#i'm gonna think abt this fic for the rest of my life lol

[pennyserenade]

i stayed up until 2am last night reading this entire thing. it has been a long, long time since i’ve done something like that, but i simply could not get enough of this story. it is filled with so much heart and it is so unique but perfectly frankie. i love it so much. this is without a doubt one of my favorite fics i’ve ever read and i just stumbled upon it earlier yesterday 

there were so many parts of this i enjoyed, but a really big part was the way you write frankie. i’m obsessed with men who are a little fucked up, but who really are trying to do their best, and i think that suits frankie to a t here. truly i don’t think i’ve ever read a frankie like yours and i am incredibly taken with him. i’ve always seen frankie as someone who struggles and you capture that part of him and make it a tad more complex: you take it beyond his substance abuse and you make him someone who stumbles in all areas of his life, from alcohol to home. i think the fact that he’s kind of an asshole makes him feel incredibly real too. like so many things he said in this to her twisted my heart and yet i never once thought ‘frankie’s too nice for that’ because you create this frankie that is both nice and an asshole and it works perfectly. 

i love reader beyond words too and i love the fact that you give us flashbacks between their relationship before and their relationship, because you can really see how much she has grown as a person with/because of frankie and what frankie has done to her. i love that she understands that she will do anything for frankie, too. one of my favorite parts between them was this:

“I got pulled over at a checkpoint, blew above the legal limit. They searched the car and found blow,” he purses his lips and looks down into the steaming coffee cup, “I’m… I’m sorry for putting you in this position. I didn’t know what else to do. I knew you had a clean record and would meet the qualifications, and…”

The quiet settles again. It’s somehow more tense. You take a sip of the coffee and gesture for him to continue, “And?”

“Nevermind,” he sits back and crosses his arms, then stares out the window blankly.

You shake your head, “No, just say it. I want you to say it.”

He shifts his jaw from one side, to the other, then sighs and looks back to meet your gaze, “And I knew you’d post bail for me. I knew you’d agree.”

like she knows it’s not fair and he knows it’s not fair and yet they can’t stop themselves for asking and giving too much. their relationship is best kind of achy. it hurt my feelings multiple times, especially because frankie is so stuck between fixing his family and throwing it all to the wind for her. every time he tells angie that he loves her in front of reader, i die a little because that’s so awful. i will admit though, the fact that frankie gets so jealous over rory, and even briefly benny, is kinda sexy and i’m not too good to admit that even though it makes me so angry at him for being so hypocritical 

i could probably write entire essays about this fic to be honest. there’s so much about it that just works perfectly and i adore it so much. it was so fun staying up that late reading it, and i simply can’t wait for whatever you push out next for this. you are incredibly talented writer and reading you makes me want to grow personally as one. in this you write a world that feels lived in, where all the characters, even the side ones like ralph and david from aa, are so interesting as to be remembered by name. i don’t know how to say this in words that make complete sense, but in this story everything feels so real, like you describe everything so vividly and its a story that spans beyond just these two people. you’ve truly created an entire world in this fic and i’m baffled by it. thank you for sharing this <333333

Designated Person | Chapter 6

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Chapter 6: Present

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Series Summary: When posting bail for Frankie Morales, your former employer and former lover, you unwittingly designate yourself as his third party custodian during his pre-trial release. Your often tumultuous relationship with him is given a new set of rules and put to the test. Can the two of you co-exist peacefully, or will you crash and burn?

Word Count: 9.2k+

Content / Warnings: Frankie POV, infidelity, past romantic & sexual relationship and related flashbacks, angst, food, AA meeting, alcoholism, abuse mention, lying, confrontation, crying, mutual masturbation, panty snatchin' (sorry idk what else to call it)

Notes: Hello hello hello! If you want the taglist, spotify playlist, or AO3 link, head on down to the masterlist. I appreciate your patience in waiting for this, thank you so much for reading. Ok love u have fun!

[ Series Masterlist ]

Tonight, the AA meeting is being held in the conference room of a value hotel. 

The three-story venue is ripe with families on vacation and traveling professionals who likely booked their rooms as a cost-saving measure. They certainly didn’t choose to stay here because of its charming features, such as the floating island of dead bugs in the outdoor swimming pool, or the dingy low-pile carpet darkened in high-traffic areas, or the generic, faded landscape portraits in shiny golden frames. 

Its conference room is windowless, the only source of light buzzing from long fluorescents overhead, dousing everything in a twitchy, vague sort of green that grips Frankie’s stomach. 

Or, maybe it’s just the story he’s listening to that’s making him feel ill. 

Maybe a little bit of both, it’s hard to tell. 

“She had her heart set on leaving, ‘n’ I told her, nobody fuckin’ wants you here anyway, Mary Beth, go on home!” 

The haggard old man, who introduced himself as Fred, says this in a jovial, rehearsed way that tells Frankie this story has been told many times. Probably over drinks, to coworkers, or friends, or anyone who happened to be within earshot at his regular barstool. 

Fred glances around over his puffy, purpled nose, like he half expects his spectators’ laughter, but the only noise is the squeak of people’s uncomfortable shifting in seats. Either because the story is too relatable, or because these folding chairs are hell on the tailbone. 

“She told me if I didn’t get my ass outta that barstool, she’d be gone when I got home,” he looks at the floor and his cheeky grin falls, “I didn’t go home ‘til barclose. ‘N’ she was still there. Knew she would be. She always was.”

The room is silent as he gathers his thoughts. 

“She passed away, few years back,” he looks around, putting his calloused hands up defensively, “‘N’ I miss her everyday, don’t get me wrong, but—”

The well-weathered skin of his face sags into solemnity, “I kinda wish she woulda kicked me to the curb, y’know? Was always waitin’ for it, for her to get fed up ‘n’ leave, but she never did. ‘N’ I think, sometimes, maybe… she woulda lived a better life if she did. ‘Steada waiting around for some drunk, she coulda really made somethin’ out of herself. And I feel…” he frowns at the floor, trying to pinpoint the correct emotion, a skill undoubtedly atrophied by decades of avoidance.

“Regret, I think? Wasting so much of her life. It’s one thing wastin’ my life, but her’s… I dunno. It don’t sit right,” Fred clears his throat and swallows, then sighs, “Guess that’s it. Our anniversary’s coming up next week, she’s been on my mind ‘n’ I wanted to get that out.” 

The ringleader for tonight is David, as is usually the case at the Monday night meetings Frankie attends. He thanks Fred for sharing, then asks for another volunteer. 

Frankie leans back in his seat and presses his fingers to his lips as another participant clears their throat and begins to talk. He’s stuck on the old man’s story, though. His knee starts bouncing as he turns it over in his mind. 

I’m not that bad, right? I wasn’t that absent. I didn’t go to the bar every night. On the weekends, sure. And on weeknights, I’d drink myself fuzzy and numb, but at least I was at home.

Was he really present, though? 

Before you, when Angie was home with Sarah on maternity leave, he’d come home from work and visit with them for a while. Knock a few beers or drinks back. After dinner, he would continue to drink in the garage, or in the basement. Somewhere Angie couldn’t raise her eyebrows every time he finished a beverage and retrieved a replacement. 

Even after you, this ritual continued. You distracted him enough to slow the drinking those few hours after he got home. But once the table was cleared after dinner, he would tuck himself away somewhere in the house to drink alone. 

It wasn’t always that way. 

He drank, sure, but it wasn’t every day. It wasn’t to the point his mind went blank. 

No, that didn’t start until he returned from South America. 

Every time his eyelids closed, it played on repeat. The mansion. The crash. The village. Redfly’s vacant eyes. Over and over. His culpability hung around his neck like a noose. 

The guys didn’t want to talk about it. A silent agreement not to mention their sins. Angie didn’t want to talk about it. Too pissed at him for going in the first place to feel bad for him. 

It just stayed inside him, replaying again and again on loop. He needed something to wipe the slate clean, and booze worked. 

Not like he was sober before then. Drinking himself blind on the weekends. Fuck, Angie was the same way. Before she got pregnant, anyway. That’s how they ended up meeting, that summer night back in 2018. 

He and Benny went to one of their frequent Saturday spots. The bar was crowded and loud, heavy throngs of people attracted by a popular local DJ. Summer heat crept into the air despite the industrial air conditioner running at full blast, Florida’s relentless humidity hung thick in the air, leaving a dewy residue on every surface. 

The only thing Frankie could smell was that primal, earthy scent of sweat. He pinched his shirt and pulled it away from his chest with a few quick tugs, trying to get some kind of a breeze going. When he looked around the bar, swathes of exposed skin all surrounded him, people wiping their foreheads and fanning themselves. 

He spotted two women sitting at a high-top table, leaning over their drinks and talking to each other. One of them was a pretty, unassuming brunette. The other had glossy black hair that shone in the neon lights, cascading in waves down the open back of her dress. She looked put together and fucking luminous, the way her copper skin seemed to glow. He couldn’t look away. 

Benny was in the middle of a sentence when Frankie cut him off, “Holy shit, look at her.” 

“What—who?” Benny followed Frankie’s line of sight and guffawed, “Her? She would eat you for fucking breakfast, man.”

“I fucking wish,” Frankie gave Benny this dopey smile, nodding towards them, “You getting a feel on the friend?”

Benny glanced her over and shrugged, a smirk turning up the corner of his mouth, “Pretty brunette?” 

“Right up your alley, huh?” Frankie grinned, then nudged his friend, “So?”

“Fuck it, why not?” Benny chuckled. 

“Atta boy,” Frankie smacked his shoulder a few times, then started off towards the table. 

“Hey, how’re you two doing tonight?” he asked as he leaned against the table, looking between the two women, who sized him up scrupulously, “Yeah, uh, my name is Frankie, this is my buddy, Benny. Mind if we join you?” 

“Why?” the subject of his desire asked, her big, round eyes searching Frankie’s face. 

“Why?” he raised his eyebrows and chuckled, “Well, because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. I’d sell my goddamn soul for an opportunity to talk to you—”

“Oh yeah?” she smirked and tilted her head, bringing the tip of her tongue to her top teeth before shrugging, “Prove it.” 

“You—you want it? My soul?” he grinned and leaned closer, “It’s yours, beautiful, for the low, low price of this barstool next to you. And maybe, if you’re feeling generous, a dance later?”

“That’s a hell of a deal,” she raised her eyebrows and joked, “For you, I mean.”

“Oh yeah?” he laughed, “What if I throw in a sweetener? I’ll buy your drinks, too, how’s that sound?” 

She scrunched her face up in contemplation, then smiled, “Deal.”

“Yeah?” Frankie beamed, extending his hand to her, and as she took it, he grazed his thumb against her soft skin, “What’s your name?”

“Angie,” she answered, eyebrow quirking as she told him, “This doesn’t mean you’re taking me home tonight, though.”

“Noted,” he smirked, dropping his eyes to her lips, before meeting her gaze, “So what’re you drinking?”

He woke up the next morning in his bed, head spinning, stomach clenching. 

Before opening his eyes, he tried to recount the night, following the path of breadcrumbs his memory allowed him. Meeting Angie, taking shots, flirting with her relentlessly, more drinks, dancing with her. Kissing her on the dance floor. The sidewalk slabs uneven beneath his feet on the walk back to his apartment. A woman’s razor sharp giggle as he fumbled to unlock the door. 

The mattress shifted beside him and he cracked one eyelid open tentatively, releasing a sigh of relief when he recognized Angie as the person tangled up in his sheets. Traces of the previous night’s makeup still held in tact on her face, oily pools gathering in the soft wrinkles of her forehead and eyes, black mascara clinging to her lashes in clumps and flaking onto her cheeks, a faint red outline where her lipstick was before he kissed it off of her. He rolled on his side towards her and brushed some of the sweat-dampened hair from her forehead. 

She hummed and frowned, then took a deep, wakeful breath as her eyes blinked open. They were stunning in the light. Golden streaks like sunbeams stretching from the middle of her iris into a deep, rich brown. 

“Oh, fuck,” she murmured, “We fucked, didn’t we?”

“That’s what it’s looking like,” he smirked, “How’re you feeling?”

She groaned and pinched the bridge of her button nose, “Still drunk.”

“Regret this yet?” he chuckled, half-joking, half-wondering. 

“Having sex with a stranger? Yeah, I’m having some regrets,” she scoffed, shaking her head, then threw her hand down at her side. She sighed and studied his face, “You’re cute, though. Kind of wish I could remember it.”

“Ditto,” he said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear with a shrug, “You know, we could have a do-over. Since we’re already here and regretting it. You could… let me have another chance to, ya know, make a lasting impression.” 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” her dark eyebrow arched. A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. She brought her long, red fingernails to his hairline and combed them through his bed head. 

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded, dropping his gaze to her lips, “Plus, that way, when this hangover inevitably kills me, I’ll die a happy man.” 

“Is that right?” she giggled. The sound made his heart sing in harmony. 

“That’s right,” he reached out to her under the covers, smoothing his hands along her soft skin, coaxing her closer as he murmured, “What do you think, princesa, hmm?”

“I think,” she wriggled on top of him, the sticky heat of her naked body clinging to his, “I could give you a fighting chance.“

She hovered over him, meeting his eyes for an intoxicating moment before he pulled her lips to his. From there, it was full throttle. Kissing, biting, gasping, moaning. Torrid, frenzied movements that burned bright and hot. 

Their relationship took off at break-neck speed. 

From that day onward, they were doing nightly sleepovers at each others’ apartments. Every free moment spent with the other, most often spent drinking or fucking. Six days into their relationship, Frankie got a text from some girl he was casually seeing. Angie read it when he was out of the room, then confronted him, resulting in their first drunk screaming match, and, subsequently, their first instance of drunk make-up sex. 

She worked at a global manufacturing plant’s central office with hundreds of other carpet-walkers and pencil-pushers as a financial analyst. Her hours often ran long and wound her up tight. 

When she would show up at Frankie’s apartment after work, she’d be ready to burst. He’d fix her a drink and listen to her bitch about coworkers and projects and idiots who used reply all instead of reply, waiting for her to ask him anything about his day. She never seemed all that curious about him, though, which irked him. 

They did have fun together, when they had sex and went out to bars, but by the end of the second month, he found her presence to be draining. That bug of discontentment wriggled beneath his skin. He realized they had little in common aside from their coping mechanisms and combustibility. 

He started to think about breaking things off with Angie, but, by then, it was too late. 

“Who would like to go next?” David asks, glancing around the circle of metal folding chairs and their scattered occupants. 

Frankie meets his eyes and points his index finger at the ceiling. 

“Floor’s yours, Frankie.” 

“Thanks,” Frankie nodded and crossed his arms, sitting back in the squeaky chair, “Growing up, my dad wasn’t around much,” his mouth opens, but a thought occurs to him and he chuckles, shaking his head, “There’s one for the AA Meeting Bingo Card, huh?” 

This actually earns a few amused grins and a snort of laughter from his peers. 

He leans forward, pressing his elbows into his knees with a shrug, “Anyway. Even when he was living with us, whenever I did see him, he had a beer in his hand. And I thought it was normal, like everyone’s dad went to the bar every night, so I didn’t think much of it. I’m not sure when that changed. When I started to notice, I mean, that it wasn’t normal.

“When I’d go to my friend’s house, I thought they were… I dunno, fucking weird? Because they sat around the dinner table and talked to each other while they ate. And—and they didn’t seem afraid of their dad. Like, they didn’t have to walk on eggshells when he was around, which made me… uncomfortable, I guess,” he grimaces and shakes his head, “Jesus Christ, that’s fucked up. But, anyway, the point I’m trying to make is that, to me, my dad’s behavior was normal. 

“There would be times when he would come home and be three sheets to the goddamn wind, and he’d yell and throw shit, and my ma, she would lock me in my bedroom and tell me not to come out. Said my dad wasn’t feeling well,” he crinkles his nose and shrugs, “They split when I was twelve. And I don’t blame her for leaving him, I really don’t, but… I didn’t see him again until I got out of basic.”

He stops and leans back, taps his fingers on his kneecaps, then crosses his arms. A knot tightens in his throat when he remembers that day. Knocking on the door of his dad’s shitty apartment in Orlando. When it swung open, Frankie barely recognized him. 

Seven years left to his own devices aged him decades. Deep wrinkles carved into his droopy forehead. His nose and cheeks were darkened and bumpy, like he had a pubescent case of acne. He looked Frankie over with glossy, barely-there eyes and slurred, “There’s my boy! Hey, come in, Francisco, come in!”

Frankie’s stomach soured when the words hit his face, thick and swollen with whiskey. A warning signal that laid dormant in his veins for years reawakened, gushing hot and electric beneath his staticky skin. 

His father turned and started waddling into the apartment, so Frankie followed him, closing the door left wide open behind him. The apartment was threadbare. A dingy beige couch sat on one side of the living room, facing a small antennaed tv propped up on a milk crate. Some blonde news anchor chattered on the tv, but the gurgling buzz of the air conditioning unit effectively muted her. In lieu of a proper dining room setup, his father had a folding chair tucked into a card table, which was cluttered by piles of unopened envelopes and empty beer cans.

While the stranger pulled two beer cans out of his fridge, Frankie managed to stitch some words together, “So, how’ve you been, Dad?”

He didn’t seem to hear his question, just held one aluminum can across the countertop to his son, “You’re a real man now, huh? Have a beer with me, Francisco.” 

Frankie took a few steps forward and went to lean onto the counter, but decided against it when he realized how sticky the surface was. He accepted the beer and opened it. 

“It’s been too long, my boy, too long. What has it been, four years?”

“Seven,” Frankie corrected, averting his gaze to a tower of dirty dishes emerging from cloudy, gray water in the sink. The wet, bacterial, rotting stench made his nose crinkle. 

“Ah, well. I’m, well…” he trailed off and swallowed three big gulps of beer, then grinned, “So, Special Forces, huh?”  

“Yeah, I—”

“I’m proud of you, Francisco.” 

Frankie’s head jerked backwards and he met his dad’s dark eyes, “Wh-what?” 

“Takes discipline,” he responded, nodding, “I’m proud of you. Your mom, she did a good job with you.”

And he wanted to say a million different things. He wanted to say thank you and I love you and I forgive you and I hate you and fuck you. He wanted to yell: No thanks to you, you drunk old bastard. You woman-beating fucking coward. A different part of him wanted to cry: Why did you abandon me? Why wasn’t I good enough? Am I good enough now?

But when he licked his lips and opened his mouth to respond, his dad shuffled off into the sad living room, changing the subject. 

Frankie shakes his head and sighs, then looks around the room, “When Angie got pregnant, I vowed I’d never be like him. I—I wanted to be there for my kid, to be better than he was to me, and give my child a better life than I had. 

“Ang and I don’t always, um… see eye-to-eye. We have our problems. I’m trying to make it work, but I’m just so,” the word catches in his throat and burns behind his eyes. He takes a deep breath, swallows, and admits, “I’m so scared it’s not going to work. And Ang will take her. And I’ll end up just like him.”

He clears his throat, then takes another wide, cleansing breath before starting again.

“The only things I’ve ever been any good at are being a soldier and being a dad,” he says, staring at the floor, “It’s hard enough only seeing her a few times a week right now. I fucking hate it. I hate not being there when she wakes up in the middle of the night with a nightmare, and not watching Happy Feet with her twice a day, and not cuddling on the couch with her in the morning,” his stomach clenches and he feels a swell of tears starting behind his eyes, but continues, “The only thing getting me through this right now is knowing that it’s temporary. But if it doesn’t work with Angie, and I lose Sarah, I lose fucking everything. And I—I fucking can’t do that. I won’t.”

Frankie buries his face in his hands and feels a sob bubble up his throat. The echo of his crying returns to his ears and he becomes acutely aware of the other people in the room. That hardened part of his brain scolds him, growling at him to fucking get it together. He pushes the chair out behind him and keeps his head down as he walks out of the room, muttering, “I need a minute.”

When your shitty old car pulls into the hotel parking lot, Frankie is still outside pacing, trying to gather the courage to go back inside and face the group. 

He breathes a sigh of relief and starts towards it. You furrow your brow at him through your cracked windshield. When he opens the car door and sits down, you ask, “Why aren’t you in there?”

“It’s fine,” he frowns and pulls his seatbelt over his chest, locking it in place, “Got out early.”

You narrow your eyes at him, then scoff, “Bullshit. What happened?”

“Nothing—”

“Oh my god, Frankie, come on,” you cross your arms and lean back in your seat, searching his face, “You’re all flustered right now—”

“I am not,” he protests.

“You’re such a liar, you are flus-tered,” you blink at him with authority, raising one eyebrow, “All jittery, and your eyes look red—did you cry? Is that it?”

It’s irritating how well you know him. 

He rolls his eyes and looks out the window, muttering against his fingers, “Can we just go?”

“It’s ok, you know, to cry,” you say quietly. 

His leg starts bouncing and his jaw gnashes from one side to the other.

Like you’re one to talk. 

Like you don’t go out of your way to hide from him every time tears pool in your eyes. 

“Hey,” you coo and tug on his hand. He lets you take it, interlacing his fingers with yours. The contact makes his heart skip a beat. When he looks over at you, your brows are threaded together, earnest eyes searching his face, “You’re not the first person to cry in AA, I promise. They’re there to support you. Give them a chance to help.” 

He glances up at the hotel’s exit and sees a few people from the meeting filing out, and shrugs, “It’s over now, anyways.”’

“Did you get your paper signed?” 

“No.”

“C’mon, at least get credit for your work,” you smirk, squeezing his hand, “I’m sure they’ll understand why you left.” 

He groans and scrubs a hand over his face, “Fine.” 

“Atta boy,” you grin, “Do you want me to come with or do you got this?”

“I got this,” he flashes a weak smile, and has to hold himself back from bringing the back of your hand to his lips. 

He unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the vehicle, nodding at a few familiar faces as he makes his way back into the building to the conference room. 

In the room, a few people are putting away chairs or talking in small, quiet groups. David stands by the snack table, signing off on someone’s attendance form. Frankie lines up behind them and avoids David’s gaze when it’s his turn to hand over the attendance sheet. 

“That was really vulnerable, what you shared with us today,” David tells Frankie as he unfolds the form. 

His nostrils flare and he scoffs, “I thought I was supposed to share things.”

David frowns as he signs off on the paper, shaking his head, “It’s a compliment. Being vulnerable is good, and I appreciate your vulnerability.” 

“Oh,” Frankie shifts his weight to one leg and frowns, “Thanks.” 

“Yeah, of course,” David hands the form back, and when Frankie takes it, he can tell David is gearing up to say more. His face grows more solemn. He pushes the wire frame of his glasses up the bridge of his nose and says, “I know how conflicting it is being an alcoholic father with an alcoholic father. It’s hard to know if you’re doing the right thing. Being apart from them is hell, even if it’s when you’re doing something to make yourself better. I just wanted to let you know that I get it.” 

Frankie nods, searching the man’s face, “Thanks, man.”

“No problem,” David flashes a polite smile, then turns to the snack table and starts picking things up. 

When the two of you get home, Frankie goes into your bedroom to haul the TV back to its normal spot in the living room. 

He finds himself lingering at the foot of the bed, staring at the side he slept in last night. At the covers, still drawn back from when he woke for work this morning. At the stuffed panda bear you set in his place at some point today. 

My place. 

He needs to stop thinking like that. It’s not his place. It can’t be his place. 

Not permanently, anyway. 

Part of him feels guilty for not leaving once you fell asleep. Staying was pure self-indulgence, no matter how many times he tries to convince himself it was for your benefit. 

It can’t become a habit. 

But all weekend he wanted to hold you. To feel your beating heart and shallow, wheezy breath against his body. Proof that you were still here, after seeing you gasping for air, lips tinged blue, eyes wide with fear. 

In his life, he’s faced a lot of scary and uncertain situations. Situations that threatened his own life and that of people he cares about. But this… this was different. At least in combat scenarios, he had training and experience to guide him. 

This weekend he felt powerless. 

If he had to quantify the terror, he was at maximum capacity. Never been so fucking afraid in his life. He felt so helpless, he folded his hands and bowed his head at your hospital bedside, reaching out to something or someone in hushed whispers, pleading for your recovery. 

So, no, he couldn’t bring himself to leave you alone in your bed last night. Not when you fell asleep in his arms, your head on his chest, curled up at his side. 

The answer to his prayers. 

When he was sure you were sleeping, he pressed his lips to your forehead and told you what he’s only barely been able to admit to himself. 

In a million different ways, I’ve always loved you.

It was indulgent. Undisciplined. 

But mostly, it was a relief. 

Even if his words fell on your sleeping ears. 

Even if he can probably never tell you again. 

With a heavy sigh, he follows the TV’s power cord to the wall and unplugs it. He freezes when he spots something on the floor next to your dresser. You cough at the other end of the house, and he glances over his shoulder just to make sure you’re not around before he picks it up. 

A pile of soft teal lace. Your underwear. 

He brings them to his nose and inhales, the familiar scent inspiring a deep, heated churn at the base of his spine. Without another thought, he shoves them in the front pocket of his jeans, then unplugs the TV. 

Frankie settles on the couch with a groan, then glances over to where you’re curled up into a little ball and asks, “Were you able to get some rest today?”

You nod and your mouth stretches into a yawn, then you murmur, “Still kind of feel like shit, though. Hopefully it’s better by Wednesday.”

“Oh yeah, how’re your kids doing?” 

“Marla said they’re doing better, getting back to their normal selves. Em’s going back to school tomorrow.”

“That’s good,” he leans back and spreads out in his corner of the couch, “You like it, working for them?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, “They’re sweet kids. Whole different vibe than Sarah, though,” you glance at him and chuckle, “Don’t tell anybody, but she was my favorite.” 

A grin stretches across Frankie’s face. He presses his fingertips to his lips and looks over at you, “She is pretty great, huh?” 

“The best,” you agree, a wistful smile playing on your lips, “I hope that when I, um,“ you falter here, smile dropping. You clear your throat and shake your head, “Sorry, I lost my train of thought. Are you guys doing anything fun tomorrow?”

“Not sure yet. Angie, um… yeah, I don’t know,” he frowns at his knee as it starts to bounce, “She’s pissed at me. So probably, you know, dealing with that.”

“Because you skipped out on Saturday?”

He nods, and when you don’t say anything, he glances over at you, “It’s fine, though, she’ll get over it.”

“Sure,” you smirk, raising an eyebrow, “Have things been going ok outside of that?”

“Aside from the alcoholism, my pending felony, and the fact that I’m living with another woman?” he snorts, “Things are going great.” 

“Don’t forget the affair,” you tease. 

“Mmm, you mean the isolated incident?” he corrects, rolling his head on his shoulders to look at you. 

You scoff and shake your head, “Wow. Yeah, isolated. Sure. Just a mistake, right?” 

He searches your face, watching your eyes go dim and your jaw clench, and furrows his brow, “N-no, that’s not—“

You clamp your lips closed with your teeth, like you’re holding yourself back, then open your mouth anyway, “That’s what you tell her, though, right?” you blink, “It was a mistake, it meant nothing to you, it’ll never happen again, blah blah blah?”

His jaw hangs slack and throat croaks as he tries to yield some kind of truth that will both spare your feelings and help him evade scrutiny, “I’m—sorry.”

It’s all he can come up with. 

You roll your eyes and sigh, then mutter, “Whatever,” before turning your attention back to the TV. 

The silence that settles is tense. It writhes beneath his skin and trickles into his stomach, twisting it into knots. 

You start to wriggle in your seat, like it’s bothering you, too. He can feel a jagged energy rolling off your body, and, predictably, you break. 

“If you ever want things to actually work with her, you’re going to have to come clean,” you huff, then glare at him, “You know that right? That you can’t just lie to her forever? There’s no way she fucking believes you.”

Frankie sighs, picking his hat off his head to run a hand through his hair, “Can we not?”

“Sure, we can just not,” you snip and sit up straight, crossing your arms across your chest, “We can just pretend things are cool and groovy and you can get your life back and I can fuck off into oblivion.” 

“Jesus Christ—”

“Well, fuck, that’s what you want, right, Frankie?” you stare at him, “You’ll be nice to me while you’re here, and cuddle with me, and hold my hand, and what the fuck ever, but when this arrangement is over, then what?”

“I don’t fucking know, ok?!” he snaps, then stands and starts pacing the living room, shaking his head, “I don’t know if—if I’m going to fucking prison, or if I’m going to lose my job, or if my wife will fucking divorce me and take my daughter away—”

Frankie stops and turns away from you, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. A few quiet seconds go by as he gathers himself and wrangles the burgeoning tears back into his skull. When he turns back around, he throws his hands out at his side, then lets them fall loose, “I don’t know what anything will look like after this,” he meets your glossy eyes, all wide and pained, and tells you in a hoarse, shaky voice, “Look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being a fucking asshole to you for so long. I lied to you. I pushed you away. I fucking—I fucking hurt you and I understand that.”

He takes a few steps forward. Your eyes, pooling with tears, stay glued his, following seamlessly when he crouches down in front of you and pleads, “I’m trying to be better, I swear to god I’m fucking trying. I—I care about you a lot. And I’m sorry I can’t give you a better answer for what you and me will look like after this ‘situation’ is over with, because I have no fucking clue what anything will look like.” 

You swallow hard and nod, then drop your gaze as your face crumbles. A sob bubbles up your throat and quickly devolves into a coughing fit. 

“Ah, fuck,” he mutters, glancing around. He spots your inhaler on the coffee table and hands it to you, “Need this?”

You take it and inhale a few puffs of albuterol. When your breathing evens out, blink the tears from your eyes and croak out, “Sorry.” 

He reaches up and smudges a fat, swollen tear on your cheek with his thumb, “It’s fine, sweetheart.”

A pained expression crosses your face. You lean away from his touch, so he sits down beside you as you exhale a thick sigh and look around the room.

“I understand why you wouldn’t tell Angie everything. I just—” one of your cheeks pulls in like you’re gnawing at the inside. You release it and tell him, “I just hate the idea of you saying we were a mistake. I don’t know. Is that dumb?” 

Your eyes flick to his and they’re so sincere, his stomach flips upside down. He shakes his head, “No, that’s not dumb.” 

“Ok,” you sniffle, nodding as you look at the TV, “Ok.”

A minute goes by, each second amplifying the buzz beneath his skin. He looks over and realizes you’re squished against the armrest of the couch, curled up in a tense knot of limbs, brow furrowed, biting at your lip. 

“Hey,” he coos, beckoning you closer, “Come here.”

You give him this kind of pathetic, kind of cute pout, but accept the invitation. As he wraps an arm around your shoulders, you drape your legs across his lap, rest your head in the crook of his neck. He lays his cheek on the crown of your head and tucks you into an embrace. 

Maybe it’s one-sided, but Frankie feels heat humming between your bodies. 

The floral, minty scent of your hair, mixing with the musk of your soft skin, all dewy from humidity. Your breath rolling hot across the column of his throat. 

You wriggle closer, and the weight of your body settles between his legs. Presses firm down on his half-hard cock. 

His insides twist with a nagging, all-consuming want. The kind that usually fogs his brain when he thinks about booze. It claws at him like an animal caged within his ribs. Teeth bared, ferocious, growing: I need her I need her I need her

In the same cadence it always howls: I need a drink I need a drink I need a drink

The tips of his fingers scrape against your shoulder. A little whimper sneaks out your throat and drips down his spine. Your muscles shift and he can feel your lips hovering over his thudding pulse. 

This is dangerous. This is a line. A tightrope teetering beneath the soles of his feet. 

You breathe his name and it grazes his neck. His body surges with desire, cock throbbing, and he’s unable to stop the whine that croaks out his lips. 

He looks down at you, meeting your darkened, heavy-lidded gaze. You study each other, but neither of you move, despite the palpable current of electricity between you. 

“I—I should go to bed,” you whisper with little conviction, eyes darting to his mouth.

“It’s still light out,” he says, brushing the back of his hand against your cheek. 

You shiver and your lips part, panting, “I need to clear my head—I’m… not thinking right.”

Frankie imagines you clearing your head in your bedroom with the door closed. Your fingers working between your legs, eyes pinched closed while you flip through the mental catalogue of all the times he’s fucked you. 

“Can I come with you?” he asks, voice ragged, “I won’t—I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.”

You search his face, brows pushing together, and nod. 

This is stupid. 

You both know it. 

But he follows you to your room and closes the door behind him. 

Sinks into your bed as you lay out on the other side. 

You start slow, hands roaming the curves of your body. Over your tight tank top, no bra underneath, just the clear outline of your nipples. Along the middle of those little cotton sleep shorts he likes so much. 

He keeps his distance, blood pounding thick in his skull, as you ruck your shirt up your chest and roll a hardened bud between your fingers. You whimper and bite down on your bottom lip, eyes locking to his as your other hand slips beneath the waistband of your shorts. 

In his periphery, he can see the outline of your wrist flicking under the fabric, but he can’t part his eyes from yours. It’s entrancing. Your mouth opens in a moan, lips pouting out into a whimper as you start to gain traction. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he groans, pushing his palm against his swollen length trapped within the confines of his jeans, begging for attention. He unbuckles his belt and tugs his pants off. At the same time, you pull your shorts down. Some sort of silent trade agreement.

Frankie wraps his hand around his cock and drags his grip down, pulling the sensitive, aching skin taught. His palm is dry and rough as he starts to rut up and down, but the friction gives his touch an edge that makes him shiver. 

You’re watching him do this while you trail your fingertips along the shiny ridges of your sex. Saliva pools in his mouth when he remembers what you taste like. Imagines his tongue tracing the soft folds of you.

Your hips buck and you whimper when you touch your clit. You roll the pads of your fingers against the engorged bundle of nerves, eyelids fluttering as you work yourself. 

You both find a steady rhythm, panting and whining, glancing between each other's legs, hands, eyes. The increasingly frantic movements make your bed squeak. 

The two of you are so lost in the haze of pleasure, Frankie knows either of you could suggest physical contact between your bodies and the other would immediately say yes, but this fucked up little loophole has you both blissfully dangling on the precipice. 

He’s trying to keep his commentary to a minimum, but you’re driving him fucking crazy. 

Your blown-out pupils watching him fuck his hand. The sheen of sweat lacing your skin. A thick, gleaming layer of arousal coating your pussy and fingers. He wants to lick it off of you, taste you, drive his cock inside you and feel that divine squeeze. 

As his heartbeat starts to gallop and the fire in his belly laps its way up his spine, he pants, “You’re so fucking hot, holy shit—do you like this? Like me watching you get off?”

“Yes,” you gasp, meeting his gaze, working yourself faster, “I do, Frankie, I like it.”

His name on your lips is like an electric jolt to his insides. He groans, “Say my name again.”

“Frankie,” you whimper. 

A wave of heat washes over him, “Fuck yes, that’s so fucking good, baby—say it again—”

“Frankie,” you moan, sinking two fingers into your cunt, a sick wet sound squelching out as you start to fuck yourself. 

“Such a good girl, holy fuck, that’s it,” he grunts, pumping himself faster, lightning churning in his belly, “Gonna make yourself cum, sweet girl?”

You nod feverishly, face pinched up with pleasure, hips arching into your touch, “Frankie—fuck fuck fuck—”

“There we go, baby, you can do it,” he rasps, and watches as your movements come to a fever pitch, then your body starts to shudder and you belt out this strangled moan that pushes him over the edge. 

Pleasure ripples through him and he grinds his fist down a few more times, pulsing his load all over his hand, across the bedding, a few splatters reaching your hip. He groans and slows.

His muscles start to melt. He throws his head back into the pillow, then rolls his head on his shoulders to look at you. 

Your chest is heaving and you’re all blissed out, a hazy smile on your lips. 

“You’re not gonna freak out, now, are you?” he pants, searching your face. He reaches over and gives you a playful poke to show he’s only half-joking. 

You meet his eyes smirking for a beat before you chuckle, “I don’t think so, but—could you get my, umm—inhaler?”

“Yeah,” he nods and rolls off the bed. 

When Frankie returns, you’re pulling your shirt down over your tits and propping yourself up on some pillows. 

“Thanks,” you murmur, then take it from him and inhale a few puffs. 

“You ok?” he asks as he rolls onto the bed next to you, wrestling a pillow under his chest. 

A coy smile plays on your lips when you glance over at him, shaking your head, “This was really dumb.”

He chuckles and shrugs, “Probably.” 

“Fuck,” you giggle, burying your face in your hands, “Frankie, why did we do that?”

“Because we’re big dumb idiots?” he laughs. 

“Speak for yourself,” you snort, curling up on your side to face him. 

“Sure, yeah, of course. You’re super smart,” he teases, pointing between him and you, “This is definitely something that smart people do.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” you push his shoulder weakly. After a few moments of comfortable silence, you say, “We’re never going to speak of this again, are we?” 

He opens his mouth to make a joke and attempt to sweep it all under the rug, but stops when he realizes it probably warrants a conversation. 

“Do—is that what you wanna do?” he asks instead, stammering, “Because we can, you know, talk about it if you want to.“

“I don’t know what I want,” you sigh, your face folding into a thoughtful expression. A few moments pass, then your eyebrows shoot up and you look at him, “Ok, this is a weird time to ask this, but, I meant to ask you earlier and forgot.”

He nods, “Shoot.”

“My sister is getting married over Labor Day weekend, and because I’m her bridesmaid and family and blah blah blah, she wants me to go stay out there for the week, and umm, I don’t know how that works with your parole and stuff—”

“Do you want me to ask Ralph tomorrow?” 

“Well, yeah,” you meet his eyes, “But—but also, can you come with me?”

It takes a moment for Frankie to register the question, and when he understands, his mind starts whirring with uncertainty. Angie. Court. Ralph. Sarah. Prison. 

“Not, like, as my date or whatever,” you add, waving your hand around nervously as you explain, “I just–I haven’t been home in years because my family is the worst and I—” you sigh, face pinching up as you admit, “I could use a friend.” 

That makes up his mind. 

“Yeah,” he answers, “Yeah, as long as I’m not in fucking jail by then, I’ll make it work. Let me… let me talk to work and Ralph, see what I can do.” 

You give him a restrained smile and say, “Thank you.” 

After the two of you decide to get dressed and watch a movie, he goes into his bedroom to change into a pair of basketball shorts, while you supervise a packet of popcorn in the microwave. Giving his closed door a quick glance, he pulls the bundle of soft teal lace out of his pocket and opens a dresser drawer to tuck them away, but pauses when his thumb grazes something damp. 

His brows furrow, then shoot up as he unfolds the underwear and recognizes the slick substance coating them. He brings the fabric to his nose and inhales, confirming his suspicion. 

You must have noticed them when he was getting your inhaler. And rather than taking the panties back, or saying anything to him, you cleaned your arousal off and replaced them. 

He grins at the present, because that’s what it is, really, then shoves the lace into his dresser drawer. 

“Daddy, look, that’s Mumble,” Sarah tells Frankie, pointing one chubby, blueberry-stained finger at a plastic baby emperor penguin. 

Her collection of penguins is lined up on the edge of the dining room table, in order of smallest to biggest. She wriggles around on his lap, looking up at him with those big brown eyes, waiting for acknowledgement. 

“That one does look like Mumble,” he agrees emphatically, “What kind of penguin is he?” 

“A empreror penguin!” she beams, throwing her hands in the air. 

“That’s right,” he chuckles, “An emperor penguin! How many penguins do you have?”

Sarah’s eyes light up at the exciting new challenge, and she turns her attention to the plastic figurine lineup, counting each one out loud. 

Frankie glances across the table at Angie. She‘s glaring out the window, her arms crossed over her chest. 

“Ang,” he rumbles, but she doesn’t respond. A hot wave of frustration weaves through his muscles and pulls them taught. His nostrils flare and he shakes his head, muttering, “Whatever.”

The dining room chair scrapes against the floor as she pushes it out and stomps out of the room, down the stairs like a petulant child. 

Sarah stops counting and tells him, “Mommy’s mad.”

He chuckles softly at this and nods, “Yeah, I think so. I’m gonna go talk to her, ok, sweetie?”

Sarah resumes her counting when Frankie stands and sets her in the chair. He finds Angie in the laundry room, folding clothes with sharp, agitated movements. 

“Can we talk about this?” he asks. She doesn’t acknowledge him, so he continues, “Angelica. Come on. You haven’t said a word to me since I texted you on Saturday. Please, just tell me what’s wrong.”

“The fact that you don’t know what’s wrong is exactly what’s fucking wrong, Francisco,” she growls.

He sighs and steps closer, leaning one hip against the washer, “As much as I would love to be able to, I can’t read your mind. So if you could help me out, maybe give me a clue—”

“Do you need me to spell it out for you?” she snaps, tossing the small pink t-shirt in her hands into a laundry basket.

His head jerks back and he scoffs, “Sure.”

“You passed up time with your wife and daughter to be with your fucking mistress,” she blinks, then throws her hands up in the air, “Is it really so fucking inconceivable that I’m mad about that?” 

“First of all, she’s not my mistress,” Frankie asserts, crossing his arms, “Second, she almost fucking died, Ang, I couldn’t just leave her alone in the hospital.” 

“So, what, she didn’t have anyone else that could come sit with her in the hospital?” Angie snorts, raising an eyebrow, “I was about to say she’s a grown woman, she can take care of herself, but,” she sucks on her teeth and flashes him a faux sympathetic smile, “That’s barely true, isn’t it?”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, rolling his eyes, then stares at her, “You know that’s not true, and—and no, ok? She didn’t have anyone else to sit at the hospital with her. None of her family made it out, she doesn’t have any friends. Her boyfriend didn’t even come to visit, so,” he pushes off the washing machine and pinches the bridge of his nose, then drops his hand and lies, “I felt fucking bad for her, that’s all. She couldn’t breathe and was all sick and shit, and nobody cared enough to visit her. It was, I don’t know, it was sad and I felt shitty about leaving.”

She seems to consider this, then gives a little shrug, “That is kind of sad.”

He nods, searching her face, dark eyebrows all scrunched together in contemplation. 

“She has a boyfriend?”

He nods, “Yeah. They’ve been together for a while.”

Not exactly a lie, but he can tell a little truth stretching will bring this conversation to a more comfortable place. 

“I missed you,” he says in a pleading tone, meeting her eyes, hoping she buys it. 

She sighs, “I missed you too.”

The glint in her eyes tells him it’s safe to approach, so he does. He presses his lips against her forehead, closing his eyes as he murmurs, “I love you.”

When Frankie gets home, you and Rory are sitting on the couch watching a movie together. His arm is draped over your shoulders and you’re huddled in his lap, head on his chest. 

It reminds him of how the two of you are when no one else is around. 

His blood pressure spikes and heats his veins. You perk up as you notice him, putting space between your body and Rory’s. A nervous smile spreads across your face. He doesn’t return the smile, just nods in greeting as he closes the door behind him, “Hey.”

Rory looks him up and down, then turns back to the TV. 

“Hey, how’s it going?” you ask. 

Frankie frowns and shrugs, “Fine. What’re you guys watching?”

Your phone starts ringing before you can answer. You sit up and grab it off the coffee table, muttering, “It’s my sister, I’ll be right back,” then tiptoe through the house to your bedroom, leaving him and Rory alone. 

Frankie steps on the heel of his boot and starts to wriggle his foot free. 

“Hey, man, I wanted to tell you—thanks for looking after her last weekend.”

Frankie glances up at Rory as he kicks one boot off, then the other, “Sure, yeah,” then starts off towards his room. Rory keeps talking, though, so he pauses. 

“When she didn’t respond to me for a day I figured, ya know…” he shrugs, staring at him. 

Frankie frowns and shakes his head, “Figured what?”

“Figured she ran off with you, man,” he chuckles, but his eyes aren’t smiling. They’re studying. 

Frankie snorts and brings his hands to his hips, “What, really?”

Rory stands and saunters over, looking the way you left to make sure you’re still occupied, then tucks his hands in the front of his jean pockets and shrugs again, “Seems like y’all are pretty close. She doesn’t really like to talk about you. Kinda weird for someone who’s supposedly a friend.”

What kind of macho man bullshit is this? Is he… flexing? 

“Yeah, she’s pretty private,” Frankie searches the other man’s face. 

“Y’all ever fuck around?” he asks. 

Frankie jerks his head back and frowns, “Uhh, sorry, what?”

Rory doesn’t say anything, just lets the air between them grow more hostile, flicking his eyes around Frankie’s face like a challenge. One that he’s not fucking interested in taking. Christ, what a fucking mess that would be. 

Frankie scoffs and shakes his head, “No, we don’t fuck around. We’re friends. Ok?” He holds his hands up and tries to soften his face, “So, take it easy, she’s all yours.” 

Rory seems to relax a little, then says, “Alright.”

“Alright,” Frankie chuckles with amusement, “We good?” 

“Yeah,” Rory grins, offering a clenched fist to Frankie, “Sorry, man.” 

“Hey, don’t sweat it,” he bumps knuckles with the meathead and tells him, “You two have a good time, alright?”

Frankie retreats to his room and locks the door behind him. 

Every muscle in his body starts to deflate. 

His thoughts are fuzzy and loud. 

He starts for his bed, but pauses, and turns instead to the dresser, thinking of that teal lace. 

Today is one of those rare July days where it’s not just tolerable to be outside, it’s actually enjoyable. 

A slight breeze rustles the palm fronds above. The sun kisses Frankie’s skin. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of a neighbor’s charcoal grill. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

He cracks an eye open to find you standing over where he’s laying in the hammock and grins innocently, “What?”

“WhAt?” you mock him and snort, but pull up a chair and drop your little wicker basket in its seat, warning, “Ok, well, you’re sharing the hammock, at least.” 

“Come on in, the water’s fine,” he tucks a hand behind his head and watches you roll into the hammock facing him.

You wriggle around for an entire minute, and when he starts to giggle at your restlessness, you whine, “Oh my god, scoot over.”

“Here,” he murmurs, shifting his weight so you lay roughly hip to hip, hooking one arm under your legs, “Better?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. Your body calms. 

Then it’s quiet. 

And the silence isn’t anything but peaceful, really. 

“This is good,” you say eventually. 

He’s not sure what this you’re referring to, but he agrees, “Yeah.”

You point to the sky, “That cloud looks like a gator.”

Frankie squints upward, examining the fluffy cotton balls hanging in the electric blue atmosphere, “That one looks like a cloud.”

A snort erupts from your face and you lay a playful smack on his thigh, “Oh, come on, use your imagination!”

“Ok, let’s see,” he clears his throat and tilts the bill of his hat back to take in more of the view. Then one catches his eye. He points to it, “Butterfly.”

You follow his direction and murmur, “Oh yeah, look at that. Neat.” 

He studies it for a while, watching the two wings tumble and morph as it moves across the sky, until it’s just another nondescript cumulus cloud. Then he turns his attention to the basket you brought outside. 

The hammock wobbles in protest when he sits up and lays it across the middle ground of your bodies. Frankie surveys the contents of the shallow wicker basket: a baguette; a dish of soft, white cheese with a little spatula-like knife sticking out the center; a bowl of red grapes and sliced strawberries; a couple of mandarin oranges. 

He rips off a piece of bread and spreads some cheese across the soft inside, then sits back and takes a bite. You do the same, topping the cheese with some strawberries. As the two of you eat in a content silence, looking up at the sky, Frankie starts to ruminate on the confrontation that is surely lingering on the tip of your tongue. 

Neither of you have dared to mention how you got off together in your bed. Surprisingly, it hasn’t changed the energy between him and you. But he’s found himself wondering if he’s just oblivious and unable to sense your disquiet, like he has in the past. 

And now, since it’s Family Dinner, State of the Union, or whatever Ralph calls it, he braces himself for impact.

“Alright, let me have it,” he says after he finishes his second chunk of bread, nerves getting the best of him, “Do you wanna talk about it?” 

The hammock shifts unsteadily as you sit up and put the basket back on the chair, then you lay back and stretch out, releasing a heavy sigh, “Honestly… I kind of don’t know what to say about it. I—I don’t know. I don’t feel different or have any kind of strong feelings about what happened.”

Frankie hums and looks over at you, watching your serene, skyward face. 

“What about you? How do you feel?” you ask, leveling your gaze with his. 

“I feel… the same,” he answers, frowning, “Like I should have a strong feeling, but I—I just don’t?” 

“Yeah,” you chuckle, shrugging, “Well, I don’t know, should we just… leave it?” 

Relief washes over him and he nods, “I’m ok with that if you are.”

“Ok,” you grin, then look back up at the sky, “Anything else you need to get off your chest?” 

Frankie rifles through his brain, pausing to think about Rory and the odd confrontation that happened the other day. It left a bad taste in his mouth. But, he shakes his head, “No. You?” 

“I can’t think of anything.” 

“Alright,” he inhales the blissful breeze that tickles his sun-warmed skin, then exhales, repeating your earlier sentiment, “This is good.”

[unknownati]

Hello friend!

I LOVE everything you write for Ekko. Like it's always within character but you add a lot of fun layers to him that are just soooo fun to read lol.

I hope this doesn't come off as "hurry up" in any way because I know you're a human behind the screen. You're talents is ABSOLUTELY worth waiting for....

...but lemme just say when requests are open ill be dropping some DIABOLICAL smut requests because I KNOW you're gonna do them justice. Literally can't imagine another writer writing them. So I'll wait for however long you need! There's no one else I want to bring my degeneracy to life LOL! Hope you're up for it!

Until then, be kind to yourself! Can't wait to see what you write in the meantime!

🥹

thank u sm, you're so sweet (like literally keep rereading this cuz whaaaat i can't imagine this is actually towards me lol)

and good cuz this is a safe space. no shame on my blog at all

both my reqs are basically almost done, so i think this'll be me opening them back up :)

if you have a req and are wondering the status or are just curious, here are my current wips:

p.s., i'm rlly sorry if you submitted a request and you don't see it here :( sometimes i'm just not quite sure how to make something into an actual fleshed out fic, but if i find one similar to what you're looking for i'll absolutely respond w/ a link for you 🫶🏾

i fr have something written down!!!:

never lose me (req), smut: he treats you sooo special - super close to finished, just wrapping it up and proofreading

happy birthday (req), fluff + smut: how the two of you make each other's bdays special - also almost finished!

sound on, smut: ekko sends you a video...you know the rest 🤭 - i got an intro and some inspo

tap tap tap, smut: ekko keeps tapping his pencil and it's driving you insane - literally fully complete, just doing some proofreading

shopping, fluff + smut: you and ekko are thrifting gods and he really likes the pants you're trying on - half done

girls, smut: fem!stud!ekko x fem!black!reader (y'all knew this was coming since 'dreamin') - half done, i keep forgetting abt it 🙁

busy, smut: ekko spends too much time working and you need some of his attention - half done

just an idea rn:

current timeline (req) fluff: if ekko came to our timeline (sammycutiepie made a similar one!!)

double trouble, minor angst + smut: au!ekko and ekko tag team you 🙃 (maybe, maybe not? this might be weird idk i'll think abt it)

aphrodisiac, smut: you both take those little chocolates and see how long the two of you can resist each other

🪱 , fluff: you wake up ekko to ask if he'd still love you if you were a worm

[blossomwritesthings]

𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 | 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞

⬷ 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞┊ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ┊ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

pairing: minho x felix (minlix)

genre: dancer!minho/artist!felix. brothers best friend troupe. college au. age gap (abt 4 years). minho pov. extremely dark themes throughout, including smut - MDNI, 18+ only.

word count: 4.4k

the playlist 🗡️

a/n: OKAY, SO- 💀 I HAVE AN EXPLANATION FOR THE DELAYED UPDATE!!!! 💀😔 My life has been so incredibly fucking busy lately... with working full time and doing summer uni courses full time and planning for lolla and like, the 5 other concerts im going to in the later half of this year... it's been a lot, fam. 😭 I've been under sm stress at work and from school that I've been getting really bad chest pains, but I'm trying to manage things so it's slowly getting better. But the burn out is real, people. That shit fucks you over sooo bad omg 😭 I just have no motivation to write anything at the end of the day or on the weekends because I'm so fucking tired of using my brain all week. Going to Lolla will be my first REAL vacation from work/uni in over 2 and a half years. That's acc insane to me lmao. ANYWAYS!!!! 🗣️💥 I've already written like, 2 more chapters for this fic when I was in a mania-induced rage a few weeks ago lol, so I just need to find the time/motivation to edit those within the next few weeks. And I already have big plans for the rest of the chapters in this so... I'm excited. Now I just gotta find the willpower to ACC write my ideas 😜

🗡️ - ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ other cool stuff ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋread my rules & guidelines here! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋcheck out my skz masterlist! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋmy wip list! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ skz fic recs [sfw ver]! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋskz fic recs [nsfw ver]! :: 18+, MDNI! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋback to navigation! ࿐ྂ

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). do not copy, spin-off, or write inspired work based off of this fanfic without full permission to do so. ©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

̶﹒⊹﹒sɪɴᴄᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴀᴄǫᴜᴀɪɴᴛᴇᴅ,  ʏᴏᴜ sᴋɪᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴏʀеᴘʟᴀʏ ！،، 🌌  𖥻 𓂃 ʜᴇ ɢʀɪᴘs ʏᴏᴜ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇᴄᴋ  ᴀs ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʀеᴘᴀʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ sᴄʀᴇᴡᴇᴅ╰╮ 🌑

 To his utter surprise, Minho decided to attend Felix’s dorm party that weekend. The final decision shocked the rest of his friends too, who had grown accustomed to his home-body spirit. Because usually, every time they asked — more like begged — him to go to parties with the three of them, he always backed out of everything. His favorite excuses were being too exhausted from dance practice or not feeling good from studying so much. 

  “I actually cannot believe you’re going to this shit,” Chris said with a laugh that night. He was sprawled across Minho’s bed, one earbud in his ear as his head bobbed up and down to a beat he was mixing on his laptop. Meanwhile, Minho was scurrying across his room, slipping on a pair of socks and making sure he looked somewhat put together. But he didn’t want to seem too desperate to fit in either, since he knew that most of the people at the party would be young freshmen and sophomores. 

  He had decided — with a little bit of Chris’ help — on a pair of black sweats, and an oversized graphic tee from one of his favorite Korean bands. It was nothing out of the ordinary for him to wear, but just ‘normal’ enough for him to fit in with the crowd that night. 

  “Honestly, I’m kinda shocked that you’re not going too,” Minho said as he hurried to slip on his Converse.

  With that, Chris looked up from his flashing computer screen with a deep frown plastered across his face. “Do you really think I want to go to a party and watch as my little brother sticks his tongue down at least ten people's throats?” 

  Minho stopped fumbling with his shoelaces and looked up at Chris with a raised eyebrow. “He’s not actually gonna do that tonight, Chris.” 

  “You obviously don’t know my brother these days… the one that’s mature— at least in his eyes, anyway,” Chris started, tapping away at his computer keyboard again and cursing under his breath for a split second. “That little boy that you grew up with is completely gone, Min.” 

  For a few beats, there was utter silence in Minho’s bedroom after Chris’ statement. Then, Minho fit his wallet into his pants pocket and unhooked his phone from his charging port. 

  “Is that why you… don’t really spend a lot of time with him ever since he got to campus?” 

  Chris threw a long roll of his eyes towards Minho, “That, and the fact that I’m a little too old and tired to be fucking around with a bunch of young kids these days.” 

  “Felix isn’t a young kid, Chris. He’s a grown adult.” 

  Sighing heavily, Chris hoisted himself up and off of Minho’s bed, patting his shoulder in a rough way as he passed Minho on the way out of the bedroom. “We’ll see if you change your opinion on that after tonight.”

  And the entire time Minho made the short trek over to the freshman’s side of campus, he couldn’t get Chris’ words out of his head. They were stuck in the depths of his brain, playing over and over again. Because there was no way that Felix would be so badly changed from the last time he had spent a night with him during their childhood. 

  Sure, Minho had noticed a slight change when they had met in the campus gardens the day before, but it wasn’t… that bad. Not like anything Chris was describing.

  Even still, Minho could feel his entire body tense up as he got closer to the freshman dormitory. He could hear his heartbeat in the corners of his ears as he knocked on Felix’s door. He could sense his palms growing cold and clammy as the loud base of music thrummed underneath his feet. 

  Almost as quickly as he had knocked, someone opened the door. He had never seen the guy before, but he had purple-dyed hair and a dazzling white smile. Reaching out to Minho’s hand, the beautiful stranger yanked him in excitedly. 

  “Holy shit- you must be the famous Minho! I’ve heard so much about you!” The guy shouted over the music, closing the door behind Minho and leading the two of them into the nearby kitchen. “I’m Jisung, by the way.” 

  Without even having time to process the chaos that was the person in front of him, Minho’s hand was grabbed by Jisung and shaken thoroughly. “Uhm- nice to meet you, Jisung…” His voice trailed off as his mind carded through the slightly slurred words that had just fallen from the purple-haired man’s lips. “What do you mean by hearing so mu—”

  “Hey, Jisung! Stop being such a fucking weirdo and let the man breathe!” Someone off to their right shouted in an exasperated tone. 

  Minho turned and noticed a dark-haired figure bent over in the shadows of the kitchen. They raised their head from the counter, rubbing their nose and sneezing violently. Slowly, Minho’s eyes registered the small bit of white substance that was left behind and laid out on the kitchen counter in a neat line. The dude was fucking snorting cocaine. Just then, Minho’s focus turned to the rest of the kitchen’s counters, which were lined with a plethora of drinks, drugs, and other shit he didn’t even have names for. A random couple was making out in the background, the girl’s ass pressing down atop the counter as the man between her legs bit violet marks into the side of her neck. 

  Turning his eyes away from the couple, he watched as the cocaine-snorter sidled up to their sides. Slinging a lazy arm around Jisung’s neck, he pulled him in for a tight hug. “You must be Minho, huh?” He asked in a long drawl, the kind you only got with copious amounts of drugs and liquor flowing through your system. 

  “Y-Yeah… Felix invited me to this last minute, but I’m starting to think maybe coming was a bad idea…” Minho said in a quiet voice that was barely decipherable over the ear-piercing rap blasting throughout the entire dorm. Feeling suddenly uncomfortable under the two strangers' gazes, he fit his hands in his pockets, eyes darting around the kitchen for the closest exit. 

  “You’re a lot cuter in person than what I always imagined,” The guy holding onto Jisung said, stumbling over a bit and making Jisung laugh heartily. The guy had soft cheekbones but razor-sharp eyes. The kind that Minho felt were piercing into him and studying his very being with each second that passed. His jet-black hair was messy atop his head and slightly curled at the ends. “I’m Seungmin, by the way. But most of these fucks around here call me Doggy.” 

  Placing a hand on Seungmin’s chest lovingly, Jisung flashed Minho a sly kind of smile. “He can get you anything you want— just say the word, pay up, and he’ll have it in your hands by the end of the week…” Jisung’s words drifted off into the chaos around them as he studied Minho. 

  Minho felt like both of the young men in front of him were sidling him up — wondering, and guessing, why someone as plain and boring as him was connected to Lee Felix in some way. Minho could feel his palms growing sweatier by the second as he gripped the suffocating fabric of his pant pockets. 

  “So— what’s your weakness?” Seungmin slurred on, eyes growing dark as his gaze traced Minho’s form up and down in the kitchen’s dim lighting. “Fet? Coke? Meth—”

  Already starting to feel sick to his stomach by the topic of conversation, Minho held his hands up in a silent plea for him to stop. “Uhm— not really into that kinda shit.” 

  “What a shame… you’d be a pretty addict, for sure.” Jisung said in a flirtatious tone, biting the corner of his lip as he studied Minho.

  Slowly, Minho could feel himself caving inward. His shoulders dropping, and heartbeat turning into a low thrum, all he wanted to do was get out of the situation he was stuck in. “How do you guys know Felix? Are you both freshman too?” 

  Jisung burst out laughing at that, reaching towards the nearby kitchen counter and pouring himself a solo cup full of vodka. “You're kidding me, right? We’ve been Felix’s homies since our high school days.” 

  “And yes, if you must know— we’re freshman’s,” Seungmin said, rolling his eyes as he grabbed the solo cup from Jisung’s hand and took a long swig of it. Much to Jisung’s displeasure. “Why? What’s it to ya?” 

  Minho shrugged nonchalantly, trying to act like the entire atmosphere around them wasn’t making him extremely uncomfortable. “I was just making friendly conversation,” and before he could let either of the guys in front of him say anything more, he decided to remove himself from the situation entirely. “Actually, I think I’m gonna go try and find Felix…” 

  As he was walking away from the kitchen, he could hear the boys snickering behind him, with Jisung shouting in slurred words, “Good luck finding him if he’s getting his dick sucked in the bathroom!” Minho could hear the two guys laughing manically in the kitchen as he made his way into the rest of the dorm. 

  Immediately upon entering the living room, he remembered just how small the freshman’s living spaces were. The entire place was jammed packed full of bodies writhing and shaking. A space in the middle of the room had been cleared for a makeshift dance floor, so couples were grinding up on each other and making out to the sultry r&b coursing throughout the entire place. Bodies filled up every seat and sofa in the vicinity. 

  The entire room was dark with the curtains closed. That added to the smoky atmosphere, as people smoked cigs, vapes, and joints everywhere that Minho looked. It was hard to see through the haziness of everything, but eventually, he spotted Felix. 

  Felix was… 

  Sitting on one of the couches, 

  Busy making out with another guy.

  And just then, Minho couldn’t even understand the exact feelings he had upon such a discovery. It was a mix of surprise, queasiness, but also… something else too, which he dared not name. 

  He shoved everything down into a firm ball in the pit of his stomach, shuffling towards a nearby table and popping himself a cold bottle of soju. Taking a long swig from the chilled rim, he gradually shuffled his way through the dance floor over to where Felix was. 

  The younger man seemed to exude a certain kind of presence… captivating at least half of the room with his aura. Felix's energy was dark and smoky and… something so mysterious and foreign to Minho, he had no idea how to navigate all of it. 

  “Felix— hi,” Minho yelled over the loud music, waving towards Felix to catch his attention. There were a few other people squished onto the sofa where he was sitting, but all of them were focused on the tv screen which was flashing with an intense game of Super Smash Bros. 

  As soon as Felix’s focus was caught, he was pulling away from the other man’s lips. In the dimness of the room, Minho distinctly caught onto the way that messy strings of saliva parted from their lips, and how Felix’s mouth was puffy and swollen from kissing all night.

  Eyes brightening and pink freckled cheeks shading just a tiny bit, Felix shot up from his spot on the couch, fumbling his way over to Minho’s side. For a split second, Minho was able to gaze at Felix’s form — at the white skort he was wearing which was so short, half of his ass was exposed, and the baby-blue crop top that rose just above his belly button. A belly ring glinted in the sultry lighting of the room, along with all of the silver earrings, rings, and necklaces that adorned Felix’s milky-white skin. 

  “M-Min, oh my god, you made it!” Felix exclaimed happily, tugging on Minho’s wrist gently and leading him over to his spot on the couch. The man that he had been making out with only seconds before shuffled to the side, allowing room for Minho to sit down. Then, he grabbed Felix’s hips and sat him down on his lap. Felix let out a tiny giggle, snuggling his ass backward and earning a grunt from the guy underneath him. “I’m so happy to see you!” 

  Minho flashed him the best smile he could muster at that moment. What with being incredibly overstimulated by everything, and the shock of meeting some of Felix’s... choice friends, and seeing his best friend’s little brother making out viscerally at a party… 

  The night definitely wasn’t turning out as he had hoped, that was for sure. 

  “I met some of your friends, they’re uhm— interesting, to say the least,” Minho laughed awkwardly, carding a few shaking fingers through his hair. “I wasn’t expecting you to be… part of such a crowd, Lix.” 

  Felix shrugged the tiniest of bits, his eyes flicking away from Minho’s and focusing on the video game some of the others were playing. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Minho. Things have changed since the last time we hung out.” There was a weight to his words, they felt heavy on Minho's shoulders and weighed on his heart. Even still, he tried to push away those feelings and just live in the moment, without any worries or inhibitions 

  “That’s for sure…” 

  But Minho wasn’t really paying attention to anything else that Felix was saying, if he was saying anything at all. Because he was too busy watching the guy underneath Felix draw circles against his bare skin. Fingers skirting across his skin, the guy softly massaged the soft skin of his thighs, forcing gooseflesh to erupt to the surface. 

  “This is Renjun, by the way,” Felix said, cutting through the silence between them and breaking the trance Minho had fallen into. “He’s a… friend, of sorts.” 

  Renjun turned his face away from Felix’s body, taking a long drawl of a joint that Minho hadn’t even noticed was positioned between his fingers. “Yeah, ‘cause friends definitely stick their dicks in each other’s assess… that's just what friends do, right?” Renjun let out a loud cackle, the kind that would probably make Minho burst out into laughter too, if they were in a different situation. 

  Felix gave the man underneath him a deep frown before his eyes focused back on Minho. “I mean… if you’re truly friends— anything could happen, right?” Just then, he started moving again, hips circling just a little bit atop Renjun’s lap. Almost instantly, the dark-haired man was groaning out loud and clutching onto Felix's hips for dear life. And the entire time, Felix kept his gaze locked with Minho's, practically staring right into his soul.

  Minho was keenly aware of the dry saliva he swallowed down, trying to ignore the way his heart lept just a little bit in his chest at the sight of Felix grinding down against Renjun’s lap. Trying to ignore the way his pants grew just a tiny bit tighter at the sight of Felix flashing Renjun a playful, dim smirk. 

  “Renjun, stop fucking moaning, you’re ruining the vibes right now!” A silver-haired guy who was sitting in front of Minho said. He was part of the group that was focused on the tv, playing Smash like they were in a professional tournament or some shit. “I’m Jeongin, by the way, Lee Felix’s bestie since the sixth grade.” The silvered fox said, momentarily looking away from his game and flashing Minho a smile. 

  At that, Renjun let out a low chortle. “Too bad you weren’t close enough to fuck him, eh?”

  Minho’s attention darted from Jeongin’s face back to Renjun, examining the way his raven locks were somewhat disheveled— like they had been gripped pretty hard recently. 

  Gripped hard by… Felix. 

  Felix threw his hands up into the air, seeming to admit defeat. “What is it with everyone around here wanting to fuck me?!” He exclaimed- although he didn’t seem that upset by the prospect in the first place. Instead, he grabbed ahold of the joint Renjun was smoking and took a long drag of it. Blowing the smoke up in the air around him, Felix’s slightly hooded gaze zeroed back onto Minho. “It’s not like I’m that attractive— I only get the young people to fuck me.” 

  Minho shifted in his spot on the couch, feeling that floaty, twisted snake thrum through his veins. He stared down at his strawberry-flavored soju bottle, pretending to be fascinated with the label. When in actuality, he was doing everything in his power to avoid Felix’s stare. 

  “I mean, who wouldn’t wanna fuck you? You’re cute— you’re hot, you’re fun, and you’re a damn good bottom, too.” Renjun said in a deep voice, and through the reflection of the tv screen in front of them, Minho could make out the way he leaned down and pressed a feverish kiss to Felix’s exposed neck.

  Like a train wreck that you can’t stop watching, Minho couldn’t help but turn his head to watch Felix atop Renjun again. He was still dancing across his lap, doing so with a little more fervor this time. The compliments probably fueled his fire, Minho assumed. Felix was gradually beginning to wreak of a mix of weed, liquor, and the sweet scent of floral perfume. Yet in that moment, it was all too intoxicating for Minho. 

  Turning his head slowly, Felix ruffled Renjun’s locks playfully. “Awe thanks— I feel so flattered that you find me pretty, Renjunnie~” He cooed in a gentle voice, fingers skirting across Renjun’s round cheek with a caress. 

  “Well, I’m sure Minho sure doesn’t wanna fuck you.” Jeongin deadpanned, his voice cascading down around their small group. He was still focused on the game but bent his head backward a bit. Fox-like eyes studied Minho’s face in the smokiness of the room just then. And Jeongin’s lips cracked into a wide, Cheshire grin just as he turned back to the tv. “Actually, never mind— maybe he does.” 

  The entire time, Minho had been entirely too quiet. Letting everything play out, observing and judging silently. He was probably the oldest one in that room, and he could feel the significance of his grade year and maturity weighing down on his shoulders like a 200lb barbell. 

  He took a final swig of his soju, before tossing it into a nearby trashcan. “Honestly, I’m old enough to be his brother, so no— definitely not,” Minho said in a low tone, his throat constricting a tiny bit. 

  But it was just the alcohol, it was just the liquor that was getting to him. 

  And the weed in the air and the cigarettes and every other thing floating around him. It was the loud bass thrumming through the bottoms of his feet and it was the blaring disco ball that was flashing rainbow-colored shapes on the dance floor. 

  Yes, it was all of that… 

  And none of what Felix was doing beside him, or how Felix was looking at him or- 

  “I mean, yeah— a dancer and fashion designer together?? Fucking hell, it’d never work. Aren’t dancers always too tired to even get it up in the first place?” Renjun slurred his words just a tiny bit, as the weed no doubt flooded into his system. 

  “But I bet those hips don’t lie!” Jeongin shrieked with laughter, slapping his leg in happiness at their stupid jokes. 

  So suddenly, Minho realized why he was invited to the party in the first place. 

  He wasn’t included to have a good time, or because he was missed, or because people wanted to meet him. 

  No, he was invited to be the laughing stock of everyone there… 

  Hey guys- look! A stupid ass senior shimmying his way into a freshman party, look at how stupid he looks— 

  trying to hit on the hottest guy on campus.

   And the thinks that he has a fighting fucking chance when everyone else wants — and gets to have Felix — 

  But no , definitely not him, not ever. The brother’s best friend?? Felix would never stoop so low. 

  The energy shifted between Minho and the rest of them sitting there on the couch, freezing in place as soon as he shot up from his spot on the couch. Yanking out his phone from his pants pocket, the screen flashed with the time — one in the morning. He had been acting stupid, been the night’s entertainment, for more than three hours. And just as he realized the time, he noticed the eyes on him — how half of the room was watching him, with people hiding their smiles and laughs behind palms and solo cups and joints. 

  “I have class tomorrow, I should head out.” Is the only explanation he gave, not even affording Felix or the others another glance as he pulled away from the sofa and forced his way through the shaking bodies on the dance floor. And when Jisung and Seungmin called out to him from the kitchen as he passed them by, he gave them no attention. 

  The eyes on his back, which he could feel the entire way to the door, just about killed him. He felt like he was about to suffocate, his heart racing against his ribcage, pushing and pushing, just like he had been pushed all night by everyone. 

  And Felix was no better. 

  He was no better than everyone else because he was the one who had invited him in the first place. 

  So Minho was shocked, then, when he felt a small hand grab ahold of his wrist just as he was about to step into the elevator. To take him away from such a hellhole and such a depressing prison of losers. 

  “Minho— wait, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean—”

   Minho didn’t even turn around, couldn’t, in that moment. Instead, he let Felix hold onto him, let the feeling of his nimble fingers cascade through his system. Let Felix gradually move his hand until he was threading his fingers through Minho’s. 

  Just like they used to sometimes when they hung out together in their childhood. 

  When they were bored, and no one was around, and Chris was nowhere to be found and they could— 

  “It’s all my fault, I’m sorry— I was so fucking stupid for thinking—”

  “Why do you hang out with those people?” 

  Was all that Minho could manage to say, focusing his attention on the way Felix’s hand radiated warmth, how it lit up all the synapses of Minho’s body and kindled the dying fire inside of the deepest parts of him. 

  “They’re my friends, they’re not just ‘people’ to me.” 

  At that, Minho let out a dry laugh. The kind that had no humor in it and was completely sardonic. “What a great bunch of friends you got there, Lix…” 

  Minho regretted the moment he said the word, the moment he used the old nickname in such a cold, seething kind of way. Because as soon as it fell from his lips, the warm fingers wrapped around his were pulling away. 

  “I was nice enough to invite you, I was nice enough to let you into my life again— and you’ve decided to shit on it.” Minho still had his back turned on him, but he could imagine the look on Felix’s face then. If his low, venomous tone was anything to go off of. 

  Slowly, Minho turned around. He found his body moving on their own accord. And just like that, he was facing Felix again. Minho was studying his face and the way it was drained of all color. How there was nothing in his eyes then, but only heartbreak and barely-masked tears. 

  “I never asked to be let in, Felix,” Minho said, but the words came out as a whisper. Like if he spoke loud enough, someone from inside the party would hear them and come running out to take photos. Look, the campus's local desperate senior trying to coax the popular freshman into- “You know I didn’t. Not like this, never.” 

  Without even trying to, Minho could feel his body moving again. His hand reached up and caressed Felix’s cheek. Thumb smoothing across freckles and softness, brushing just underneath his long eyelashes. And for a moment, just like it was once again a dream, Felix leaned into it. Let himself go for but a mere breath, sighing into it. 

  He pressed his face a little closer to Minho’s hand, eyes fluttering shut only slightly. Cheeks heating up underneath Minho’s touch, Felix's gaze shot open again as soon as the thumb underneath his eye migrated to his mouth. Migrated to caressing his bottom lip. 

  “Don’t.” 

  Minho watched the single word escape past Felix’s lips, and instantly, the tension in the air between them broke and shattered. Like someone had taken a knife to his heart once more, tearing him apart by flesh and bone, his hand was dropping from Felix’s skin. 

  “Go back to the party so you can get fucked by Renjun.” 

  The statement was a double-edged sword, both of them knew. 

  The words registered in Felix’s mind and Minho watched as the disdain colored his energy again. Painting him in violent shades of crimson and lilac, Felix said nothing as Minho backed away and into the elevator. 

  Just before he was able to press the button inside to go down, Felix reached out and grabbed ahold of the elevator’s door. “Don’t you ever fucking come back around these parts, or I’ll-” He spit out in a wicked kind of way, the emotions swirling in his pupils. 

 “You’ll… what? Beat me up? You and I both know you’re not capable of that, Lixie…” Minho said, his tone winding around the crackling air between them. He flashed Felix one final smirk, before pushing the button to go down to the first floor. 

  The last thing he saw before the elevator doors closed was Felix’s face, the way his pretty red lips were pressed into a firm, displeased line. The way his eyes were hooded with a mix of rage and exasperation. 

  The last thing that Minho saw on Felix’s face that night was utter betrayal and contempt… 

  To be honest, it was just like the old days again… when Minho had told Felix he was leaving for university and they'd never be able to talk again...

  He had wished to travel back to their childhoods so much, 

  And like a blessing from the God’s, he had been afforded such a thing. 

  What a sweet memory to travel back to… Such sweet revenge to be gifted. 

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

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[yinyuedijun]

HI MS MAOMAO may i. may i humbly come to your blog to beg for dan heng scraps or small hcs from art of the bedchamber... i feel so starved (theres so little dan heng content anywhere. ive been resorting to laying in my bed at 2 am hands crossed over my stomach and malapadatively daydreaming abt gege... save me)...

i'm not even joking when i say that art of the bedchamber is on my mind 25/8. literally every hour of every day i am thinking very hard about dan heng in that fic... and that universe... it literally rewired my brain chemistry the first time i read that fic.

i wish i could say more about that fic but all i can ever say about that fic is "gege" because every time i read it i want to say everything all at once which leads to me just gawking at my phone and just contemplating the fact that i will never have a boyfriend like dan heng.

this could literally turn into an entire essay on my sheer love and adoration for art of the bedchamber but i fear i need to go i have a. uh. i have an exam tomorrow. and. uh. i haven't studied at all for it i'm about to self study so hard i'm gonna make an academic comeback.

anyways just wanted to pop by in anon (am shy ㅠㅠ) and express my gratitude for being my favorite dan heng writer EVER and for writing THE dan heng fic EVER. i was NOT okay after reading that fic and i will NEVER be okay after any time i read that fic it makes me sob every time

HI ANON.... sorry for replying to this late IT WAS QUITE LATE FOR ME LAST NIGHT WHEN I RECEIVED IT AFPGJALDJ but I reblogged some old snippets/hcs for you and I hope you saw & enjoyed them!!! I had contemplated posting something else from the actual second chapter (which has been like 95% done for literally a year now) but then I realised I should probably just finish the damn thing and actually post it LOL

thank you for saying so many kind words about it also 🥺💗 I put so much heart into that fic unironically (beautiful dragon men have that effect on me) and I'm so happy to hear that it's left such an impression you!!! I too always contemplate about how I will never have a boyfriend danheng ....I write to fill the gege-shaped hole in my life 😔✊

I HOPE THE EXAM WENT WELL FOR YOU TODAY ALSO!! please be sure to rest up and treat yourself to something nice now that it's over!! dan heng would want it!!!!!!

[lexa-ocean]

do u have any rolfe and earl headcanons?!?!?! NOT FORCING BTW!!!! U SAID U SHIP THEM I THINK….

I started drafting an answer and Tumblr didn't save it 😭😭 but yeah i do ship them!!!! They might be one of the ships i've into the longest lol. I even got my partner to ship em before we got together!!! (It's how I won her over lol/j)

Putting hcs under the cut!!

Ok so my biggest hc here not only re:this ship but also in general to the rockafire is that Earl is. Not actually a puppet lol??? But yeah my hc is that he's like. A monster type dude similar to Mr Munch basically ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ like in general my hcs for the rockafire rely a bit on their world running on magical realism rules, where ppl see things that we'd think Odd as ordinary. Like random furry monsters just existing lol. But anyways. Continuing w that, Earl's Specific Brand Of Creature™ is just naturally tiny and light, ergo why Rolfe can just. Swing him around like that 😭 also as I mentioned in this fic, he's also very feline like and can purr, among other things!!! Going onto the shippy aspect, as i wrote on the afromentioned fic, Earl's purring is one sure fire way to calm Rolfe down if he's having a hard time 💖💖 the downsize tho is that Earl doesn't like doing it in public :/ so it's really a thing just for the two of them

(Eventually Earl becomes trusting enough to do it around the rest of the band, but everytime he realizes he's doing it he threatens them to not go around saying it. They all agree but tbf its like an open secret at this point 😭)

Anyways, all this to say Earl had a Whole life before meeting Rolfe. And i think they had a Very Funny meet 'cute' where Earl was like. A server at a comedy club Rolfe decided to do stand up at (i think its funny if Rolfe used to do stand up by himself and SUCKED at it) and Rolfe was so bad even Earl started heckling him while waiting tables and Rolfe was SO offended bc what does this lowlife server know about comedy??? So they started to trade barbs back and forth and everyone else in the club thought it was HILARIOUS and even some ppl started wondering if it was all part of some Really Funny Bit and they had agreed to do this beforehand but. No lmao they literally just Have Chemistry when it comes to comedy. Anyways eventually Rolfe's time ran out and he was thinking like 'oh great i wasted my whole time fighting with this rando i'm gonna get booed off again-' but nah fam he was cheered on bc the fight was HILARIOUS. Rolfe wondered wtf was up but when he noticed ppl praising a very confused Earl he wised up about it and asked him if he wanted to do an act together and. Earl said No. So Rolfe just began going to the club to BEG Earl to be on his act it was High Key Pathetic 😭 but Earl did eventually agree (mostly bc word spread out abt the funny 'comedian vs server' act and the club threatened to fire Earl if he didn't do it again :'D) so yeah they eventually began hanging out outside the club, at first just to keep working on their act but eventually they started liking each others company. Like they Don't Agree with each other in a BUNCH of stuff but they could Argue about it in a fun way and they both enjoyed it. And when they Did agree it was also fun like they could talk for HOURS.

Yeah the thing is, living together and being close as they were eventually their feelings wandered into a more Flirty spot and (without quite meaning to) they began putting into their act to the point everyone was like 🤨🏳️‍🌈❓️ at them. And the club owners turned out to be... pretty fucking homophobic!!! So one day they were just like 'we know what you are' and dead up fired them. Probably called them some slurs on their way out too 😭 and the funny thing is Rolfe and Earl hadn't even NOTICED they were being flirty with each other so they were SHOOKED and frankly very fucking pissed off. They just made it back into their apartment like

Another thing that def helped their bond it's that they were both deeply lonely people and had like No Friends??? So in my hc Rolfe had a pretty awful home life and grew up Very Isolated so yeah. His social skills consisted on acting like he was better than anyone else then being Shocked when that resulted in ppl finding him annoying. And Earl once again i have a Whole Headcanon but tl;dr is that he's from Argentina (like me hi i like projecting 👋) and back then thing's were... Not Great™ so he had to leave and rebuild his life somewhere else and it was HARD and he was also Grumpy about having to move in the first place so yeah 😬 suddenly tho they found each other and become Close Acquaintes, maybe even Friends??? Dare i say even Close Friends??? It got to the point that they decided to move in together to save up on rent and work more on their act and stuff. And they were Pretty Good at it too!!! Everything was going well... maybe too well...

Rolfe: Wow I can't believe we were fired and over fake accusations too???

Earl: Yeah i mean wtf are they on?? We're not dating???

Rolfe: Yeah I mean i am gay but not at you lol ur not my type??

Earl: Yeah same i think guys are hot but not you ur a geek

Rolfe: The club owners are CRAZY

Earl: Yeah lol imagine us dating??

Rolfe: Lol that would be weird

Earl: Heh... yeah...........

Earl:

Rolfe:

Earl: ...So u wanna make out-

Rolfe: YES

So yeah lol ironically they started having a Thing bc of that whole situation. Club owners created their worst enemy fr.

I do think they didn't sit down to discuss the Terms of their relationship until MUCH later, so they never really called each themselves boyfriends or anything. They just had an Unspoken Thing™ and they figured it out as they went.

Anyways, they stayed in that town for a while and began doing their act at different clubs (changing it as they went from 'server vs comedian' to 'audience member vs comedian' bc several clubs weren't willing to let Earl act as if he worked there) but the past club owners kept spreading rumors abt them so eventually no club in town would take them :/ so they decided 'actually fuck this town' and just. Got into a van to go around the country as a traveling act. And they did very well!!!! They def had their ups and downs but it was mostly positives. At one point they ended in a club that had a STRICT 'the comedians must stay only on stage' that they weren't told about until last second so they had to change their WHOLE act with a few minutes to spare.

Rolfe: Wait hold up i have an idea... ✨️puppet✨️

Earl: Fuck off i'm not pretending to be a puppet-

*smash cut to Earl on Rolfe's hand*

Earl: I hate you

Rolfe: Love you too ❤️

That act ended up being a MASSIVE success tho so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Earl had to learn to cope

But then one day they stopped at a Showbiz place and meet Wolfman (as mentioned in my fic, he's Rolfe's older brother who he lost contact with) and well. Rolfe and Wolfman had a pretty emotional encounter and Earl decided it was better if they stayed 'just for a while'. Before they knew it they were helping Wolfman's bestie (Fatz) on making a new band since the WP5 was breaking up and they had a whole STAGE for themselves and yknow what maybe they could stay for a while longer...

3 years and a shared house later: Wait shit. We're Attached now.

ANYWAYS this thing devolved into a whole origin story huh 😭 lemme drop some actual hcs here real quick

Rolfe is older than Earl by like 2 yrs (i usually write Rolfe as 37 and Earl as 35, for reference)

Rolfe is the most physically affectionate of the two, he has an habit of getting Affection Zommies™ (term coined by my girlfriend) and just. Picking up Earl to cuddle him or squeeze him or nuzzle him 🥹 and Earl just rolls with it like "oh i'm being pick up. Ok then." It's like the meme of 'came home drunk last night and got too happy to see my cat' yknow

They both smoke, but Rolfe smokes those v long and 'softer' ones while Earl smokes a heavier type (Earl probably smokes weed too on accasion). Anyways, point is, they 100% do that 'leaning really close to light up their cig with the one their partner is smoking' thing like. ALL THE TIME. And everyone thinks they're being romantic but in reality they started doing it to make their lighters last longer 😭

They lowkey have a ratatouille style system to cooking?? Like Rolfe is ok at cooking but NEEDS the recipe. On the flipside Earl has a hard time cooking bc of his side but he just Gets cooking like he can eyeball and improv things and ends up with fantastic stuff. So what they usually do is Rolfe cooks while Earl watches him and gives him indications. And yes, their system works

They're both v good with children!!! And actually like them!!! It wasn't a huge sacrifice for them to change their act to make it more kid friendly. They're also not bad babysitters.

Rolfe loves sewing and clothing design and the like. It can be hard to find stuff Earl's size, so he'll sometimes make him clothes

(Half the time is stuff not really Earl's style but is the thought that counts?)

Rolfe LOVES Earl's voice he thinks he's the best singer in the band and is constantly trying to get him more songs. Earl himself doesn't think he's that good, but he does like to sing and has fun w it so he's also not complaining.

Even tho they usually write their skits beforehand, they're also p good at improv if things go wrong. For ex. the Frank Sinatra skit was meant to have a different ending where the song went without an hitch, but then Technical Difficulties happened and they had to run with it

Earl wont admit it but he genuinaly likes how soft and fluffy Rolfe is.... world hard and cold, fur soft and warm ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)

On that note, Earl has an habit of kneading on Rolfe without meaning to (cat-like creature babeeeeyyy). Rolfe feels flattered every time it happens so he doesn't say anything, even if he might ocasionally get Poked at by claws (yes Earl has retractile claws)

I said this earlier, but Rolfe's parents are pretty garbage. They keep sending Rolfe letters trying to guilt him into taking care of them (send them money), and they can cause Rolfe to spiral. Earl's solution is to check for them constantly and shred them whenever he sees them. He just takes his claws to them and goes wild

If Earl ever meets Rolfe's parents, heads will roll

They're both also very aware of each other's issues/trauma, since they were all they had for a while they ended up accidentally trauma dumping on each other early on.

Yknow that one trope where the tall partner lets stuff in high shelves so the short one has to ask them for help? Yeah Rolfe's the complete opposite. He tries makes sure everything is accesible to Earl, esp if it's stuff he uses constantly

They're both pretty early risers, with the difference Rolfe also has an habit of staying up late. As a result, Rolfe is usually a zombie in the mornings before he gets his caffeine dose. Earl ends up trying to make sure he doesn't get himself hurt by running into walls or smthn

Yeah i think that's all i have rn!!! I've actually been at this for a few hours.... lol....

As an extra, here!!! I made a playlist for them a while ago!!!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DmHPhhJWNKI

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LNaHpezFjng

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Djn8yRscS8

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ybhNZqEnkYQ

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aX8JmX-PJ8k

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EemlA7ICn6Y

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LViL6-nt3wQ

(Yeah i know most of these are in spanish, sorry they just Fit)

Thanks for the ask!!! 💖

[sevengraces]

someday I'm gonna be somebody people want

You, ch2, Title Card

AO3 Link

-------------

Tim slowly stiffened as he came back into himself. He was curled up in Jasons lap, with his head shoved under the older mans’ chin and his face buried in his neck. His hands were gripping the back of Jasons’ jacket like he belonged there and there were half dried tears all over the both of them. Jason had his arm wrapped around him and his other hand was running though his hair. Casually, he pressed a kiss onto the top of Tims’ hair, still speaking softly throughout it all.

-or-

Nobody ever deals well with loneliness, but certain people are probably worse at it and certain people probably deal with it more often. Tim is of course both of these people.

--------------

Hello, this is complete and I might just post it all at once, we shall see lol. First DC post at all tbh, and I've read exactly one comic in my life and am not likely to read more so if you are a canon type of reader then you might not wanna be here. All character and such choices come from the first Red Robin comic and fanfiction, that is it. The fic title is from Noah Kahan "Come Over" and the chapter title is from Dodie "All My Daughters" - I picked the songs and lyrics for the titles from a playlist I made abt Tim Drake and these were the best fits for the fic lol, lemme know if you want more Tim Drake song recs cause I've got a shit ton.

(also if you're here for my series in progress I'm sorry- I promise it'll happen just maybe not for awhile, it hasn't been my special interest in a hot minute so this is what you're getting rn lol)

CW's/TW's:

panic attacks negative self talk/low self esteem swearing vomit mentions of canon typical violence suicidal thoughts --- that should be all but as always let me know if I missed something

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Chapter 1- I'll grow the bones myself then, on my own again

Tim has pretty much always known, in the way that clever children tend to know things, that there is possibly something wrong with how his parents raised him. Objectively an eleven year old shouldn’t know to lie about who is and isn’t home to avoid trouble, but being alone suited him. It was convenient and necessary and normal and understandable and utterly, utterly miserable. But growing up a lonely child suited him in the same way that grief suited Batman, terrible but necessary.

Batman has only gotten better at grief and Tim thinks, as an emancipated minor in the silence of his blank apartment with big windows and echoey walls, that perhaps he has perfected the art of the lonely child.

Regardless of how suited he is to isolation, he knows he grows maudlin the longer it lasts. It’s a poor excuse for his weak will, but as he stands in his sparkling penthouse kitchen silently making his third cup of coffee this morning he considers.

Tim braces his elbows on the solid marble countertop with his eyes closed to the harsh fluorescent lights and the echoes of his mothers’ sharp nails in his arm and he considers picking up the phone. He could call someone- anyone at all, in an effort to avoid this sinking sensation he’s fled from since he was nine years old with nothing but everything he’d ever needed and a camera to keep him sated. Someone might even answer, depending on who he called.

It is ten in the morning on an entirely unremarkable Saturday. The sun is resting comfortably in the sky, his phone is fully charged, he knows where everyone he has ever cared about is, and he could call anyone.

Tim opens his eyes and stretches out an arm across the countertop towards his phone, hesitating slightly before making contact but pushing through nonetheless. He flicks it on and ignores every single notification with the heavy awareness that not a single one of them is from anyone who actually wants to talk to him, he taps through the apps before reaching the dial screen and he places the phone face up on the countertop and breathes.

He stands straight from where he had been bent over, carrying his coffee with him through the rest of the kitchen. He doesn’t open the fridge, there’s nothing in there anyways. Tim takes even steps until he reaches the far window of the living room where he leans against it and slides down slowly.

Once he’s rested against the floor with his fresh coffee cradled in his hands he leans his head against the cool glass and considers his options.

He could call Cass, she’d probably answer him. Mostly because he never calls unless there’s a world ending disaster, but she would answer him. After the hurried reassurance that “No Cass, nothings wrong- I just wanted to talk” she would probably let him ramble on about whatever he could come up with for awhile before she pointed out in that simple, honest way of hers that they didn’t talk like this and she knows he didn’t call just to make small talk. She would stare at his face through the screen and wait for his explanation, she would stare and wait for him to lie. Once he did, because he always did- what else could he even do? She would watch his body tense, she would follow the lines of anxiety like a roadmap, until every petty insecurity was written plain as sin on his face. And then she would accept the lie like it didn’t hurt, like she didn’t know. They would talk and maybe even have an okay time, then something would happen in Hong Kong and she’d have to go or WE would explode in some new way and he would have to go. Either way the call would end and Tim would be alone again in his pristine, lifeless apartment except this time someone else would know how badly he wanted to claw off his skin in the hopes of finding whatever was deeply wrong with him.

Tim laughed like a rusty hinge and took a sip of coffee. To no fault of her own, Cass couldn’t help him- he ignored the fact that the only solid feeling he’d had in days was that nothing and no one could help him.

There was always someone a little less discerning, like Dick. The man could flay him alive, but it would be entirely unintentional and oblivious on his part. He could call Dick and he might answer. Of course it was a Saturday morning so he was probably either asleep or with Damian, and Tim didn’t want to wake him up or deal with the building tension as he waited for Dick to hang up because the demon brat needed something at that exact minute. There was the chance he was hanging out by himself at his own apartment in Bludhaven, but even Tim could only intrude on the older mans’ personal space and time so often. No, Tim knew with a bone deep certainty that he could not handle this call going to voicemail or being cut short because Tim was the easiest burden to leave behind.

He carefully placed his coffee mug on the floor next to him and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes, watching the spots burst into being and fade out slowly.

For obvious reasons he wasn’t going to call Damian. For all that he was eleven years old and impossible to deal with, Tim didn’t want to be the type of person who needed a teenager to regulate his emotions for him. The boy knew how that felt first hand- and even if he’d walked into Robin with his eyes open to the consequences, he’d been pushed out with his eyes a little wider and his chest a little hollower for more reasons than most wanted to believe. No matter how snot nosed the demon brat was, that kid had spent too long playing at being an adult and he deserved better than that from Tim, at least. Tim doggedly ignored the fact that he himself had only been a little older than Damian is now when he’d yanked on the mantle with two hands and the determination of a desperate child, he also ignored the fact that Damian would skin him alive for thinking such thoughts even tangentially to thoughts of the boy himself.

The seventeen year old grabbed blindly for his coffee and took a long drink. He had a feeling he knew exactly where this thought exercise was going, but Tim had never been one to give up. Not when he really should, not when it would’ve been easier for everyone involved, and not when it was pointless. He had been good at the suspension of disbelief long before he’d joined the crusade, and he was loathe to break a bad habit.

If not Cass, Dick, or Damian to call- there was always Jason. Tim choked back a snort and stared at the empty wall next to the front door, yes there was always Jason. It was maybe a little unfair to think so poorly of the older boy, but it was too easy for Tim to think highly of him and he had fallen from those heights a few times more often than he’d care to admit. It wasn’t that Jason wasn’t kind or even that he was unwilling to talk to Tim these days, it was more-so that he’d never stopped trying to impress the older man and peeling back his flesh to show Jason the slimy, unlikable parts and then ask to be coddled was a level of desperate that he shuddered to think of reaching. Of course Jason had never been one to coddle Tim in general, which was a generous way of putting it. But despite it all, Jason was a good person and lately seemed if not interested in Tim then vaguely affectionate towards the concept of him- he would probably answer on principle. But how was Tim to even start that conversation? “Hi Jason, I know we literally only talk when we’re working or when Dick gets it in his head that all of us being Robin at some point means something, but I was wondering if you would talk with me about something that wasn’t either mutually traumatizing or how much you hate me. Why? So that I can pretend that someone would choose to be around me, that’s all.” Yeah probably not the best idea he’s had to date.

Tim chewed his lips and pretended that his breathing wasn’t getting heavier the shorter his list of options got. He barreled forward with his mug between his feet and his head between his knees.

Alfred had never once refused a call, with the only recompense being the subtle implications that he really ought to join them for dinner more often. Tim could call Alfred and the man would answer. He would answer and reserve judgement, even more- he would be perfectly willing to bring Tim up to speed on everything he’d missed since the two had last spoken. He would fill him in like it was nothing and with no disapproval to be heard. Alfred was really his best option but nonetheless the boy refused to move towards his phone, still face up and turned on across the room. Alfred had never turned down any overtures of companionship, at least not since Tim had been allowed into the circle as Robin, but he’d also never really reached out to him of his own volition. Tim had always told himself it was the older mans sense of propriety, but what if it was that same sense of propriety that kept him on the line? Tim was lonely, sure, but he didn’t want to take advantage of the fact that Alfred had been attached to the Wayne name for longer than even Bruce had been alive and Tim had latched onto the family like a burr or a mold. The boy wasn’t sure he could handle being placated either, he’d met plenty of people employed under his parents and if today was the day Tim noticed how similar their vacant indulgence was to Alfreds’ steadfast professionalism he would probably break in irreparable ways.

He forcibly calmed his breathing and glared at the mug between his ankles. He ignored how that feeling from earlier had strengthened and barricaded itself in his chest and was making it hard to focus on his heartbeats.

There was Stephanie, one of his oldest and long-lasting companions. He could call her but she was pretty likely to be busy and thus not answer or be rightfully angry and thus not answer. He would have no way of knowing except that he knew which one was most likely if only based on historical precedence. He had been a bad boyfriend but a better friend- that of course didn’t mean much, it wasn’t a particularly hard bar to clear after all. Even disregarding all of their history, Tim hadn’t really spoken to Steph since blowing into town with ninjas on his heels and animosity between them a mile wide. They still hadn’t really sat down and talked about everything from her death, the gang war, and his radio silence during his search for Bruce. It felt wrong to call her up like none of that had happened and she still wanted him around as anything other than a competent yet obnoxious coworker.

The thought of Steph ached like a bruise and that pain only compounded the marching drumbeat in his chest that called out in gleeful tones "Not wanted, not wanted" and so Tim snuffed it like the wick of a bomb and moved onward once more.

Babs was always available, somehow. She made a point to keep a line open for any capes in the Gotham area no matter how frosty the personal relationship had gotten. But that was for professional things, and Tim didn’t know if he could deal with reaching out to her for comfort only for her to remind him exactly how they’d left things. He’d had a case related theory- Bruce wasn’t dead. Dick had disagreed, Barbara had disagreed, everyone had disagreed. Tim had pushed and Dick had taken it both personally and poorly, that moved things from a professional dispute between allies to a personal spat between the nosy neighbor and her long time closest companion. There was no version of reality where Babs chose Tim over Dick, honestly there probably wasn’t a version of reality where anyone chose Tim over anyone they even vaguely liked- let alone loved. It would be absurd to expect her to push past how he’d hurt Dick, even though he’d been right, and it was impossible for Tim to push past how she’d left him to fend for himself out of spite despite the fact that he should’ve expected it and known better.

Tim was trying hard not to catastrophize, he knew that was what it was actually called when he came up with one thousand plans with ten backup versions each, but it was so tempting to script his conversations so that nothing could go wrong. It was nearly fool proof and most of the time it felt like it was almost worth the consequence of looking in the mirror and having his gaze drawn to how his mothers eyes and bone structure fit comfortably on his face. There was always the chance that someone would see his railroading for what it was, but Young JustUs and Steph had been the only people to do so in any meaningful way.

There was nothing stopping him from call Kon, Bart, or Cassie. Well, that was almost true- Kon would answer but he had better things to do than hold his hand through the consequences of his self-imposed isolation. The super was just barely on good terms with Clark and testing the waters of a brotherly relationship with Jon- he had actual, real problems to deal with that didn’t have anything to do with the sort of best friend that had gone insane when he died and tried to clone him back to life. Bart was in a similar boat in that he definitely shouldn’t have to help someone who was somehow less emotionally adjusted than him handle reality. The speedster was beginning to settle back into this time period, and seemed to be believing in the permanence of it in a way he hadn’t before he’d died. Tim didn’t need to shake that up just because he was coping poorly with his own decisions. Cassie was an entirely different situation that Tim was in no way equipped to handle with competency. How do you ask your ex-girlfried/bestfriend/group life partner to tell you she still cares about you when your last proper conversation was her telling you how insane you’d gone and you telling her that you didn’t need her anymore- you don’t, that’s how.

Even though Young JustUs had been prepared to be together until the heat death of the universe, Tim should’ve known better than to hang his hopes on something as flimsy as that. People simply didn’t stay with Tim, which was something he’d learned at the age of ten when his parents had skipped every holiday that year (and his birthday) without comment or apology, he just knew that ten year old would be embarrassed at how far he’d fallen just because some people had been nice to him for a little while. He should’ve known better then and he did know better now.

Bruce was alive and in the correct time so he should be an option, but even Tim wasn’t that delusional. The man was still settling into the modern day and his new family dynamics that had changed without him. True, he was Batman again and Damian was his Robin- but the demon brat still deferred to Dick more often than not and Dick was a little too smug about such preferential treatment to discourage it in any meaningful way. Not that Dick was particularly good at discouraging the boy of any behaviors even when he didn’t enjoy the results but, water and bridges and such. Bruce was chafing under his performative authority and thus going on some sort of family building kick as a consequence. He would definitely answer, but Tim wasn’t sure he could withstand any sort of relationship they built getting thrown to the side once this little tantrum ended. This call would mean too much to Tim and be nothing more than bragging rights or blackmail for Bruce, there was a reason he was the bottom of the list.

Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne was sitting on the floor of his perfect apartment with his head between his knees and a recently emptied coffee mug next to him when he realized, with a sharp exhale like a punch to the gut, that it didn’t matter.

He shot up from his perch, kicking the mug across the room to shatter against the wall, and he laughed. He laughed so hard he couldn’t breathe. He laughed so hard he choked and shook and began to sob. Here he was, freaking out in his stupid apartment in ways he hadn’t since the first time his parents left him home alone for more than a week, and for what reason? He had known this little spectacle wouldn’t mean anything but tears in the end, what was his fascination with self-torture that he’d needed to break it down on a person by person basis like it wasn’t a foregone conclusion as of four years ago when he’d wedged his way into this doomed mission with nothing but empty hands and spite. His sobbing picked up volume and his breathing got sharper.

In some distant way Tim was aware that he was having a panic attack. A pretty bad one, if the crying and shaking had anything to say about it. But in that same distant way he didn’t really care. He was watching himself choke on his tears so hard that he had to curl over and vomit on the hardwood floors and he couldn’t bring himself to feel any type of way about it. What did it matter if he choked to death on his vomit in this perfect, sterile penthouse all by himself? Wasn’t it a little poetic, in a morbid sort of way?

If it wasn’t for the fact that Janet Drake had no physical choice, she would’ve skipped his birth just like his father had- she probably would’ve avoided his birth happening all together if they’d had their way. They’d left him alone as soon as they could get away with it, and he’d wasted away his years waiting for them to come back and acknowledge that they had a son. Wouldn’t it be ironic if he died choking on the physical manifestation of his loneliness in an apartment that reminded him too much of his childhood home to ever be comfortable?

Tim- not Drake or Wayne, just Tim-Nobodies-Son, spread out on his freezing floors and tried to breathe through the suddenly overwhelming urge to see if a second fall from a window would do the job. He tried to beat back the echoing voice that seemed to emanate from the middle of his chest, that had graduated from “not wanted” to “never wanted”, because he could see the next escalation coming from a mile away and he knew there was nobody there to stop it but him- like always. And ever so slowly his tears dried, tacky and embarrassing, and his shame returned to him like his coffee had just a moment ago.

He sighed loud and long, “What am I even doing? I’m lucky dad is dead- at least he doesn’t get to see exactly how right he was.”

As the boy kneaded the tension from his forehead he noticed a clicking sound that, in hindsight, had been echoing around his walls for quite awhile.

And then Jason Todd, in all his murderous glory, was standing in his doorway with lock picks in hand and an unreadable expression on his face.

[storynerd121]

it's not saturday anymore (at least for me) but i don't care and i hope you don't either...

(yes, i'm gonna ask you one for nearly each point, cause... that's like my personality...)

i'm not very original here, but i'm excited for your answers!!!

☆ fuck, marry, kill:

(really not original, but i wanna knowwwww)

james, sirius, remus?

regulus, evan, barty?

mary, dorcas, marlene? (and lily too?? ahhhh how can i add her???)

☆ top 3 of...

hmmm... i'm gonna do that differently: if you could only eat (don't worry about drinking) 3 things for the rest of your life, what would it be?

☆ are you a dog or a cat person?

☆ ahhhhhhhhhh i can't think of something for the next two... (okay, that's like half true i'm just too shy... sorry...)

☆ headcanons... that's a long answer probably? and this is so long already... but... tell me something if you want to? about anything? anddd one question: what do you think about ravenclaw barty?

☆ hmmmm... i don't really knowww... okay, this is weird maybe, but i think, you'd be awesome in a cartoon? that isn't even question-related... yeppp... i mean that in the nicest way possible btw!!! i think you're that mix of being sweet and cool that i associate with cartoon characters? okay... that's kinda dumb... my social anxiety/awkwardness is screaming at me... (what i mean is that i think you'd be awesome in a cartoon what leads to that maybe i'd ship you with a cartoon character? but i don't know enough about cartoon to give a character... i just kinda got that vibe...)

☆ my day was kinda boring... nothing special, but also very chilled...

how are you doing? how was your day? :)

byeeee

<33

hiiiii!! Thx for all the questions (im bored so this is perfect for rn. i honestly don't care if its not sat. anymore lol.) Anyways here's my answers.

☆ fuck, marry, kill:

kill james (im sorry my love 😭 i still adore u), fuck sirius (i may be ace but u get the point), and marry remus (bc we would be book lovers together).

kill barty (😭😭😭), fuck evan (bc why not), and marry regulus (he's just a bby thats in need of love). (bro it was so hard to choe between barty and evan omg. im still not sure lmao)

i'm gonna do fuck, slap, mary, kill for the girls bc i wanna add lily in. marry lily (ily queen), fuck dorcas, slap marlene, and kill mary (im gonna be honest here i dont rly know/read a lot abt them but i wanna read more good fics so recommendations r welcome)

☆ top 3:

Ok so if i could only eat 3 things for the rest of my life it'd probably be.... chocolate (bc i need it), chicken (bc i need protein and why not), and peas (my fav veggie). thats a hard question lol. i kinda just picked what i need for a balanced (ish) diet....

☆ dog or a cat person?

i love dogs, but im a cat person. (i also have 2 dogs and 1 cat. i love them all <3)

☆ headcanons… that's a long answer probably? and this is so long already… but… tell me something if you want to? about anything? anddd one question: what do you think about ravenclaw barty?

ooooo, ok. so ravenclaw barty (bc im starting with the question). I honestly like it. I feel like he's both sytherin and ravenclaw (like me) and i honestly like him in both houses. ig sytherin is a little better for him but honestly i still like him in both. idk why it just feels kinda right?? (and he still gets cute moments with evan in both houses so i cool with both lol)

hmmmm... a headcanon of mine..... i'm gonna stick to the marauders fandom bc why not. one of my fav headcanons is just soft reggie. like just for james. he's srsly so adorable and he loves to cuddle with his bf (even tho he's to embarrassed to ask at first so james just kinda pulls him into a hug/kiss every time he senses reg doesn't wanna ask and reg gets all flustered. he does get comfortable with it eventually tho). another one of my fav headcanons is abt wolfstar. I feel like siri is the one who stays with rem after every full and they just snuggle and enjoy each other. even before they get together (rem is so scared of ruining everything by confessing so he just holds it in bc he just loves siri so fucking much that it physically hurts him to even think of losing him.) anyways one day after the full they're chilling on rem's bed and siri just whispers i love you bc he needs to say it and they both just freeze. siri apologizes over and over and rem is just kinda stuck on the fact that siri actually said i love you?? to him?? and then he registers that sirius is crying so he just kisses him before he can think abt it. it ends well ofc. (i feel like these aren't rly headcanons and they're just little random stories but we're going with it for now lol)

☆ okay, this is weird maybe, but i think, you'd be awesome in a cartoon? that isn't even question-related… yeppp… i mean that in the nicest way possible btw!!! i think you're that mix of being sweet and cool that i associate with cartoon characters? okay… that's kinda dumb… my social anxiety/awkwardness is screaming at me… (what i mean is that i think you'd be awesome in a cartoon what leads to that maybe i'd ship you with a cartoon character? but i don't know enough about cartoon to give a character… i just kinda got that vibe…)

thank u!!! idk why but this is honestly rly sweet! cartoon characters r awesome so i absolutley love this thank u! u may have just made my day lol. (also the social akwardness is so relatable lmao) also a ship with a cartoon character? that sounds kinda interesting....lmk if u think of someone bc now im kinda curious lol. (i've never been in a relationship but im curious to see what cartoon vibes i give off and who u'd ship me with)

☆ my day was kinda boring… nothing special, but also very chilled…how are you doing? how was your day? :)

my day was pretty good actually! i hung out a friend's house (i haven't seen the friend in a while so it was cool to see them again) for a while so that was nice. although the misgendering was kinda annoying.... im doing meh. im rly anxious abt my upcoming presentation and also everything i've gotta do but i'm ok rn. how r u? ur day honestly sounds nice (i love lazy days so i may be biased lmao). I hope it was nice to have a relaxing-ish day tho.

thx so much for the ask btw!! ur sirius-ly awesome (ignore my marauders humor but i had to). <3

byeeeee!! <3

[www-librarytearoom-com]

Hello it's me again! I have burning questions. U don't have 2 answer all of them I'm just really curious.

Raising a baby can be tiresome(but so SO worth it) So i wanted to know how the first few days with baby Weegi was like for Mario? Did he interact with his parents even less, like did he flatout avoid them or? I wouldn't be surprised if they weren't even there. Did he figure out how to take care of an infant all by himself like i did? You know like figuring out which foods to give, allergies, cleaning the baby, medicine, first aid just in case. Like how much of this knowledge did he have after taking those classes. Did he ever had anyone else for support bsides Pauline. Did Pauline look after lu when Mario needed some time to rest🥺(did he even rest??) When did he meet Spike?They have a better relationship than canon which i think is cool. Oh and how long did it take for Mario to start calling them aunt/uncle for Weegi and what made him do it?- 🍊(lol sorry that was a lot of questions)

OKAY SO IM KIND OF SAD BECAUSE I HAD A VERY LONG RESPONSE TYPED OUT TO YOU AND MY MOTHER SWIPED UP ON MY TUMBLR SO WOW. Anyway I'm gonna try and rewrite what I did before but I'm so sorry if it's not detailed cuz I'm sad LMFAO

The first few days of Mario raising Luigi were extremely hard. He'd never interacted with a baby before and had no idea what to do physically, despite the knowledge he had. But he knew that he had to try, as this baby was the light he had wanted in his life for so long, he wanted that happiness, and this child had been giving him everything he'd wanted in the span of just a few days.

Pauline's mother had taught him how to change nappies and bathe him, though to Mario, this baby was so fragile he was scared to harm him. So he was constantly flooded with anxiety around Luigi for the first few months until he developed a bit more.

His parents weren't present, despite his arguing against it at first. He wanted them to be present for Luigi, but they just weren't. Mario just had to learn that and in the end he found it was for the better that they weren't there.

Mario had to learn all of it himself - I would also like to say that I worked as an early years practitioner apprentice for around 7 months and though I never finished my qualification, I was 50% into my course so I know quite a lot about the development of infants. The weening process was particularly scary for him as he was terrified of Luigi having an allergic reaction, thankfully that didn't happen though. He was already trained in paediatric first aid as he just wanted something to do during the summer.

Medicine and any medical stuff... that's going to be included later on in the book. :)

Pauline is a bit of a tricky one as in the 'I let precious time go by' oneshot, it's very clear that she is not very keen on Mario raising Luigi, as she doesn't want him to give up his dreams for this child. But, seeing Mario the way he was, he was so happy to be with this child, it encouraged her to be Auntie Pauline.

So, as much as I wish I could answer your last few questions, I meant it when I said I was fleshing out all of the characters. Spike and Pauline are going to be having their own scenes in this book - meaning that we will see how Spike met Mario and how he became Uncle Spike to Luigi.

Stay tuned. And once again if this isn't as detailed I'm so sorry I'm so sad abt my original answer being deleted.

Once again, this entire book was designed to honour my sisters and how much I love them for stepping up and raising me when my parents didn't. I love them to the moon and back and the way Mario acts is as a combination of all my sisters. I am so happy that you feel connected to this fic in a similar sense to the way I do. ♡

[rpfisfine]

when I saw "reenact" I said surely not, how? it's not possible, so many of them are straight-up porn. (unless there's others on wattpad, I wouldn't know I don't touch wattpad with a ten foot pole that's where I draw the line) then I spared a thought for you, because your fics are so important to me so if you go down I'm doomed. I have so many thoughts n worries

- 🌵

Yeah yeah thats exactly what i was thinking too like even just logistically theres just genuniely no way like actually straight up legitimately zero way. i just googled the fics on wattpad to find out the situation bc honestly nothing can harm me more at this point and it turns out its just cross-posted fics from ao3 of just one author (kenorkia) so theres actually way less stuff on wattpad which is. i guess good for the humble fic reader but insanely bad for the rest of us and especially me bc that means that weve got like nowhere to hide now LOL. but oh my god wait maybe that means theres still hope... maybe theyll just read the wattpad ones even though there's just one fic with two short chapters and thats it but its true that theres no sex in either of them. but that would actually be huge ngl like that would mean us completely dodging the bullet but somehow i dont think thats where the breadth of aleksa's deeply twisted fanfic knowledge ends which is just goddamn like pretty extremely goddamn. I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!!!! im being extremely brave and choosing not to delete my entire ao3 account and tumblr account and life even though that was literally my initial reaction upon getting the fateful ask bc i did work hard on the fics after all and i still couldnt be happier abt the response ive received on them and im so happy that ppl continue to appreciate them we will get through this guys we r just gonna have to stay silly. the world is made of pudding

[yxstxrdrxxm-a]

(Since i already did reveal myself, i'll just send asks without being an anon lol)

Oh! That's easy, actually. Although we won't be available when we leave tomorrow, we contacted a certain someone that can run this blog and inform us of any messages you have for either me or Eros ^^

Navina? 👀

Speaking of, Eros wanted to tell you that he appreciated your presence, Mochi! Every time we talked about you and the others, I've seen him smile and mutter something about getting a calico cat and naming her after you. It was so cute! Eros never had any close friends other than me, so seeing her talk about everyone and you like we were all best friends warmed my heart.

SJNSKSJDJD- THAT IS SO CUTE??? Naming a calico cat after me, awhhh 🥺 cupid, can you tell eros that i appreciate knowing her too?? Tell her i said she's very cute too- (and yk there's something funny about your words. I also have a calico cat roaming around my house lmaoo, why is my life so full of funny coincidence-)

Aha... Anyways, before I go on rambling, that's all I can say. We'll see what we can do to make things easier and so we can speak to you all again, hehe! I hope you'll still be around when that happens :D

Oh yeah, i forgot to copy the sentence, but uhh, about that interesting thing in next month, i'll be sure to keep my eyes on it! Whether it'd be another event (i doubt it would be this one, please rest navina 💀) or anything else, i will be enthusiastic about it :] AND YES, I WILL STILL BE AROUND 🙆🏻‍♀️ you can't get rid of me, i'm like that small mistake when you're drawing and you just can't seem to erase it unless you get to the layer who has it-

Hehe, whoever it is will be a surprise, but I'll tell Eros that you appreciate the sentiment as well! She's out right now to get some last minute groceries (and also snacks, we'll be having a small movie night to celebrate our resignation!), so she'll definitely be pleased to hear your message.

Anyway, its nice to see you'll stick around even if we won't be here, then :D hope you enjoy what else will go down while we're busy settling some last minute plans.

(note from yours truly: HELPAIDSRFHUI NOT THE CALICO CAT... dwdw, Im gonna rest for after the main story + maybe writing the dlc fics. on hindsight, they might not be guaranteed to be all posted because bro, my brain needs a huge reboot when this sht is all done and dusted. orz.)

(tbh the next one wont be abt OLC anymore, thankfully, but! it will also reference this + make small cameos. Dont know what I'll do this time around when I get the chance but we shall see kek)

(Istg though when Im done Im gonna limit whoever I'll write. I love writing all of these characters and thinking abt them but God do I now resent how many I have to research. fuck THAT.)

(anyways!! I shall go eep for a good while on writing + maybe post dlcs. I will say that some fics will most def not be published even after the week for dlc stuff/extra fics because my brain just. isnt braining. orz orz im gonna cry. i'll prolly post them randomly idk HAIUHDUFSI anyways ill shut up now goodbye—)

[chocosvt]

choco hiiii >:3 i've been putting off sending dis ask 4 so long now but dis is just 2 let u know how much i appreciate yew >⁠.⁠< der r like . . 4 writers in total on tumblr dat r so so dear to me ; ; ; they're 1 of the only reasons i even stay on dis app, n ur 1 of dem </3

the 1st fic i read of urs was,,, honey boy and i still remember the day i came across it and how i read it in 1 go like a woman starved ( it was on oct 21st 2023 btw ) ... .. . saying dat it changed my life would b an understatement. it was all i could think abt 4 days, n i even dreamt the entirety of ch 15 once :o , word 4 word, n some parts of ch 16 . . der r no words dat can amount 2 how much i adore dat fic. i love lengthy word counts done ri8, n u hav such a way w words,, pulling at heartstrings n everything ! ! dat fic has all the subtleties dat only a slow burn could provide. i genuinely wish i could give a way better review than dis, but pls understand dat 'm so , so in luv n i adore u so much 4 the amount of work u put out into it, from the visuals n the descriptions, the perfect build up, amazing writing of eventual f2l and reflections- just EVERYTHING. i luv u. i luv ur writing. i want 2 give u aaalllll the flowers in the world. n den some ^.⁠^

anyway . . . the reason 'm here in the first place, is 2 let u know how excited i am 4 her ( even tho it might not sound like it ; ; n u'll see why ) . dis might sound insane but i never read best friend's brother because i was gatekeeping it from. myself . . . ? idk how to explain but i always hav dis weird feeling of like "but if i read it it's gonna b over :(((" n it probably doesnt make any sense, but my mind keeps convincing me 2 just "save it 4 later" n i go along w it bcs yea ! it is going to b over, even tho i know dat dat's just stupid bcs i could just , , read it again? gahh idk. but i finally decided to read it. bcs i have her. . . 'm gonna wait patiently 4 u 2 release all 6 parts ( fuck tumblr for these weird ass limits btw :| ) n dennn read it. n 'm so excited. yk the meme w the instagram countdown to "k1llng myself" but den it's covered by the big ass "postponed" text? dat's what i feel like rn. . . anyway. dat was a whole lot of nothing so 'm sry lol but i hope u have a greaaaaat rest of ur day mwa i luv u >:3

omg!! you have no idea how much i appreciate your immaculate and stunning words <3 it brought some teary tears to my eyes!! thank u for taking the time to write such a cute, thoughtful message 💘 and i'm happy that honey boy was such an impactful read!!

HAHA TRUST ME I GET IT!! i'm legit the same way with tv shows and books!! it's like, if i don't finish it... then technically... in MY MIND it hasn't ended and i can prolong the delusion!!

i can't even tell you how many times i've gotten to the end of a super good tv show and then i just suddenly stopped watching it bc i was like eeeeeeik this shit is gonna end and i'm gonna be overtaken by this profound, clutching sense of emptiness!! so i understand where you're coming from! at least her is sooo long that it might be a good while before you're able to hit the end :3

[itooaminthisepisode]

hiii thanks for the tag!! held off on posting this cause i knew i would be uploading another fic by the end of the year and i wanted to include it lol :3

thank you @spicedrobot for the template! and without further ado, here's my wrapped!

66k words is an absolutely insane number of words that i never dreamed i would be able to write in the span of a year and yet somehow here i am. Holy Shit!!! i'm pretty sure that's more writing (or at least creative writing) in one year than i've done in the rest of my life combined.

without further ado here's an overview of all the fics i've written this year, with a little added commentary because i love yapping!! below a cut cause it got kinda long:

something sweet and safe - after wilson flirts with a nurse at work, house decides to put him in his place.

this one was my first published smut and my first foray into horrible freaknasty old man porn!! dove straight in headfirst and have never looked back since :3 need to do something with this dynamic again at some point... hmmm ;)

sick little feelings in my sick little brain - house makes wilson piss in his mouth. that's it, that's the fic.

piss md!! featuring house and wilson's (absolutely canon) shared piss kink!! i just think house should make wilson do horrible humiliating things alright. also i've had a sequel outlined for like literally MONTHS at this point i just haven't gotten around to it yet... but next year. stay tuned👀 (also maybe a third one as well we'll see how it goes!!)

wiped away my thoughts and cares - wilson sometimes struggles with incontinence. house decides to help in a rather... unorthodox way.

wilson abdl because i cannot resist putting that man in a situation!! spent two hours total writing this one (including editing) which is literally the least time i've spent on a fic Ever and somehow it's my favourite out of all 38(!!) that i wrote this year. this is another one that i am doing more of in 2025 trust🤞 little wilson is so precious to me i cannot resist him🥺

look at those puppy dog eyes - house and wilson try out petplay for the first time, and - to no one's surprise - they like it. a lot.

this is actually the first fic i started writing in 2024! i just got major writers block towards the end and left it sitting half-finished for months. but then i wrote a couple other fics and came back to it with fresh eyes and i'm really proud of how it turned out!! another dynamic that i rotate in my brain a lot. ouppies <3

i wanna throw you to the hounds - house is a werewolf - and sometimes, he can get a little... frisky when he's transformed.

this was the fic i was most nervous to post (yes, even more so than the abdl one), but im so glad ppl seemed to like it cause like. Waow :3 another one where i just put wilson in a situation!! also i love writing him having a moral crisis but doing it anyway purely cause house wants to :3

whumptober 2024 - all the filled prompts from this year's whumptober! some are short, some are longer, all of them are emotionally damaging in some shape or form.

okay look if i listed each individual fic in this series we'd be here all day so i'm just gonna talk abt whumptober as a whole. but it was SO MUCH FUN!!! wrote em in like three weeks, was churning out like 2 or 3 a day by the end, and was delirious with fever for a significant chunk of time but i'm so proud of myself for finishing in time!! if all goes well i'll be participating in 2025, albeit with slightly better planning and pacing this time!! :D

can you catch me when i'm falling down? - wilson's been having a bad day. luckily, house knows just what to do to make him feel better.

my gift for @russell-crowe as part of the 20th anniversary exchange! it was a little different to write to someone else's specifications cause i've never done it before and it's out of my comfort zone, but it was a super fun challenge and i enjoyed it a lot!! will definitely participate in this again if it runs in 2025, cause it's such a good way to feel connected within the fandom!! :D

this year's for me and you - house hangs mistletoe above wilson's doorway in an attempt to fluster him. wilson isn't so easily fooled, however, and he finds a way to beat house at his own game.

my final fic this year!! this one is another gift, this time for @nekomura-chanzu as part of the holiday gift exchange!! had a blast writing this one, it was a nice break from all the whump and smut. nothing like a sweet silly fluff fic to end the year with a bang! :3

and that's it!! what a brilliant year it's been, and here's to 2025 being even greater!

i never know who to tag for these things (social anxiety will do that😅) but to any housefic authors seeing this, feel free to add on!! <3

my ao3 wrapped! tagged by @greghousebignaturals, template by @spicedrobot

2024 was my first year of getting back into writing fanfic since literally 5 years ago - and I only got back into it in the second half of the year (and I'll still be posting more stuff before 2024 is over lbr)

very briefly, these are the House fics I wrote this year, in chronological order:

Kill the Mood: Hilson try doing doctor roleplay during sex (and fail)

Bonk: Wilson gets a concussion :)

Don't Touch Me: Wilson hates physical contact and has a bad time

inappropriate use of hospital technology: House sends Wilson a dickpic and trans!Wilson jerks off about it

acting like a tough guy: House avoids Wilson on Valentine's Day (Wilson is very endeared by this)

sleep(less): Wilson is sleep deprived to the point of hallucinating a week after he started dating House

Slow Blink: Wilson is turned into a kitten. House is confused by cat body language

ow: trans!Wilson has period cramps

oh, and one more thing: Wilson gets hurt, House mother hens him, Wilson is a little shit

Want/Deserve/Receive: Wilson starts dating House and freaks out because he doesn't feel like he's allowed to be happy

the truth I chose to bend myself around: House accidentally takes truth serum. Nobody believes him (wip)

Tie Me Up, Pull My Leash: Wilson bets House to wear a tie and then tugs on it like a leash and they make out about it

I'm tagging @itooaminthisepisode and @oldmanffucker and @coffins-and-marbles and @defibrillism (if you wanna)

template below

[nuclearforest]

1, 22 and 30 for the writer asks?

D'aww thank for the ask, frien!! Boutta board my flight but these were fun to think abt leading up to that. Ty again!

1. Which of your fics would you keep the basic plot of but rewrite completely?

Honestly I think One Dog Night needs love lol. Like I've gotten a lot better at writing over the last couple of years and I see just so many little details I'd tweak to make it better.

But it is pretty damn good, and the reason that I don't rewrite is because I want to leave it as a mark of my improvement. Maybe it needs an Evangelion kind of sequel where I redo it as a separate timeliness lol.

22. What is it about watching the same two idiots falling in love over and over again?

I'm a simp and I'm gonna simp. My brain selected one bastard man as a free dopamine machine and now we're here.

But that said, when I write I shoot for love letters to the mundane little things. And when you write for the same two idiots over and over again, it's that much easier to explore new aspects of what forms their relationship. And it can very between settings and across times.

So like, in the case of Barrett and Briar: it's incredibly sweet. And aligning the way in which the same people can fall in love over and over again is sweet. Soulmates as an idea is just sweet; destined to stumble into one another over and over again in the same dance for the rest of time, more than happy to do so.

30. Describe a fic that almost happened, but then it didn't.

Lmao I have a few I debated fixing up and posting. Mostly stuff I wrote like, years ago in college. Most college AUs to match my life and get my mind off of classes. Some folks might call it cringe but I call it desperate escapism from a difficult program lol.

That said, easiest to fix up would be Lumberjack Fantasies. Literally a reader insert about admiring Hans' shoulders while he splits logs. Short and sweet.

[istherewifiinhell]

reading progress: chapter 268

reading highlight: (weak jazz hands) tah dahhh. in which. um. in which i read a webnovel and made notes about it. and square brackets are me trying to make sense of my own notes.

243 rules lawyer your wishes rule

244 yjh think of me damnit -> yjh I believe in you even when I dont

1 million dollar bet [coins?]

245 making yjh think abt him, monster is his fault. 100 coins. you bet 1 mill. banter [genuinely what the fuck am i talking about]

Breaking the sky sword saint chilling with dumplings. feeding her dog

Biyoo's dads are fighting time to fein sleep

Constellation who likes to changed sex is struggling with pleasure

kdj blocked from seeing tgirl swag moments

246 "Don't be so loud baby, the king is watching you" sfhbdfghbd ah?? [a dokkaebi says this to kdj?]

mass production maker sports car hell yeah

oh iris would have been okay. that is a pretty kdj move

mass production makers has an e cig

you hate the constellations but you yourself read stories? curious

247 HMO holding dog food *probably* for breaking the sky master. -> i would *hope* so...

breaking the sky master licking the bowl -> lol yeah

yjh excited to have a new sword aw lol

krygios and breaking the sky sword saint... 9' wife 2" husband

248 "kdj what the hell did you do" an orv story

kdj parlor scene where he just tells ppl off for being dicks.

breaking sky sword saint says fuck your gatekeeping [chitism... what?] capitalist bs. also pro bio diversity (metaphor)

breaking sky master barks from the car -> (raised eyebrows) -> passenger seat. oh. okay

"How many more people had to suffer destruction in order to end this story?" "Her heroic spirit is so high that she sometimes made other peoples definitions of justice shabby"

yjh breaking sky saint vulnerability moments.

(curse of crows @ riv live)

breaking sky master WILL LIVE

GOD SHES SO GOOD AND COOL [saint or master whose to say]

250 "If I threw away murim here, would I be different from the gourmet association" [which i shortened to gour ass... btw]

murim has a will (any world can) and has chosen sword saint as its savior

rest in violence sword saint [shes not dead lol]

there was a transcendent dog.

kdj: yjh is gonna kill me! yjh: emotionally devastated and looking for some support/guidance/solace

"I'm not like you" HMM!!

Kyrgios!! (-> wait... hes from the orochi chapters... mf is a issun-boshi) [really took me that long to snap that into place]

251 who could the punisher be... no its impossible. -> kdj last guy to put the pieces together every time

GAY THERAPY WATCH!

jhy and sky master sleeping and hugging -> cute

HMO mpreg mechanics. good. great -> lights a cig. takes a drag I wanted to kill you, kdj

"I didn't like the orginal kdj-ssi" "thats good to know"

hmo and kdj *should* talk more often. weirdest small talk + deep introspection

Reading a story is probably as hard as giving birth.. so tru...

"no matter what I will only make the ending that I want" 4th wall is wiggling happily -> cute?

asking the dog their opinion. I love that

PROVE YOUR KDJ. PROVE

uriel... (she just wants to see her fic acted out)

253 (trying to deal with the tense/pov used) yeah kdj why are you so keen to be killed

krygios is just a sweet sad guy huh

254 4th wall is showing its teeth -> cool dog kdj

HSY YSA girls trip! -> they hate each other

lee seolhwa hi lee seolhwa!

hsy having a bitter dark chocolate for a bitter dark girlie

lsk! hi hi! "My dokja seems to like unhealthy children"

abt olypmus -> they had so much sex it shorten their life span?

kdj bihyung divorce arc....

(understanding of character kdj increase)

255 looked into the abyss

bihyung is... protective... bihyung is... tsundere?

biyoo.. (sobbing)

256 bihyung the dead beat but bad ass dad? -> maybe not badass

YJH! whats the wenny man saying abt 1000 deaths

41! sys lost her memory so who was the revenge for? yjh didnt know. he just swung his sword.

yjh puts biyoo in his pocket....

'no of these constellations can understand yjh' (demon king of salvation is looking at you) adfhg

257 "I opened the wide and yelled towards the citizens" wide? wide open? wide comms? radio? -> constellation voice..

liberator of the industrial complex

"thanks but i wasn't planing on sacrificing myself" PFFT. okay kdj

"a dog an ambiguous gender human and a man who gave birth"-> bro..

loot boxes again

distorting things as one pleases

satellite officer constellations [aka riding coat tails]

THE DOG WILL LIVE (sorry sys dog i guess :/)

259 moisture filled the dogs eyes -> imagining the wettest gooiest dog eyes

bro is this your dog now?

"reduce your size" kdj you fucking coward

btsm is a girl dog -> sajeo

one day kdj will learn what trans people are... maybe

oh fuck gamers! where we dropping

the dokhyuk industrial complex -> tumblr dot com

you left YJH MESSAGES UNREAD???

hjgbjsd yjh got it like that ?? [he does not.. uriel]

sajeo expression wasnt good -> like. growling?

if you know who they were they wouldnt be a very good secret plotter now would they!

master of the skywalk? -> like... from star wars?

bald general aw lol -> 3 M tall!

guardian of youth and travel...

261 kdj: man i wish YSA was here... me fucking too dude

sajeo laying down like she wasn't interested -> i know exactly what this is referring to. see it in my mind

262 yjh pro gamer

swk has powerful monkey rival beef -> this tracks with jttw

yellow power, blue power? this fucking green lantern shit?

kdj wants to kill manu. protective moments

263 osu little lap dog lol

sajeo WILL LIVE

breaking the sky punch -> saint made this when she was bored...

hey beast king bookmark long time no see

265 oh kdj's mouth back... sure

LHS! SYS! YSA!!! -> kdj: why am i crying...

LHS grenade pin metaphor again

lhs werid gay thing off screen growth

"I'll leave it to you kdj" yjh gets killed djgbsdjkfgb ARGHHH

kdj get toss'd lol. lhs T-T.. uriel lol

1800... smth. oh *that* number....

266 the bear like lhs holding and crying over kdj -> sighing dreamily

267 "It was clearly YJH. No, It was even more than before" uh huh and real quick what did you mean by that...

268 yjh dying and his shared kdj stories crying out...

rotating: look. look theres things to be said about gender. and. morals. narratives and willpower and shit. i think the biggest take away is that I like when their are dog in a story and lhs is the biggest dog of them all... alright then.

[aerltarg]

Maybe this is a stupid question, buuuuut:

I just can't imagine a world that Rhaegar comes back from the Trident, wins the war and becomes king. No, I'm not a anti Rhaegar, matter of fact I like him very much, I'm just can imagine how would Lya, little Jon, this whole affair, would settle in the capital. The norm that fics (at least those I read) tend to follow is to make Rhaegar:

1. A douche, paranoid and destiny-obessed king.

2. Completely incompetent, aloof monarch, that deep down has a heart of gold, but can't really be understood.

I mean, isn't he supposed to be a scholar since he was a kid? What's are your thoughts about it?

oh, yeah, i can totally understand this! it's is the whole point in canon actually, "the wrong man came back from the trident". you would expect a hero win against his antagonist and have a happy ending w his lady love but it doesn't happen. instead the subversion happens to them with rhaegar being killed by robert who becomes obviously a shitty king and lyanna dying after him. they were never supposed to have happy ending, they were created as tragic and doomed and dead from the beginning for the whole plot to start, jon to have his parentage mystery and dany to take the passed baton as the last dragon, prophesied savoir and the heir who has to carry entire house on her back now.

as for the realistic rhaegar wins aus that's the difficult question. tbh we just don't know enough abt their situation, plans and wishes. you see, e.g. in agot we can be right in ned's head and see his motivations, what he was thinking abt, what he was planning, what he was hoping to do. but if his story was told the way rhaegar's was i bet he would have his own crowd of haters and ~intellectuals~ jumping out every two seconds w their "hot takes" how actually all hints abt what rlly happened (ned being a good man w his own sense of honour, justice and experiences affecting him and the deal w cersei's children) doesn't matter and he was an ambitious prick, planned to grasp the power by being joffrey's regent and make his daughter sansa queen. (you can actually insert there any bullshit and still don't reach the level of stupidity of such "hot takes" this fandom loves so much lmao). also he would be blamed to the hell and beyond for being too stupid and not foreseeing the future and actions of other ppl bc ofc after everything happened it's so easy to say what was so obvious to notice. also they would say that the deaths of his men and horrible fates of his kids are 100% his fault and even straight up say he killed them lmao. i can rant abt it for hours so yeah. this is a situation w too many unknown variables bc it depends too much on actions of too many characters we don't know enough abt. the only thing it's possible to tell for sure is the fact that there couldn't be any perfect solutions since things got too complicated at this point.

such fics as you've mentioned tho are just a part of this dumb fanon where rhaegar is "too prophecy obsessed"/"incapable of love"/shrodinger's rhaegar both smart and stupid at the same time/whatever/all of this combined lmfao. the man was notably intelligent from the early age as you've absolutely rightly mentioned, his guesses abt himself being tptwp have nothing to do w egocentrism as some parts of the fandom would want us all to believe unless he wouldn't be so reasonable abt it and later on, after so many years, wouldn't have changed his mind and thought his son could be tptwp.

and literally fuck all antis that think you shouldn't consider prophecies that hold real power in this fantasy world lol. you know, aegon the conqueror was said to be motivated (or at least partly) to unify westeros by the prophecy and still got the treatment of perfect/maximum close to perfect figure of a leader everyone should look up to from the narrative and grrm. prophecy obsessed much, huh? i don't even talk abt all these parallels between him and rhaegar grrm put there not for bitches to ignore them completely! and i will never get tired of reminding that dismissing prophecies is UNWISE for targaryens of all people. the house whose story is built on the dream of young daenys and her father aenar that listened to her despite common sense (or what local "anti magic"/"anti prophecies" clowns consider to be common sense). targs would be as dead as the rest of dragonlords if not for daenys the dreamer. who else in the world has as many reasons to take prophecies seriously as them?

yet antis out there act as if rhaegar is one dimensional weirdo whose every character trait is abt mf ~prophecy obsession~. like how can they miss one of the main points so badly?? the game of thrones distracts ppl from the real danger beyond the wall, yk, the one rhaegar was aware of and meant to deal with. there wouldn't be such a problem if he became king and had as many years of head start before ice zombies apocalypse as ignorant bobby b did. rhaegar had to die just for westeros to sink in shit and our main heroes to save everyone to make this story more epic LMAO

so yeah, too many ppl portray rhaegar as this one dimensional robotic creature without any knowledge of what feelings are idk even for what reason. it seems these ppl can't read for real bc rhaegar was not only intelligent af as well as dutiful ("it seems i must be a warrior" but "he loved his harp more than his lance") but also. ugh emotional?? my boy had constant emo sessions w brooding at ruins of summerhall, sleeping out there beneath the stars all alone and writing songs that made all women cry. does it sound as someone who "isn't capable of love" lol? folks act as if he was completely heartless from the day he was born (bc he didnt play w other kids ig??) but in reality their emotional range is less than the one of a spoon in comparison to rhaegar's lol. i'm not even gonna address the horrible attitude of demonizing him for his implied depression, vile clowns never listen to themselves when they talk abt targaryens and their "madness".

tldr; these fics are mostly lame af and suck at characterization if they're making rhaegar like that lol. anyway his character isn't abt being a good or a bad king, it's abt being a would-be-king for characters in books and readers in reality to sigh over his tragic aura and pretty aesthetic abt how it could've been. however, grrm clearly doesn't write rhaegar as evil or incapable as some parts of the fandom would want to try to persuade others. realistically speaking in the scenario where he wins there couldn't be any perfect decisions but it's a territory of speculations on thin air and lit nothing more since canon doesn't provide us with enough information to rlly theorize anything instead of building biased headcanons some ppl call "analysis".

but remember what barristan said about rhaegar while practically watching him all his life, from a literal baby to the man grown:

“I know little of Rhaegar. Only the tales Viserys told, and he was a little boy when our brother died. What was he truly like?”

The old man considered a moment. “Able. That above all. Determined, deliberate, dutiful, single-minded.” (ASOS, Daenerys I)

“Prince Rhaegar’s prowess was unquestioned, but he seldom entered the lists. He never loved the song of swords the way that Robert did, or Jaime Lannister. It was something he had to do, a task the world had set him. He did it well, for he did everything well. That was his nature. But he took no joy in it. Men said that he loved his harp much better than his lance.” (ASOS, Daenerys IV)

[mochinon-yah]

I HAVEN'T RESPOND TO BRYNN'S ANSWER TO MY ASK FOR SO LONGGGG SORRY BRYNN DHSNJSKSKW

I agree with almost all of the things that you described yourself with, except for when you said you're talentless and that the rest of yourself is garbage - which i think not ofc - because seriously???? You should see yourself CLEARLY in the mirror >:o !! (I'll try to just talk abt the stuff you only mentioned there) Idk about you but hardwork is a talent as well yk?

You're one of the people i've ever known that is just so hard-working and i admire you, brynn! Funny storyyy, but um what push me to really interact with you was because of your friendly and fun attitude! But then, i stayed... like really stayed with you when i saw that you're actually really (like genuinely) nice and hard-working!! Please don't undermine your qualities because it's what made me stick with you 😵‍💫 muach muachhhhh

If you're ever an otome game character, i think i'll like u so much lolll 😭 like let's say ur brynn (ur character) there, i'd be all giggling whenever u pop up because not only ur so funny, ur so admirable that i'm probably gonna cry if ur backstory is ever revealed hdndjdksk

About shiro! Yeahh!!! Shiro is so so different from you, I get it when u said that you're confused when dis your friendship started lolll 😭 i don't even remember when me and shiro even started to be moots like... it just happens naturally that i never really questioned it.... huh 😃

After knowing ven through dreamjolt hostelry, i can see but also not at the same time why tou'd say all that about ven 😭😭😭 ven is so hecticcc but they do seem like someone you'd ask advice from! They're very non-judgmental.... i think? I've never really asked any advice from ven, so idk 😭 but all in all they're a very fun and easygoing person that it made me so surprised of how fast i got comfy with them sbndnsmsk

ABOUT RIN!!! Omg yes ☝️☝️☝️ she's one of the most elegant ppl i've known (idk a lot of ppl but most of em aren't as elegant as her) :O she's very expressive just like you said and i like that about her! I doubt she's like that in real life though hmmm i feel like she uses her more reliable and calm personality when dealing with real life (maybe...?) but if she's at home or with someone she's comfy with, i bet she'll be all soft and cuteeee

About me, thank youuuuu!!!! If i can be brynn for one day, i'd probably be writing a yan fic for my dan heng, for sure the fic will be so good i'd be like "huh??? That's it??? THAT'S THE END????" when i reach the end 😆 also I'm glad you like my vibes lol, not that i would know what my vibes are like bsnsjsj 😭 i just try to be as positive as i am in real life, so i'd be glad if u pick the positivity and deem it as part of my vibes! Tbf i often dream about having such a calming presence and be a person that everyone can rely on, but then i was like "wah that's so much work, i'm just gonna be myself honestly" 😭😭

BUT HONESTLY THO YEAH- i do the 'chill for a sec, before dropping a bomb' a lot dbdnjdksk like when i tell a story, i'd be like "oh you know guys i actually almost died when i was a baby" (real fact abt me btw) without telling much of the story itself unless people seem curious about it xD i like to surprise people and knowing how surprised you are from the jellyfish reveal, i guess i'm pretty good at it huh? /jjjjjj

But all in all, it was great reading ur response 🤩 i love how diverse you think about ppl and it made me smile how you tell some small or unique details about each of ur moots dbsnjsjsk love that about you brynn <3 hope you're always well in the future and please be more proud of yourself! You deserve the applause and a celebration for all your amazing works!!! ♡♡♡

*pokes you*

Brynryn, hi hello, how are youuu?

Anyway, since you asked me abt who i ship my mutuals with, i wanna ask you something as well! >:D

What (two or more) characteristics do you personally like about yourself and your mutuals? You can either just say it, explain it, or anything really lol

About myself: I have a love-hate relationship with my grit. Mostly because I know I was born talentless in all aspects (no exaggeration), so every creative endeavor I have is 99% hardwork. And no, my parents don't have writing or drawing skills. I don't need to explain how my mom only knows how to draw "v" birds or how my dad isn't great at English. Absolute shame on them. (jk I love my family, I wish I could just pass my lifespan to hem HAHAHA). So when all hardwork fails, I feel like absolute shit. Second thing probably is my faith. I think I wouldn't be here if I didn't have some level of trust with the universe overall. The rest of me is garbage tho lmao. If I'm an otome game character, I'm 100% the beloved and beloathed trash husbando /srs.

About @leftdestiny-posts: I'm not sure I'd ever encounter an internet mutual like them ever again, and I think their appreciation for life and bluntness/straightforwardness is something to be admired. They're traits I don't have. Shiro and I are very very different people, and I'm not sure why there was a miracle that made us meet lol.

About @a-dose-of-phitre and @estellxli: longest friends I have. I really admire their creativity and skill, and if you want me to be honest, I know full well I'm left behind in those departments. If you know me irl, I'm not exactly the most affectionate person so I'd rather keep this part brief haha. Though, a small addition, I admire estella's communication skills and assertiveness a ton and I wish I had a bit more of Phitre's endearing charm and mannerisms (and height-). I'm super stiff lol.

About @navxry: Probably communication skills as well? When we met, they talked continuously. As much as I know I'm an extrovert and thrive off social energy, I think something in me is holding me back to being as vocal as they are. They also seem to have an abundance of energy. Ahh. Youth. /j

About @mixed-kester: i wish i am surviving engineering as much as she has i wanna quit can i quit also how does she pick colors sht is unfair i always have to open up google chrome to— //hjjjj

About @jessamine-rose: she already knows about my fashion sense or lack thereof, so let's talk about something else. I greatly enjoy her writing style because I know it's not something I'd pull off. Her sentence structures doesn't become verbose, they're incredibly succinct— enough to lead you along. Other than that, probably the way she bounces ideas spontaneously. I wish she sleeps right tho HAHAHA /silly

About @vennnnn-diagram: I probably pestered them too much about how normal people work honestly. I lack social skills so learning about stuff from them makes me feel a bit more knowledgeable without any visible judgement from them. So yeah, add that as one out of two. The second one? Their music skills. I hate learning instruments. I don't know why. I tried plenty. I suck plenty. Everyone in my family are great at playing except me. They're the Bruno Mars to my gambling addiction. WAIT WHY DOES SOUND LIKE THE WORST PICKUP LINE KN EXISTENCE HAHAHAHAHA

About @stardust-for-your-soul: i wish i can write fluff i wish i can write romantic things why can't i think of romantic genshin men headcanons why'd it always have to end in murder— oh and also, I love her prose. Chryseis can turn the mundane to something that oozes with beauty, and I think that romanticism is wonderful.

About @lucienbarkbark: i absolutely do not agree with your love for dazai /silly but I do admire estorea's unapologetic nature. Hell yeah bestie fricking read thag 300000+ chaptered story 😭😭😭 /gen. I find it a challenge to sit down and read nowadays huhu. Also, I like how warm she is to talk to, we haven't DMed much but it feels so hospitable (?) whenever she send fic links. Wish I was more like that. Also, thank you for the oda fics, soldier.

About @meimeimeirin: when mei put the kamisato siblings in a kin tier once (unless memory fails me), i remember silently agreeing so much. She has that "I got most my life together" vibe and I do wish I have that. She's also very open to talking about what she loves, she doesn't hide her affections and it's something I very much look up to if you've seen the things I've written so far lol. I love how vocal she is with appreciating what she has, including some new drinks she tasted, her parents' loving relationship, it's just sweet. The teashop aesthetic definitely suites her vibe. She just seems so... Elegant? Can't be me, I need to cause a mess /silly

About y o u: well first off if I get to have your hands for a day, you'd find weird ass drawings of blonde men on your drawing software. Second, I like your vibes a ton. It hits different. It fluctuates from absolutely chill to saying lowkey out of pocket things and I might be getting gaslit to thinking you're not at all the latter /j