with Tips about writing Napoleon! The challenges I hosted might count towards helping writers, I hope? Especially the masterlists, I sincerely hope I'm giving the writers at least some reach that way. Beta reading is not my forte :D Please don't ask me to do that for you, I'm gonna leave the worst typos untouched without realizing it. But giving advice, I'm always open to that, so please don't hesitate if you have a question, I'll do my best to help.

Did you receive any advice that resonated to you this year? I've seen so many posts through the years nudging writers to be more self-indulgent but I think in 2024 I listened to them the most. While looking back at my stuff for the Writing summary, I just had to stop to fully read fics like Overheat (NSFW) and Crybaby (NSFW) because, well, it's something I'd stop to read. I could have written it differently in some parts to appeal to what I THINK might be more widely considered sexy, but instead, I wrote it the way I felt like in the moment, to my own liking.

What did you enjoy most about writing fic this year? As usual, sealing the moment, capturing the mood I was at the moment of writing those fics. Being able to look at a fic title and instantly go back and remember where I was sitting while I wrote it, what was the weather like, what part of the day it was, what song I listened to on repeat.

What did you enjoy the least? My perfectionism getting in the way, more than usual too. I can't seal the moment if I'm stuck on trying to reword something, I have a limited time before the mood changes and I don't have inspiration anymore.

Who was your favourite character to write for? Napoleon is a given but other than him I want to say Clavis and Alfons.

Did you have a song on repeat while writing this year? THANK YOU FOR THIS QUESTION. The notable ones are Four out of Five by Arctic Monkeys for King's Game (NSFW) (since the atmosphere was so similar to Late August Night Tryst (NSFW) where I directly reference the song); Salvatore By Lana Del Rey for Overheat (NSFW); Driving My Love by Anri for Joyride (NSFW); Put Me In A Movie (No Kung Fu version) by Lana Del Rey for Lights, Camera, Action (NSFW); The Wretched by Nine Inch Nails for Nine Nights (NSFW); Prom Song Gone Wrong by Lana Del Rey for Ludus (NSFW).

Did you make any playlists for your fics this year? What are they? The playlist I made especially for Monster Villains Night (NSFW) which you can find linked somewhere under the title. It was really fun to think of a song to fit each of the 12 monsters.

What’s your favourite thing you made for your fic or character this year? (such as pinterest, moodboards, gifs, etc) The layouts I make for each fic should count since I do get out of my way to make some of the banners into gifs ontop of editing them... I did a mini moldboard for the final part of Paradiso Terreste! (NSFW) The playlist from the previous question too, of course.

What was your most commonly used tag for your fics (on ao3, tumblr, etc)? Oh that's fun, let's find out (god bless ao3's filtering system)... Vaginal Sex (12) .... okay, fair.

Did you participate in any fic writing challenges this year? Not as much as I wanted to, definitely less than in previous years. I wanted to participate in my friends' challenges but in the end I only participated barely in my own challenges. However, I hosted what I think was my best challenge so far, the Sexy Ikemen Summer! I've made a whole post rambling about it on my main blog, so I'm not gonna talk about it here but it was a great project to work on. Visions of Temptation 2024 too, my 5th kinktober challenge. I also joined an Ikevil Gift Exchange which was really fun!

What was your favourite comment/review you received this year? Oh, this is really hard! I have to say that I appreciate them all, I really do remember many of the comments I've received through the years. If I have to pick one, I'll go with this one (if the person is reading this hi hello I hope you're having a great day thank you once again ❤ ). But the comments under Nine Nighs as a whole are very special to me because many of the readers confessed that they're not into that kink but ended up enjoying it, so I'm extra thankful that they decided to give it a try!

What was your top-rated/commented fic this year? ...I'm NOT gonna link it again, but Nine Nighs. I often have this feeling that I'm writing my Magnum Opus (and often say so on my main) but this time I really felt it. I still can't believe I was able to put my brain to work for long enough to write it the way it is, all things considered - it was a pretty rough time of the year for me. My most popular fic overall remains Office Activities (w Roy Mustang) but I'm absolutely bewildered that an ikemen series fic reached up to just 100 notes short of it.

Were there any ideas you wanted to work on this year but you didn’t? ...too many to my own liking. I know it's normal to have wips you eventually abandon, but I'm usually the type to work on one idea at a time and rarely leave unfinished works. This year I've abandoned a Raul Aconite (Cupid Parasite) smut, a Tendo Amahiko (Charisma House) smut, a fic about Leonardo and Napoleon having a bromance moment and bonding over Italian, a Sakaguchi Ango (Bungou to Alchemist) smut, an ikevamp crackfic, one NSFW Napoleon headcanon, two or three Napoleon smuts, and a Tomoegata Naginata (Touken Ranbu) smut... I hope to pick up and finish at least one of them, but I find it very hard to work on something once I lose the time window of my inspiration for it.

Were there any new fandoms or genres you explored this year? In 2023 I wrote for 8 new fandoms, whereas in 2024 I wrote for 0 new fandoms. That's it if we don't count the wips, of course, but I'm still unfulfilled with this... I hope this changes in 2025! As for genres, I don't think I've written anything new, but I did explore more tropes this year, especially nsfw ones.

Is there anything you want to write or try to explore in your writing next year? I want to write more headcanon-type works (something like Our Little Family), I want to try different styles of writing, I want to write shorter works that I feel satisfied with, but most of all I just want to have fun and capture more moments from my daydreams.

Do you have a goal for next year? If so, what is it? To write at least 2 of the Napoleon fics I've had in my head for years. To finish both my 1,5k and 2k followers celebration event requests. To finish at least 1 of last year's wips. To write for at least 3 new characters.

What are your hopes and/or desires for yourself and for other fic writers in the next year? To become even more self-indulgent! I want to write and read fics that feature those specific little details that you just know the author put there because it's something they personally felt/saw/experienced. To leave perfectionism behind and post unpolished works. To be more generous with commenting and giving support to each other.

Ao3 Specific Stats - How many people subscribed to you this year? (User subscriptions) 124 people have me in their email... Why can't I deliberately send them stuff? I want to wish them a good day or something...

What were your total kudos this year? 785!

How many comment threads were created on your fics? 38, many of which I haven't replied to yet and I feel terribly guilty about that.

How many people subscribed to your fics? 14

What was your word count posted on Ao3 this year? 106,847, for a second I thought I wouldn't reach the 100k mark but I did! And this marks 2024 as my 3rd most active year!

How many hits overall on your fics this year? 18,344

What are your top 5 fics (in terms of hits) this year? (links open here and not on ao3) 1. Napoleon Kink Headcanons (NSFW) (2327 hits) 2. Steal My Heart!! 1500 followers special ficlets (2179 hits) 3. Monster Villains' Night (NSFW) (1642 hits) 4. Nine Nights (NSFW) (1171 hits) 5. Off With Your head! (NSFW) (1165 hits)

If you post fics on tumblr, using Tumblr Top! what fic has the most notes? (in total and that you posted this year) In total: Office Activities (NSFW) (513 nots), and for the year: Nine Nights (405 notes)

Did you discover any new fics or fic authors this year? I did! All the mutuals I met this year who are fellow writers - @valkyyriia is the first one that pops up, I instantly went back to where I was sitting reading her Arthur and Comte fics, on my holiday, it's such a nice memory for me. @missaengg too, and all new mutuals from the letters blog... meromerodie on ao3 (Shuuen no Virche)

What was your favourite fic to read this year? Break Me by @nightghoul381 , I still live inside this fic I swear

Who was your favourite fic author this year? @nightghoul381 and @fang-and-feather , this is just exactly my brand of writing, all I could wish for as a reader. You two are so talented and put so much of your heart into your works, it's a pleasure to see it!!!

What fics or authors would you recommend for others to discover and read in the next year? You can just browse my tag for saving favorite fics of mine on my main, but be warned there's a lot of Napoleon there... We're a relatively small community so I'm guessing many of the people reading this already know some names around here - instead, if you want to discover someone new, I encourage you to browse the games' tags here on tumblr and to give a chance to new writers. If you're like me and would gladly devour ANYTHING featuring your fave, then by all means explore more and support small writers!!

What advice would you have for people who might want to try writing or sharing their writing next year? Do it, I know it's cliched by no one else can write this story the way YOU would write it. Even if your idea doesn't seem original to you, remember that the people who love this character would love to read yet another fic of them eating their favorite food or doing their hobby - that's part of why those people love the character, of course they would love to see more of it. Even if there are similar works existing already, you won't copy anyone, trust me. You have your own unique way of portraying things and someone will appreciate that.

Any regrets? None, because even though there are things left undone by the end of the year, I think of all the hardships I had irl and it's enough to make me go, "hey, all of that and I still wrote 100k words? that's awesome". There will always be more that I want to write, I let that motivate me, if anything.

If you reached the end, thank you for listening to me ramble. I'm not rereading all that, so I'm sorry if there are typos or if I don't make sense at times. I don't know when I would post my first fic of the year, I'm trying to take it easy. It seems like it would be a busy year for me irl, but at the same time, I feel like I'm in a better place mentally, and I'm hoping this would show in my hobbies as well. Wishing you all a great 2025 and thank you for sticking around. ❤

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drabblesandimagines · 2 years ago

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Honey

Rei x (afab) reader Buddy Daddies

Your line of work was non-conventional, of course, but it paid the bills nicely and there were worse things to be doing. You’d got into it completely by chance through a connection made at your old job. You worked at one of the seediest bars that side of town – which was saying something – but an ex-boyfriend had helped you get it and other work was hard to come by. It was a slow night, so slow you’d already cleaned the bar three times by the time there was a patron. He looked out of place to the usual clientele that would fill the bar over the weekend - tall, brunette, wearing glasses and dressed entirely in black. He asked for a whisky on the rocks and sat at the bar stool, it squeaking slightly under his weight. You nodded, poured the drink and then went to start your usual patter in the hopes of picking up a tip when he held up a hand, silencing you.

“No need.” He slid a few notes across the bar, far more than what that pour of liquor was worth. “For my drink, and for listening to what I’m about to say.”

Well, that certainly piqued your interest, though you knew you would’ve felt uneasy about it if Riku wasn’t in your eyeline – the tall, steroid-powered bouncer by the door would’ve been over like a shot if you gave him a wave.

“Go on, then.”

His name was Kyu. He was looking for some information about a certain regular you had on Saturday nights. He said it was a business issue, but you could read between the lines. He wanted to know if he had a regular drink, seat, who his company was… And, if you were able to supply that information, there’d be more money in it for you.

You didn’t have to think too hard – the pay here was awful, your boss saying your wage was subsidised enough by the generous tips the weekend crowd threw in. You were at least 95% sure it wasn’t a real functioning bar, just a money laundering scheme. The job market had been difficult and you couldn’t bear the thought of moving back to the countryside with your parents. You were scraping by, making ends meet and the idea of extra money to cover the bills that month would be nice.

He'd asked you to load all the information on a USB stick he provided – your crappy laptop barely hanging on to life, but it made it through creating the document at least – and he gave you the address off where to drop it off. Yadorigi Café. He greeted you like any other customer and you slid the stick over to him, before he retrieved an envelope of money and bid you good day. Easiest money you ever made.

Which is why the next month, when the bar had been busted by the cops and your place of employment made a crime scene, you found yourself back at that counter, pleading.

“Is there anything else I can do?”

“Nope,” he shrugs, cleaning a glass methodically. “Sorry.”

You groan, dumping the last copies of your CV on the counter - fed up of handing them out in every bar, café and shop you’d come across on the way here.

“I can’t get work anywhere. Surprisingly, people don’t trust you if your employment history is blank, or if you put down your last place of employment as one that made national news.”

“It was a one-time thing…” He begins but, thankfully, as if by divine intervention, the café phone rings. You sulked into the coffee that Kyu had given you – another one-time thing he’d stressed –and tried not to eavesdrop on the conversation. “Now?” A pause. “It’s a pretty inconvenient time for me.” A sigh. “Fine. I’ll be with you in half an hour.” He hangs up and rubs the bridge of his nose.

“You gotta go – I need to close for a while.” The bell rings over a door as a group of women come in, sheltering from the rain.

“My apologies, ladies…” Kyu starts but you interrupt.

“Come on in out of the rain, please.” You smile, gesturing to one of the empty booths. Kyu gives you an incredulous look.

“I can watch the place while you’re gone. I’m barista trained,” you whispered, stabbing your finger at the part on your CV.

“I’m not going to hire you,” he scoffed.

“I’m not asking you to. Please. Just give me a cut of the profits in the time you’re gone, huh? Like, tiny, just of whatever they buy.” He stares at you in disbelief. “Please, I’m desperate.”

Kyu looks at the ladies now getting settled in the booth – it would be hard to get them out now and, as much as this is a cover gig for him, he does have a reputation to uphold.

“Fine. Gimme your ID.”

“My ID?” You raise an eyebrow.

“You think I’m going to leave my establishment to a total stranger? I need collateral.”

You dug your purse out of your backpack and retrieved the card, handing it over. He didn’t even scrutinise it for long, slipping it in his apron pocket and turning to the occupied booth.

“Ladies, I’m afraid I have to go out to deal with a personal errand. But don’t worry”, he yanked you forward by your arm, “Honey’s here to take care of you.”

Honey?

That had been a couple of months ago. Kyu had sent you away after he’d returned, delighted to see the place was not ransacked or razed to the ground, before sending you away with some cash that should get you through another week if you were careful. Those ladies you’d served and apparently charmed with your service, however, turned out to be part of a lunch club and recommended the establishment to all of their friends. It became hard for Kyu to keep up with dealing with the informants and assassins that popped in through the day, and serve the groups of people now filling up his booths on the regular. It was then that he’d called you – you’d stuck a CV in one the drawers, just as a reminder, as you were heating up the last cup of flavourless noodles from the back of the cupboard, asking if you were interested in working there… Under a false name, of course.

You were good at identifying those who had genuine café interests and those who were there for other purposes. Kyu didn’t let you deal with the initial conversation, but, as time went on, he did begin to trust you enough to allow you to take the information off informants and hand over payment when he wasn’t around.

For the past month or so, there’s been a dark-haired man taking up space at the counter. He’d come in one late morning near the start of your employment, alongside a blonde man when you were cleaning the booth tables. They’d seemed a little suspicious of your presence, but Kyu had offered them reassurance. Kazuki and Rei - you’d learned a little later on. Kazuki was there on his own sometimes, but Rei had started coming in on his own – sometimes with a book, sometimes with a game on his phone as he slipped on some orange concoction Kyu had shown you how to make, before he’d entertain you in any sort of conversation. It turned out you shared a love of video games. You’d used your most recent batch of tips (old ladies are generous to a sweet young lady, it seems) to invest in a second-hand console and were excited for recommendations. He’d even brought in some games for you to borrow…

It's on another rainy afternoon when Rei enters to find the stool at the counter already occupied by Hiro, one of Kyu’s newest recruits and he scowls. This isn’t the first time he’s been unable to sit at the counter when he’s visited. Kyu didn’t seem impressed by Hiro’s work and didn’t seem to have offered him anything since, but he’d started coming in for drinks and you could hardly kick him out in front of legitimate customers.

Rei gives you a small smile as he heads, slowly, to a booth near the front. You smile back and start preparing his usual drink without a word.

“Honey,” Hiro drawls, using the name Kyu had bestowed on you months ago, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh,” you reply, a little annoyed at his persistence. “No, I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Well, that’s a shame.” He smirks, spreading his arms across the counter. “A pretty thing like you? Who keeps your bed warm at night?”

“I have an excellent electric blanket, actually.”

“Oh, you’ll break my heart with all this talk.”

“Ah, well, you’ll get over it.” You reply, dryly, stepping out from behind the counter to deliver Rei’s drink to the booth. You can’t help but notice his phone is lying face down on the table, and his fists are clenched as you approach.

“You okay?” You raise an eyebrow as you place the drink down – he looks unusually tense.

“Is he bothering you?” He asks, in a low voice.

“Hiro? Er…” He is, a little, if you were being honest, but he’s harmless enough. “No, he’s fine.” From the scowl that remains on Rei’s face you know he doesn’t believe you.

“Hey, did you see they’re releasing a second edition of Morio Kart over the winter? Looks fun!”

“Mm.” He nods, “it does.” But his eyes are still trained on Hiro at the counter. Despite there being three stools up there, Hiro has placed himself right in the middle, spreading his legs wide enough so no-one would dare sit besides him. Rei’s not an idiot, he knows he’s done it deliberately.

“Well, let me know if you need anything else, okay?” You smile warmly, squeezing his arm briefly before turning back to the counter – wary of leaving it unattended too long.

“Good, you’re back! I was getting lonely.” Hiro quips.

“You, lonely? Impossible.”

“See, that’s what I like so much about you, Honey. You’re so witty.” You can see why Kyu hasn’t given him any work since – he’s incredibly dense.

“Can I get you something else to drink?” You hint. His glass has been empty for a little while now and he’s shown no sign of moving on. You know he’s not waiting for Kyu, either. He’d been here when he first arrived behind he headed out on a “stock run”.

“Hm”, he pulls out his wallet. “One more, then.”

You watch, a little reluctantly, as the last group of ladies of the lunch rush bid you farewell – leaving a generous tip – and head out the door. They’d at least given you an excuse to get a break from Hiro’s terrible pick-up lines every so often. He’d made sure to sip his drink incredibly slowly – there’s still half a glass left in front of him.

Suddenly, Hiro gets to his feet and you let out a breath you’d been holding - he’s finally leaving. He strides to the door and instead of opening it as you’d expected, he flips over the open side to closed, and twists the lock on the door.

“Er, what are you doing?” You asked, perplexed.

“Giving us some much-needed private time, Honey,” he smirks, returning to his place the counter. “Come sit beside me, hm?” His hand pats the stool besides him.

“Look, I’ve told you already – I’m not interested in you like that...” Your stomach sinks. You’d have to volley yourself over the counter to get to the front door and your athletic prowess is non-existent. “And you can’t just lock the door either and shut the place down – you’ll get me in trouble with Kyu if he comes back and finds it like that.” You know Hiro wants to be on Kyu’s good side, so maybe that’ll be incentive enough? Kick some sense into his dumb head?

“Oh, you’re not interested?” He lets out a dry laugh. “Well, I can be pretty convincing when I need to be…”

It all happens so fast. Rei is suddenly behind Hiro and wraps his hand around the back of his neck, before smashing his face against the counter. There’s a loud crunch as his nose breaks against the hard surface. He’d been so quiet this entire time you’d forgotten that Rei had still been in the first booth, sitting slightly behind the divider. Silent, unassuming Rei, who apparently had more strength in that slender body than one would expect.

“What the…?” Hiro mumbles, obviously dazed, blood trickling down his nose. “Who the hell are you?”

“Her boyfriend.” Rei grunts, picking him up by the scruff of the neck and hauling him over to the door with minimal effort. He twists the lock with one hand before opening up and shoving Hiro out into the street. The man groans but doesn’t attempt to get up. Rei shuts the door, not locking it – Hiro would be an idiot to come back in and take a swing - and walks over to the counter opposite you, a concerned look on his face.

“Are you okay?” Your heart is thudding in your chest at what transpired over the last few moments. You know you should definitely be more concerned of what Hiro thought was going to happen, but there’s only one thing on your mind in that second.

“My boyfriend?”

Rei’s face flushes red. “It… It came out before I knew what I was saying. I couldn’t stand the way he was all over you.”

“Boyfriend?” Your brain is stuck in a loop.

“I mean, I know I’m not, that we’re not…” His face is growing redder by the second. “I should go.”

He turns to leave but you lunge forward, grabbing hold of his sleeve and pulling him with a strength you didn’t know you possessed back to the counter.

“Please don’t.” He looks confused at that for a moment, before settling his arms down on the surface. “What I mean is… I like you too.”

An adorable smile creeps across his face. It’s most likely the adrenaline, you decide, but to hell with it. You lean forward, grab hold of his shirt and yank him into a kiss. It’s messy, heated, and tinged with a citrus taste when the bell over the door rings and you pull apart like deers caught in the headlights. Kyu’s in the doorway, a knowing look on his face.

“Well, I was gonna ask why Hiro’s sat in the bins with a bleeding nose and crying, but this might explain it.”

-- Check out my masterlist.

#ghostdogwrites #buddy daddies x you #buddy daddies fanfic #suwa rei x reader #rei x reader #rei suwa x you #rei suwa x reader #requests open #buddy daddies

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pinievsev · 11 months ago

Text

Mario Kart

Pairing: Ham Jinsik x GN!reader

Warnings: None

Synopsis: Here

AN: I wrote this at 5am while listening to Sherlock by shinee on repeat so don't blame me if it's bad 😞

"Jinsik. I told you I don't know how to play this."

"Pleaseeeee jagi! I'll teach you!"

For the past 30 minutes or so, your dork of a boyfriend has been begging you to play Mario Kart with him. Of course, you knew what the game was, you don't live under a rock but you never thought about actually playing it.

"Why don't you just text Hunter to come over? Or Yujun?" You asked trying, and failing miserably, to get him to leave you alone.

"I texted everyone, they're all busy. Pleaseee, just one round?" He kept begging, you groaned and shut off your laptop, making sure to save the project you had been working on.

"Fine. But only for a little while, I need to get this done by tonight" you pointed to the device on your desk, hinting to the science project you ended up having to do alone due to the uneven number of people in your class.

You smiled at the way his eyes sparkled, like an excited child getting the toy they had been wanting. You let him pull you out of your room and to the living room where his console was set up temporarily until his new desk arrived, seeing as he broke his old one after raging over a game.

You laughed at the memory and sat on the couch as you watched jinsik bring another controller over and hand it to you, you couldn't help but admire his smile. He took his own seat next to you and started teaching you the basics.

After about 3 hours of him continuously beating your ass in the game, even tho every other round you kept saying you'd beat him 'this time', you finally managed to win a round and then another one and another one after that.

You placed the controller down and turned to him, crossing your arms.you squinted your eyes.

"Don't think I can't tell you're letting me win on purpose." He chuckled at your words and poked your nose, pushing your glasses, that had slid down the bridge of your nose, back up.

"But you looked so sad every time you lost, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you be upset?" He batted his eyelashes at you, a sneaky smirk making it's way onto his features.

"I promise you, Ham Jinsik, I will win this time. And on my own" you glared picking the controller back up. You saw him shake his head from the corner of your eye but didn't bring it up.

"I told you-" you started turning to face his once more, only to see he was already looking at you, eyes wide and grinning widely. "What.?" No response.

"What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?" You asked once more, a small laugh accompanying your sentence.

"You won" he said "yeah because you let me. Right?" He shook his head "Nope, I didn't. I actually tried" your eyes widened, matching his.

"Are you being serious?" He nodded and reached up with both hands, pinching your cheeks and shaking your head "Look at youuuu, learning so quickly" he cooed at you. You slapped his hands away from your face "you're messing with me, you let me win again."

"I did nottttt" he whined, dramatically falling on your lap "please believe me" you stared down at him rolling your eyes at puppy face he was making.

"Alright, fine, I believe you princess, get up" he shook his head and closed his eyes. "Get upppp" you got the same response.

"I'm comfy here" he simply said making you groan "fine at least let me get my laptop? You can sleep while I work?" He whined for what felt like the one hundredth time in the past few hours but he sat up.

You retrieved your laptop from your room and got back to the living room, you saw Jinsik turning the console off and putting the controllers back in place.

He returned to his previous position not long after you had sat down, laying on your lap.

"Next time I will beat you fair and square"

"No you won't"

"Yujun will help me"

"Sure he will"

#fanfiction #kpop #kpop x reader #xikers #xikers jinsik #jinsik x reader #ham jinsik #xikers x reader

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jerzwriter · 2 years ago

Text

A Different Fate... Part 2 - Ethan's POV

Book: Open Heart (Post Series)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Kaycee) feat. Tobias Carrick

Rating: Teen

Words: 2.7 k

Category: Short-Series/AU

Summary: A conversation with his friend, Tobias, has Ethan recalling a night from long ago and how it still lives in his heart to this very day.

A/N: @youlookappropriate ask and ye shall receive. lol I hope you enjoy this. Participating in @aprilchallenge Dinner, Laughter, Love

Series Masterlist Ethan x Kaycee Masterlist Full Masterlist

“Hey, Buddy!”

Tobias barged into Ethan’s office without so much as a knock, then plopped into the chair in front of his desk with a familiarity and ease that still made Ethan uncomfortable, even after all these years. Worse yet, he knew what was coming next. As anticipated, two Burberry loafers were now resting comfortably beside his inbox. On most days, Ethan would be barking at his accidental best friend. But today, the list of things on his mind was long, and his “buddy” being obnoxious didn’t even make the top ten.

“Did we get the results back for Spencer?” Ethan asked without turning from his laptop.

“Nope,” Tobias replied, refusing to look up from his notes himself.

Ethan slunk back into his chair with a sigh of frustration. Rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses before placing them on his desk. He officially had enough of today.

“Yeah,” Tobias acknowledged, tossing his notebook aside. “It’s been a long one. I think I’m through, too.”

“I won’t be able to rest until we get that kid’s results.”

“Same here,” Tobias replied. “But the lab said early tomorrow was their best estimate. I was just hoping for a miracle.”

A sad chuckle escaped Ethan as he stared out the window into the Boston twilight.

“Miracles… I gave up on believing in them long ago.”

Tobias had at least a half-dozen witty comebacks at the ready, but one look at Ethan’s forlorn face and he decided it wasn’t the time.

“You know, we should consider attending the AMA’s pediatric conference next month. I’ve been saying it would be helpful to expand our knowledge base there for years.”

“We get about six peds patients a year… do you think that’s the best way to utilize our limited time?”

“We might get more if we improve our pediatric outcomes,” Tobias shrugged. “Plus, I know I speak for both of us when I say failing at these cases messes with our minds way more than others.”

“You’re right on that,” Ethan agreed.

“So that settles it. I’ll make the arrangements.”

“No… hold off.”

“Why?”

Ethan tried to come up with a believable excuse but failed terribly. “Make arrangements for yourself if you like. But I’ll have to look at my schedule before I can commit.”

Tobias glanced at his phone, the conference’s homepage already on his screen… Join us for three days in New York City.

“You know…” Tobias grumbled. “She’s not listed as a speaker. Her specialty isn’t Peds, and in a city of eight million people, odds are, you won’t see her.”

Ethan sat up defiantly and placed his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. He returned to work without offering Tobias the dignity of a response. Undeterred, his friend continued.

“Of course, there are those who believe the two of you running into each other wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world… and I find myself firmly in that camp.”

“All right, stop!” Ethan barked. “It’s been eight years, Tobias. Eight years! When are you, Naveen, everyone… when are you going to stop?”

Tobias raised a brow as he collected his notebook from Ethan’s desk and stood up. He was already heading toward the door when he spoke again.

“I don’t know,” he yawned, turning around with a smile as he grabbed the knob. “I guess I’ll stop when you stop thinking about her. Until then…”

Ethan considered throwing something at him, but he was already gone. Just as well, his reaction would have told Tobias the one thing Ethan didn’t want to admit: He was right. They all were. No matter how much he tried to deny it, even to himself.

“When I stop thinking of her,” Ethan muttered to himself. “Good luck with that happening.”

Moving to the window, he stared down at the city below as dusk began to fall. The throngs of people below reflected the change in day. Fewer business suits, more dressy clothes. It was Friday night, after all, and that mattered to most people. A lump formed in his throat as he pulled down the shades, doing his best to block memories of a time when it mattered to him.

~~~~~

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been counting the hours all day. After adjusting the cufflinks on his shirt, he checked his reflection in the mirror one last time. Reservations at No. 9 Park, where he planned on sparing no expense. Followed by a stroll around Boston Common and The Public Gardens, places they had shared so many memories over the past three years, then capping off the night with drinks at Roxanne’s. The whole evening would take place in Beacon Hill, the very neighborhood Kaycee told him she dreamed of settling down in one day. It could be the perfect way to convince her to stay in Boston if that was what he intended to do.

A quick splash of the after-shave she gifted him on his birthday last year, and he was just about ready to go. He needed just one more thing… He remembered the day Kaycee helped him shop for the navy blue blazer he slipped into that night. It was unseasonably warm, so it wasn’t needed… but Kaycee loved it. She’d comment on how it brought out the blue in his eyes each time he wore it. While Ethan questioned that, there was no questioning the way her eyes raked over him whenever it was worn. So the blazer was joining him tonight, even if he didn’t consciously understand why.

Then she opened the door. He had thought this a hundred times before, and he was confident that if he had the privilege of seeing her every day for the rest of his life, he would repeat it daily… and mean it every time. But as of tonight, he had never seen her look more beautiful. Her long golden locks draped over her delicate shoulders, the way her pale blue dress hugged her every curve, the light that never stopped sparkling in her eyes, and that smile that melted his heart. All eyes were on her, and why wouldn’t they be? She was exquisite, inside and out. Radiating the glow of a woman with the world on a string. They weren’t only celebrating the end of her residency but the start of her star rising to heights they could only imagine. Kaycee MacClennan was about to take the world by storm, and Ethan couldn’t be more proud. Not only because of his role in helping her grow into the doctor she would become, but because she could celebrate with anyone tonight… but she chose him.

They dined, they talked, they danced, and she laughed… a melodic sound that was more beautiful than any symphony he could ever hear. A sound that would replay in his mind until the end of time. Kaycee. Her name had become like a prayer on his lips. Ethan Ramsey didn’t believe in many things outside the realm of science, but he believed in her with all his heart and soul.

“To you,” he beamed, champagne flute in hand. “To one of the most brilliant minds, coupled with the kindest heart I’ve seen in all my years. This is just the beginning for you, Kaycee, and I know I’ll be in awe of the places you go.”

“Ethan,” she blushed. “Stop. I owe so much of where I am to you. You’ve taught me so much, and I know I wouldn’t have made it through some of the trials of these past few years without you. So, this toast is as much for you as it is for me.”

“Nonsense!” He rebuffed.

“Hey! You said this is my night; if it is, I say we share this toast. OK?”

“Fine,” he surrendered with a laugh, “but only because you’re the boss tonight. Cheers!”

“Cheers!” she beamed.

Their crystal glasses met with an echoing ring, and Kaycee never looked happier. But, as the bubbly liquid began tickling Ethan’s lips, he felt his pride and happiness begin to morph into a far more familiar emotion… fear.

“Did MacClennan talk to you about NYU/Langone’s offer?”

“Who, me?” Ethan asked.

Tobias rolled his eyes dramatically. “No, the other 6’4” goon sitting across from me. Who am I talking to? Of course you!”

“Uh, no… not really. She mentioned it in passing, but we didn’t have a chance to discuss it. She told you about it?”

“Well, yeah. But chances are, I let her speak. Did you do the same?”

Ethan’s silence provided Tobias with the answer he needed.

“Look, this probably isn’t my business….”

“Then it’s best you stop.”

“I’d do that if I didn’t give a fuck about you… or Kaycee…, but I give several fucks about both of you. So that gruff little attitude you pull may make her scurry away, but you should know better than to think it’ll work on me. Ethan… talk to her.”

“About what?”

“About what comes next! You’re her mentor, aren’t you? And let’s stop pretending you’re not a whole lot more.”

“Kaycee’s brilliant… and she has a host of people to discuss things with… including you, apparently….”

“Cut the shit, Ethan. She can get a professional opinion from me, from Harper, from Naveen… but we can’t give her the answers she needs from you.”

“And what answers would that be?”

“Give her a reason to stay… of give yourself a reason to go… or tell her you’re not a factor… but stop leaving the poor woman in limbo.”

“She needs to make these choices based on what’s best for her. Nothing more.”

“And what if what’s best for her includes you?”

A snort escaped Ethan as he gathered his papers, his escape already underway. “That’s unlikely, Carrick. And even if it were true, she has to do what’s best for her professionally… personally comes and goes. No use basing her future on a dream.”

“For a man so smart….”

“Good night, Tobias.”

“Is everything OK?” Kaycee asked.

Ethan cleared his throat and excused himself. Confusion turned to panic as he rushed to the restroom for an escape. He leaned forward with the door locked behind him as anxiety gripped his chest. He loved her and knew she loved him… but love was fleeting; it always had been, and he saw no reason to believe it wouldn’t always be. He could uproot his life and follow her, it would be inconvenient if things didn’t work out, but he’d rebound. His career and wealth were established enough that he’d survive, but what about Kaycee?

The truth was, Ethan knew all about the offer at Langone, and it was beyond anything Edenbrook could match. She’d be an absolute fool not to take it. But he knew… one word from him, and she’d remain at Edenbrook in an instant… denying herself, denying the world of all she could offer. And for what? For him?

He looked in the mirror, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as his heart battled with his head. But what if she was the one? What if this was real and they were two halves that made a whole, two people who would always be more perfect together than apart? It went against every notion, every belief he held. Fairy tales didn’t exist. Ethan Ramsey knew that. There wasn’t a single couple in his life that he envied. After spending time with most, he’d return home, grateful for the solitude that had become his life. People hurt us, betray us… leave us. Medicine doesn't do that; knowledge doesn't either. At the end of the day, he could take comfort in what he achieved… knowing who he saved… because his focus was where it should be. Where Kaycee’s should be right now, where…. But he loved her.

He splashed cold water on his face and gathered himself. There was only one thing of which he was certain; this night was a celebration, one she richly deserved, and he wasn’t going to deprive her… or himself… of that. It wasn’t too much to ask for, one perfect night each could hold onto forever, no matter what story tomorrow told.

So he returned to the table, and Kaycee had no idea anything was amiss. The night proceeded just as he had planned until…

“I had a lovely time tonight,” she said as they approached her door. “You really didn’t need to go so overboard.”

“But I did. It was a celebration, one you richly deserved.”

“It was, wasn’t it… but….”

“But?”

“…it was more than a celebration; I’m just unclear. Was tonight so special because it marked a beginning or an end?”

His years in the medical field allowed him to retain a game face, even as panic welled inside. This was it. She wasn’t taking maybe as an answer anymore, and why should she? She had been patient with him, more than patient, and he’d be a fool to expect any more. She had a decision to make, but so did he, and had afforded him three years to decide… so why was he still so lost?

“Kaycee… you haven’t even made a decision about your next step yet… you should do that….”

“I have,” she interrupted, “I have. All I need to know is, have you made a decision about your future? Yours and mine.”

He took a step closer, lacing his fingers with hers as he gently stroked her cheek. He longed to see her blue eyes sparkle in the moonlight, but she had turned them away.

“Kaycee, you know how I feel about you, and you know how much you mean to me. But….”

He never got to finish. Everyone has a limit, and he could tell Kaycee had reached hers. If he had acted quickly, a grand gesture or confession could have saved them, but neither was to come.

“I can’t do this again. I’ve made my choice, and you’ll have my resignation on your desk tomorrow. I have to go where I’m wanted… where I’m needed, and that’s not here.”

He could hear his father, Naveen, Tobias… himself... screaming, “Tell her, just tell her how you feel!” But he had taught himself to silence these voices for over half his life, and if he was ever going to change, it wasn’t going to be tonight.

“I’ll always cherish tonight… I’ll cherish all of our memories over the past three years, Ethan. I just wish I hadn’t allowed myself to believe that - this - might be forever.”

“Forever can take on many meanings,” he frowned. “Sometimes forever doesn’t necessarily mean forever… not in this way, but that doesn’t mean we won’t….”

“I know…” she whispered. “I know. I… I should go inside. Good… goodbye, Ethan.”

Ethan Ramsey was a man of science and didn’t believe in many things outside of its realm. But a bright and beautiful young doctor had stepped into his life and changed all that. He believed in her. He believed in her with all his heart and soul, if only he could learn to believe in himself.

~~~~~

A single tear rolled down his cheek as he recalled that night. Eight years ago should feel like a long time, but the wound was as fresh as if it were created yesterday. The moment as real as if it had happened just seconds before.

He looked down at his desk and shook his head with a chuckle. A flyer for the AMA convention was conspicuously left behind.

“You don’t stop, Tobias. Do you?”

Ethan pulled out his phone, his heart racing as he scrolled his contacts to find the one name he could never bring himself to delete. It had been eight years, and he had no idea if her number was still the same, but it was all the hope that he had.

Kaycee, it’s Ethan… in case you deleted my number long ago, and I wouldn’t blame you if you had. I know this is out of the blue, but I will be attending the AMA’s pediatric conference in New York with Tobias next month, and I was wondering if you’d like to meet for dinner or even coffee or drinks. It’s been entirely too long, Kaycee. What do you say?

He stared at the message for what felt like an eternity. His thumb toggled rapidly between “send” and “delete.” Then he fell back with a sigh. He had finally made his choice.

(sorry lol)

Permatags: @a-crepusculo @animesuck3r @annoyingmillenialnewbie @crazy-loca-blog @differenttyphoonwerewolf @doriopenheart @fayeswiftie @genevievemd @gryffindordaughterofathena @inlocusmads @jamespotterthefirst @jennieausten @kingliam2019 @liaromancewriter @lucy-268 @onikalover @openheartforeverinmyheart @potionsprefect @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @secretaryunpaid @socalwriterbee @sophxwithers @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction @jerzwriter-reblogs-asks @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

More tags in reblog.

#ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #choices fanfic #open heart #open heart choices #choices open heart #ethan x kaycee #playchoices

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piperjistic · 5 months ago

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Tear to Shreds: Kenji Kon

Okay so since it’s on my mind, Jurassic Park: Camp Cretaceous, I’m making it everyone’s problem.

Aight so Sammy, Darius, Yasmin, and Ben are the best characters. Fuck Kenji and Brooklyn. Brooklyn gets an excuse because she’s useful on occasion (If we ignore the sequel series but I digress). Kenji? Hell nah. But Kenji is deadass the worst character in the entire show. I want to box this man, I want him to shut the fuck up.

Okay rant part over. Logic now. Kengi comes from a very privileged background, rich (crime) dad with no mom. So daddy issues. I… Personally I’m over characters having daddy issues with how frequent it is but Darius sorta has them (Dad dies directly before the show but he moves forward), so I can let it slide. But Kenji is just the standard privilege lazy rich kid that learns humility, stops being a complete asshole, touch grass, and get actual friends.

However, over the course of the show… He only develops one of those. Can you guess which one it is that’s desperately needed in a survival situation?

If you guessed touch literal grass, you are correct and obtuse. If you guess developed friends, you are correct and no obtuse. Good job superstar- Anyway, through trauma-bonding and stuck on the island for months, they all become BFFs. Yet that doesn’t change him from being an asshole that doesn’t humble himself or touch grass.

He’s meant to be close Darius and be an deuteragonist with Brooklyn but… it just doesn’t work with his character. Fine, your father is a super blackmarket business boss, even having assets on said island or the nearby one. Fine, he left his son to die on that island. Fine, Kenji was probably raised by maids, left with no ambition except for attention starved and approval of his father. Fine. But this isn’t anything new or creative. This is old and literally every scenario of rich kid stereotype getting a reality check.

You know who was this type of character but better? Amity Blight. And yet she’s cute and goofy and loving and develop her own ambitions (winning the tournament like her father). Kenji isn’t and doesn’t. Shit, she doesn’t try to take control or pretend to be a leader when she’s out of her league. Kenji does.

He infuriates me whenever he’s on screen. Yeah, he chills out with the arrogance to an extent as time goes on, but he constantly tries to one up Darius or is portrayed better than him without doing the work. He does rightfully get mad when its either a laptop or his friend (crush), but said laptop contained important info on dinos that should be kept out of the mercenaries grasp. He gets mad at Darius, specifically saying “friends don’t trade friends for things”, as if Darius needed to learn that lesson and everyone else was on board with it. He does this the most with Darius but he acted as if he knew better with Yas when she had her injured foot which keeps her from running and walking. This would be a good way to deepen her character and give us more of her background- nope Kenji is assigned to her to remove rubble to rebuild camp. Oh, he doesn’t do what was asked of him, and forces Yas to rest. Yes, Yas needs to rest but she would feel a lot better if you did your portion of the work or something. But no, you’re lazy and “right” in the scenario.

It doesn’t help that the group is more pro-dino that everyone else and you just go along with it yet act pro-dino. It makes sense why Darius, Sammy, and Ben are super pro dino and actively help them, Yas and Brooklyn just so happen to help out of a indirect reason, while Kenji hangs in the back. Darius loves dinos to begin with and his dad love them to. Sammy is a sweet girl and apart of a family farm with animals. Ben has a pet dino so best way to keep Bumpy safe. Yas? She likes Sammy so cool, but also she’s the one throughout the show that has the least amount of scenes helping dinos I believe, I get it. She’s only there because of a sponsorship for her track career. Brooklyn loves conspiracy theories and discovering the truth, dinos are simply the surface of it and find them cool so will help out. Kenji…. Kenji just goes along with it. Not a single interest and only tie is crime father. You can’t be for dinos while not actually for them. I can excuse Bumpy for being the group pet but outside of that, nothing.

The only progress besides chilling out and the plot with his father coming to the island is Brooklyn becoming his girlfriend. Yet that almost withers away expeditiously because his father is trying to separate him from his friends. Cool manipulation tactic bro but it undermines the relationship building they just got finished with. It’s fine if the relationship doesn’t work in the future, like the sequel series (Kenji tried tho I’ll give him that), but it literally just started at that point. Muhahaha I will sabotage their date so he can hang with me and my investors. Smh. This is why I stick with Sammy & Yas together, only lesbians can get it right.

Oh, and I hate his design, from clothes to body. His shoulders are too broad and look un-proportional to his body. He doesn’t do sports or anything, there’s no reason for them to look pronounced. I think they were trying to go for a jock look yet it wasn’t fitting at all. His clothes are generic for a rich kid and the only “personal touch” are two white lines at where the sleeves start which brings even more attention to how he’s built wrong. Ew.

The more I write, the more I think Kenji was their favorite character that had to have plot relevance about crime dad. It continues in the sequel series as Brooklyn before being presumed dead ended up linking money from his dad to get dino info. They go to the dad to figure out what’s going on, one last manipulation attempt then “oh I cared about you, I’ll sacrifice for you” moment. They get a lead and move on. Kenji then proceeds to get on Darius’ case about how “if you loved her so much why we’re you there”, like what the fuck??? Using that against him when you know he still isn’t over it. Darius sent hundreds of voicemails to her phone after her death as a way to be in denial and connect with her. And you say that shit afterwards, guilt tripping him further???? I, I want him to get fed to those raptors chasing them. Fucking hell.

Sorry if this is incoherent but I need to grip my teeth into paper and tear that shit up into shreds. It gives me the satisfaction that this will be the closest I get to do in real life. 😌 There’s another season to go so please let him get his ass beat and actual humility. 👏🏼

#write bite #tear to shreds #kenji kon #jurassic world camp cretaceous

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