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vinetae · 1 year

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Love Me, Leave Me - (M) Series

Pairing: Idol!Hoseok x f.reader

Genre: Friends with benefits!au, idol!au, Eventual smut, Mature Audiences.

Synopsis: It was one simple rule. Don't fall for each other. His idol life could never support your needs as a woman, and you couldn't support him emotionally with the stress of being 'on' all the time. Only one thing... too late

Warnings: Eventual smut, heartbreak, forbidden love kinda trop, Hoseok kinda mean, Y/n is just so hurt by him (poor bby), don't worry it gets better. Dom!Hoseok, Blowjobs, Fuck sessions, Cum play (ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ˢqᵘⁱⁿᵗ), switch!Reader, I think that's it..?

W.c: 1,954

Edited: Yes

A/n: It's getting colder outside where I live. Time to turn up the heat.

Masterlist

Chapter 1 - More than this

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you find the love of your life, people say you just know. Know that you’ll forever love the way they part their hair. Their style of clothes, their attitude towards life. You’ll fall for everything about them when it comes to love at first sight.

How had things gone so wrong?

You just wanted the stupid perfect future family. Two or three kids, a big house with a wrap around porch, and white picket fencing guardian what should’ve been rightfully yours.

Maybe you had known it all along.

You never felt like he had been truly yours.

Sharing a man you’ve come to love so much,

With millions of others.

It’s hard, yes.

Do you tire of it?

Absolutely.

But what can you do? Waltz into that bastard of a boss’s office of the man you’ve been sleeping with for the past six months, demanding that he takes your love out of his back-breaking career?

It’d crush him.

You’re just …

Stuck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I wish you would’ve waited for me” She whines, coming to link her arm to yours. “I’m sorry, but I was too hungry” You both laugh, taking a lick of your rolled ice creams. “So, what should we do this weekend?” You shrug, burying your face into your sweet goddess.

“I don’t know. I have a little more work to send into Dr. Berkeley” Your response makes her pout.

“Come on, ____! He’s such an ass anyways, what’s a day’s difference?” she pokes your side, setting you both off into a fit of giggles. To others, you might’ve looked a bit too close. But to you two, it was only friendship. You’d both made that clear at the very beginning.

February 2nd, 2019

“Nice to meet you, ____! My name is Soo-a.” You both exchange handshakes, returning the smiles. “This place all ours?” She sets her things down in your doorway, walking in awe at the high ceilings. “Yep, my old roommate moved in with her fiance. Though, not sure how long that’s gonna last” she chuckles, and hands you a white envelope.

“Thank you for taking me in, _____" You nod, giving her the rest of your tour.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Still, even if he might be the worst person on the EARTH, he still controls my paycheck balance!” She laughs, taking a sip of her milk tea creme boba.

“Yeah, but it’s your birthday! Can’t you just tell him that?” You shake your head. “He’s the hardest one to compensate for”. She smirks, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Hard?” Punching her arm, you both resume your laughter. “Shut up!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Come on girly! We’re gonna be late for cocktail hour!” Soo-ah yells down the stairs, hurrying up your motions. “Almost finished!” You slip on the knee high boots, adjusting the hem of your dress to not be too flashy. Your eyes pause on the little dinky piece of jewelry your ex had gotten you for your anniversary last year.

…

“Why can’t you just believe me, ____??” The glass shattering brings back the recently observed memories of what your asshole of a boyfriend had been doing in the club that night.

“Believe you!? Why should I when you literally have lipstick and hickey marks on you!?” He huffs, following you around the apartment, trying to stop your motions from throwing his shit out of the balcony window.

“HEY! We’re on the 37th floor, you bitch!” He raises his hand, before you know it, you're on the floor with bruises and cuts all over your shaking body.

The rain poured down almost as hard as your tears. Silent cries are heard through the whole apartment when he left much later after his anger-releasing session, which you had been unfortunately on the receiving end of. That night, he’d taken something from you much more than happiness.

Your love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That’s how you ended up here. Sleeping with every person known to man. Being gone in the morning with nothing but a trail of self-deprivation and an even larger hate for yourself. Anything but the hurt from love you remembered. Never the same person, too much of a risk for falling.

Again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Which one are you thinking, ____?” Soo-ah’s sweet voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

“Huh?” She giggles, setting the teal blue button up sheer shirt down on the rack once more.

“Earth to ___?. Where’d you run off this time, Dorothy?~” Your cheeks redden from the nickname.

“Shushhh” You press a finger to her lips, you both laugh at the scene.

“Why are we even here? Is your closet AND my closet not good enough?” She chuckles, walking hand-in-hand with yours. The action wasn’t new. You’ve been friends for almost 5 years. Sleeping in the same bed sometimes, even. She’s been your rock, the only one you can really open up to. She’s an amazing listener. She sat with you for 3 days in your bay window, silently letting you cry on her shoulder after your bad breakup. Bringing you everything from ice cream, to your laptop to curl up and watch stupid people in stupid love.

How stupid.

“I knowww, but we’re going to the club again tonight! I can’t be seen in the same outfit! What would people think of me??” you laugh, nodding at her.

“Okay okay, just hurry up. I still need to send in that report for Dr. Berkeley.” She nods, acting like a kid in a candy store.

“No promises, babes!” She peaks her head out from behind the curtain once, before retreating to try on more clothes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With each of the man’s thrust, you’re pushed further into a pit of boredom. Getting lost in all the chores you have to do, once you get back to your apartment. Soo-ah had already picked a guy up at the bar, not even five minutes into arriving. So, looks like it's just you for dinner once again.

“I told you the blue works~” she teases, whispering as she gets led away from the crowd, and you.

“Fucking hell, Yes, GOD YES!”

You thought it'd be a good idea to scope out a guy of your own to release your stress. Though, it hadn’t gone the way you planned. He’d immediately pulled you into the bathroom stalls, already stripping you of your cute black skirt.

At least finger me, bastard. You thought.

“S-shit! I’m gonna cum!” He moans, two more wear slaps to your ass applied.

You’re just waiting for him and his shrimpy dick to hurry up and finish. Maybe you could stop by and get some fried chicken on the way home? If this fucker would hurry up already.

“F-fucking yES!!-” He sounds like a screaming banshee. How’d you find him attractive before the 5 tequila shots you had downed? You didn’t. No amount of alcohol in the world would make this boy attractive to you. Period.

Beads of hot cum drip down your thighs, as his thrusts start to subside. His sweaty body leaning forward for support against your own. You immediately move out from under him, quickly fixing yourself and making your way out of that sex-filled place.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your mind is still racing with thoughts on food. Chicken? Naengmyeon? Should you order some chinese food instead? Maybe you can even get some of those crab rangoo-

“Oh shit! I’m sorry-” The cold liquid drips down your white blouse, soaking and staining the material quickly.

“Fucking- ..Damn it!” You groan, grabbing napkins out of the man’s grip, wiping yourself off.

“I’m so sorry- I didn’t see you there” You look up, eyes met with a dark haired man, with an alluring aura. His brown eyes pull you in like the kid dipping his whole hand into the chocolate stream in willy-wonka and the Chocolate factory. His white undershirt slightly unbuttoned, revealing a sliver of his tanned collarbone.

“I..it’s okay-” You reply, still studying his frame. A little taller than your own, with muscles threatening to break his suit. The charcoal grey black suit he’d been sporting.

“No, I should’ve been looking where I was going-” he shakes his head, denying your excuse.

“No, it’s my fault, darling. My contacts had been messing with me.” offering some more napkins stolen from the bar side. “Fucking blind eyes..” he mumbles, trying to help you wipe off the liquid, before quickly releasing that he’d been overstepping, You chuckle at his cuteness. How can someone be so hot … be so adorable?

“No really, it’s fine. I never liked this stupid thing anyways” his shoulders relax a bit, now knowing that you won’t be suing him.

“Still,”

His frame takes up much more space than you’d thought.

“I’d like to make it up to you..” He whispers against the shell of your ear, the room sounding a lot less deep. You look up, returning the same look in his eyes. He pulls you closer to his figure, pressed up against each other’s bodies now.

“Your place or mine?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His apartment hadn’t been what you were expecting. Same figures dance still-like on his top shelves, Some of animes you’d never heard of nor seen, and some just pictures of him with (what you’re guessing) is his friends.

“Can I get you something to drink?” He walks in, a glass of water in hand.

“No thank you.” Your arms folded across your chest, examining the detailed and very minimally decorated apartment. A dark gray comforter, one that almost matches the shade of his suit, lays across one of the beds. Two beds?

“Do you live alone?” You ask, joining him on what you’re guessing is his bed.

“No. I live with my roommate, Jimin. But he’s out with his family right now so..” The look in his eyes tells you anything and everything you might ask.

“So.. no water?” You shake your head. Leaning in, closing the gap between you both. He doesn’t hesitate, meeting your lips in the middle. A hand comes trailing up your cheek, while the other guides you to crawl onto his lap. You obliged, sitting yourself against his taut frame. Your hips grind down to meet his own, hand coming to wrap around your head, gripping your locks firmly. He gives a slight tug, testing the waters.

“Fuck-” you moan against his lips, pushing him backwards onto his bed. You both barely make a dent, ironically. His kisses are passionate to say the least. Fighting with the only weapon a rapper knows how to use.

Tongue.

“Off.” He tugs on your shirt, the message sinking in quickly. You raise your alcohol stained shirt over your head, throwing it somewhere across the room. Your hand travels down his chiseled frame, resting atop his hardening clothed cock. Your palms press lightly against the fabric, teasing him. He throws his head back, pushing against the sheets, moans heaving from his chest.

“F-fuck baby please- don’t tease” You giggle, unzipping the fancy fabric, Shimming your way down his torso, you place your hands on his thighs, eye-level with his crotch.

He sits up, putting his weight on his elbows to watch your moves. You pull his trousers down his thick thighs, just enough to free his throbbing cock.

“Holy shit..” He curses, you giving kitten-like licks up and down his shaft. He moves a free hand back to his original position on your head, firmly gripping brunches of your hair at the root.

Spitting in the palm of your hand, you wrap your hand around his dick, motioning it up and down, pressing butterfly-like kisses to the tip, allowing more pre-cum to spill out the slit. You wrap your lips around the top, before taking in a big breath through your nose, loosening your jaw. The rest, wrapped in your hand perfectly, moving with the rhythm of your bobbing. It had been a while since you'd sucked some actual dick. The random guys you'd slept with had just shoved it in like an impatient kid wanting the stupid gumball machine toy.

“F-fucking sh-shit!” He stop your motions, holding you above his dick pausing the session. “Did I do something wrong?” He shakes his head.

“I..I forgot to ask your name..”

You smirk, wiggling your way out of his grip to continue your motions. You look up through your eyelashes, a glassy look spreads across your gaze.

“Call me mommy”.

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#Bts hoseok fan fic #bts fan fic #jung hoseok #shitty smut and fluff writing #bts fwb #If you notice the easter egg in this #it's because my smut skills rn sound like an expository essay #soooo- i plagiarized from my own work so lol #one part done #woo. hoo.#this hard work yall #my brain no work rn #idk how #jung hoseok x reader #hoseok x reader #hoseok x yn

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iambriannelson · 5 months

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70 Unique Expository Essay Topics and Ideas blog by Great Assignment Helper

Dive into the realm of academic brilliance as Great Assignment Helper presents "70 Unique Expository Essay Topics and Ideas." Uncover thought-provoking subjects that spark creativity and captivate your audience.

#great assignment helper #essay help #Expository essay topic

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warlockduck · 5 months

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I made paint out of poisonous (according to my botany teacher) berries. I’ve never made paint before but when I saw how vibrant the juice was from squishing the berries I knew what I had to do. The juice stained my gardening gloves like crazy but idc it looks pretty

Ik you guys most likely don’t care but I’m proud of myself and wanted to show it off

#painting #diy #I did this instead of doing homework #seriously I have an essay to write that was due last month #I’m failing my composition class and I need it to graduate send help #idk why tf I decided to write an expository essay on the history of Chuck E. Cheese I thought it would be fun bUT NOOOOOOO #these tags are a mess #i’m so tired #yes me tagging all this is also me procrastinating #I’m ngl idk if this paints gonna mold I really hope it doesn’t I’ve already gotten attached to this poisonous mixture #queueueueueueueueueueueueueue

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snackzimmerman · 6 months

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once i switch genres it’s over for these bitches

#every time it asks me to add tags i’m like for what. what would i tag this. i talk like a dnd character i have no use for tags #my expository professor was like “don’t say shit like ‘insoforth’ or ‘akin’ in this essay unless you talk like that normally”#and i had to explain that i say “much obliged” instead of thank you. got an a.

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s1renatheconfused · 7 months

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Whenever I have to do something writing-related for school I always start off being upset about how high the minimum word count is and then in the end I get upset that the maximum word count isn't higher

#school project #writing assignment #like thinking about it #215 words is a good mimimum for a 'paragraph' but 250 is too little for a maximum in my opinion #I have so much information I want to include but i can't bc it's only supposed to be an original example of expository writing #not a full on essay

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friendtechbd · 9 months

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Early marriage paragraph 8-10, SSC,HSC and all students 100-500 words

Early marriage paragraph 8-10, SSC, HSC and all students 100-500 words. Go through the below written paragraph carefully, hope you will be able to appear in any exam by reading it. Early marriage paragraph 150 keywords Early marriage refers to marrying individuals at a young age, often before they reach the legal age of consent. This complex social issue has significant implications for the…

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#causes of early marriage #conclusion of child marriage #disadvantages of child marriage essay #early marriage composition for hsc #early marriage essay introduction #early marriage essay pdf #early marriage in bangladesh #Early marriage paragraph #expository essay about early marriage

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highgradehelp-blog · 1 year

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5 tips for Writing a compelling expository essay

#5 tips for writing an effective expository essay #.#assignmenthelp #academicsuccess #professionalassistance #discountoffer #studyblrcommunity #studyplan #studymotivations #newstudygram #studyabroad #studysmarter #studymedicine #writingservices #Writershub #writersconnection #assignmentwritinghelp #essaywritingservices

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idyllcy · 9 months

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saying we're just friends, thinking you're my man

word count: 11.3k

warnings: non-explicit smut, heavy making out

summary: Distance gives the soul time to think, and Tim thinks he's in love with you.

It's a textbook relationship.

Tim can't count the number of times he's read a fic like this.

In fact, he can already imagine the tags on your love story. Strangers to lovers, Friends to Lovers, Fateful Encounter, Alternate Universe - College, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn... the list goes on. You'd probably have a field day trying to finish the story inspired by the one the two of you experienced. Though, as he brushes his fingers through your hair in the kisses of the morning sun, he wouldn't have it any other way — even if he couldn't form a coherent thought when you were awake and talking to him. God, you make him weak.

In the blaring heat of August at orientation, you landed right at his feet after getting shoved around in the crowd of students.

"You good?" He holds his hand for you, and you take it, pulling yourself up.

"Sorry! They're quite a crowd." You laugh awkwardly. "I'm, uh—" Your name tumbled past your lips, an apologetic smile on your face, explaining to him that you were trying to get to the English building through the crowd of students. Tim told you his name (only first in fear you'd recognize his last) and showed you a shortcut to the building. You had taken the messily scribbled image, airdropped it onto your phone, and you had rushed off with a thank you yelled into the air. Tim hadn't thought much about you. It wasn't as if you'd be in the same department as him. He also had minimal GE classes, so—

Two days later, you sit next to him in his only GE class. He was required to take English regardless of his previous experience with it. His AP classes hadn't been kind enough to remove the requirement. Not even the fives on both of his English APs could have helped him avoid the expository hell all freshmen were required to take. So, he meets eyes with you as you apologize for sitting next to him, confessing that he was the only face you knew.

"So? What's your major?" You blink at him curiously as the class waits for the professor.

"I'm in Cybersecurity."

"Woah." You mumble. "Stem..."

"You?"

"Creative Writing." You grin. "Well, build your own major. But Creative Writing nonetheless."

"A writer?"

"Yeah."

Tim had watched as you played Minecraft the entirety of class, only skimming through the syllabus for his late work, absence, and attendance policies. He's not sure if you even caught the way the professor mentioned there was a syllabus quiz next class. Though it wasn't his job to tell you, but he still felt kind of bad if you were to fail it. He passes you a note, and you pause your game, glancing at the note. You grin at him, opening your phone and showing him your reminder. You go back to your Minecraft world for the rest of class, information going in one ear and out the other. (Tim found out later that you actually listen, and gaming was only a focus tactic you used.)

At the end of class, you save your world, push your chair in, and sprint for the door.

Tim shared no other classes with you. In fact, the two of you only had one class together for all four years of your college lives. Yet, there was something about you that had stuck with him. He didn't know what it was, but he hadn't felt that giddy over someone since his last relationship, his heart racing in his chest, his head spinning. He pushed everything down in favor of being able to pay attention in class. Though his coding skills were spectacular, his writing skills were less than stellar. He didn't understand how writing just came to you.

Especially not when you fell asleep halfway through your first monthly timed essay and still scored a 97. He could learn a thing or two from you, maybe. Were you doing memory consolidation in the middle of the exam? He has no idea how you did it.

Your name slips past his lips as you pack up after one class.

"Yeah?" You tilt your head at him.

"Are you," he pauses, (a little embarrassed. Tim Drake, son of Bruce Wayne, CEO of WE, was in need of help. Of course he was a little embarrassed.) "down to tutor me? My grade in this class is less than... acceptable." He grimaces at how his voice goes quiet.

You smile. "Yeah. I'm down. I'll give you my number and schedule and we can arrange a time. Expository writing isn't that bad. It's just the same sentence structure with some BS and then you're done."

"Easy for you to say," He hands you his phone.

"No. It's just like how you have structure when you code." You click your number in, texting yourself and saving his contact before you forget. "There is structure in everything you do."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." You beam at him.

Tim's next essay comes back with an 81. It's a big improvement from the 64 he scored the first time. You were right, the essays being the same thing over and over again. The structure is as easy as basic coding is to him. He understands you now.

He thanks you by taking you to the diner, paying for your meal.

You kick your legs at the booth, milkshake straw between your lips, lost in thought.

"Penny for your thoughts?" He raises a brow.

"Tim... what's your last name?" You frown. "It's fine if you don't tell me, but my friends have been asking who I've been tutoring and I realized I have no idea what your last name is."

"It's Drake." He scans your face for something when he tells you.

"Drake..." You pause, letting go of the milkshake straw. "huh. Like the CEO." You go back to your milkshake after the revelation.

"Not surprised?"

"I mean," You grimace at him. "You wear the down-low designer brands your adoptive father does, so not really. I had my suspicions, but I didn't want to pry in case you didn't want to tell."

"Down-low designer brands?"

"Bruce Wayne has a specific way of dressing casual." You bite on your straw. "I know this sounds creepy but I've done more research on brands billionaires wear than I'd like to admit."

"Does it have to do with your writing?" Tim thanks the waiter as his order is brought.

"Yeah." You smile sheepishly. "Is that creepy? Sorry."

"No. I've been expecting the unexpected from you for a while now."

You laugh. "Yeah?"

"I have an older brother who writes in his free time and the amount of things he's done for research is crazy."

"Right? Reddit and Quora are my saviors." You mumble. "I obviously can't kill for research, so the internet is my best friend."

"Do you search on incognito?"

"No. I prefer being able to dig up my weird research from my search history." You shrug. "I bet the FBI has me on a watchlist."

"I could check if you'd like."

You feign a look of shock. "Really?"

He smiles at you, and the two of you burst into laughter.

"You going to Connor's Halloween party next week?" You finish the last of your milkshake.

"Of course not." He deadpans. "Must I remind you I hate going out?"

"Awh," You pout. "I wanted someone to match maid dresses with."

"Excuse me?"

"For research."

The smile on your face suggests anything but.

"You can consider it as payment for all the times I'm going to tutor you."

"I've been paying you."

"No." You shake your head. "You pay me each time we have a session. I'm letting you pay me for the rest of the lessons by showing up to the Halloween party in a maid dress with me."

Tim looks at you incredulously.

"Actually, I'll even draft a contract if you don't believe me." You smile.

"And if I turn you down?"

"I'll find one of my friends to do it with."

"Then why ask me?"

"The thrill of the unknown? The endless answers you could have chosen? A grasp on your character better? It could be anything." You smile sweetly at him. "It's fine. You can continue paying me like you normally do."

"Who would you match with if not me?"

"Well, I was thinking Sam or someone else," You shrug. "but Sam doesn't celebrate Halloween. I'd match with the other guy friend, but one of my friends is into him so I don't want to make it seem like I'm making a move on someone I know she likes."

"So you asked me?"

"I don't know, Tim." You shrug. "You tell me. I thought you were a genius."

He leans in to read your face better. "I'd say you asked me because you're interested in me."

"Bingo." You grin wider this time.

"It's been less than two months."

"And? Hasn't stopped people from already hooking up." You shrug. "You can say no."

"See, I'd say yes, but Connor would take a photo and it would end up in our groupchat's blackmail folder." Tim slides his fries to the middle when he catches you staring. "You can have one."

"I thought you were a master hacker?" You pick a fry from the carton.

"Yeah, but friend code."

"Ah." You nod slowly. "It's okay to say no. I won't get offended."

"Maybe next year." Tim shakes his head.

"No worries!"

Tim stalks your Instagram on the day of Halloween, staring at the post where you're matching maid dresses with your entire friend group. In the back of his mind, he wonders, for a brief moment, if it would have just been you and him if he had agreed. The thought disappears just as fast, sighing as he puts his phone down and domino mask on. He had patrol. He could think about his mess of emotions later. Gotham needs him.

Your breath hitches from the spiked punch, your friends long lost in the crowd, your head spinning as you stumble onto the balcony of the apartment, resting your head on the cool of the metal railing, trying to calm the thumping of your head. You hear something rustle in front of you, the sound of someone swinging, and you open an eye to get a look. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of Red Robin.

"Hey—"

"Dude... your costume looks way too realistic." You press your fingers to his armor, pulling him onto the balcony with you, mumbling under your breath as you feel him up through his costume. The smell of alcohol is apparent on your lips, the smell of your perfume flooding his senses — your cheeks are flushed beyond repair, and Tim finds himself frozen in place as you practically straddle him, fingers running to his face. His eyes dart to your cleavage unconsciously, staring back up to meet your eyes when he sees too much. You look sinful like this. His breath catches in his throat as he tries to loosen your grip on him without accidentally throwing you off, and he finally presses a hand of his to your stomach, successfully getting you to stop.

"Sorry." You mumble.

"No worries." He rasps, pushing you back onto your seat gently — heart drumming in his head.

"Ey, Red Robin!" Connor calls from inside the house. "You made it!"

"I'm not here to party. I was checking in on you to see if you were being responsible." He sighs.

You blink at him, doe-eyed, fascinated, drunken stupor all over your face.

"You're real?"

"Yes." He mumbles.

"Sorry for touching you."

"You're forgiven."

You lean back into your seat with an exhale, pulling out your phone as Connor leads Tim further into the party. He speaks to Oracle to let her know where he was, and he exhales when she tells him B says it's fine. He nods at the people who compliment his costume as he passes them, and he grabs himself a cup of punch, pausing when the alcohol stings his tongue. He dumps it in Connor's sink, eyes trailing to where you were sitting, breath catching in his throat at the sight of some sleaze slinging his arm around you. He rushes over to you, fingers smoothing down your neck to your shoulders, warning smile on his face.

"She has company for the night."

The man scrambles as you look up at him, beaming. His breath catches in his throat.

"Careful. I might just take you home."

"Don't you dorm?" He raises a brow in amusement.

"No one said my home." You turn around to reach for his jaw, fingers trailing down, breath fanning his. Tim would let you do this. He really would. He'd kiss you senseless on the balcony at Connor's house, yet he knows better than to do so. You're drunk from the punch. He'd be taking advantage of you no matter how much you want this when sober. So, he runs his thumb over your bottom lip, forehead meeting yours, every ounce of his willpower pulled into not just kissing you senseless here. If only you were sober. The things he would do.

"Where is she — babes! Time to go!" Your friend breaks the tension for him, pulling you away from him with a nod, alcohol riding off of her as well. He wonders if your driver is tipsy.

"I wanna go home with Red Robin..." You mumble, and your friend smacks you playfully. He notices one of you is sober, and he supposes that's enough. He heads back inside to find Connor.

Tim notices you miss class the next day. You text him to ask him to record the lecture for you, telling him the Halloween party was lit and you remember almost making out with a guy but your friend cockblocked you. Tim holds back a laugh in class, letting you know he'd email you his notes with the lecture recording. You thank him with an image, going offline immediately after. He clicks on his laptop, noting down whatever you might need. The recording would cover the rest. He sends everything at the end of class, your response instant. It wouldn't matter if you were absent from class. Your grade could take a hit.

He answers his phone when you dial him.

"Hey?"

"Timmers, you got Tylenol?"

"I can buy you some?" He offers. "I don't have class after this."

"Please? Oh, and throw in that one specific brand of bottled tea. I'll send you a photo." You grumble.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Like a dead girl walking."

"Taking that as a no. Want anything else?"

"I'll Venmo you the money. Bring me the receipt."

"You're sick. You can pay me back by actually being in class next lecture."

"Not hard. My head just hurts from the hangover."

"I'm guessing you got home safe?" Tim steps into the convenience store.

"Yeah. Our driver was sober. Thankfully."

Tim grabs the Tylenol and pauses. "I need the tea."

"Which convenience store are you in?"

"Metro."

"Aisle three by the American soda. It's green with white writing. You can read Chinese, right? It's Japanese but it says tea in Chinese."

"How'd you know?" Tim pauses. "Unsweetened green tea? The Japanese one?"

"Yeah. It helps a lot." You sniff. "Found out on google because someone made a compilation of you speaking foreign languages."

"So you assumed?"

"The part where you speak Cantonese, you were reading from a menu."

"Are you stalking me?"

"I'd prefer doing research."

"Stalking."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Tim checks out, tapping his phone to pay. He takes the bag and pauses at the sight of the instant noodles. "You sure you don't want anything else?"

"Nothing. Feel free to get what you need too."

Tim hears you drink something.

"I'll text you my dorm building and number. There's no pin to get in just let them know you're here to see me. I'm pretty close with the RA."

"Networking already, huh?"

"Whatever you want to call it."

You text him your dorm building and number, and he knocks on your door.

You open it with a weak push of your arm.

"Are you actually sick?"

"No." You thank him as he hands you the plastic bag. You pop two pills out, swallowing them with the tea. "I'm extremely hungover. I drank too much punch."

"And you didn't realize?"

"No. I was trying to drink my thoughts away." You sniff. "So? How'd you spend yesterday?"

"Handing out candy at the manor with Bruce." Which was a lie. He spent Halloween using every last drop of self-control to not kiss your drunk self senseless at Connor's place. He can still smell your perfume.

"Sounds boring."

"I do it every year." He shrugs. Also a lie. He spends every Halloween patrolling Gotham because it's the one night of the year where every single criminal decides it's alright to go apeshit.

"mm," You yawn. "I matched maid dresses with my friend group. I posted about it. Do you have insta?"

"No. I keep a low profile."

"So you don't have a private account?" You raise a brow.

"I do, but what makes you think we're close enough for it?" Tim mirrors your raise of brow.

You hold your hand to your mouth, pretending to be offended. "We're not close enough for it?"

"I'm kidding." He mumbles. "What's your handle? I'll follow you."

"You better not turn down my request." You reach for the green tea again, drinking it as you show him your account. He already knows your account. He figured he'd have to ask or else he'd be a hypocrite for calling you his stalker. Well, he's already a hypocrite.

"Ough!" You sit up straighter, reaching for your laptop. "Connor sent me these photos that the photographer caught of me and Red Robin" You swoon.

"You're into him?"

You blink at him. "Did I not tell you I run his stan account?"

"You do wHAT." He freezes. "Are you the girl who gets caught up on the news every other week because you accidentally fall while taking photos of him?"

"Yep." You grin. "He's my favorite Robin."

Tim was extremely conflicted at the discovery. In retrospect, he should have known from the way you seemed to climb all over him and pull him onto the balcony without second thought, but he's still embarrassed at the idea that you had fawned all over him. Yet he shakes his thoughts away as he peers over your shoulder to stare at the photos caught of the two of you — well, of you. You didn't know he was Red Robin.

There's a photo of you straddling him, feeling him up, and Tim's neck snaps to the side.

"Tim? You good? You don't need to look if you're uncomfortable, you know?" You remind.

"No," He swallows. "I wasn't expecting photos like this."

"Isn't the photographer good? I'd pay this guy to take photos of me at parties any day."

"Yeah?" Tim raises a brow as you show him the other two. One of him with his fingers on your collar, the other of his forehead pressed to yours, thumb between the two of you's lips. You explain to him in excitement that you would have kissed him had your friend not pulled you away because you needed to leave. Tim rests his back on your closet, nodding along slowly. He had homework to do. Yet he spent the rest of the afternoon in your room listening to you ramble about Red Robin, conspiracies reminding him of someone.

"So let me get this straight." Tim interrupts. "I'm on a time crunch. I have something for one of my compsci classes due soon and wanted to get the big picture."

"Oh. I'm sorry for—"

"Don't." He holds his hand out. "I stayed. You run the biggest Red Robin stan account on Twitter and you're planning on posting those photos like he's some kpop idol?"

"Yeah?" You tilt your head.

"Are the fans not going to get mad that he's making out with someone at a party?"

"No." You laugh. "His fans are used to him being in relationships. The most they'd do is figure out who that is, which is me, but that's it."

"You won't get death threats?"

"His fans aren't crazy."

"Yeah? You seem pretty mental to me."

You gasp. "Rude." You look to the side, sucking your cheeks in. "But not wrong."

"Yeah. If you denied it, I'd just pull up every single time you'd fallen while trying to get good photos of Red Robin."

You pout. "Shoo. You said you had something due soon."

"Last question."

"Shoot."

"You don't mind that he's never going to date you?"

"Timmers." You laugh. "He's a hero and I'm a fan. It's like asking me if I'm ever going to date a billionaire. It's impossible. Not written in the stars. It's a groundless dream."

"Yeah?" His own heart cracks a little when you mention a billionaire.

"Yeah." You smile. "Now do your work. You have a GPA to take care of."

"Got it."

Tim finds that nearing the end of the semester, you meet with him less and less, tutoring him on Zoom instead, apologizing, explaining that you had a ton of creative work due for your other classes. You had been planning on graduating early, he finds out. It was your freshman year, and you were trying to get your sophomore classes out of the way. He was bothered. It was incredible — the sheer amount of classes you took. It was more impressive that you had time to write your own creative works.

"So?"

"How did you score last time? I'm starting to think you have me tutor you still because you're into me." You joke.

"Ninety. All we have left is the stupid final."

"You're set then." You yawn. "Why still have me tutor you?"

Your mind wanders as you click on one of your assignments. "Oh, how about this, then? I have an interview I need to conduct for my journalism class, and you'd be the perfect candidate. I'm expected to record it in the building and it's due in three days."

"Three days?"

"I bet you have everything out of the way, huh?" You smile at him, batting your lashes. "Hm?"

Tim, does, in fact, have everything out of the way.

"And if I don't?" He likes teasing you.

"Then I'll ask one of my friends. The topic is the discussion of a topic you aren't familiar with. You're good with coding, something I can't do past basic HTML to edit how text looks." You hum. "I'm grappling at every excuse I can to hang out with you, if you can't tell."

"Oh, I definitely can."

"Great." You smile. "How does tomorrow at 8 in the morning sound?"

"So early?" Tim raises a brow.

"I'll bring us coffee. Give me your order."

"Sold."

Tim realizes at 3am that you never gave him a dress code. Should he show up in casual? Business casual? Semi-formal? Formal — no, formal attire seemed like too much. He grimaces as he's in the Batcave, irritation all over his face.

"Something wrong, Timmers?" Dick raises a brow.

"Yeah. What do you wear to an interview?"

"Depends what kind." Bruce answers, pulling the cowl from his head. "Who's the interviewer? Is it official?"

"A friend is interviewing me for a project."

"Final project or just a project?"

"Forgot to ask."

"You can't go wrong with semi-formal. Dress like old money." Dick hums. "Polo shirt and khakis. Throw in a sweater tied around your neck and you should be good to go."

"I agree." Bruce hums.

"Do you need to impress said friend?" Jason raises a brow from behind the two.

"Wh-what does that have to do with the interview?"

Jason smirks at the stutter. "Get Steph to dress you. She'd make you look good and dress for the occasion."

"I think I'll go with Dick's—"

"Half-buttoned dress shirt and dress pants." Steph cuts in, pausing. "No, that'll make you look desperate. Grey sweats, blazer, and a white tee. Dark colored blazer but NOT black."

"Why can't I just wear a polo shirt and just—"

"You want to look good, right? Roll the sleeves up to right before your elbows. Mess up your hair a little too."

Tim sighs. "It's winter."

"Drake. Do you want to look good for your crush?" Damian cuts in.

"She's not a crush-"

"Last time you said that you were still pining after your ex." Steph laughs. "If you really want to look casual just wear what you normally wear but add some perfume."

"She's interviewing me for my major." Tim finally gets to speak.

"Then just dress like you normally do." Dick pats him on the back with a laugh. "Hoodie and sweats. Wear a tee underneath if in case you get hot so you can pull it over your head and she can watch."

"Hey-"

"I agree with that." Steph smiles. "If you're lucky, your shirt will ride up a little and she'll get to see—"

"Got it!" Tim yells, groaning. "My usual clothing it is. I'll bring a blazer in case she does want me to dress semi formal."

"Attaboy." Bruce ruffles his hair as he makes his way up.

Tim groans. He's not going to get enough sleep for this.

You call him in the morning when the coffee shop you frequent isn't open.

"Mm?" Tim furrows his brows, morning voice evident.

"Coffee shop closed. You mind if I just make one at the convenience store for you?"

"Knock yourself out. You're early."

"I need to set up the equipment." You hum.

"What color should I wear?"

"Something not green. I'm in red. See you in an hour."

"See you." Tim mumbles back, ending the call. He sits up, bed hair evident, staring at himself in the mirror. The exhausted part of himself wants to go back to sleep, but the better part of him — the giddy, excited, coming-of-age-has-a-crush-on-someone part of him — has him sit up from sheer willpower. (something he finds he has a lot of when it comes to you) He gets out of bed, pulling for the clothes he prepped the night before, combing his hair for once. He'd like to look nice for the camera, for you, he thinks. It would be a little frustrating to see the stand-in CEO of WE dress so casually. He has some sort of reputation to hold up when he isn't a student. Though he supposes he's being interviewed as a student, so there's not much of a need to dress so well.

But he supposes he wants to impress you.

He arrives five minutes before 8, locking his car and knocking on the door to the room.

"Hey," You smile at him.

"You didn't lock the door." He locks it behind him. "In Gotham during winter?"

"I knew you'd be here early." You adjust the cameras. "Your coffee's on the table."

"Thank you," He takes off his coat, hanging it on the rack. "Can I know what questions you'll be asking me?"

"Next to your coffee." You yawn. "You're dressed nice."

"Is it too little?" He smiles at you apologetically.

"No. Not at all." You smile. "Not when I'm dressed like," You motion at yourself. "This."

"You look like a friend." He points.

"Honored." You laugh. "The cameras are set up. I rented the room until 11. Take your time with the coffee."

"You're asking about me?"

"Yeah." You laugh. "The goal is to gradually have you talk about why you chose your major so we can have a relatively deep conversation. It's an intro to interviewing course, but the professor's ultimate goal was to make sure we make at least one friend."

"Yeah?" Tim puts his coffee down, smile on his lips. "Am I that friend?"

"Yeah," You smile back at him. "You can ask me questions too. It's supposed to be a casual interview. I'll only ask you a question when we run out of things to talk about."

Tim discovers a symphony of information from you. You open your heart to him the same way he can to some extent, smile on his lips when he tells you about his days during high school and his earlier relationships, forgetting that this was an interview for your class and that you would probably have to go through hours of footage in response to this. The plush of the seat is warm underneath him, your voice is a melody to his ears, Tim nodding along as you tell him about the one time you snuck out of the house as a teenager and got your ass beat because you got caught. The smile on your lips is contagious, he finds. He hadn't fallen for someone this hard since his ex.

Tim took you to lunch that day, desperate to get to know more about you, desperate to know you. He would have called it a date if you had let him.

You had your laptop pulled up, sorting through the footage (the three hour long footage) of the two of you's conversation, nodding along and rambling casually, clicking through to cut more personal matters from the interview, only required to give your teacher a clip and the raw file's total length to prove that you two hadn't just staged a conversation. You take a fry from his plate, your sandwich finished on your plate, humming when you finish editing.

"Are you always this fast?"

"Depends on what context." You wink.

"You were pretty fast to upload those new Red Robin photos too." If he noticed the sexual connotation of your words, he didn't mention anything.

"Well, other than lighting, I don't really need to edit anything."

"Speaking of which, do you even pay tuition?"

"Martha Wayne Scholarship." You yawn. "Your dad is looaaaded."

You submit your assignment to Canva, yawning. "That was my last one."

"You finished all those writing assignments?"

"Writing comes to me like hacking does to you." You close your laptop, tucking it into your bag. "Thanks for lunch, by the way."

"Mhm." He smiles. "Glad you liked your sandwich."

"My favorite." You hum. "So? Any updates? New girl? New boy? Relationship? Your dad adopted a new sibling? What's new?"

"Siblings keep teasing me."

"Oh? For what? For me?" You press a hand to your chest, wiggling your brows at him. You burst into laughter when he turns red. "Yeah? Because of me?"

"I asked them what I should wear to an interview, and suddenly they were asking me if I had a girlfriend."

"Yeah? So what did you tell them?"

"Interview from a friend." His eyes meet yours, eerily sincere. "Why?"

(the use of friend leaves a pang in your chest)

"Curious." You shrug. "So? Going anywhere for vacation?"

"Just Christmas at the Wayne Manor. You know, the rich people gala?"

You shudder, laughing. "Good luck."

"I'll need it. God knows who else I have to network with that night."

"Well, my dorm's open if you want it." You shrug. "But I doubt Bruce would let you leave since you are the CEO."

"Stand-in." He corrects.

"CEO nonetheless." You hum. "Should I send you a Christmas present?"

"What would you even send me?"

"It would be a surprise."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Tim finds a gift from you under the Christmas tree, presumably placed there by Alfred. He had missed when you dropped it off, knocked out in the warmth of his bed without the pressure of an exam for once, letting himself ignore the cases he promised himself he'd solve. He promised you he'd get one day of proper sleep. Your texts are the only ones that cause his phone to vibrate during break. (He's down horrendously bad for you, Jason had whispered to Dick while Tim had responded to your message, lovesick grin on his face.)

Distance gives the soul time to think, and Tim thinks he's in love with you.

It comes as a revelation on Christmas morning, coffee mug warm in his hand as he watches his siblings open their Christmas gifts, laughing at certain ones and holding back his face from a smile breaking past his lips at others. He's third on the list to open his gifts, third son and all, and Tim finishes the last of his coffee, fingers reaching for his presents, all wrapped in a shade of red different from Jason's blood red. He thanks everyone for their gifts, raising a brow in amusement when he pulls out Damian's, a genuine smile breaking on his smile at Bruce's. Finally, he finds himself reaching for the gift you had gotten him, his fingers shaking as he breaks open the wrapping paper, smile on his face at the camera you got him. There's even an SD card and a battery charger part of the box you had prepped him.

"Oooh, Timmers is that from your girlfriend?"

"She's not my—"

The family breaks into teasing remarks as Tim groans, blush fresh on his skin, heart racing in his ears — that's when he realizes, the painful realization, a realization that breaks him into silence — he's in love with you.

Bruce has everyone move on as Steph sits down to open her gifts, and Tim's throat dries at the epiphany. He's in love with you — and that same lovesick smile breaks on his face as he wonders if you got his Christmas present. It was as if the two of you synced with the gift. Maybe he'd catch you taking photos of him with your camera. This time, he should stare back at you, flash you a smile, strike a pose, something, anything to fluster you. He was already looking forward to patrol that night. He picks up his mug, excusing himself quietly to get another cup of coffee, pulling his blanket with him as he clicks on his phone, placing his cup under the machine as he thanks you for the gift.

You respond immediately, video-calling him on accident, flustered state caught on camera, hair still a mess from waking up.

"I'm so sorry—"

Tim laughs. "It's fine. Are you home?"

"No. I slept over at a friend's place since my mom and I don't celebrate Christmas." You smile at him fondly. "I brought the gift you mailed to me, though. I haven't opened it yet."

"Let's say it's for your bird watching."

"You did not." You gasp, looking over your phone. "I'll have my friend record a video when we rip open our presents. Have fun on Christmas, Tim. Love you lots—"

Tim's face turns utterly red at the words, blinking wide-eyed at the now-ended call. You just... wow. He takes his mug of coffee, sitting back at his old seat where his siblings were, in a half-blissed-out state at your words. (He's told later on by your friend that you had sobbed into her chest when you realized you told him you loved him on accident.)

You text him sometime during the afternoon with the video of you opening your present, thanking him for his generous gift. You let him know that you'd send him your new photos with his present first, letting him see how good the quality of his camera could be. He texts you to sit on your dorm roof instead, and you ask if he was planning on kidnapping you. Maybe you'd let him take you for a swing. Instead, he tells you it's a present for your fanpage. You ask him if he's going to call Red Robin himself. He leaves you on read.

Bruce notices the way Tim's eerily giddy for a Christmas patrol, but he doesn't comment on it.

You exhale into the winter air, the cold piercing your lungs as you hold the camera between your gloved fingers, kicking your legs as you sit on the edge of the building, strap hung around your neck. You hum quietly as you watch the snow start, and a shadow looms over your shoulder.

"Hey." Tim smiles at you, Red Robin outfit on.

"Woah. He wasn't lying." You gasp. Your name spills past your lips, rambling about how you were his biggest fan. He stares at you through the whites of his domino mask, smile breaking onto his face.

"I've seen your Twitter."

"Yeah?" You exhale, eyes sparkling. "Honored. I hope you aren't going out of your way to visit me or anything. Gotham needs their vigilantes."

"And if I am?"

"Then you should go." Your cheeks flush from the winter warmth, and he steps close to you, forehead pressed to yours.

"You remember me from Halloween?"

"We have a thing with meeting on holidays, hm?" You laugh gently, eyes crinkling, Tim's expression softening.

"Yeah, we do." He hums, leaning in further. "May I?"

"Yeah." You exhale, lips finally pressed to his under the winter snow, his hands warm on your face as you lean in closer to him, chest pressed to his, lips parted to give him access to your mouth. Your head spins deliciously from the taste of his lips, his perfume reminding you of someone you know all too well, your mind muddled with the fact that you're actually making out with Red Robin, your celebrity crush. You whimper against his lips when he nips at your bottom one, his breath catching in his throat.

"Fuck, pretty girl. You can't just do that." He heaves, resting his forehead on yours again.

"Wow." You breathe, starstruck, eyes staring up at his.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." You laugh melodiously, and Tim feels his heart grow full. "Can I get a photo?"

"For you? Anything."

You make a Christmas post on your Twitter, photo of Red Robin with a Santa hat and white beard staying pinned for the Holiday season. (Tim wasn't allowed to live it down from his family, but he had gotten to kiss you stupid, so he was more than willing to take the jabs.)

He invites you to his place for New Year's Eve, invitation tumbling past his lips and nearly getting drowned out by his panicked rambling, cheeks red beyond repair and stutter catching in his throat, only for you to tell him that you'd "love to" and that you were "honored." You asked him if there was a dress code, and he told you it was fine. Even if the Wayne gala was that night, he would just sneak to his room when you arrived. He could finish socializing with the rich in a couple of minutes. Hell, he'd flirt his way out of it like Bruce did if it meant he could see you early. He tells you to arrive in a nice dress anyway, asking for your measurements so he could send you something. (You didn't want to give it to him, but he insisted.)

You pull up to the gala perfectly on time, ignoring the paparazzi asking you who invited you and making a beeline to who you assumed was Alfred and asking him if you could be taken to Tim's room. The gala wasn't somewhere you wanted to be, and Alfred had been more than welcoming, leading you and leaving you in Tim's room, telling you to make yourself comfortable since you were Tim's guest. You spent twenty minutes looking through his photobooks before he stumbled into his room, a little sweaty since he had been running.

"Hey." He smiles at you dorkily, smiling like a nerd in love.

"Wow. You're dressed nice." You mumble, staring him up and down.

"You don't look too bad yourself," He hums, locking his door behind himself. "Did you get to eat anything?"

"I ate before I came and made a beeline for Alfred when I came. Too many cameras."

"Sorry." He exhales. "Looking at my photos?"

"They're nice."

"They're from years ago." He hums. "Before my parents passed."

You mumble something under your breath, eyes meeting his in something akin to sadness.

"It's fine, now." Tim presses his thumb to the space between your brows, your expression relaxing immediately.

"Ah, right." You slip out the SD card from your purse, blinking at him. "You have a card reader?"

"Yeah." Tim sits in his chair, opening his laptop through some series of codes, holding his hand out for your SD card.

You drop it in his palm, his fingers drumming against the table as he opens the files.

"I got photos of Red Robin." You grin. "He was there on my dorm roof. Did you send him?"

"Yeah." He smiles. "Did you like the gift?"

"My Twitter loved it." You smile. You neglect to tell him that you had kissed Red Robin breathless. (Tim doesn't notice the way you get embarrassed, trying to fight off the red on his own cheeks when he remembers the way the two of you had made out on the roof.)

Tim pauses at the photo of him swinging away.

"Why didn't you post this one?"

"I was actually planning on posting it today." You hum. "The ones of him in action."

"You have multiple?"

You click into a folder, enter your password, showing him the photos.

"The camera's great, by the way. Red Robin may not have an ass as impressive as Nightwing, but he still has a nice ass." You laugh, clicking open the photos. Tim chokes on the air at the photos, and he laughs.

"Oh, yeah, Twitter would love this."

You shrug playfully. "What can I say? It pays."

Tim glances at the clock on the wall. Two minutes from midnight.

"How'd you spend the morning?"

"My friend came to pick me up so she could do my makeup." You laugh. "Then she brought me to the mall so we could get me some heels," You kick your legs to show him. "And then another friend, the one with a nice car, drove me here. My other friends insisted they watch me walk off to you. I forgot to tell them your last name after I asked for it, so they were quite surprised when they dropped me off her."

"Maybe I should thank your friends for helping you look so pretty."

"Yeah?" You smile, hopping to sit on his desk.

He stands up, pressing his forehead to yours, tucking your hair behind your ear, nose brushing yours.

"Yeah. What do they like?" Tim hums, your perfume flooding his senses again, his doing the same.

"Ever been told you share a perfume with Red Robin?" You whisper.

"No. You'd be the first."

"What's the brand?"

The brand falls onto silence as you press your lips to his, fireworks signaling the new year going off in the back. Tim's hands dig into your waist, eyes half-lidded, tongue pressing into yours with so much passion your knees might've gone weak had you not been already seated. Your hands find themselves tangled in his hair, pulling lightly when his hand finds itself on the zipper behind you. He pulls away for a moment, begging for your consent, asking if this was okay.

You had told him yes in a heartbeat.

Thus, Tim found himself enveloped with you, senses sent into overdrive, your skin pressed to his, sweat mixing with his, body tangled with his in his sheets — the same sheets he had thought about you so often in, the one where he had thought about you while he spilled into his hand, fingers pressed to your skin, mouth on your skin, sucking, biting, marking, doing whatever you would let him do to you. Your dress was long abandoned by his desk, his own suit leaving a trail toward the bed where he had you in his fingers.

He prayed this wouldn't be a foolish dream.

When he wakes in the morning, pulling you closer to his chest, your lashes fluttering against his skin, his heart warms. He should ask you to date him right now, he thinks. But his heart races in his chest, wondering if you would agree. Maybe the two of you had kissed in the heat of the moment, and you had let him have you because he had asked so nicely. He looks down at you as your eyes are completely open now, embarrassed smile on your face. He misses his chance.

"Good morning." He looks at you like you're his whole world.

"Good morning." You smile back at him like he's the universe.

The two of you fall back into the pace you had established the previous semester, this time without any classes together, only texting every now and then with updates. Tim hates this new life he lives. He misses seeing you during class and watching you play subway surfers on your phone or Bloons TD on your laptop. He opts for texting you during class instead, typing notes as he types responses to your messages. He wonders if you miss him the same way he misses you. He's too afraid to ask, still clinging onto the way your skin had felt on his during New Year's. It doesn't help that your department is halfway across the campus.

The next time he gets to see you, he's Red Robin, and he catches the familiar flash of your camera on the rooftop as he swerves into action. He finishes with the thugs easily, swinging back up to land next to you, your camera pressed to your chest, clicking capture as he raises a brow at you. You blink at him, smile on your lips. You don't look apologetic at all, almost cheekily. It was as if you knew he'd notice you.

"Hey."

"Hey." You beam at him. "Nice fight."

"Thank you. Care to tell me why you're out here during the February cold to get photos of me?"

"Because you're my favorite?" You blink at him, eyes wide.

"That's cute." He hums. "Shall I take you home?"

"Oh, if you could be so kind." You smile. "I had a friend drop me off nearby and I think he left already."

"Yeah?" Tim wraps an arm around your back, pressing you to him snugly, your arms wrapping around his neck. You close your eyes as the winter air hits your face, only for him to whisper into your ear. "Open your eyes."

Gotham looks breathless from wherever the hell Red Robin was in the air. Your breath catches in your throat, staring in awe as Tim swings from building to building, finally landing on the one where you dormed. You let go of him, cheeks warm from the air and the view, turning to look at him.

"Thank you. Thank you a lot." You smile at him, Tim mirroring your smile.

"Can I get a reward?" He had meant it as a joke, only for you to press your lips to his cheek, his eyes widening at the feeling.

"Is that good enough?"

"I was thinking something else, but that works too." He presses his lips to the corner of yours, smile on his face. "Stay safe."

"For you." You wave at him as he swings away from your building. You look through the photos you had gotten of him, going down the flight of stairs to the elevator. You had stuff to post for the rest of the month.

Tim finally bumps into you at the convenience store one fateful afternoon, reaching for your wrist before he could even register that he was scared you'd run off. He blinks at you as you blink back at him, tilting your head to offer him an awkward smile.

"Hey?"

"Hi. I'll pay, um, if you'll let me have a moment of your time."

"Yeah? Yeah." You nod dumbly. "That'd be fine. I don't have class right now."

"Yeah. I'll take your basket." He reaches for it naturally, swiping his card with ease. He hands you your stuff back, and you follow him, popping open your green tea.

"What'd you need me for?"

"Missed you."

"Yeah? I missed you too. It's weird not sharing a class anymore." You press the tea to your lips. "Missed me or the insanely good sex we had on New Year's—"

"You." Tim smiles. "Missed hearing your voice."

"Awh, what a cheeseball." You snicker, staring at the green start on the trees. "Cherry blossom season is approaching."

"Yeah. So are midterms." He shudders. "How's your classes?"

"You know, drowning in work in order to graduate early." You hum. "I'm writing something right now."

"For class?"

"Yeah. For fiction writing. The story has to be related to something you've experienced in college so far and I was wondering—" You inhale sharply through your teeth. "If I could write about us?"

"As your friend or as the guy you slept with on New Years?"

You open and close your mouth. "Both. Yeah. Both."

"May I read it after you finish?"

"I'll share the doc." You smile. "Thank you. I've been meaning to ask you."

"I'm honored that you'd write about me as a college experience."

"Yeah..." You trail off. "Oh, did you see my Twitter update? I got these super clear photos of Red Robin fighting thanks to the camera you gave me. Thank you, again."

"You're welcome." He hums. "Doing anything on Valentines?"

You puff out your cheeks. "Supposed to hang out with friends, but me and my other friend want to ditch so the two idiots would finally get to hang out without us third and fourth wheeling."

"So you're busy?"

"Not if you want to hang out." You tilt your head, capping your green tea.

"You'd do that for me?"

"Yeah." You hum. "But you'd have to make it worth ditching for."

"Oh, then leave everything to me." He hums, fingers brushing yours. "I'll pick you up around nine in the morning."

"And what time will you have me back?" You tease, pressing yourself closer to him.

"What time do you want to be back?"

"Whatever time you want." You hum. "Please pick me up in a nice car your dad owns. I want to see the interior of one of them."

"Sure." Tim hums. "Any other requests?"

"How should I dress?"

"Casual." He hums. "Do you want to match?"

"We can color coordinate." You gasp. "What color do you own the most of?"

"Red." He hums.

"Owh! We can match red." You grin.

Tim walks you back to your dorm, staring as you enter the elevator and disappear from view. He thinks a little about where he should bring you, lips pulling up lightly when he remembers something you had mentioned off-handedly in your interview with him. He knew now.

Tim shows up at your door with roses, your friends peering from behind the door as you take the flowers with him with a light flush on your cheek. You're dressed completely casual, red sweatpants matching his red hoodie, grey hoodie matching his sweats. You smile at him sweetly as you take the flowers from him, and your friends pull you aside, staring him down. One of your friends, bless her, tells him to treat you properly. She jabs a finger into his chest, going off about how she didn't care if he was some rich dude — the same rules applied, especially when it was your first relationship. Tim's eyes widen at the fact, your eyes darting to the side, a little embarrassed. Your other friends drag her off of him.

"Why didn't you tell me I'm your first?" He whispers.

You pout. "Didn't want to come off as inexperienced."

"That's not something to be embarrassed about." He hums.

"You would've treated me differently if you knew."

Tim sucks in a breath. "Yeah. I would've."

"Point proven." You hum. "Thank you for the flowers. They're very pretty."

He opens your door for you, waving bye to your friends. You sit there, staring at him as he stares at you.

"Where are we going?"

"Remembered how you joked about being taken on a first date to Costco?"

"No." Your jaw drops.

"I have a membership." He pulls the card from his wallet, and you gasp.

"You spoil me."

"Save that for when you're actually inside."

You fake a swoon, smiling at him sweetly, lips curled upward and brows relaxed. Tim hums, pulling on his own seatbelt, handing you the aux to the car, and you put the flowers onto the backseat. You plug your phone in as he starts driving, and you blink at all the buttons on the car.

"What are these for?"

"One of them's for missiles."

"What." Your jaw drops.

"I'm kidding." He laughs. "Most of them are for defense. Bruce's very into cars."

"I can tell." You mumble. "What are we getting at Costco?"

"Your green tea," He stops at the light. "And whatever else intruiges you."

"Can I get a Costco hotdog?"

"Yeah." He laughs. "You want a slice of pizza too?"

"Maybe." You scrunch your nose. "Moreso a hotdog."

"We can get whatever you want." Tim hums.

"Wow, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to woo me." You laugh. (Tim hates the way he notices your eyes crinkle.)

"And if I am? It is Valentines."

"Woah." You mumble. "I didn't consider that."

"Yeah?" For someone so good at reading people, Tim sure struggled with reading you.

"I don't know." You frown. "Are you trying to swoon me? Or are you trying to get into my pants again?"

"Whichever one helps you sleep at night."

You laugh. "Using my own words?"

"You speak better than I do." He hums. "Do you want your hotdog first or later?"

"Later." You unlock your seatbelt, leaving the car. It looks awfully unassuming on the outside. Great for Gotham, you suppose.

"I'll push the cart." Tim holds his hand out for you and you take it, fingers wrapped in his. He lets go once he gets a cart, handing you his membership as you show the worker at the door. "Want a new iPad?"

"You know, I should make you buy Costco for me." You joke, patting his shoulder.

"Two hundred thirty two billion dollars? That's Bruce's money, not mine."

You snicker. "You have it memorized?"

"Stock trading for the company." He hums. "Stock is currently around five hundred dollars per stock."

"How the hell do you have time for schoolwork?"

"Coffee and an insane amount of self-discipline." He hums. "And revenge procrastination."

"At least you have some sort of weakness." You finally catch the drinks aisle, rushing in to find your green tea, Tim following behind you.

"I'll get it." He hums, reaching and pulling the green tea with ease, sliding it to the bottom of the cart. "Want anything else?"

"Can we browse?"

"Yeah."

You wander through the aisles, a comfortable silence washing over the two of you before you decide to speak up.

"Does Alfred need anything?"

"He's probably glad he has the house to himself for once." Tim hums. "Almost all of us are on a date."

You blink in surprise. "Even the youngest?"

"Except Damian." He hums. "Bruce is out too."

"Woah." You mumble. "The house must be quiet."

"Yeah." he hums.

"That did not answer my question." You pout.

"I texted. He sent a list." Tim mumbles, sharing the list. "You don't mind shopping for my family?"

"No." You smile. "I like grocery shopping with someone. It feels warm."

"Yeah? We're in the snacks aisle, so let's start there."

The two of you work your way through Costco, checking off Alfred's list of groceries, double-checking everything over when you finished. Tim grabs a rotisserie chicken for Alfred without it being on the list, and he grabs a tray of croissants, knowing Cass would probably want something sweet to snack on during the day. You text your friends to check if they want anything, and only one of them responds, telling you she's good. You have a feeling the other two are hooking up.

"Anything they want?"

"No." You smile.

"And you?"

"Just the green tea."

Tim raises a brow. "I'll feel bad if I only get stuff for my family while on a date with you."

"The tea is plenty." You beam. "I promise."

You help Tim unload the cart and then reload it, rocking on your feet as he swipes his card, not even checking the price twice, handing you the receipt as he pushes the cart out. The worker swipes the highlighter through the list, and Tim takes a right instead of a left.

"The car's—"

"Hotdog." He hums. "Can you get us two hotdogs? Card's in my wallet."

You take his card and get the hotdogs, tossing them into the cart as you hold the two paper cups.

"What do you want to drink?"

"What are you getting?"

"A little bit of everything."

"Then get me the same thing." He smiles.

You wonder if he's going to hate the flavor on his tongue. Though it's not your problem as you fill the cups, putting them in the holder as Tim pushes the cart back to his car, the two of you loading it into his trunk.

"We'll drop by my place first, and then we can drive to the next place I have planned." He takes the drink, straw in his lips. He blinks at the taste, eyes widening. "Wow. That's a flavor."

"Certainly is." You smile. "Like it?"

"Tastes like something Dick would have." He hums. "I'll push the cart. Get in the car."

You sit in the passenger's seat, opening your hot dog as Tim comes back.

"Ever had one before?" He opens his own, biting down.

"Yeah. My friends and I drop by pretty often." You hum. "Love the hotdogs."

"I should do that." He hums. "Alright. My house."

You chew on your hotdog as he heads toward his place, the music from your phone filling the car.

You wonder for a moment if Tim was actually into you. You have no doubt that you're important to him, but it was a little strange. You had slept with him before. What does that make you two? Friends with benefits? Friends who have slept together? Plain friends? A situationship? You chew on your bottom lip as he drives, mind elsewhere. Also, what were you with Red Robin? You can't call yourself a fan when you've had his tongue stuck down your throat before. There was too much to consider and ask. Maybe you should just ask Tim. (You don't, out of a fear of something. You're not too sure of what.)

When the two of you arrive, You help Tim sort the stuff into bags, carrying them to the front door as he unlocks it with ease, calling for Alfred and Damian to help with the groceries. Damian comes first, taking some of the bags from you, Alfred after him, showing you where the kitchen is.

"Thank you very much for running groceries for me, Master Tim." He nods. "You too, miss."

You smile. "No biggie. We were at Costco and I figured it'd be nice to do the groceries for you."

"It's very kind of you."

"Are you Drake's girlfriend?" Damian's next, eyeing you up and down, a scowl on his face.

"No?"

He frowns harder. "You deserve someone better."

"I really don't think—"

"Demon brat." Tim's voice comes out like a warning. "Don't tell my date to leave me."

"Is she not your girlfriend? I would have expected you to have already—"

"That's enough." Tim warns again, and Damian shuts up this time.

"Shall I prepare food for the two of you?"

"No need." Tim hums. "We have reservations."

"You made reservations? Do I need to change?" You follow after him, waving bye to Alfred and Damian.

"No. It's at the diner. It's Valentine's, which means there's twice as many couples there."

"Ohhh." You follow him into the car, sitting back down as he starts toward the diner again. "Is that all you had planned?"

"Also planned to take you home after this." He pauses. "My home. I was thinking we could use the movie room in the manor, granted none of my brothers get to it first. If that doesn't work, we can use the projector in my room."

"Are we gonna have sex?" You wiggle your brows playfully.

"If you want, I can have you screaming my name loud enough for Metropolis to hear."

You wince, looking to the side, embarrassed. "Holy shit."

"Expect the unexpected."

"I'm going to throw a milkshake at you for that."

"Cry about it."

The two of you get to the diner just in time for the reservation, your regular orders already memorized by the waiter. You're a little embarrassed, but you suppose it's not the worst thing ever. Tim finds the time asking if you enjoyed the day so far instead. You pull out your laptop as you wait for your order, continuing with the assignment due soon.

"Writing?"

"Yeah. Writing." You puff out your cheeks, fingers flying on the keyboard.

"What are you writing?"

You look up from your screen to stare at him. You don't say anything, but Tim gets the idea.

"Need a reference?"

"Actually," You lick your lips, scrolling up through the doc. "I'd like to meet Red Robin again."

"Your date's right here and you're talking about another man?"

"Writing fanfiction for him right now." You deadpan. "Need to know his kinks."

Tim coughs in embarrassment, forgetting how straightforward you could be.

"For a commission?"

"No. Out of curiosity." You pause. "I was curious to know what he would be into."

"Why not base him off of me?"

You raise a brow at Tim, swallowing thickly.

"Is this your way of telling me you don't want me writing fanfiction of other men?" You ask him one question, eyes asking another.

"Yeah." He smiles. "Yes to both questions."

You close your laptop when your milkshake and sandwich arrive, and Tim kicks you gently under the table.

"So what was the other question?" He raises a brow.

"I'll tell you in the car," You smile cheekily. Tim knows what the other question is. He just wanted to see if you were bold enough to ask him. The two of you continue with dinner, catching each other up with your friends' lives, smile on both of you's lips as the sun sets and the moon rises, Tim paying as he said he would. You take his hand into yours as the two of you walk to his car, and he opens the door for you, joining you on the other side.

"Before I ask," You lean over slightly, lips brushing his. "Can I have a kiss?"

"That's a question too, but I won't say no." He leans in for his lips to meet yours, hand moving to hold your face, tongue swiping on your bottom lip, darting into your mouth. You moan into the kiss as his other hand squeezes your waist, and you pull away from him suddenly, licking your lips for whatever taste of him was left. You grin at him cheekily, reaching to wipe the lipstick from around his lips, your voice lowering.

"The question I actually wanted to ask was if you were Red Robin." You grin, wiping the lipstick on a napkin leftover from Costco. "And I knew you'd read it off of me."

"How'd you guess?" He tilts his head at you, eyes still on your lips.

"First it was your perfume," You smile. "Then it was the way you kissed me." You pop the vanity mirror down, reaching into your hoodie for your lipstick. "Not to mention the way your forearms feel the same. Both of you have a specific way that you hold me when making out. I think that was the nail in the coffin."

You pucker your lips when you finish with the lipstick, tossing it back into your hoodie, closing the vanity mirror.

"So? Where are we headed now?"

"My place." He mumbles. "Have to have you."

"You could have me in the car."

"As much as I would like that," He exhales. "That would be very uncomfortable for you."

"Can I have you in the costume sometime later on?" You bat your lashes at him. "If you'd let me, of course."

"Yeah. Anything you want." His head thumps as he stops at the light.

There's a long, drawling silence before you speak up. You're scared, but you might as well ask.

"What are we, again?" You lean over slightly to stare at him. Tim notices you haven't put music on.

"If you'd let me," Tim licks his lips, "lovers."

"Then lovers we are."

The second time Tim gets to have you, he's so much gentler, fingers kneading the skin between them, curling them inside of you until you're a whimpering mess, worried that you'd wake someone in his family, his kisses assuring you that all of his brothers were out doing the same thing he was, wining and dining someone they loved, rooms also soundproof. Tim goes back to you after that, soaked fingers and sheets, licking your cum from his fingers, eyes locked with yours the entire time, pressing his lips to yours after he finishes. Your eyes roll back at how lewd he was being, but you suppose it's what the two of you deserve after flirting for so long.

Tim makes sure you're properly pampered in bed, your legs twitching after your third orgasm, begging for him to fuck you, tears in your eyes. How could he say no? Not when you looked so dazzling under him. He seems to understand something as he pushes into you this time, pausing to drink your form in, still as pretty as you had been before. This time, arguably prettier. You were so much prettier when you were crying about how you were his, cunt still oversensitive from your previous orgasms. Your face twists in pleasure, crying about how you were unable to take another release yet relenting as Tim drilled into you. You have no idea how he has the energy, and you're too tired to ask when he finishes.

You grimace as he peels you from the bed, setting you on the tile seat as he starts a shower for the two of you.

"I love you." You mumble. Not on accident or out of habit this time.

"How long?"

You exhale. "Don't remember."

"Approximation."

"Since I fell at your feet at orientation, maybe." You whisper into the mist as he helps you wash up.

"I love you too." Tim mumbles into your skin as he presses a kiss to where he had left hickeys.

"How long?" You repeat his question, staring at him as he stares down at you, moving the shower head to wash the bubbles from your skin.

"Since Christmas." He whispers back.

You smile at him.

"Since I told you I loved you on accident?"

"Yeah." He stops the water, wrapping you in a towel, drying you. You hum in satisfaction as he dries the two of you off, your fingers warm around his wrist when you grow tired.

"Can we sleep? I usually air dry my hair."

"Yeah." He presses a kiss to the crook of your neck, lifting you into his arms as he takes the two of you back to bed.

"What tag would you put on our story?"

"Idiots in love." You smile as you drift off, and Tim presses his lips to your forehead.

His tag would have been requited love.

#tim drake x reader #dc x reader #red robin x reader #☾.nsfw #guys this fic is everythign to me btw I like love this fic #easily top 5 fics I've ever written #tim drake imagine #red robin imagine #☾.fics

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thatrandomblogsays · 1 year

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Whale Weekly First Email

Call me Ishmael. I’ve got demons. Whenever they get too close I hop my ass on a boat because my demons can’t swim. If I didn’t I’d start fist fighting mourners in the street. Here’s my lengthy expository essay on why I travel as a sailor

Readers:

#whale weekly #your honor hes trauma dropping #whale #moby dick #ishmael #call me ishmael #tumblr book club #tumblr university #my new Dracula daily #Dracula daily #Moby dick memenotes #whale weekly memenotes #mine

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lowcostessay · 1 year

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Learn How To Write An Explanatory Essay | Lowcostessay

Learn how to write an explanatory essay with Chicago style citation format from Lowcostessay. Basically, Explanatory essays also known as expository essays, reflect on events or situations and convey other people's points of view.

#Write An Explanatory Essay #Expository Essay

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emilysidhe · 11 months

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Martha Wells is just such a master of this particular style of world building where she’s able to communicate *so* much through significant details and trusting her readers to pick up what that means for the deeper implications about her world.

The best example of this is probably in the first Murderbot novella, where Murderbot describes the scientists it’s guarding as coming from a “non-corporate political entity,” letting you know right away that, a) there are corporate political entities and b) Murderbot considers them the default with exceptions identified through contrast. Which tells you just *oceans* about the techno-futurist world this takes place in and Murderbot’s position in it in a single three word phrase.

I want to talk about all the cool world building detail in Witch King but at the same time I don’t because watching that world get revealed as you put together everything the key details tell you about how it works is such a great joy of reading it that I don’t want to take it from anyone.

There are at least four distinct systems of magic practiced by different cultures in this world and not only was I never confused despite not being given an expository essay on how any of them work or how they were different, but every detail about them was enrichment in the enclosure.

#witch king #martha wells

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punisheddonjuan · 2 months

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I've seen this article posted by others, it's pretty alright and it avoids the trap so many of these sort of essays fall into, a reductive thesis of "smartphone bad" and expands into just how dystopian the perverse incentives of "teaching to the test" have become and the fecklessness of "vibes based literacy". I just wanted to share it because this part was a real "what the fuck" moment for me:

As a college educator, I am confronted daily with the results of that conspiracy-without-conspirators. I have been teaching in small liberal arts colleges for over 15 years now, and in the past five years, it’s as though someone flipped a switch. For most of my career, I assigned around 30 pages of reading per class meeting as a baseline expectation—sometimes scaling up for purely expository readings or pulling back for more difficult texts. (No human being can read 30 pages of Hegel in one sitting, for example.) Now students are intimidated by anything over 10 pages and seem to walk away from readings of as little as 20 pages with no real understanding. Even smart and motivated students struggle to do more with written texts than extract decontextualized take-aways. Considerable class time is taken up simply establishing what happened in a story or the basic steps of an argument—skills I used to be able to take for granted.

This is absolutely wild to me. Completely alien and opposite to what my experience in undergraduate was like. Here are excerpts from a syllabus for a class I took in 2014:

There are between eighty and one hundred fifty pages of reading here each week. I don't have the actual syllabus on hand (it's in a file-box in a closet at my parents) but here's the reading for a class I took the year before:

We read the entirety of these books. Well over 1750 pages of reading in eleven weeks, or roughly 160 pages a week. This was one class, and I had reading in Greek and Latin to do on top of all that. This was undergraduate level.

Now I know that Classics isn't a field you go into unless you're insane, and it's generally more intense than other humanities majors but things can't have gotten so bad that ten pages is considered intimidating, can they? Jesus, maybe it's a good thing I became too disabled to stay in academia.

#link #article #personal history

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ripplestitchskein · 1 month

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The Real Helluva Boss Pilot

Episode 1: Murder Family

My intent with these essays to analyze the episodes both from an “as the information is presented to the audience perspective” as well as a Meta perspective, taking into account what is revealed later. I will also be analyzing the writing with regards to plot structure, dialogue choices, and characterization, as well as highlighting visuals and effects that are relevant. I will not be taking information that is not presented in the canon episodes, like the Sinstagram posts into account. I am writing as I watch the episode (and think it would be fun to read it as you watch it too but not necessary) so I strive for accuracy and while I do have bias, being human and all, I will try to justify it using the presented text. I will have a masterpost to keep track of these for future reference as I *plan* on doing every episode. I’m AuADHD though (if you couldn’t tell) so it really depends on the brain juice if the focus lasts. These will be long, but hopefully informative and interesting.

So lets get to it:

The episode opens on a flashback, we see a happy schoolhouse, have a heartwarming song and then the sequence of events that leads us to the panning down shot to Hell and our first glimpse of the world we are going to be inhabiting in the course of this show. There is a direct visual contrast between the blue skies, twittering birds, vibrant school house and later, Hell. It is established what sequence of events led the client there and the client is fleshed out a bit as far as who she was immediately preceding these events. It’s a really efficient character backstory presentation, we get who she was, what happened and why she did what she did, and how she felt about it. It’s a good deal of insight for a character we see once, they did a great job making her a bit more rounded in a short amount of time and with limited but pointed visuals. Her clothing. Her demeanor. Her relationship with the children. Their relationship with her. The contrast between what happens. Kudos all around. The song going from happy classroom bop to creepy and discordant with the chalk screech was great.

This initial opening sequence is for the plot of the episode itself not necessarily for the show overall, though it does highlight one of the central running themes of the show: that the human realm and Hell are only different on a surface level. An interesting choice made by the team here was that the horrific events take place entirely in the wholesome school house. Except for a brief cutaway to the cheating husband we stay in the bright cheery environment with the actions taking place - their teacher murdering her cheating husband and then killing herself - contrasting it. It’s really fitting for an episode themed around the human world not being as wholesome as it appears to be. I thought it was a good choice. I also love the pan down through the Earth to Hell and the visuals being very similar to a world we are familiar with, office buildings and cars in a downtown environment, but obviously other in regards to aesthetics.

We then get a large establishing shot of the office building and then a cut to the interior, specifically Blitzø’s door which has I.M.P Headquarters in large text, and “Meeting in Progress” taped to it in a more cartoony one. A visual to show the difference between the intended professionalism versus the actual professionalism.

So we are told where we are, and that the character doing the voiceover is in this office. The tone and mood so far is detective noir, starting with the client’s smoky voice over narration and continuing into the office which is lit and framed with this pastiche in mind.

The first bit of dialogue from one of our actual main characters is Blitzø asking if the mistress was hotter, calling the client “tits” and then giving us a summation of their business and some world building in a really tight character revealing expository dialogue drop. It also contrasts with the noir tone, instead of playing into the trope he breaks that tone and gives us the tone of the show itself. From this initial dialogue we know that they are in Hell, that their business is to take revenge on the living, that Blitzø is vulgar, rather misogynistic, and a bit silly (I.e. “Boop”).

We then jump back to the story of the episode to explain why this is a good case for them to take. The mistress is still alive and based on the scenes probably not a great person but there is still enough ambiguity there to make it seem like they are going to kill a fairly innocuous cheating woman for the sole reason that they were hired to do so by a jealous jilted wife (I’ll point out that this ties back to Striker later, he essentially is doing the same thing IMP does in this episode, for the same reasons, with some class issues thrown in for spice).

The client gets angry and aggressive and Blitzø urgently presses the emergency button under his desk. This button gives us a little insight into the office, Blitzø, and world as well. Or at least situations that require an emergency call.

More Coffee, Soiled My Pants, Horny Client, Deranged Client, Client Giving Birth, Ghost, and Stolas (See my feelings on the Stolas button here). I love that such a simple detail gives us so much information and also leaves us wanting to know more. Are these things that happen frequently, that Blitzø is scared of happening, that got added because of a specific event in the past? The visual story telling with that intercom system is *chef’s kiss* and from a story boarding perspective a great way to transition the scene.

This leads us outside of Blitzø’s office to I.M.P headquarters at large where we have Moxxie shaking as he tries to shoot a family picture. Here is the conflict of the episode introduced. We also meet the three other important characters of the business. Millie has a “if that’s what the client wants” attitude, Loona is dry and sarcastic and points out that we don’t know what the family are hiding (this episode’s prophetic character and the theme stated), and Moxxie is conflicted, only wanting to kill a family if it was a shitty Dad or a Mafia Family (Moxxie backstory and Daddy issues hint). Millie also indicates that Loona is different from them, that she is a Hellhound which is subtle world building via dialogue and I liked it.

We are given a little foreshadowing as to the episode’s “twist” (humans are full of secret nasties) in this exchange.

We also get a little taste of how different Moxxie and Millie are. Millie gives Moxxie the solution to the problem they’ll encounter later right here but he has to learn the hard way. (This comes up multiple times in their relationship, in Happy Campers most explicitly, but is established first here).

“Guilty and innocent ain’t our business Mox, killing who we’re paid to is our business. Shoot the target”.

Moxxie does not agree with this sentiment. This speaks to his personality and to his major character flaws. He wants to do things his way, and often ignores others and suffers consequences for it. Also this speaks to his role as being largely the audience perspective character in this episode (and often to the series as a whole). How Moxxie feels is largely how we as the audience should feel in this situation (hopefully).

Blitzø comes out, announces the new client, Moxxie misfires and the first long running gag of the show of the office being destroyed in some way is established. A gag that reflects the “continuing to keep trying despite it all continually falling apart” journey the character’s are on throughout the show. This misfire foreshadows what Moxxie will do when they go after the client, a missed shot being Moxxie’s fault.

We head downstairs, the firemen are dealing with the situation and Blitzø yells at Moxxie for setting the office on fire. (Foreshadowing what will happen to the house).

We are introduced to the grimoire, the fancy book that is their only ticket to the human realm. Loona sums up its function for us. This interaction also shows us how Blitzø interacts with Moxxie and Loona respectively. Yelling at Moxxie and squeezing him aggressively, vs simpering at Loona and offering her a treat. We also see her reaction to him, largely disgusted and fending him off.

We also see that Loona controls the grimoire, though her being the sole person to control it isn’t revealed until later. Blitzø and Loona’s relationship is not explicitly declared until episode 3. I’ll admit, based on Blitzø’s vulgar dialogue and how he treated Loona, and her reactions I was worried when I watched for the first time that Blitzø was like sexually harrassing her, but after episode 3 it made it more clear. (Yet another reason why you can’t base a character’s entire personality on one episode or a handful of early dialogue, you actually gotta like…watch the show as things are revealed). The billboard in the background is a super fun detail. The book is presented as the tool that lets them go back and forth and it is shown to be Important(TM).

We open a portal and now we’re in the human world. Due to the lighting, unlike the happy schoolhouse, it is not visually contrasting with Hell now, the lighting between Hell and Earth is the same, maybe even a bit brighter in Hell.

When they get to the house Blitzø offers the shot to Moxxie, he is visibly excited but he hesitates, Blitzø goes to take it but Moxxie is still conflicted, he ruins the shot just like in the office. It was a really quick insight into Moxxie still trying to prove himself, at being fairly new to this specific line of work. Because of him though the family is alerted.

We see that they are not the wholesome and innocent family they project, first by the background visuals of bones and weapons (and the wheelchair with the urn with a full meal in front of it which I did not notice until this rewatch, always finding new stuff) the music, and then by their behavior. Their faces resemble more the denizens of hell than humans now.

Outside Blitzø and Moxxie argue, and we get some insight into both of them, Moxxie is softer and more empathetic, he doesn’t want to kill a wholesome family. Blitzø is more jaded and says that there is no such thing. That no one is innocent from Birth. He tells Moxxie to get over himself, speaking to Moxxie’s established character flaw : He is so wrapped up in his own sense of what is right that he causes problems for others.

Blitzø also says something during this exchange: that they are not killing a family, they are killing a mother and ruining a family. Which considering what we find out about his mother is interesting. Mostly because he seems rather gleeful about it, but considering the theme of revenge present throughout the show looking at it now we could interpret it as him wanting to visit some revenge on a ”perfect family” but whether this was a conscious choice by the writers at this point, or one that we can just ascribe meaning to based on later episodes I couldn’t say. He might just like killing folks. It’s interesting tho.

They scatter and the chase sequence begins. Moxxie is grabbed immediately, Millie is shown to be a bit more dangerous and skilled at combat but she falls fairly quickly. Blitzø yells scatter and takes off. They have all three gone in different directions which is a running issue with their relationship and the business as a whole throughout, it is not a good strategy. They need to work together but it’s episode 1, so.

Moxxie wakes up and he’s in the creepy Ed Gein room with the kids. Loona, Millie and Blitzø were right, humans are full of secret nasties.

Now we follow Blitzø running from Martha. Stolas calls, and Blitzø answers and tells him it’s a really bad time.

We see Stolas for the first time. He’s in a fancy bubble bath with a fancy phone having a much different time than Blitzø. These characters are in two very different places from a variety of perspectives. There is a very deliberate theming for Stolas, a lot of effort went into the background and aesthetics, and his musical motif (Owl in a Cage) is heard for the first time. This indicates Stolas is an important character, inhabiting his own world within this world and with his own established designs and music. Even though he is largely only expository in this episode, to establish the grimoire as the reason they can get to the human world, it is indicated its use comes with additional backstory we don’t know yet, and forward story that will come up later and that Stolas will be central to those stories. It is, in fact, the ONLY explicit thing we are given to explore in future outside of IMP itself.

It also shows us how Stolas feels about Blitzø, he calls him Blitzy from the very beginning. His voice is simpering, cooing and sexual. Blitzø is colder, obviously he’s used the excuse of it being a bad time more than once to avoid this conversation. Stolas seems to be able to see him in a bubble but it’s not clear if that’s just a visual choice like a split screen or an actual ability he possesses, but based on D.H.O.R.K.S and the caller ID on his rotary phone I think it’s the latter. It is also not clear at this point if Blitzø is avoiding the issue of the book, Stolas himself, or both. At this point it’s probably safe to say both.

It is revealed that Stolas has been allowing Blitzø to access the human realm using the book illegally for an unspecified amount of time. He needs it back to do his job but suggests working out an exchange, favors for favors. He breaks down the deal for Blitzø, Blitzø returns the book on the Full Moon, they have a night of passionate fornication each month and Blitzø can keep it the rest of the time. Blitzø says “Okay, Whatever” and then Stolas starts in with the dirty talk.

The takeaway here is they have a sexual relationship that one party is more invested in, Blitzø is more worried about not dying at the moment.

I’d like to digress for a moment and have it noted that in no way does Stolas threaten Blitzø, he just offers the deal and takes Blitzo’s acceptance of it at face value. We do know it’s important to the business and that Blitzø has been avoiding discussing it. We also know what he’s doing with it is illegal. So I do understand early interpretations of it being predatory or coercive based on this exchange alone, but this is cleared up fairly quickly in Season 1, as we’ll see in later analysis. To me this exchange was as ambiguous as the Blitzø/Loona situation in terms of how these characters were related, a little odd at first because we didn’t know the full context and leaning towards creepy at face value, but later cleared up unequivocally and explained further.

I think the difference for people here comes down to foreknowledge, either watching the original Pilot (not canon) or following the creator. For me, as a brand new viewer who had no background or knowledge of VivziePop other than the presented text I was MORE initially eeked by the Blitzø and Loona dialogue in this episode than the Stolas dialogue because her reaction was so viscerally disgusted and the conversation with Stolas seemed to be an established “thing”. Blitzø picked up even though he was running for his life, something I wouldn’t expect a character to do if they were repulsed or avoiding someone. He also KEEPS TALKING TO HIM, even though his life in danger from doing so. Also not something a character does if they are repulsed. Man could have sent it to voicemail because he was being chased by a psychopath but still answers and chats. This leads to an important point, when looking at a piece of media you can’t really take in what is initially shown, as it can change as early as the next episode and character reactions to dialogue matter as much as what is said. Which is the case with both Loona and Blitzø and Blitzø and Stolas, and the audience should only be expected to know what’s shown on screen.

Additional outside the channel content is fun, like the Sinstagram posts, but a general viewer doesn’t have that unless they go looking for it so it shouldn’t be integral to understanding.

Blitzø is under duress because of the situation with Martha, not the conversation Stolas, so we cannot extrapolate much as far as his true willingness based on the first episode and this dialogue alone, though people sure do try. If the conversation were taking place when Blitzø was not running through the woods for his life it would give us more insight, but we have to wait for further episodes to get that. But we do get it.

Anyway, Blitzø gets caught by Martha and drops his phone. Stolas does not notice, he’s too wrapped up in the sexual dirty talk and cannot help him. A running theme for them.

Moxxie is struggling to escape inside, sees the flames and realizes Millie is in trouble. His primary concern is for her. He uses a chair to overpower the girl child and grabs a gun and runs to save Millie. This speaks to his priorities and his relationship with Millie which, up until this point was hinted at but not overly explicit. He also has no issue hurting a child now, up until this point he was trying to get away by straining at the ropes, when he sees Millie is in trouble his reservations about hurting children are gone for that moment.

Millie and Blitzø are tied to a stake, Martha gives a lil speech, they burn but it doesn’t hurt them. Blitzø reveals shooting them would. Millie is annoyed he revealed that. I thought it was interesting that we establish Imps can be killed by being shot, and then later that Stolas can as well, albeit with a different kind of gun. I don’t know if it’s necessarily relevant but you should always take note of ways characters can die and ways they can come back in my experience, and such dialogue is rarely for nothing. Stakes have to be introduced otherwise we won’t have the suspense they are in actual danger. This exchange puts Millie and Blitzø back in danger while still giving them a demonic flavor in the world building in that the fire wouldn’t hurt them. It’s a good, subtle, writing choice. Taking away stakes to establish a trait like fire immunity but then bringing them back with gunshot vulnerability.

Moxxie kills Martha by shooting her through the eye, overcoming his issue at the beginning of the episode to save his wife and also, incidentally, his boss. It’s a great shot from a visual perspective (pun not intended but appreciated) with Moxxie framed through the bullet wound.

Moxxie and Millie cuddle making their relationship more defined.

Blitzø is annoyed with Moxxie for causing the situation in the first place. Moxxie apologizes, Blitzø hugs him and forgives him and makes the first sexual threat joke about Moxxie and Millie of the series and confirms for the audience they are married. I appreciated this from a writing perspective, it gives us the info without Moxxie and Millie having to say it, which is always weird and unnatural in early episodes. “MY WIFE” kinda stuff, but having Blitzø do it casually in a very Blitzø way was just good dialogue. You always want dialogue to be revealing about both situation and character if you can and they nailed it with that line.

Blitzø calls for Loona, he calls her dear, another subtle hint at their relationship. It is not revealed they are father and daughter at this point but he treats her more affectionately than he does anyone else so far with his tone and dialogue so we know she’s different in some way.

Moxxie runs off to take care of something. He passes the phone where Stolas is still going on and we get the jelly sandwiches line. Freaky, oblivious bird. This is either a continuity error or Blitzø carries multiple phones as he just pulled a phone out to call Loona. I kind of assume he has the yellow one as a personal phone and the red one for business? I just noticed it so I’m going to keep an eye on it.

Moxxie tells the Dad Ralphie that Moxxie should have killed them because they are monsters, but they deserve a chance at a life and a purpose. He thinks mostly of the children. “I’m handling this my way” to show he is still holding to his principles and that he believes in justice prevailing and they have a slightly humanizing moment with the universal remote.

Moxxie joins Blitzø and Millie at the portal. Blitzø says some pervy Blitzø stuff. Millie asks if Mox is okay and says he has a good heart but a fussy head. Millie goes through the portal, Moxxie looks back and the Earth police blow up the house and everything he tried to do with his good intentions. Sad teddy bear shows us even the kids died. Blitzø yanks him back through to Hell.

The office is having celebratory cake. Millie is proud of Moxxie while he looks miserable. They sum up the “lessons of the episode” via dialogue.

Moxxie finally learned not to fuck up

Killin people is okay if they try to kill you back

That is messed up, but I paid for it!

Everyone laughs. Moxxie looks miserable.

We the audience are shown that this world has a very different moral code than our own, Moxxie is the most like us and the people proven right in the episode were the characters with no moral issue killing a family from the beginning. The lesson learned is Moxxie’s, and kind of echos the “road to hell is paved with good intentions” aphorism in that we assume the whole family ended up there by the end because of Moxxie’s. The family is revealed to be rather evil, but Moxxie still wanted to try to save the most innocent of them and still failed.

This episode serves as the entire series opening image in a sense. Here are who we are dealing with, here are some tastes of their personalities and hints at their relationships, the world has a much different moral code than our own.

This is the true pilot episode in terms of structure and content. We have a cohesive three act structure. In the first act we setup the characters (Blitzø, Moxxie, Millie, Loona. The client and the family), the setting (both Earth and Hell), the theme can vary based on your interpretation but there are several to pick from revenge being central, humans being as bad as hell residents, etc and we have the main conflict of the episode: Moxxie is not comfortable killing an innocent family but has been tasked with doing so.

In the second act, Moxxie attempts to solve the main conflict by ruining the shot, which leads to everyone being in danger from the family, and everyone gets captured.

And in the third act, Moxxie is able to resolve this conflict by killing Martha to save Millie and he attempts to give the remaining family a chance but is thwarted by Earthly law enforcement. It’s still a resolution, even if doesn’t align with human based ethics or end happily for Moxxie, the naive audience surrogate who has to learn along with the audience that it’s not that simple in this world, and it doesn’t always end in rainbows and happiness.

We have accomplished all Pilot goals. We have been placed in the world, introduced to the major characters and given hints as to their relationships and personalities. The major overarching plot devices for further exploration in the season are introduced: the business itself and the grimoire, both will continue to be relevant and are linked together.

The major questions we are left with to continue onward are the results of the Blitzo/Stolas conversation, the exact nature of Blitzø’s relationship with Loona, and how IMP will handle other clients in the future.

I thought it was interesting is the three main character perspectives, other than the client who is a throwaway character, are Moxxie, Blitzø and Stolas. Millie is a supportive role and mirror for Moxxie she doesn’t actually affect the plot in any way other than being the catalyst for Moxxie to make his choices and to highlight his flaw. Loona is largely there for an expository purpose to explain the grimoire and state the theme, she has no plot relevance. As far as character reveals and relationship reveals go the central focus of the episode is those three in that order of importance. We don’t even find out Millie is Moxxie’s wife explicitly until the end and we do so because she is why he made the choices he makes at the end, we don’t find out Loona is Blitzo’s daughter at all until episode 3, but we have the beginnings of Stolas and Blitzø, we have brush strokes of the team’s relationship to each other, and the beginnings of Moxxie and Blitzø’s dynamic as well.

In terms of the overarching plot structure of the show this episode serves as the perfect Opening Image. There are lots of things dropped we’ll pick up throughout this season and the next. A lot of stuff you don’t realize was established so early on is there.

The writer’s did an incredible job with the dialogue, the foreshadowing, and everything is so efficient and tight for a 13 minute runtime. Every scene, every line, every visual serves a purpose and it’s extremely well done. While I don’t consider it a masterclass in writing or anything, it is one of the best “by the book” Pilots I’ve ever seen.

#helluva boss #helluva boss meta #Stolitz #stolas x blitz #vivziepop #long post #I tried to find all Blitzø’s but my autocorrect hates it #I missed fandom #I love doing stuff like this #engaging with media is so fun

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