#i got super bored apparently

[caffeinatedopossum]

I complained a lot about the side effects from my anxiety meds but they've genuinely changed my life in the best way. I'm talking to friends again, I'm playing video games, I'm not having panic attacks about dying every single night... genuinely wish I had this years ago

[dandyshucks-moving]

woah rare other system part sighting lmao, here's a Guz drawn by not-Juno

[exopelagic]

talking to him more very much achieved. we just talked for like 4 hours in the kitchen holy shit I need to sleep

[theskyexists]

Played some botw again. Stuck with it longer than last time. Still got bored. Like... Children have suuuuuuuch long attention spans. It's insane. They can repeat shit endlessly on the slightest provocation. I need constant stimulation and novel situations.

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

sorry for diary posting so much on main but this is the last one today prommy

[pearlymel]

"The Masks We Wear"

Summary: as a journalist, you are itching to find the identity of this mysterious hero. But could it be that the hero is closer to you than you think?

Wc: 7.3k eat up

Warnings: Wriothesley x afab!reader, gn! reader, modern au, hero and villian au (one of each), reader is a journalist/cameraman, fluff, making out, crack (i laughed a lot writing this), angst (oops), one small sex scene, slightly under the influence, cursing, it's pretty unrealistic, petnames used: sunshine, love, and sweetheart.

Notes: i poured my heart and soul into this, i think it's my best piece so far ^^ give it a chance, maybe you'll love it. (Pleasepleasepleaseplease) Rbs are greatly appreciated!

Credits: banner art by the great @/danijaci

Click!

The city is absolutely beautiful today. No, no. It’s not because of the lights that makes the place brighter and a bit more magical, how it seems livelier with a group of teenagers laughing together while buying street foods together, or the old couple that seem still very much in love, the gentleman kneeling down and tying her shoes just to make sure she wouldn’t trip this time.

Humans can be cute, you think.

But of course, among those innocent ‘humans’ are those who desire destruction.

This time, you think you might have caught something in the shadows, and you stare intently at your camera, zooming it in to see the faintest color blending in with the darkness. Hair? A part of clothes? You don’t know, but you got it.

you have this obsession of finding out who the hero of this city was, or even the villian. Although, you would be technically be walking into death if you try finding out who the villian is.

Where did this hero come from? No one knows. Sure the crime rate has lowered, but it felt like the world became even more messed up.

It all started a couple of years ago when you were in your college days, one day almost dying from a falling building, and you thought you saw the scythe waiting to take your soul at that very moment but, no.

The mysterious hero of the city that you never thought you would never encounter carried the building with his super strength power, apparently.

He who has no name, took your hand and lead you into a safer area with the police.

cliché story, right. But that’s what got you into journalism and media now.

And let’s say… you’re too far into the deep black hole to back down now.

The almost blinding light made you come back to your senses, the sounds of engine roaring in the air as the bike approached you, and your shoulders were already slumped.

“How did you find me?” You raise your voice due to the loud engine running, covering parts of your vision from the light.

“Lucky guess.” Wriothesley replied gruffly, pulling his helmet off and shaking his head slightly to fix up his messy strands.

“Care to explain what on earth are you doing here in this shady alleyway? At nine thirty where the moon is out and wolves could be coming for you?” He starts scolding you, quirking an eyebrow when you give him the bored expression, and he immediately mimics it back.

“Taking pictures.”

“Of the rats?”

“Wriothesley.” You shoot him a look and he raises his hands in the air. “I understand your… obsession. But it could hurt you in the process, mentally and physically.”

You know he’s saying all this because he cares so much about you. Loves you too much that it would break his soul piece by piece if one day what you’re doing will hurt you.

“Hop in, sweetheart.” He hands you the extra helmet, and you take it with a sigh. Securing it around your head before taking your place behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist as he revved the engine.

The whole ride back was silent, yet traffic, which entirely ruined the whole mood. With the constant car horns ringing in your ear.

You tap at his thigh to grab his attention, “Why’s it traffic?” You grumble, rising yourself from the seat to look at the row of cars trying to get through.

“Not any holidays or events i can think of,” he responds back to you.

Red mixed with orange fills your vision, suddenly the car at the very front explodes. The car parts flying in the air and landing at the other vehicles which makes you frozen in shock.

Wriothesley’s clenches his hands tightly as he turns the bike around, speeding his way far away from the scene. “Hold onto me tight, and don’t look back, you hear?” He yells enough to grab your attention, and your arms tightens around him, but you have your head turned around to see the people yelling and dashing out of the vehicles. You want to capture the moment with your phone so you could submit it in for the news, but you know more than to ignore Wriothesley right now.

It’s not rare to see destruction happen in your city, it’s just… terrifying every time anybody witnesses it.

Maybe it wasn’t an accident, maybe it was planned.

“You’re not allowed to go out after seven.” Wriothesley makes it clear to you with his firm tone as you both step inside your shared apartment, locking the apartment with a click. He then tosses his keys into a bowl on a small table, before turning to look at you.

“Are you seriously setting a curfew for me? Please. what happened was not new—”

Your face is now being cradled by his rough hands, but the way he swipes a thumb under your eyebags really makes you melt. And you forget what you were going to say when his lips curl the slightest.

“I don't want anything happening to you. Ever.” He takes you in his arms, holding you like you were the most precious thing he ever held. “I didn't mean to pressure you like that. I'd hate it if you were in the position of those injured people.”

You pat his back to reassure him that hopefully nothing like that will happen. “And, if, hypothetically, something like that happened; What would y—”

“I'll kill everyone.” he doesn't even let you continue before he answers, though the chuckle against your hair followed after makes your tense shoulders relax.

“maybe not to that extent,” he lifts your head up to lean in and press a tender kiss on your forehead.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“what is it?”

“… something or someone.”

Your boss gives you a nonchalant sharp look when you eagerly showed him the bits you managed to capture last night before you were interrupted by your great boyfriend.

His eyes squints at the more of a blurred photo that sits on the display of your camera, taking the glasses that hanged from his collar.

The sigh afterwards makes you feel discouraged when he hands you back your camera.

“i see it.” He starts and you perk up immediately.

“it looks like a blurred image of a fucking bird taking a shit on the electrical cords.” You press your lips into a thin line at his description. Too detailed of a description,

what a bastard.

It.. certainly didn't look like that.

You clear your throat, pinching the bridge of your nose to compose yourself.

“You're lucky i like your determination or you would've been fired,” he utters out in a lax tone, resting his glasses on his big bald head that you want to spill with ketchup.

“Keep looking, i need the hero's face, details, anything. Just think of the money you and i could both earn.” He seems too enthusiastic about it, showing you determination with his fists pressing together and his wide ear to ear smile.

You leave work early that day, starting your daily walk of looking around for at least two hours or—one hour?

No, Wriothesley would be too worried if you came back after… nine. Your words not his.

You need to rearrange a schedule in your head.

Step one: somehow convince your boss that you need to leave early everyday.

Step two: search every nook and cranny of the city, ask every shady person if they get to talk to the hero in person or got a glimpse of his name.

Step three: go to the dark web— is that car flying infront of you right now?!

Shit. Just why does everything have to go down wherever path you go?

The people around you panics, and you equally panic with them because you're no fucking hero to tell them to get away from that flying car.

You take your camera out hurriedly from its case that slung around your shoulder, pressing record while frantically looking around. The ground shakes, it shakes so much that it feels like an earthquake almost.

“it's him! The villian!” Someone shouts from the distance, and just like that the screams that follows are in sync.

You know why the ground shook, the street has become a battlefield for the hero and villain fighting together with all their strengths, the air is filled with tension as they both clash in an epic confrontation. The ground trembles beneath your feet again as they traded blows, sending shockwaves through the battlefield. The once tranquil street has now been transformed into a chaotic arena of power and destruction. As the battle rages on. The hero and villain continue their fight, each strike more powerful than the last, their movements a blur of speed and precision.

You try capturing anything with your camera, but your hand shakes that it was impossible. When the villian lands a powerful punch on the hero’s shoulder, sending him way back, it makes you think it's time to leave.

You run with the rest without stubbornness this time. You should've listened to Wriothesley, why did you always have to be so curious about everything?

This curiousity will kill you next after the cat.

“Taxi!” You shout, waving your hand at the yellow vehicle, but every taxi seems to ignore the people's pleas, determined to save themselves instead.

Guess it's time to burn calories and run back home.

You were a panting mess once you reached back to your comfort space, eyes zeroing at the running television in the living room. Watching the newscaster talk about today's battle and how it affected the shops and buildings.

It seems like the battle lasted twenty minutes before the villian gave up and fled away.

Your head snaps to the bathroom once you hear the sink water drip, you didn't even think if he would be here this early.

“Wriothesley,” you say breathlessly when you swing the door open, arms squeezing his side as you take a deep breath in.

“woah, easy there. What happened?” He takes you in, hand rubbing at your arm.

“i was…” nevermind. Maybe you shouldn't tell him what you have witnessed, he'll know once he checks the news.

You only realise that he was chest bared at the moment, and you furrow your eyebrows once you see a bruise on his shoulder.

“What happened?” It was your turn to ask, talking a gentle finger and running it over the bruise, earning a hiss from him.

“was changing the car oil at the repair shop.” He mumbles, gaze turning to the mirror, “then accidentally hit my shoulder once i got up.” he turns his arm, swinging it slowly.

“but you don't work at a car repair shop?”

“it's a side hustle, sunshine.”

“why didn't you tell me?” You press on, and he hangs his head low, both of his hands gripping the sink bowl.

Okay, maybe you have annoyed him a little too much now. Upon sensing your incoming apology, Wriothesley smiles at you.

“don't worry your pretty little head too much. The bruise will fade.”

“i can massage you later?” You offer, and he lets out a breathy chuckle. “You're the best.” He gives you a chaste kiss on your lips on his way out, which makes you feel a little fuzzy.

The evening gave way to the night sky, and you found yourself lying on the bed, replaying the video captured on your camera. The footage was far from perfect, shaky and lacking in clarity, but it still managed to capture fragments of the intense confrontation between the hero and the villain. You couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement as you watched the brief glimpses of the clash that had taken place earlier.

How the villian managed to blow a punch on the hero’s shoulder, sending him way back. Must've hurted.

It's almost like the same spot Wriothesley got his bruise on.

…

Wait, the same spot?  You sit up on the mattress, replaying the video on repeat of their fight.

The hero was about the same height as him, the same physique, same cake—

You shake your head, focus. Wriothesley can't be the hero, no that's impossible. He was a busy man, doing… side jobs and whatnot.

Sure he was kind, always helping everyone, even walking the neighbors dog because they got sick one day.

But then again… you never saw Wriothesley and the hero at the same time,

Or was it merely a coincidence, a random alignment of physical features?

“Sunshine?” You gasp when you snap your head up to find Wriothesley leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed.

“y-yes?” You set the camera aside on top of the drawer. He moves closer, seating himself on the edge of the bed, his eyes fixated on you then glancing at he camera.

“dinner's ready.”

You nod, silence fills the room after. You know he's waiting for you tell him more, on why you were so shocked.

“was looking at the hero's pictures.”

“not mine? I'm wounded.”

You roll your eyes, a slow smile creeping up your face, and he loves it. He takes it as an invitation to lean closer, suddenly pinning you down on the bed to capture your lips with his.

It's slow, and gentle. It makes you hum softly, taking his face in your hands to kiss him back, moving your lips together until you were gasping for air.

You forget you were even suspicious of him a second ago.

Your fingers lightly trace his jawline and you feel the pricks of his growing facial hair. A small smile plays on your lips as you inform him in a soft tone, "You need to shave." Wriothesley chuckles softly, the sound warm and low. He reaches up to your hand, gently taking hold of it and bringing it to his lips, pressing a kiss on your palm. "Is that why you stopped kissing me?" He says, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "No! I find you more.. attractive. Plus it.. yeah, it feels like little needles on my face.” you admit quietly.

Wriothesley presses his face into your neck, his lips tracing soft kisses along your skin. His hands begin roving your body, each touch sending a gentle shiver across your flesh. He whispers quietly next to your ear, his voice low and smooth as he responds, "I'll shave after dinner." The sensations of his lips against your neck and his hands exploring your body mix together, creating a heady combination that heightens your senses and ignites a slow fire within you.

“I'll.. help.” You whisper, bringing both of your arms to wrap them around his back. “What a sweetheart.” he uttered out, voice muffled from trying to mold into your skin.

Your mind stops working for a second when he presses his knee gently between your legs to pull them apart, “Wriothesley, what about dinner?” You frantically ask him, tugging his hair up so both of your gazes could meet. And the almost drunken expression he has on makes you let out a shaky breath.

“later,” he drawls, his fingers tracing lazily along your sides.

Hero? Pftt, what hero? This is just your wriothesley, it's quite impossible for him to be the hero.

You snap out of your daydream when your colleague hands you a cup of coffee, he raises an eyebrow at you and you smile back awkwardly.

A sip of the coffee to get a bit of energy, but only just a bit, since too much caffeine makes you nervous.

“You filmed the crazy battle yesterday?” Your colleague sneaks from behind you, watching the video replay again on your camera.

“they do movies about them now, insane huh?”

“well atleast the hero knows he's popular.” You reply bluntly, taking anothsr sip from your hot beverage.

“flash news, someone heard that his name starts with the letter ‘W’ or som—”

You spit out your coffee all over your white attire. You both exchange surprised looks, but you quickly wipe your mouth using the back of your hand.

“where exactly did you hear that?” You get straight to the point, gesturing them to sit next to you.

“from my father's friend’s cousin sister.”

His reply makes your eyes twitch, from who and who?

“Okay…” you whisper, turning around and thinking of the utter nonsense they spouted.

“you don't believe me.” he sighed, “I've been telling this to everyone in the building but no one is believing me! Just tryna’ do my job here.”

Let's say maybe you believe him. But the dots are connecting too fast that you want to refuse from believing it.

Was your target closer to you than you had expected?

“I'm clocking out, can you cover for me today?” You inform your colleague, and he crosses his arms while eyeing you up and down.

Your roll your eyes, “I'll be the cameraman for next week. So you could get three days off.” You force a smile and they smile back enthusiastically.

Wriothesley is definitely home. Earlier than the usual time he'd be back.

Oh, he's asleep on the couch. Leaning back tiredly with an almost stern expression on, but his body seems relaxed.

Now is the time to do anything. Investigate? Go through his things without his permission? That sounded all awful… surely he's not hiding any—

“go search his things.” You furrow your eyebrows when the devil on your left shoulder speaks, it makes you rub your face in annoyance.

Then a sudden white little angel poofs on your right shoulder with a disappointed face, “no, don't do it. He's a little scary when he gets mad. But he'd never betray you!” you feel reassured at it's words and you nod in agreement.

“don't listen to it. He could hurt you if you keep it a secret.” The red devil whispers again and it makes you shiver a bit.

“he would never hurt you.” The angel frowns.

“yes he would, he's a man.”

“a good man.”

“yeah? You're no better than me, you just want that—”

“okay shut up both of you. Shoo.” You brush both of your shoulders off before taking a deep breath to brace yourself.

You'll just search his.. clothes.

You feel guilty once you pocket his jackets and pants in his side of the wardrobe, checking every hidden pocket thoroughly while glancing at the door once in a while to make sure he doesn't wake up.

As your fingers brush against his jacket, you notice an unusual sensation – a cool, metal feeling hidden underneath the fabric. Your eyes widen in surprise as you recognize it to be the form of a gun's handle. A mixture of curiosity and concern floods through you, freezing you in place.

It really is a gun. You study it carefully, turning it around and feeling it's heaviness in your palm.

But you feel your heart run out of your ribcage when two pairs of arms wrap tightly around you, his chin resting on your shoulder.

Shit.

“hi,” he whispers next to your ear, but you're too nervous to even look back at him.

“nice thing you got there.” He muses, and you feel like you're losing oxygen once he tightens his grip around you even more.

“… i just found it.” You mutter, mostly to yourself. Your head hanging too low to avoid his eyes.

“Could've just asked me, no?” He clicks his tongue, almost in disappointment.

“i have it on me because—”

“because you use it for the good, right? Because you're the hero?” Your voice is shaky when you ask, the gun in your hand shaking with you, and you're afraid to drop it.

“hero?” Wriothesley repeats, shaking you gently awake and you gasp harshly, taking in big breaths, your boyfriend immediately trying to soothe you.

it was a dream.

“you were mumbling something about a hero in your sleep. Are you okay?” He asks in concern, brushing a strand off your face. You were sweating too much for your liking.

“when did i get here?” You look around, taking your palms to rub the sleepiness off. “Right when you got off work. You slept on the bed without changing your clothes.”

Oh… so you never checked his clothes. Deciding to just sleep instead.

Your head turns back to the wardrobe, staring at it intently. Could the jacket be in the same arrangement as you found it in your dream? Or will the gun also be there?

“you're going to poke a hole through it if you keep staring.” He stifles a laugh, and you couldn't help but try to smile as well. “Drink up. Slow sips.” He offers you a glass of water, and you hold the glass firmly in your hand.

“so… what was your dream about? Even this hero appears in your dreams? Can't say I'm not jealous.”

“You'll have grey hairs too early from overthinking.” You tease, sitting upright in bed, “oh no, you already do, old man.” you frown, tracing the grey strands along with his black hair. He watches in amusement.

Wriothesley lets out a deep sigh, “give your old man a break. They're a badge of wisdom and experience,” he rests his head on your lap, nuzzling close as you massage his scalp.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Breaking news: the ‘’lola” flower shop sets on fire just three hours ago. Our dear hero saves the day yet again, protecting the old lady just in time before her shop explodes. The cause of the fire is still unknown…”

Destruction out of nowhere again. Accidents out of nowhere again.

The voice of the newscaster on the television fades away in this little diner you're in. You drive your attention away from it, instead focusing now on the Polaroid pictures laid out infront of you.

The hero always wore a mask to cover his identity, obviously. But even after watching the countless of interviews he had, the deep tone slightly matches Wriothesley’s voice, or maybe he's changing his tone on purpose. You can see it by zooming in on the video, how he's catching his breath everytime he speaks when he's just sitting down.

Asthma? Nah.

You tap your fingers impatiently on the table, this is not helping at all, and the slightest itch in your brain worsens as the time goes by.

You think about giving up on this, but the possibility of finding the answer on how or why did all of this happen is probably closer to you than you think.

“Bad guys never end with their schemes. Bunch of attention seekers.” The hero speaks on the television, and you hum curiously as the hero salutes the camera playfully before disappearing from the crowd.

Is it possible that there are multiple heros? Working all together in some basement and taking turns to go out and do a better job than the police?

Possibly, and you write down your new theories down on your little notepad.

You check your phone next, Wriothesley still hasn't answered you back from your most recent text to him.

It's nothing to worry about, but the thought that he's busy saving the city is gnawing at you.

Batman?

You shake your head again, gathering your things to stand up from your seat. You should be blunt asking him about it tonight.

It's cold. Colder than usual. Was the air conditioning on? No. But the windows are sure wide open. You look around the living room before closing the windows and curtains from the outside world, as you draw the curtains, the outside world becomes obscured, leaving the room in a soft semi-darkness.

“Wriothesley, honey?” You call out softly, peeking through the bathroom, not there. The bedroom? Nope.

That leaves the kitchen, you slowly peek your head in he kitchen, and sure enough, he was there.

Wriothesley was rubbing his face in exhaustion while mumbling words under his breath that you can't quite hear. Having one singular glass of some drink in his hand.

“hero this.. hero that..” you finally listen to his mumbles, which makes you furrow your eyebrows together.

"Wrio...?" You call out softly, flipping the switch to turn on the light. His sharp eyes immediately dart up to look at you, and you can't help but shiver under his intense stare. You let out a small gasp of surprise as he suddenly stands up, the glass in his hand slipping from his grip and shattering on the ground along with its contents.

Taken aback by his sudden movement, you instinctively take a step back as he approaches you. But before you can even register what's happening, he crashes his lips against yours in a hasty, rushed kiss. Caught off guard, you cling tightly to him, desperately seeking support to prevent yourself from toppling over.

“You love me,” Wriothesley's voice breaks through the heated kiss, his words coming out in a low, guttural groan. He grips the back of your thighs, hoisting you up against the wall and wrapping your legs around his waist. “right?” His voice holds a hint of vulnerability and desperation, as if seeking reassurance and affirmation of your feelings for him.

And when you don't answer him right away, he takes your lower lip between his teeth, nipping at it gently, “answer me.” He almost growls.

“love, what are you taking about? Are you drunk?” You ask breathlessly in concern, your lips feeling swollen.

His jaw clenches, “Why can't you say it?” he inhales your perfume, your scent filling him that it makes him groan, his mouth lavishing your neck and collarbone, leaving kisses and littering marks then soothing the area with his tongue that it makes your pant softly, pressing your face into his hair while your fingers weaving through his black-greyish strands.

“i love you,” you utter quietly, and it suddenly makes him start grinding his hardened length against you. “I'm sorry in advance, sweetheart.”

One minute you're confused about his words, and then the next he's pounding so hard into you like there was no tomorrow.

Strings of “don't leave me,” and “i love you’s,” are echoed in the air. Wriothesley's mouth moves against yours with a sense of urgency and haste, his tongue gliding and tangling with yours in a fervent dance. The bed creaks so loud underneath you that you think it might break anytime, the embarrassment of the headboard banging against the wall immediately gone once he hits your sweet spot rapidly.

Poor neighbors

"Wrio... Wriothesley?” you slowly flutter your eyes open, still in the hazy realm between sleep and wakefulness. The sunlight streams through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room, and you blink a few times as you take in your surroundings. A quiet sense of contentment washes over you as you remember the events of the night before, the memories of Wriothesley's body against yours and his lips on yours still fresh in your mind.

You prop yourself up using your elbows, only to look down at the sight of your sleeping lover with his head pressed up on your chest. You collapse back on the bed with a tired sigh.

You still couldn't understand the reasoning behind his.. desperate actions last night. He seemed so pent up and stressed, you'll forgive him this time.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• It's the day where you're covering for your colleague, being the cameraman for tonight's news. Yes, tonight.

Wriothesley would kill you if he knew you were working so late at night, but only because he cares about your safety. Good thing he's out of the city for a day.

Or he claims to be out of the city for some important work.

You press the button on your video camera, adjusting the lens to focus on the newscaster standing in front of the camera, holding the microphone with a serious expression. The news van is parked in front of a desolate, run-down neighborhood known for its high crime rate and dangerous reputation. The newscaster speaks into the camera, her eyes boring into the lens as she reports on the neighborhood.

“We are now standing in the heart of one of the most dangerous areas in the city. This neighborhood is notorious for its high crime rate and volatile atmosphere.”

Your senses are heightened at this rate and you really try to focus but the moment you hear the faint crunch of leaves, you lose composure just a bit.

Okay you're a bit scared, but as long as your workmates are he—

a group of armed gang members suddenly appear from the alleyways between the buildings, surrounding the news van and the camera crew. The newscaster, taken off guard, gasps and steps back.

The gang members brandish their weapons, circling the news crew menacingly. One of them shouts at the newscaster, waving his gun in the air. “Hold it right there, pretty lady. This is our turf! You ain’t gonna be broadcasting nothing about us!”

You're about to shit your pants for real this time.

“Drop your cameras and get outta here, or things are gonna get real ugly real fast,” he growls, and one of them points the gun right on your camera.

“I'm talkin’ to you too.”

Yeah, you're not going to fight anyone and act all big. You simply drop the camera on the ground to raise your hands in the air.

As the gang members close in on the news crew, the atmosphere is suddenly shattered by the sound of footsteps pounding against the pavement. Everyone turns to see a tall, muscular figure approaching from the distance.

It's the hero.

You watch in awe as the hero strides towards the group of armed gang members, his movements fluid and precise. With a swift swing of his fist, he lands a powerful punch on the leader's face, sending him stumbling backwards. The other gang members are taken aback by his sudden appearance and the display of force, their eyes widening in surprise and fear. They exchange nervous looks, realizing they're facing a much stronger opponent than they anticipated.

“Hey, let's go!” Your workmate calls for your name. Her hand waving at you so you could all retreat back to the van.

And before you could follow, the van explodes.

The sudden explosion catches you off guard, jolting you out of your stupor. Shouting in surprise, you recoil from the loud blast, ducking instinctively as debris and fragments fly through the air. Your colleague, sitting next to you in the van, lets out a terrified yell as the force of the explosion propels the driver backward. The van shudders and lurches from the impact, the windows shattering and various objects sent flying.

“in the building! Let's go!” All three of you dash to protect yourselves inside this tall company building.

“I will call the police,”

“but the hero is here!” the driver of the van speaks, almost yelling in frustration.

“the hero is also a human. Just a strong one. We can't rely on him—” but before you could continue, you all cover your ears once you hear gunshots come from outside.

Ohmygosh. It’s—it could possibly be Wriothesley who's getting hurt right now. What are even the chances?!

“Fine! Just call the fucking police!” The driver gives up, leaning back against the wall while breathing heavily.

You want to go out there. You want to see. It's your chance to see who the hero is if he got hurt. Just to get the crumbs of news in exchange for your life apparently.

When it grows quiet, you peek outside, “it's clear, I'll take a look—”

“No, you're not.” her hand is firm as she grips your wrist, “just let them go.” He, on the other hand, scowls.

“Be safe!” She shouts at you as you make a run for it, running down the alleyway while looking left and right.

Someone's in the area.

You dart behind the nearby dumpster, heart pounding in your chest as adrenaline courses through your veins. Hiding as best you can, you press yourself against the rough metal, trying to keep your breathing steady and quiet. Peeking out from behind the dumpster, you cautiously scan the surroundings, trying to catch a glimpse of someone nearby. For now, the area seems to be clear, but you can't shake the feeling that someone is in the vicinity, lurking in the shadows.

“Where ya at, lil’ birdie?” You cover your mouth when you hear someone speak, it sends a chill down your spine and you can feel your heart drumming in your ears.

Your sharp eyes turn to your side to find a metal rod, you don't hesitate to grab it before smacking the shit out of the guy.

No that did not happen, but you wish it did.

Instead, the minute you see his feet pass the dumpster, with a swift movement, you grab hold of both of his ankles, using your weight and leverage to pull them out from under him. He lets out a pained shriek as he suddenly loses his balance and topples to the ground, his body hitting the pavement with a thud.

Alright, you can be cool sometimes.

Stepping at his hands to hear him cry again, you run put of the place, making turns and finally spotting the hero sitting down against the building wall while panting, seemingly exhausted.

“…” you take slow steps once you approach him, looking down at him with your eyes already glistening.

This is it, you just have to confirm it.

Your hand pulls at his mask, “Wrio—”

Huh?

This…

Is not

Wriothesley.

“Ah, what the fuck?” He grunts, the blonde grabbing the mask from your hands and you take a step back.

“Elias?!” You yell out in confusion, it's your colleague that you're covering for supposedly today's shoot.

“You're the hero??”

“not a word. Scram, you freak.” he mutters, eyes diverting away from you and staring up at the roof. “The roof,” he whispers to himself, making the effort to stand back at his knees.

Is this bitch serious? He's the last person you expected to be the hero. With his stupidly arrogant and lax attitude.

You give him an almost death stare, studying his features again before making your way out.

You need to check the other people that were with you.

But when you arrive back at the building, they were gone.

Did the police arrive? You don't hear any sirens. Could they have possibly went up on one of the floors to hide?

You find yourself in the elevator next, watching as the doors close with your hands clasped infront of you nervously.

You take deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heart and steady your nerves. Hey, at least there's nice elevator music.

As the elevator comes to a halt, the doors slide open with a soft ding, revealing the rooftop and the figure standing in the open space.

There's a figure standing at the edge of the building, you can see the person's silhouette clearly now, but you can't make out their features just yet.

Your steps are hesitant as you slowly approach the figure, the wind gently billowing around you. The city lights twinkle below, but your attention is entirely focused on the person standing at the edge of the roof. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever may come, and call out tentatively, "Hello?”

Your voice rings in the air, that the person's shoulders tense.

When they look around, you're met by the same blue eyes you've known for three years now.

“Wriothesley.” You whisper, in shock, breathlessly under your breath.

He's holding.. a gun? The same gun you remember seeing in your dream.

Something in his mind snaps when you turn around, in fear. Like it was a mistake to ever see him in the first place.

Wriothesley doesn’t even give himself time to think before his body suddenly reacts, suddenly reaching out and circling his hand around your wrist to forcibly tug you back.

He yanks hard enough that you lose your balance and fall against him, his other arm coming up to wrap around your shoulders, preventing you from going anywhere.

“W-wrio—”

“think it's time we talk, sunshine.” He speak into your ear.

When you try to move the slightest from his hold, he grips you around him tighter. You figure it's best to stay still for now.

“what? Are you going to kidnap me now?” You manage to chuckle out, nervously though, your voice coming out more shaky than you intended to.

“Is that going to satisfy your little fantasy? What, I should play into it and shove you into a corner, keep you under my thumb until you’re begging me to set you free? Or no… you want to be saved by the hero.”

"You know you're not helping with your case, right? You really sound like the bad guy now.”

You’ve definitely found his breaking point because that comment makes him snap.

Wriothesley suddenly whirls you around so you’re facing him before he’s pinning you against the nearest wall, his body practically covering your own.

“Well…” He whisper, raising an eyebrow calmly in the way you look being at his mercy. “Aren’t I?”

Your jaw practically hangs at his words. Is he... Playing the bad guy now?

Or was he really… not the opposite of the hero?

He sees the shiver you try so hard to suppress and smirks at that, clearly satisfied with your reaction, “What’s wrong, sunshine? Finally realize that the man you’ve been dating isn’t the hero you've obsessing over?” He chuckles.

“i… i knew it—”

“You didn’t,” he says, his tone suddenly becoming cool and firm.

Wriothesley leans forward, pressing into you so that you’re smashed between him and the wall. His hand suddenly comes up, cupping your jaw so that he tilts your chin up to look directly into his eyes.

“If you’d known, you’d never have come within twenty feet of me. You’d never have been alone with me or spent a single night in our bed.”

He's right. And you hate it. You feel betrayed, lied to, even.

It makes you rethink your life choices.

You've gotten too comfortable with him that you didn't even think about him being the villian. You've gotten too close while you were being a complete idiot.

“you hid it.”

Wriothesley laughs, the sound almost sounding cold, “of course I hid it, sunshine. I wasn’t going to just come strutting in wearing a big, red sign saying ‘look at me, I’m a bad guy!’ was I?”

You clench your fists together, “you tricked me.”

“Tricked? No.” He shakes his head slightly. “I simply… left out key details.”

“Why?”

“ah, there it is.” He steps back, giving you space to breath, to recollect your thoughts.

“why? Because the hero isn't a hero. He started all of this destruction. Why? To get fame, recognition, power, and to be seen, to look like he's doing something when he's not.” He lets out all in one breath, and you lips part again.

“four years ago when the building almost fell on you? He did that, on purpose. then saved you to make it look like he's the one that everyone needs.”

What the hell?

“Wriothesley, we were strangers to each other four years ago. How did you know?” You don't hesitate to step closer to get more answers out of him, but he only stares at you.

You swallow thickly when he draws infront of you once again, “i did this all for you, love. I-i will do everything in my power to stop him, i will kill him so you wouldn't get hurt—”

“Okay, fucker. Out of my way,” Elias, the ’hero’, suddenly barks, and without warning, a gunshot rings out. The bullet pierces through Wriothesley's shoulder, causing him to flinch and stagger backwards.

Your eyes widen in horror as you watch the scene unfold. "Wriothesley!" you cry out, watching as he turns around despite the injury and charges towards Elias.

Despite the pain he must be in, Wriothesley doesn't relent. Ignoring the gunshot wound, he barrels towards Elias with unmatched determination, closing the distance between them.

"Bastard," Wriothesley manages to grit out as he collides with Elias, knocking him off his feet and sending them both crashing to the ground.

You don't hesitate to rush forward, with adrenaline fueling your actions, you move quickly towards them as they roll dangerously close to the edge of the roof.

"Stop!" you shout, your voice filled with desperation. "You'll fall!”

And surely enough, Your two hand clamps down on Wriothesley's, desperately grasping onto anything you can to prevent him from plunging off the edge.

Meanwhile, Elias grips Wriothesley's leg, using his strength to anchor him in place. The three of you hang there, suspended over the city, Wriothesley's body along with Elias’s dangling in the air.

“Sweetheart—”

“shut the fuck up I'm not letting go.” They're both too heavy, the feel of his fingers slipping away from yours increases everytime you try to pull them up.

Elias is purposely pulling Wriothesley's leg down to drop them both, your lips quiver, crying when two of his fingers slip now.

“hey,” his voice is soothing when he calls for you.

“at least… i protected you till the very end, right?” He tries smiling but it only makes the lump in your throat grow.

“i love you.”

“Wriothesley!”

…

“Wriothesley—!” You gasp harshly when you open your eyes so wide, finding that your hand was already reaching out for nothing.

You rest your hand on your chest before leaning back on your seat.

“are you okay?” The newscaster, the friend you made, offers you her handkerchief so you could swipe the sweat off your face.

“i think… continuesly searching about this, is making you stressed.” She points out, looking at the papers and drawings splayed out on your desk.

More theories of the disappearances of the hero and villian. Not their death. Their bodies were never found.

“it's been a year.”

The realization is like a punch to the gut as you bring a sweaty palm to rub at your temples.

“This is not over.” You whisper, more to yourself than to her. “We got no more trouble. No more heroic or bad guy news. The world is back to normal, almost like they never existed huh?”

Never existed.

She then suddenly gasps, which catches you off gaurd, “are engaged??” She eyes at the gem resting on your left ring finger.

The ring you found in one of his jacket pockets when you sorted his things out.

“yeah…” you decide to drawl out before sitting upright on your seat.

“now, if you'll excuse me, i got work to do.”

You're never going to stop searching, to find another answer of the question; 'why?'

Even if it will mean risking your life this time.

[weneeya]

What about clingy gf!? Like the JJK boys with a girl who’s super clingy.

clingy girlfriend w/ jjk men pt.1 / pt.2 m.list | rules

note. thank you for your request! I love the idea of them with a clingy girlfriend omg hope you'll like what I've done! feel free to ask for stuff <3

Gojo Satoru 

clingy himself so never complaining 

always glued to each other  

loves when you’re being clingy first 

Satoru was sitting on the couch of your apartment, waiting for you to get ready. You just left to take a shower but it was taking longer than expected. He didn’t say anything though, giving you all the time you needed to make yourself even prettier than usual. 

Suddenly, he felt arms coming from behind him, putting themselves around his neck. It was you, obviously, and soon your head was resting against his. A slight smile appeared on his lips before he rested his hand on your arm, stroking it softly. 

“You’re okay?” he asked, not moving from an inch. You simply hummed as an answer, eyes closed like you were about to fall asleep. “Needed you,” you said in a low voice which made Satoru chuckled. You were so clingy, sometimes he wondered who was the worst between you and him. Even if you were probably on the same level. He knew he was acting just like this all the time. 

“Come here,” he said, grabbing your hand to make you move from behind the couch to get in front of him. He made you sit on his lap and both of you stayed silent. You were like this all the time, and sometimes people wondered if you weren’t glued to each other. But you didn’t care, because you were both happy with the other being so clingy. 

Geto Suguru

finds it adorable 

thinks you’re so cutest when you ask for attention 

always ready to give it to you

Suguru was currently reading a book, while you were sitting right in front of him in the library. You were sighing, again and again, because of how bored you were. Not only bored, but only missing some attention. You wanted your boyfriend to be taking care of you and not being busy with this stupid book which was apparently way more interesting than you. 

You sighed once again, louder than the previous times, and Suguru raised his eyes from his book to look at you. He slowly raised an eyebrow, and the only answer you gave to him was a pout on your face. A smile appeared as he seemed amused by your behavior. He wasn’t stupid, he knew very well what was the problem here. 

He put his book to the side, now completely focusing on you. You seemed a bit surprised, blinking a few times before you looked away, your face a little warmer than before. 

“What? You have all my attention, isn’t it what you wanted?” he said, and you simply stammer some unintelligible words. He laughed softly and you looked back at him, before he took your hands between his. He guided them to his lips, leaving a kiss on the back of each of your hands. He always loved to give to you the attention you needed. 

Nanami Kento 

doesn’t really mind 

if it makes you happy, then it’s good for him 

never pushing you away

Kento was sitting at his desk, working on some very important papers that couldn’t wait any longer to be taken care of. It had been a few hours since he started to work and you were starting to miss him a bit too much. You knew he didn’t like to be disturbed when he was working, but you also knew that he wouldn’t tell you no either. 

After knocking at the door, and hearing him telling you to enter, you got inside of the office. He was still working, not even looking at you when you arrived next to him. You looked at him, a sad pout on your lips. 

“Kento, please..” you said, not explaining anything more. You knew he was going to understand what you meant. He simply put a bit more space between him and his desk, softly taping his thigh. You couldn’t help but to smile, coming on his lap in a second. 

You rested here, against his chest, sitting on his lap while he was working. You didn’t need more than that, you just wanted to feel his warmth against you and to know that he was really here with you. 

Toji Fushiguro

acts like it’s annoying, always complaining 

secretly loves it

something feels off when you’re acting differently 

You had been pushed away by your boyfriend, Toji, for the third time this week.You were a bit insecure all the time and his behavior towards your clingy habits wasn’t helping at all. He was always complaining when you tried to be close to him, and you were starting to think that he was hating it. So you decided to stop trying for the rest of the week. 

He had been alone in the apartment for a long time, he started to realize it. It was weird, you would never leave him alone for so long usually. Something was feeling off, and he didn’t like that. You were sitting on the couch, reading a book in silence, when he entered the living room. His gaze rested on you, and he came closer with no hesitation. He cleared his throat and you raised your eyes to him. 

“Mh? What’s wrong?” you said, and he raised his eyebrows. He couldn’t believe that you were really acting like it was normal. “Seriously? It’s been almost three hours since I saw you!” he answered, clearly annoyed by the situation. You frowned slightly, putting your book on the side.

 “I thought you didn’t like me being clingy?” he sighed, shaking his head from left to right at your words. “It’s not that. Just, please, don’t stop. It’s weird.” you were a bit surprised by his words. You didn’t expect him to react this way. You tapped the place on the couch next to you, and he sat here. In a second, you were resting between his arms, a smile on your lips. Everything felt way better like this, for both of you. 

Itadori Yuuji

always happy when you’re hugging him or clinging to him 

makes him feel loved 

almost starts to act like you 

Yuuji was talking with Megumi and Inumaki, a smile on his lips as always. Everything seemed to be okay, as they were talking about Yuuji’s improvement, or stuff like that. Until you arrived behind him, giving him a back hug with no hesitation. You missed your boyfriend so much, even if you saw each other the day before. 

When Yuuji felt you hugging him from behind, his smile grew even more, becoming as bright as ever. He rested his hands on your arms as your head peeked from behind his shoulder. “Hi guys,” you said, and they answered you in different fonts. You didn’t want to intervene in the discussion more than that, you just wanted to see your boyfriend because you missed him 

Everyone was used to this : you were always close to Yuuji, no matter what could be happening. You just needed to be close to your boyfriend, feeling him close to you. It was like a vital necessity. And Yuuji was never complaining. He loved having you close, it just made him feel loved like he needed to. In the end, your relationship was working well this way. 

Megumi Fushiguro 

a bit embarrassed because not used to it 

not as affectionate as you but doesn’t love you less 

never complaining because he knows it makes you happy 

You were outside with your boyfriend, Megumi, walking peacefully in the streets. You were talking about what you did during the week while he was silently listening to you, his eyes looking at your face from time to time.

While you were walking, you decided to grab Megumi’s hand in yours, holding it softly without saying anything about it; He looked at you, eyes wide, but didn’t let your hand leave his. He wasn’t the type of boyfriend to be very affectionate, you knew it ; and you were always reassuring him about the fact that it wasn’t a problem because you loved him for what he was. 

He was always taken by surprise when you were being clingy in public with him, even if it was something discreet because you didn’t to make him feel uncomfortable. After calming his comprehension problems, Megumi simply blushed very discreetly, squeezing your hand so slightly but enough for you to feel it. He wasn’t as demonstrative as you, but he loved you just as much as you did with him.

I really love doing hcs like this it's really fun pls do not hesitate to ask for more stuff like this!!

[suiana]

(yandere! infected harem x gn! reader) (HEAVILY inspired by LT may's book 'infected' on wattpad, go read it!!!)

This was exactly like a zombie infection. No, it was worse.

You couldn't even remember how it all started. You were just sitting in class one day, listening to your tutor yap about something boring when all of a sudden you heard people screaming.

The once peaceful world you knew was suddenly turned upside down. Everyone had changed for the worse, or better, if you see it from their perspective.

The infected, that's what people are calling them.

They're insane, crazy, obsessive. The epitome of what people once called toxic. But now, it's becoming the norm. And it's all because of that crazy scientist who developed this infection and made it an airborne virus.

You see this as something like a zombie infection. The people who're infected... they're practically... dead. Well, not really. They turn alive once they see their darlings. Right, darlings. That's what the infected are calling the uninfected.

But anyway, these infected people are practically zombies now. Like, enhanced zombies? Maybe? Their physical abilities are no joke, not to mention how much smarter they've all become. And their emotions... God, they're like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

The worst part is, the love emotion has spiralled out of control. All their passion, love, intrusive thoughts... They've lost all sense of rationality when it comes to their beloved darlings. They've become crazy in love for anyone they've had their eyes on prior to the infection. That's why the infected turn alive when they see their darlings. That's why so many people are going missing. That's why you call this a zombie infection.

Because somehow, someway, if you're uninfected and you get caught by an infected... Chances are, you're likely to turn infected as well. Apparently everyone breathed in the infection virus, some just react to it faster than others, hence the huge outbreak of infecteds. Those who didn't turn yet are apparently stronger in health or simply can't react to the infection.

And that's what brings you to your current situation. As an uninfected with their morality and common sense still in-tact.

It's crazy how the people you once called your friends are acting like monsters for their lovers now. You still can't wrap your head around that fact. But to everyone else who got infected it's nothing but a small step to get their darlings.

You can't stand it.

Why is everyone acting like this is something normal? Just a few weeks ago they'd all call this act immoral and simply insane! And now they're doing the same exact thing they vowed to never do? God you absolutely despise that scientist who created this infection.

The same can't be said for the people who are infected though, especially... your admirers.

Look! There's one right now.

"Darling! Has your infection kicked in yet?"

A cheery voice hums, a cute boy coming into view as he stares at you with the most lovesick eyes you've ever seen. Oh, right, forgot to mention but the infection takes place differently in everyone. Apparently it takes form based on your true personality, or whatever the fuck that means.

Meaning that if you were shy prior to the infection, you'd be more shy with your love. Your true personality would either turn you into a clingy wet kitten desperate for your darling's love or to a crazy homicidal maniac that goes insane if their love is not reciprocated. The infected would still be obsessive and possessive to a certain extent. But the rest of the traits are completely dependent on how you really were before getting infected.

And this guy was your friend who was super fucking clingy before the infection. Turns out he was in love with you and the infection just made things a hundred times worse.

"Um, no-"

"Why not? I can't wait for your affection!"

"Uh-"

"Pipe down shorty. You're making them uncomfortable."

Ah, how could you have forgotten that you not only had one admirer, but another one? Actually, scratch that. You had more than 2. Everyday there would be more and more people confessing their love to you, so much that you began to lose count of how many people held you in their hearts.

But there were 4 prominent people who stood out with their affections. And these 2 were it. Unfortunately.

Because even though one was more clingy and the other was more aloof, they had murdered the other admirers ruthlessly in cold blood. At least the aloof one had the decency to wash off the blood before coming to you. This clingy one came to you, all wide eyed and smiley, thinking you'd hug him when he was drenched in blood.

The fact that laws had been changed too didn't help either. People could now openly commit crimes that were once deemed illegal as long as they were proven to be done in the name of love. How cruel.

"Can you both just leave me alone?"

You grumble, glaring at your two admirers as you hide your face in your hands. You were so fucking tired of it all. Not only were you constantly on edge because you were uninfected and could be killed because you looked at someone a little too long, but you also had to deal with the weight of being so many people's obsessions.

This cursed dystopian world that changed in the blink of an eye... Ah, you had only wished you treasured the sweet days of the old world a little more.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Alfred's Boy Part 5

@donesodone said: I just wanted to know. Is there a continuation of Alfred's Boy in the Works? If not, that's fine. I just love it and want to see it continue.

Bruce didn't realize how quiet Danny indeed was until Wes appeared. He suspected, of course, that no child was removed from their home by a super secret ex-spy if it wasn't a terrible, horrible reason, but still, he was shocked to see the difference.

Alfred's foster son had a weight around him, wearing his sadness like a depressing cloak. It was apparent that Danny was just tired. As if though he hadn't gotten a good night's rest in a long time, even when he was moving about and doing his chores like nothing was amiss.

Bruce will admit that he hadn't realized that Danny was so sad. He had no previous reference to compare him to, so he assumed that the boy was naturally reserved.

If he's honest, he also thought it was impressive how Danny could take anything in stride without so much as a blink.

Finding out his boss was Batman? Another Tuesday.

Tim's photo album of him? Danny appreciates the art behind photography.

Damian burst into his room, covered in bleeding wounds, he just had to have Danny bind? He took lessons from Alfred and appreciated the change to practice.

What he failed to realize was through all those events, Danny had had a lukewarm reaction, as if he had forgotten how to enjoy things.

Now, however, watching him with Wes, he realizes that Danny is naturally bubbly. He smiled wide, talked a lot with his hands, and while the same sass he had seen before was still there, there was more ease in him wielding it.

"Fun Fact: Tango was initially invented to be done between two men, " He hears Wes say, as Bruce walks by the viewing room the two boys were in.

Unable to help himself, Bruce peeks into the room, fighting the urge to lecture Danny. The reason for the lecture is that Danny is currently sitting in Wes's lap, his back to Wes' chest, and both are staring at the book "Useless Information" in Wes' hands.

Not dating his ass.

"So what you're saying is: Tango is gay," Danny affirms, cuddling into the blankets tucked around him, and leaning further into Wes. "The dance of our people."

Wes hums, "If only we could dance."

"Boys." He calls because he really wants to step between them, but Bruce is already doing that against his kids, and he is done being the civilian in Jason's novels. "Would either of you like to go to an opera tonight? I have some box seat tickets a close friend gave me, but I had other plans and didn't want them to go to waste."

Bruce didn't, but a little white lie wouldn't hurt anyone. He could easily buy them before the kids got to the opera house.

Wes's eyes practically sparkled. Bruce knew they would; he heard Wes play some songs from three famous operas the other day while Danny was showering. "Opera with box seats!? I love to go!"

Danny grimaces, clearly not that big of a fan. "Now look what you did, Master Bruce."

"Please, can we go, Danny?" Wes whines, "I'll let you haunt me if we go."

Danny cracks a smile, and Bruce is stunned by its softness. Had he not noticed how empty Danny's smiles have been until now? "Okay, Okay, we can go. But if I fall asleep you can't complain."

"How could anyone fall asleep at the Opra?"

"Easy. It's boring." Steph snips, leaning on the door frame. Bruce hadn't realized she was there. He frowned in her direction, not missing how Wes rolled his eyes.

"Hello, green-eyed monster. How are you this evening?" He said, making Steph eyes narrow. Danny was swinging his head between them, looking confused, but before he could ask, Wes continued, "Want to go with us? Danny needs more people to cuddle, and my visit has an expiration date."

Steph looks taken back, but her whole face breaks into the largest smile Bruce has ever seen on her face in a while when Danny nods, seemingly embarrassed. "It would be nice to have more cuddles. I, ugh, realized I was going too long without them."

Hmm, that's the fifth time the two have mentioned cuddling since yesterday. Bruce knows he ignored Wes's entrance when he got here yesterday, but maybe he should look into it.

If Alfred allowed, of course.

"I'll go get ready!" Steph shouts, racing down the hall. There is a brief pause before a loud "Hey, watch it!" and quick, distant "Sorry, Jason!"

His second oldest stridden into the room, grumbling at the giant front stain on his shirt. A half-empty cup in his hand lets Bruce know Steph bumped into him, making him spill his precious soda.

"Can't get any peace around here," Jason mumbles.

"I can clean that for you, Master Jason." Danny is quick to say, standing up from his seat. Wes lifts his arm to let Danny wiggle out of his grasp, but Jason only shakes his head.

"Nah, it's fine, kid." With one hand, Jason yanks the shirt over his head. Wes drops his book, and Danny's face goes very red. Bruce has a moment of utter horror, but Jason doesn't seem to notice, throwing the ruined shirt over his shoulder. "I was going to shower after some reading anyway. What are you crazy kids up to?"

"O-Oprea," Danny shutters, staring up at Jason with strange emotion in his eyes. Wes looks like a deer caught in headlights beside him.

Jason's face brightens. "No way! I love the opera."

"You do?" We gasped.

"Yeah, though, I'm more of a play guy myself. I love the theater. Once a drama kid always a drama kid." Jason winks and, oh no, Wes looks to be swooning. What's worse, Danny seems to be swooning too.

"Want to come with?" Wes blurts, and Jason considers the invitation carefully before shrugging.

"You know what? Yeah, I love to. Let me go take my shower then get ready. It's at what time?"

"Seven," Bruce answers, stepping in when both boys seem unable to get their tongues to work. Jason nods, and then a wicked smirk grows on his face.

Bruce is instantly weary.

"Let's make this a family event. You guys don't mind, right?" Jason turns back to the boys, shaking their heads like bobble figures.

"The more, the merrier, Master Jason."

"Perfect" Quick as a whip, Jason pulls out his phone and sends a quick message. He leaves the room, but not before calling over his shoulder "I'll meet you in the main doorway at six-thirty."

Bruce's phone buzzes. He pulls it out, reading the message: Hey losers, Danny wants to see the Oprea. The really romantic one. Do any of you want to join us?

He feels a headache coming on. Especially with Wes and Danny looking at each other with shocked open mouths, looking like they were wordlessly expressing how attractive they thought Jason was.

Tim comes sprinting down the hall. Bruce is unsure what he is doing, seeing as his hair is wrapped in a towel, but he is wearing half of a chicken costume as he runs by. "I want to go, I want to go, I want to go! Don't leave without me!"

Wes squints at the open door hallway before laughing that strange, impish laugh of his. "This place is a riot."

Danny pauses before that same soft smile blooms on his face, and Bruce's heart melts. "Yeah, I like Wayne Manor too."

Maybe Danny isn't as happy as before, but maybe one day he will be. Bruce would be content with that.

[redflagshipwriter]

Check Yes (to go on a date with a dead guy) chapter 5 progress

“Hey!” Duke hollered, as soon as Jason put the key in his door. “Welcome back, loser!”

Danny huffed out a laugh. 

“Hey yourself,” Jason called out, holding the door open and making sure Danny got in before he closed it behind them. “Scruffy little brother, this is Danny. Danny, this is Duke.” 

“Wait, what?” Duke skidded into the room on socked feet, eyes wide and mouth grinning in confused delight. “I didn't know you had any friends!” 

“Oh, we're not friends,” Danny reassured him easily, missing Jason's scowl. “Just dating. So there's still no proof that he has friends.” He winked obnoxiously. 

Jason could see the moment Duke shut down and rebooted twice as excited. 

Christ. He quietly cursed to himself and ducked his head to hide the burning in his cheeks as Danny bounced over to hold his hand out. He was never beating the allegations of favoritism after this, Jason sighed. 

Danny was a little sun spot when he chirped, “Nice to meet you, I hear you're the generous distributor of games?”

“Yeah, that request makes sooo much more sense now.” Duke met Danny's hand with a friendly slap and then went in for a hug. Jason cringed at the familiarity- but apparently it was the right move. Danny went for it, backslapping Duke amiably. They separated. Danny thoughtfully held Duke at a distance, hands on his shoulders. 

“I see. So, you're my true opponent?” At Duke's nod, Danny smiled with a few too many teeth. He leaned in to hold intense eye contact. “Gonna kick your ass,” Danny vowed. 

“You can try, old man,” Duke shot back. They separated with grins. “I’ll set up. Jason, your taste is so much better than I thought it would be.”

Jason made an offended noise. “Wait, what?” 

Duke gestured at him with one lazy hand as he unlatched the top of his backpack and started withdrawing games. “I figured you would exclusively date super serious tough types.”

“... I'm tough,” Danny said morosely.

Jason resisted the urge to cackle. He didn't disbelieve it at all! Size wasn't everything. But the uh, the big baby eyes and slumping shoulders really weren't selling the toughness.

Duke shrugged, brutal and unconcerned with the damage he was leaving in his wake. “I was thinking more like a forensic accountant who collects rocks and cage fights literally just for the fitness benefits.” 

Jason took a moment to consider that theoretical accountant. He would date that person. They sounded well rounded. It was a sensible career, a chill hobby, and a reasonably active lifestyle. What was wrong with that? He frowned to himself. What was Duke even implying??

“I would date that accountant,” Danny reluctantly admitted. He seemed disgruntled about it. “I don't cage fight, sorry to disappoint. You can't imagine how much my sister would kill me if I tried.” 

“It's fine,” Jason reassured, making a mental note of a sister and the potential for quantifiable subsequent deaths. “Me either.” 

He could, though. He thought about it for a moment. He'd kick so much ass. That would be a fun way to give Bruce a heart attack. 

Duke snorted, but thankfully said nothing else. Jason didn't want to hear what Duke thought about his odds in cage fighting. Jason knew what was in his heart and that it was fighting potential. 

The game Duke and Danny settled on was a multiplayer racing game. Jason dutifully tried. His car bounced along and beat out all but one of the computer's characters. He endured two rounds before he bowed out and leaned back to watch the other two trash talk each other. 

Honestly, these games were repetitive and pretty boring. Jason zoned out and stretched. He was laying his arm along the back of the couch before he realized that was a bad idea. 

He froze, forearm just barely brushing against the back of Danny's neck. Danny… didn't seem to care. 

Well. Jason let his arm relax. It was only weird if Danny thought it was weird. 

Duke glanced over out of the corner of his eye and gave Jason a cat-faced smirk. Jason raised his hand just enough to show off his favorite finger. 

“Hey, gimme a min?” Duke said. “I need to use the bathroom.”

Liar. Sneaking liar, Jason thought fondly. He was going to try to spy and see what they did when he left the room. 

Danny hit the pause button and let the controller drop to the sofa. “Yeah, go piss girl,” he drawled. 

Jason cocked his head to the side in confusion.

Duke just laughed, so that must have been some kind of reference. He clambered over the back of the sofa and gave Danny's shoulders a light push on his way past. 

Danny went with the motion and bumped into Jason with a giggle. Jason endured it patiently, bemused but enjoying that they were both happy. 

The bathroom door shut behind Duke. 

Danny leaned further into Jason and contorted his neck at a frankly precarious angle to look up at him. “Are you having fun?” He checked. Danny's ear brushed against Jason's chest in a way that he was hyper aware of. There was line of concern between his eyebrows that Jason kinda wanted to smooth away with a thumb.

[reallyromealone]

Wonderland gifts

Leona kingscholar x male reader

Reader is a bunny, fluff, cute

(name) was hiding.

Why?

Well... He had been secretly leaving wonderland courting gifts for Leona and the other man had caught him, judging by the look he wasn't happy with the bunnies secret courting.

He knew Leona wasn't a fan of herbivores like (name) but he couldn't help it! He was so cool and handsome! God was he in over his head? God, he was stupid to think he would want him!

(Name) wanted to cry as he talked himself out of it.

For the past six weeks Leona had been finding strange gifts for him, tiny cakes and nonsense poems and tea flavors that were strange combinations to say the least. "What the..." He lifted a tiny bottle that said "drink me" he wasn't going to but he was going to figure out what the potion was-- well he was getting Ruggie to do it as he couldn't be bothered to do it himself.

"Luck potion?" The small gold potion sparked under the lights in the dorm "super hard to make apparently, whoever made it for you must have taken forever to get the ingredients~" Ruggie said with a sing song voice and Leona looked at the bottle with a bored expression.

Interesting.

Little trinkets and oddities made their way to Leona, the lion had yet to see just whom it was who left him these gifts but each one was more personal than the last, weird gifts but they were nice none the less.

"A pillow?" He mumbled as he looked at the note "an enchanted pillow that is always cool and never lumpy" oddly specific but the admirer took into consideration of his naps instead of chastising him.

Then he saw it.

Heartslabyuls little white rabbit putting a pocket watch on his desk.

"It's you" Leona said passively as he stalked towards the bunny who looked *stressed* to say the least "I-im sorry!" He yelped before bolting, surprisingly fast though Leona should have expected it from a bunny.

He was cute he wouldn't lie.

Now to find the bunny.

(Name) was anxious as he fiddled with his pocket watch, hiding in his burrow as he did his homewor-- well he tried at least, god he felt like such an idiot! Leona looked so annoyed at him!

The entire Heartslabyul dorm noticed the bunnies down mood, having barely left his room to eat-- hell Ace tried luring him out with carrot cake and nothing!

(Name) tried his best to keep his head down but that was hard when the entire savanaclaw dorm was practically hunting you down.

God was Leona really that annoyed?!

"There you are" (name) turned to get pinned against the wall, panic flooding him "courting me only to run off?" Leona teased as he leaned close "are herbaceous little things like yourself always so skittish?"

"I-I apologize... I was to nervous to give them to you face to face..."

"My... How should I punish a herbivore like you, little bunny " Leonas had a cocky grin on his face as he got close enough to his lips nearly touching the poor rabbits who in all this poofed into rabbit form, causing Leona to laugh "you're coming with me little bunny, punishment is napping with me"

[munsonsmixtapes]

I Must Confess

Eddie x shy!bestie!fem!reader

This is a continuation of Do Me a Favor?

summary: you finally tell Eddie that you’re in love with him and he has the exact opposite reaction you’re expecting

cw: hurt/comfort

You and Eddie were snuggled up in his bed just like always, watching the tv that was across the room. Neither of you wanted to admit that almost having sex has affected your friendship, even if it had been for the better. You were practically a couple, but neither of you wanted to be the one to give your relationship that label.

You had shared multiple kisses since then, every once making you fall even more in love with him. Every time you tried to say the words, they wouldn’t come out. It was like they got caught in your throat, like bile that wouldn’t come up. Why couldn’t you say it? You had told him you loved him many times, just not in that context.

The worst he could have said was that he didn’t feel the same way, but at least he would have known. The truth would be out and the ball would be his court and that terrified you. That you would no longer have control of the situation.

But you needed to do it. You couldn’t let your friendship continue without telling him that you were in love with him. It felt like an ache in your chest and you needed to get rid of it. You couldn’t go on any longer with the feeling even though telling Eddie the truth terrified you.

You looked up at him and the words felt so heavy on your tongue. If you were going to get rid of them, you were going to have to do it soon or else you wouldn’t do it at all.

“Eddie?” You got his attention and he looked down at you with his big brown doe eyes.

“What’s up?” He asked, his voice so casual. He was so unaware of what you were about to say and your heart rate picked up, pounding in your chest. Maybe it wasn’t too late to back out. Maybe you could say something else.

“I-” you paused, the words getting caught in your throat.

“You’ve been acting weird all week, honey,” his hands moved up to your shoulders as his eyes bored into yours. “What’s going on?”

“I-I-”

“You what, hon?” Eddie was so patient as he waited for you to get the words out, hating to watch you struggle to speak. Whatever you were going to say had clearly been hard for you to say and he just wanted you to be able to get it out since it had obviously been bothering you.

Maybe you could have made a run for it. That definitely sounded a lot better than admitting you had feelings for him. You had always been a coward and apparently nothing had changed.

“You don’t have to tell me.” He was giving you an out, but you didn’t want to take it. With a little more encouragement, got could tell him. You were convinced.

“No,” you said maybe a bit too harshly. “I need to get this out.” You took a few deep breaths and Eddie was almost convinced that you were going to hyperventilate.

“Whatever it is, honey, you can tell me.” His hands traveled down to yours and he pressed a soft kiss to each one.

“I’m in love with you.” The words came out so quietly that Eddie almost hadn’t heard you. As soon as the words came out of your mouth, he let out a soft laugh. Not exactly the thing you wanted to hear when telling someone that you were in love with him.

“Honey, I know.” Eddie had known pretty well early on. You had been super obvious, after all. With the way you looked at him like he hung the moon and hung onto his every word. He knew when you had stared at his lips when you thought he wasn’t looking.

But the good news was that Eddie had loved to you. He was head over heels, in fact. So down bad for you that he didn’t know what to do with himself sometimes. He had wanted to tell you as soon as figured out they got had feelings for each other, but he felt like the ball should have been in your court. He hated waited for years, but it had been so worth it.

“You know?” He had known and hadn’t told you? That was certainly embarrassing. How long had this gone on and he didn’t tell you?

“Of course I know, baby. I mean, sorry to break it to you, but you’re pretty damn obvious.” He straddled your waist and took your hands in his, intertwining your fingers.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Wish I wasn’t,” he shrugged. “But guess what? I’m in love with you too.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”

“So that means I could be your boyfriend. That is, if you wanted me to.”

“Of course I want you to be my boyfriend.” You rolled your eyes. He was so ridiculous sometimes.

“Good,” he smiled. “Because I want you to be my girlfriend.” He pulled you into a sweet kiss and you both smiled into it, eventually laughing into each other’s mouths, knowing that your friends weren’t going to be surprised in the slightest at your new relationship status. It had just been a long time coming and little did the two of you know that they all had a bet going to see who would confess first.

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Of Ghouls and Drugs

Request: "ok so I'm absolutely obsessed with that coop fic you did where reader helps him when he's injured and it's super domestic and fluffy....could you maybe do something where the roles are reversed and he helps the reader who's injured? maybe she's a little shaken up over it too and he calms her down and it's just very sweet and soft. thank you i adore your writing so much 💖" A/N: First of all, the reception of my Fallout content has been amazing. If you're one of the people who have liked/reblogged/replied/shared/saved/etc, I am eternally grateful to you. Second, thank you once again to the anon who sent this request! It's a bit of a switcharoo from Stuck Like Glue, so if you need some more Cooper content, check that out or take a peek at my Fallout Masterlist! Tags: Fallout, Cooper Howard, Cooper Howard x F!Reader, Cooper Howard x You, Ghoul x Reader WARNINGS: Canon-Typical language and violence Summary: Injured and scared, you can always count on your Cowboy to save the day.

Word Count: 1.7k+

(Gif Credit to @victoryrifle)

You don’t know why you’re hyperventilating. 

Sure, you’d been in countless fights and been scared more times than you can remember. In the Wasteland, if you’re not scared every now and again, you’re dead. But today, cornered in a decrepit open-air shopping mall store while a hoard of feral ghouls claw at the rusty security gate, you’re frozen with fear. 

It was an old clothing store, picked apart by scavengers and ravaged by time. Everything was covered in a thick blanket of dust, from the old checkout counter to the racks of high heels that sit untouched. Unfortunately for you, it hadn’t been a department store you ducked into where there could be some hope of escape. This one was a small boutique-type outlet with one way in and one impassable way out. Furthermore, the roll-down security door currently saving your life had been pure luck on your part. The lever for it was broken off and mounted on the side of the entrance; you’d only found it after the damn thing had torn your upper arm to shreds in your haste to get away. 

And now you’re ducked behind the checkout counter, old patterned men’s tie wrapped tightly around your bicep in a poor excuse of a tourniquet. You were out of ammo, banking on the security gate holding until the ghouls got bored or forgot about you. But there was something about today, about how they’d come charging from the darkness the second Cooper had left to turn in your latest bounty, that terrified you. Feral ghouls were shells of people with no logic or sense left in them, but the attack had felt calculated, planned. You argued with yourself, knowing they had basic instinct and probably just singled you out after another of their kind left.

Then again, maybe you’re conflating your fear of Cooper becoming one of them one day with the looming fear of death. 

Unable to do anything about it, you sit behind the counter and shake. Your breath comes in quick punches, inhales cutting off the exhales and vice versa. The iron smell of your own blood is overwhelming. Despite the tourniquet, warm liquid leaks down your arm and drips into a thick crimson puddle beneath you. Your backpack, full of stimpaks and every chem known to man, is abandoned just outside the gate. The damn thing had been torn away when you’d got caught on the jagged lever, beyond your reach and unable to be saved. 

The ghouls wail and groan while clawing at the gate, the sound of rattling metal echoing around the store’s walls. It’s deafening to the point where you cover your ears, accepting the fact that you’re screwed either way. Blood loss or ghoul attack, it doesn’t matter. Cooper’s long gone towards the last town, and you’re cursing the apparently lackluster job the two of you did making sure your camp was secure. 

“Take a look around.” He’d told you, “Getch’yu some new clothes if you need ‘em.”

Cooper’s voice and kiss goodbye lingers in your thoughts as you hold your hands over your ears. It’s a more pleasant thought than the ghouls outside. Your ghoul always keeps you safe. 

“Darlin’.” 

You almost smile to yourself, probably delusional from blood loss. 

“Hey!”

Your name slipping out of Cooper’s mouth dances across your foggy mind. 

“Goddamn it woman, open your eyes.” 

Something shakes your whole body, and your eyes snap open. 

At first it’s too dark for you to recognize any solid features, and you scramble away. The missing nose and scarred flesh blend together in your mind. You swing your injured arm in blind panic, which has the tourniquet breaking loose and bright arterial blood spattering the floor.

But you hear a voice calling through the haze. Soft and slow, like it’s calling to a wounded animal. “Ay, ay ay. Calm down now, sweetheart.”

You squint through the darkness, fighting dizziness. A familiar silhouette makes itself apparent. 

“Cooper?”

His face, weathered by radiation and pain, is usually twisted into a dramatic scowl. But right now it’s concerned, brow furrowed into worry that you’d never seen. The sounds of ghouls and impending doom have vanished. 

“It’s me, babydoll.” He almost coos at you, reaching out a hand. “C’mere.”

Your emotions rage, and tears burn at your eyes. You reach out a hand and brush the one he’s holding out, but your fingertips barely catch on the seam of his gloves.  You squeeze to make sure he’s real. He wraps strong fingers around your wrist and pulls you in. 

It’s easy to give in as his familiar scent and feel washes over you. Gunpowder and smoke are the main notes, but you catch the leather of his duster and the unavoidable grime provided by the Wasteland. The tears flow easily out the corner of your eyes and drip down your cheek.

“I-I don’t know where they came from.” You clutch at his coat, “Scared the hell out of me.”

Cooper is still moving despite you being all but wrapped around him where he’s knelt down. You feel his hands near your injured arm and instinctively cower. 

“Came from somewhere in that back parking lot, it looks like.” Cooper grits in his usual gruff tone, “Must’a got ‘em goin’ when they heard us. Waited ‘til you were alone.”

You sniffle pathetically into his coat, and it morphs into a strangled cry as he wraps the tie back around your arm. His other hand holds a broken piece of wood that he uses to knot into the fabric and twist. 

“Ah! Fucking hell, Coop!” Your protest is little more than a whine as your arm starts to go numb. 

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He murmurs, tipping his head back so he’s able to look in your eyes. “Don’t want ya to bleed out here.” 

You hold his gaze for a moment. “Why’d you come back?”

He helps you stand, giving you a moment to lean back against the counter and acclimate to the dizziness. Your eyes hold steady on him, watching lashless eyelids blink above gaunt cheeks.

“Vials.” He hooks an arm around your shoulders and the other behind your knees and lifts you up, “I wanted to have enough in case I got caught up.”

The slow cadence of Cooper’s walk almost lulls you into closing your eyes and he trudges silently to the shop’s entrance. You see gore splattered on the walls and floor, headless ghouls lying motionless at his feet. The top handle of your backpack is sticking out of the mess, and Cooper snatches it up. 

He walks for some distance, away from the pile of dispatched ghouls. He doesn’t stop until you come up on a store a ways away, advertising furniture and televisions. It seemed relatively untouched considering an atomic war and a two-hundred year wait. The Ghoul moves near the door, and you hear him clanking about with the lock. It takes a few tries and muttered curses, but Cooper jimmies it enough so he can get a toe nudged in the door. You attempt to help by grabbing the door, but he moves your hand back to his shoulder and pushes in on his own.

Cooper sets you gently on a shockingly clean and padded couch. The Ghoul is quiet, but gets to work cleaning the long gash in your arm. He gives you his inhaler, but there’s a strange canister clicked into the mechanism rather than his vial. You take a huff, and gag at the strong taste. 

“H-Holy Shit.” You cough, and it almost distracts you from the pain of a stimpak being stabbed into your wound. “What is that?”

Cooper unties the tourniquet when he’s satisfied, and sets the stimpak off to the side. “Med-X. Inhalin' it works faster.”

You nod and huff on his inhaler again. The Med-X is potent as all hell, and it feels like it’s shooting straight to your brain. You’re more willing, desperate for more as the effects set in. Cooper settles himself on the cushions beside you, watching carefully and taking away the inhaler before you overdose yourself. 

“I’m sorry for bein’ stupid.” You murmur. “I shoulda ran anywhere but there.”

Cooper leans in, ungloved hand cupping the side of your neck and tilting back. “Never apologize for survivin’, sugar.”

The drugs swirling about in your brain make it hard to form normal sentences. “I wouldn’t have without you… I hurt my arm and lost my cool.”

He tries to talk, but you  shush him.

“I couldn’t quit thinkin’ about those ghouls… about you.” 

Cooper sighs and wraps an arm around your shoulders. He pulls you in close and shushes the soft cries that creep up your throat, fueled by a drug-induced haze. 

“Y’know… There’s always somethin’ that’s gonna make us lose it.” Cooper drums his fingers on your forearms. “No matter how tough we might be.”

You feel his lips in your hair and lean into it. “Guess I gotta trust that, ‘cause you’re pretty tough.”

Unbeknownst to you, your words are already comically slurred. Cooper chuckles into the bird’s nest on your head. 

“Feelin’ that Med-X, honey?” 

You swear to god, it’s gotta be that drawl that’s honey, not the drugs.

“Jus-Just a little.” You slump further into his side, head dropping onto his chest. He uses the tip of his boot to drag a nearby footrest closer and prop his feet up. 

“Good. Time for a nap.” Cooper tilts his hat down over his eyes. 

You hum, unable to argue. A nap sounds rather splendid, especially with the amount of drugs circulating your body. You glance up just as the Ghouls huffs down the rest of the Med-X himself. 

“Coop!” You try to chastise him, but it comes out as more of a laugh. “That’s not safe. You don’t need that right now.”

The Ghoul grumbles something that sure sounds like ‘goody two-shoes’, but reigns in the hostility, 

“Sure I do.” His hand rubs up and down your arm before finding its way to your waist. “I’m an old fuckin’ man. Joint pain.”

“Joint pain, schmoint pain.” You mock, eyes falling shut and staying that way. “Fuckin’ old man.”

Cooper actually chuffs at your remark and ducks to press a kiss to your forehead. It’s unexpected and sweet to feel such affection from him, and combines with the euphoric feeling of opioids pulsing through your brain.

“Go to bed, darlin’. Before I knock you out myself.”

thanks for reading, much love ❤

Read More: Fallout Masterlist

[embarrasingmf]

₊˚ෆ | moving up | S.B

SUMMARY: After you helped him learn how to use a mobile phone, Ben comes to you a few days later so he can learn how to use a laptop.

WORD COUNT: 818.

WARNINGS: not proofread, little bit of swearing, maybe OOC Ben???, use of Y/N (only once).

A/N: a few people suggested I make this a series where reader teaches Ben how to use various pieces of modern technology and I LOVED that idea so here I am with my first series<3. also literally could not come up with a title so I js decided on some basic one…

part one! | part three!

Ever since you forced helped Ben work a mobile phone, you realized he started being a little nicer to you.

He didn’t call you names as often and he didn’t yell at you whenever you didn’t refer to him as his super name.

You didn’t ask him about it since you thought that if you did, he’d go back to his bitchy self.

—————————————————————————

Butcher and the others had just left for yet another mission that Butcher didn’t let you go on.

Apparently, he had also noticed how Ben seemed to be a little nicer to you compared to the rest of The Boys.

You didn’t necessarily mind not going on mission and risking injuries, per say, but it got a little boring constantly being told to stay back and watch Ben to make sure he doesn’t blow something up.

Right now, you were sitting at a random desk that was placed in the makeshift hideout, just minding your own business.

Well, you were minding your own business until you heard Ben’s booming voice speak up as he approached you.

“Hey, Y/N.” You raised your head and looked in his direction.

The first thing you noticed was the laptop tucked firmly under his arm. You raised an eyebrow, wondering whose it was since Ben obviously didn’t know how to work a laptop.

“Whose laptop is that, Ben?” You questioned skeptically.

“It’s Hughie’s.” Ben said smugly, throwing a thumb over his shoulder and gesturing to the now empty desk that once had Hughie’s laptop on it before he left.

“Seriously, Ben—“ Before you could protest further, Ben grabbed a chair and placed it next to yours, putting the laptop between you.

“Teach me how to use this thing.” Ben said in a slightly demanding tone.

You rolled your eyes and opened it, noting how Hughie surprisingly didn’t use a password in his laptop.

“Okay, well..” You sighed and looked over at Ben, pointing at the smooth squared area below the keyboard that you were dragging your finger on.

“This is how you drag the cursor. You can also plug in a mouse instead of using that.” Ben just stared at you, his forehead creased.

“A mouse? Why the fuck would you plug in a mouse to a laptop?”

You shook your head, shoulders slumping a bit.

“Not an actual mouse. Like a, uh…” You found yourself stumped on how to explain so you turned back to the laptop and opened the web browser.

“This is the web browser, there’s multiple of these but it looks like Hughie just uses Google. This is where you look stuff up.”

You quickly typed in the word laptop mouse and then turned the screen towards him.

“This is what I meant by mouse. It’s basically a different way to move the cursor.”

Ben nodded before looking at you again. “What’s a cursor?”

You pointed to the small white arrow that was in the middle of the screen. “That’s the cursor.”

“Oh, okay.” Ben moved the laptop closer to him and started snooping through Hughie’s apps and messages.

“Ben-“ You frowned, gently taking the laptop away from him. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Ben scoffed and mumbled something close to “party pooper” under his breath before he snatched the laptop back.

“I jus’ wanna do something real quick.” He mused, going to Hughie’s messages and scrolling until he found Butcher’s contact.

“What are you doing?” Ben held up a finger to silence you before he started typing something.

You shook your head in disappointment as you read what Ben was trying to send to Butcher.

‘I hate you, you stupid British fuck’

After clicking the send button, Ben laughed boisterously, leaning back in his chair.

“Oh, I can’t wait to see Butcher’s reaction to that message.”

“He’ll probably know it’s you.” You butt in, arms crossed across your chest like an angry parent.

Ben let out a defiant huff. “No he won’t, he’ll totally think Hughie sent it and then chew him a new one.”

—————————————————————————

Eventually, when everyone got back after you taught Ben how to maneuver through a laptop some more, Butcher saw the text and showed it to Hughie.

You sat back with Ben and watched as the color drained from Hughie’s face in a horrific expression.

“I didn’t send that!” He started defending himself immediately, making various points on how the time didn’t match up and how he would never say that to Butcher.

Butcher chuckled before turning to you and Ben, you didn’t hesitate to rat Ben out.

“It was his idea. I was just showing him how to work a laptop.” Ben shot you a glare as you were glad looks couldn’t kill because you’d definitely be dead meat right now.

It was safe to say that instead of Butcher chewing Hughie a new one, it was Ben on the receiving side of Butcher’s scolding.

—————————————————————————

reblogs n feedback r appreciated! <3

[hana-no-seiiki]

This is generally such a stupid ask but I feel like it would be.. Chaotic? At the very least amusing

Anyways

Batfam x Nicole from Class of 09! Reader

Do what you want (etc make it romantic or platonic, doesn't matter)

Just the batfam (yandere ofc) dealing with a chick who loves to ruin lives for her amusement and sometimes for revenge

Istg she'll just bully them at any chance she gets

~ 🕒

I just binged watched Class of ‘09 and all its endings/choices for you non. I don’t think I can fully depict how brash wittiness of Nicole is but here I go! (I am so traumatized) Didn’t know that’s where “No I’m flirting with you flash me a tiddy bitch” came from no wonder Nicole sounded so familiar.

btw if people are interested in watching class of ‘09 just be warned it’s basically a VN version of Degrees of Lewdity but the mc is actually a minor (without the sex/r*pe mechanic though) and it depicts a lot of just… pedophilia, necrophilia, assault, su*c*de, school shootings, racism??, BE WARNED.

The following content above ^ might be mentioned in this fic but in passing. MASSIVE DDDNE WARNING.

I don���t think I’m comfortable writing stepcest/incest in this blog so despite how perfect it’ll be to make Bruce your step father considering Nicole’s mom has divorced like a hundred times…maybe ask me in @yoru-no-seiiki and I’ll be down for it.

THIS IS ADMITTEDLY TIM + DAMIAN CENTRIC

“Do you even care? Do the results of your actions mean anything to you?”

“Yeah when they affect me, sure.”

You were a bitch. There was no denying that. But you were a pretty one. One many would grovel to be under.

You were used to this, ever since you reached a certain age people just looked at you different, acted in a way that… made you think they were boring, utter losers.

One of those losers was Tim’s friend.

Like all the stupid, horny men in your life, you hung out with him once and he spilled everything there was that you could share.

To the entire campus, the internet, even the news.

And because you were pretty, you got off scot-free. Those morons didn’t even check to see what you’ve been doing the past decade.

Except Tim. Timothy Drake. You only knew that his dad was super rich, and as much as it was tempting to sink your teeth into him and get a load of that daddy’s money, you knew better.

He apparently didn’t.

You see there was one thing every batfam member couldn’t resist. Well, two things. The first was saving people.

The second? Fixing them.

When Tim first approached you he was confused.

You were quite the popular figure in Uni. He heard the rumors. He fully expected to be cussed out to hell and back.

But you were… nice. Agreeable at most really. Brash was an understatement. But you were witty. Your comebacks were swift and deadly.

The more he studied stalked you the more he realized that the two of you were the same.

Two bright people stuck with dull idiots.

And Tim? Tim interested you enough for you to not to completely drop him after the first week. That and most of your bullying probably wouldn’t bode well towards the son of a billionaire.

He was smart, even more so than that nerd friend of his that you destroyed the life of. But more importantly he actually had some tact, and was surprisingly packed underneath all those baggy clothes.

Tim had to admit he was kind of forgetting his entire purpose of ‘fixing’ you.

Until you manipulated yet another guy into jumping off a school building for you. Thankfully he survived because Red Robin happened to be there to apprehend him but still!

And what’s worse, you met up with him afterwards talking about how that Red Robin ruined all your plans of crippling a r*pist.

Wait, a r*pist?

Tim looks through your past victims once more. Admitted he only did a surface level job of studying them in comparison to his PhD level knowledge on everything about you specifically.

And…you were right. Every guy you’ve harassed was being pushy with you in the first place, if not people with authority a decade older.

Fuck.

Well now he had no excuse. He had to make you his.

Meanwhile…

“Ugh, Damian. Can’t you tell your brother to like, fuck off or something? I can feel my social standing totally plummet every second he’s around. How do you handle being related to him?” You groaned. You weren’t fucking stupid. You knew Tim was stalking and drooling all over you lately. You hated it. He was ruining your chances with your new victims.

“Jeez [Y/N]. And here I thought you were like, into him.” Jessica, your actual crush and best friend, commented as she filed her nails.

You being the emotional stunted adult you were only replied with an (admittedly softer) “Eat a sandpaper cock and die bitch.”

Damian stared at you, the words die before they crawl out of his mouth. His hands clenched underneath the lunch tables.

Guess he had another thing to steal from his brother this time.

[queensunshinee]

His favorite toy- Part 2 || Art Donaldson x reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (p in v sex, oral sex), super toxic relationship.

Word Count: 6.5k

(part 1)

His favorit toy- Part 2:

Two months have passed since the last time Art and I fucked. Although it wouldn’t be fair to call it that, because I don’t fully know what it was. I only know he said he thinks he loves me. Neither of us made the minimal effort to rekindle any kind of relationship. I kept sitting with Janet and Shane, and he stayed in his place next to the friend he invented.

Occasionally, if I focused, I could feel his gaze on the back of my neck, but maybe I was imagining it. Maybe I also imagined his declaration of love, maybe I lost my grip on reality for a moment. Maybe more water needs to flow under this bridge. Maybe Tashi Duncan needs to be his, like he is hers, so I can stop dreaming about him at night. How did I become so dependent on the emotions of a girl I have no desire to exchange a word with? How did I lose someone I’m not sure was ever mine? And more than anything- what made me spend so much time in this endless whining?

A few days after that party, Luke sat next to me in one of the classes we share. He looked so good that if I close my eyes, I can imagine it's Art. A remarkably pathetic thought, but it works. Except he isn’t cruel. He doesn't try to deceive me or lead me to the point he wants me to reach. He’s interested in me and my hobbies, and sometimes he walks me from class to class, but in these two months, he hasn’t made any move beyond placing his hand on my shoulder. Maybe he thinks I have lice. Maybe he thinks I won’t be good enough in bed to risk our boring conversations about the eco-intro professor.

Maggie, the girl I work with, canceled at the last minute, so I ended up alone at the smoothie station and the register. I took comfort in the fact that it's exam season and not too many Stanford students would prefer to stand in line for a smoothie instead of grabbing a spot in the library on a Sunday night. "The usual?" I heard Art’s voice and lifted my gaze from the book I was reading. I blinked at him a few times, as if trying to figure out if I was imagining his smug smile. Maybe it wasn’t smug, maybe that's just how he always smiles when he sees me. Like he knows a secret he’ll never tell me. "I..." I tried to hold onto the reality as I knew it, "I don’t remember," I smiled without showing teeth, half-forced.

"Peach—" he stopped himself in the middle of the stupid nickname. Apparently, he understood from my look that it wasn’t appropriate after two months of radio silence. "Almond milk, banana, pecan, and coconut," he mumbled. "That’s $4.50," he nodded. I wondered if he was surprised, because I’d never asked him to pay before. I’d always used the free smoothie I got during my shift on him. "How a—" he started to speak, and I turned on the blender, seeing out of the corner of my eye that he was smirking and shaking his head. "Fair," he muttered. "Here’s your smoothie. Goodnight," I handed him the cup after a few seconds, with the most forced smile I could muster. He rolled his eyes in response and sat down in one of the empty chairs.

"What do you think you’re doing?" I asked. "Sitting and drinking my smoothie, obviously," he spoke again as if I were two years old. Like I needed him to mediate reality for me because I couldn’t understand it on my own. "Do you see anyone else sitting here?" I asked. "Just because the tables are empty because it’s ten at night and you’re working in a cafeteria-" he began. "This isn’t a cafeteria. It’s the—" "Doesn’t mean I can’t sit at one of the tables and drink my smoothie. Or are there new rules I’m not aware of?" I rolled my eyes in response. Smug dickhead. I was definitely not going to give him a second of my time. I went back to the book I was reading for my philosophy exam, trying to ignore his presence but realizing I was reading the same sentence five times in a row.

"What are you studying?" he asked after a few minutes of silence. "Why are you doing this?" I threw the question back from behind the counter, sighing in frustration. "What am I doing?" The usual smirk was plastered on his face. "Why are you here on a Sunday night, Art?" If I could stomp my foot to express protest, I would. "Because you’re here on a Sunday night." The smirk turned into a smile. I couldn’t tell if it was sincere. I never know if he’s sincere.

"What do you want?" I rolled my eyes and sighed, realizing he wasn’t going to leave. I knew he was stubborn in an almost inspiring way (or nauseating, depending on who you ask) and that he was always at an advantage with me. He always had the last word. All I had left was to let him say it quickly and move on with life. "To ask how you're doing?" he half said, half asked. He sounded hesitant, but I knew he wasn’t. I knew he was as confident as any other day. He knew exactly what he was doing. "Amazing. Anything else?" I found myself crossing my arms under my chest and saw him, without shame, shift his gaze, well… to my chest, raising an eyebrow.

"Arthur!" I felt like I was his aunt as he shook his head, almost playfully. "I missed you, Peaches. Is that so hard to believe?" He chuckled, still completely shameless. "Well, I didn’t." That was the first thing that came to mind, and the face Art made, along with the eye roll, only emphasized how much he didn’t believe me. "Why are you so mad at me?" His voice was amused as he approached the counter with his smoothie, grabbing the book I was reading without asking. "What course is this?" "Philosophy," I snatched it from his hand, and he grabbed mine with the speed of an athlete who works too much with his hands. "Let go," I muttered, not sure if I wanted him to release my hand or release me. But I was scared he'd agree and disappear again, and that was so fucking pathetic. "Never," he replied, keeping his gaze on me and giving my hand a squeeze. "It’s not fair, Art," I hated how my voice sounded. "What’s not fair?" he asked, tracing small circles on my hand the moment he felt me relax the muscle that had been trying to pull away from his touch. "What you're doing right now," I sighed. If he weren’t in front of me, I probably would’ve started crying out of frustration. "What am I doing right now?" The smirk was once again plastered on his face. "Trying to convince me everything's okay between us," I hesitated, and he shook his head from side to side. "Nothing's okay between us, Peaches. I hate it. I actually hate it. I think about you 80% of the day. Every time I want to talk to you, you're either with your friends or with Luke." He wrinkled his nose as he said his name.

"Why do you know his name?" I asked, studying him. "Because I looked him up, and I'm telling you, Peaches, he's fucking weird—" "You're fucking weird," I shot back, and he laughed, trying to move the hair from my face with his free hand. "Well, maybe you like us weird, maybe you've got a type," he tried to joke, making me roll my eyes. "Who said I like you, Donaldson?" I tried to defend myself, and Art wasn’t laughing anymore. He wasn’t smiling either. He just looked at me, not letting me read his expression. His hand, which had been playing with mine, tightened its grip, and his gaze locked onto me as if I was on trial for the words that just came out of my mouth.

"Let’s study for the statistics exam together tomorrow?" He changed the subject, not breaking his intense gaze. "Art—" "Study for the exam. Just that. I won't pass it if you don't help me," he flashed his most charming smile. The one he fakes in seconds. The one he uses for interviews with the Stanford magazine and in photoshoots for the tennis team posters. "Study with Dylan," I suggested, raising an eyebrow, referring to the imaginary friend he chose to sit with instead of me. "You want me to beg?" he asked, poking my shoulder with his finger, causing me to shift slightly but still not letting go of my hand. "Maybe," I teased. "I can. My ego will survive if you study with me for statistics tomorrow." He said it quicker than I expected.

"I have a philosophy exam at eight. Can you do twelve?" I asked. "I can when you can. Where’s the exam? I’ll wait for you," he said. "Meet me at the economics library. There’s a room where you’re allowed to talk if you’re working in groups," I explained my choice. "That’s ridiculous. Let’s study at your place or mine—" "We’ll study at the library, take it or leave it," I stated firmly, even though the temptation to go to his dorm was strong since he never invited me. We always went to mine. "Library it is," he agreed. "What’s your philosophy exam about?" he asked, finally letting go of my hand, which had been holding the book I was studying from. "Aristotle and eudaimonia. What he thinks about happiness," I muttered, opening my notes again. "What does he think about happiness?" Art asked, leaning on the counter. "You wouldn’t get it," I smiled at him, and saw him nod with a somewhat thoughtful look, as if his combative spirit and desire to argue had evaporated the moment I agreed to study statistics with him. "Tomorrow at twelve, Peaches. Don’t break my heart and ditch me," he threw into the air, leaving the booth with the same dramatic flair he had when he entered. . . . I walked into the economics library, which was packed with people. Art was already sitting there, messing with his phone more than with the notes in front of him on the table. He hadn’t noticed I’d entered, giving me the chance to observe him. His blonde curls fell over his eyes in a way that likely bothered him. He was wearing his red tennis outfit (the one I liked the most, I should mention) and looked carefree. He always seemed too relaxed, maybe that’s how it is when everything comes to you with an ease that’s almost disgusting.

"You need a haircut," I muttered the first thing that came to mind as I approached, seeing him look up immediately. "Hey," he said, smiling from ear to ear, "I saved a spot because I knew it’d be crowded," he added. "How long have you been sitting here?" I asked as I took the seat next to him. "Since about ten," he chuckled, probably at himself, "How was the exam?" he asked. "Long. Have you gone over any of the material?" Yesterday, I decided I’d be practical. I’d promised to help him, and honestly, I always understood the material better myself when I explained it to him. And if Art Donaldson could take advantage of my knowledge in statistics, then I could take advantage of the situation too. Not just him. "A little, I pretty much lost track in the middle of the course." Art had taken this course as an elective. I always found it funny because who takes statistics as an extra class when it’s not even required for their degree?

"What, Kevin didn’t let you copy his notes?" I looked at him with a raised eyebrow, and he lightly tapped my shoulder. "You’re mean. Since when are you so mean?" he responded with a humor I couldn’t fully read, unsure if he was joking or if part of him actually thought there was some cruelty in me. Maybe it was the philosophy exam I couldn’t shake off. Obsessive thoughts about happiness and potential. "I’m going to get myself some coffee, want me to bring you something?" I asked, changing the subject. "Sit down, get settled, I’ll get it for you," he nodded toward me and stood up, not giving me a chance to refuse before he disappeared from my sight, leaving me alone.

Art Donaldson will be the end of me. I’m certain of it. "My brain is fried, Donaldson. I can’t look at any more averages," I summed up after two hours of studying. "Yeah? Already gave up?" he asked, amused. "I remind you that I had an exam today! I don’t think I’ve eaten anything other than my own brain," I tried to remember what I’d actually eaten today. "So let’s go eat something," he smiled. His eyes practically sparkled. "Art," I sighed, resting my head on my hand. "What? We can’t go have lunch?" he asked with mock innocence. Speaking to me again like I was a child. Like I didn’t understand what he’d already figured out long ago. "No, of course not," I wanted to smack him on the head as if he were the dumbest person I knew. "I can’t let you stay hungry, Peaches, my grandmother would be mad at me," he quickly replied. Where was your grandmother every time you humiliated me to the core? Every time you made me feel empty and stupid? So stupid. "Your grandmother will survive," I rolled my eyes. "She’s a very sick woman, you don’t know that. I’ll tell her I let you starve and she’ll have a stroke. You won’t be able to live with that on your conscience. You’ll drag us into lives full of guilt—" "Okay, you’re giving me a headache, God," I mumbled, standing up. Art Donaldson’s smug smile returned to his face in an instant.

That’s how I found myself sitting across from him at the fancy cafeteria for athletes, eating nuggets after the woman working there flirted with him and gave me a threatening look. "Don’t hate Rosie, she always gives me extra pie," he said after I pointed out that she looked at me like I was the reason the Beatles broke up. "Because she wants to sleep with you," I rolled my eyes. "So she has a reason to look at you like that. Makes sense," he replied with a chuckle. "Okay, what is this?" I dropped the nugget I was holding and pointed between us as I leaned back in my chair. "What?" he continued eating as if nothing unusual was happening. "What are you doing, Art?" I asked, feeling my leg start to shake out of frustration.

"I’m eating and making sure you’re eating," he replied, taking another bite of his food, as if we were having a completely normal conversation. "We’re not going to fuck again just because you invited me to eat nuggets at the cafeteria, you know that, right?" I blinked at him, trying to signal that he was delusional. "Of course not," he said, leaning back in his chair as well. "I have principles, Donaldson," I continued. "I know," he smiled. "I’m not some girl you found on the street that you can treat however you want, disappear for two months, invite her for nuggets, and she’ll take off her bra just so you can vanish again until the next time you’re horny," my voice rose a bit, despite my effort to keep it calm. I saw his jaw tighten, his expression shifting from amused to cold. "Is that what you think this is?" he asked, and all I could do was shrug.

"It’s not like you’ve given me any reason to think otherwise, Art," I looked at him and felt that if I stayed there much longer, I’d start crying. "I told you that I lo—" he began, but I stood up. "Thanks for lunch, it’s definitely nicer than the regular cafeteria," I forced a smile, and he closed his eyes. "You didn’t eat anything," he replied. If I focused, maybe I could have seen his frustration growing. But I was trying to focus on not crying. Art Donaldson’s ego didn’t deserve to see me cry over him again. "I’m really tired, I need to sleep a bit before my shift," I mumbled. "Will you come to my match tomorrow?" he asked quietly. "Art—" "You don’t have to, but I’m saving you a seat, okay?" he cut off my answer, not wanting to hear a refusal, maybe not believing there was a bone in my body capable of saying no to him. . . . And it’s a little pathetic how I ended up walking onto the tennis court the next day, giving up the last shred of my self-respect. I was surprised to see how many people showed up to these things, especially at the end of exam season and right before the break. The place was packed.

‘You came’ -A- I got his message and tried to look around, searching for where he might be. ‘Down on the court’ -A- I could practically see his smirk in the words. I glanced toward him and shrugged. ‘Front row, saved you a seat next to Patrick’ -A- he added.

‘What the fuck is Patrick?’ -(Y/N)- I replied, not moving toward where he told me to go.

‘A friend. Please sit there.’ -A- He answered shortly. ‘Want to lift my head and know where you are’ -A- And when he says things like that, I almost forget how cruel he can be. So I find myself rolling my eyes and walking toward the seat he saved for me.

"Are you Patrick?" I mumbled, feeling my cheeks flush from the awkward interaction with the guy sitting next to the empty seat. "Depends who’s asking," the curly-haired guy responded, flashing a mischievous half-smile. I can see why they’re friends. Fucking twelve-year-olds in the bodies of twenty-year-olds, how is that even possible?! "Don’t be a dick," we heard from down below, and I turned to see Art approaching us. "Who’s this?" the guy I didn’t know asked, as if I wasn’t standing right there—seriously, rude as hell, but whatever. "Patrick, behave," Art wasn’t joking, not even smiling, scolding him like you’d scold a misbehaving pet. "You came," Art looked me over, grinning from ear to ear. "Don’t let it go to your head, I had some free time," I muttered, sitting down. Art nodded. "Will you stay after the game?" he asked. I think it was the first time Art had to look up to talk to me. "I don’t know, I need to keep studying for statistics," I answered. "Me too," he replied. "We’ll study together," he shrugged, not giving me a chance to respond before he walked off, taking his position. Getting ready to serve.

“Interesting,” the guy next to me said. “What exactly?” I asked, rolling my eyes and still not looking at him. “You, of course,” I could hear him smiling. “What’s so interesting about me?” I kept staring into the air, unsure if I should focus on Art, who still hadn’t started playing, or the phenomenon sitting next to me. Arrogant, just like the blond guy who’s been emotionally torturing me for months. “Well, first of all, I’ve never heard of you. You’re a surprise,” he said as if it was obvious. And it stung a little, even though I knew the chances of Art talking about me were slim to none. “Maybe you’re the problem, Pete,” I muttered, snapping my fingers like I was trying to recall his name. “Patrick,” he corrected, laughing, making me look at him. He had a loud laugh, unapologetic. I knew his name was Patrick, and he knew I knew, but he still found it amusing.

“Maybe you’re the surprise,” I told him. “He doesn’t talk about you either.” I tried to sound unaffected, like everything was fine. The game started, and Art looked distracted. Maybe he always looks like that when he plays tennis- I’ve never watched his games before, he’s never invited me. “You’re supposed to watch the other side too,” Patrick whispered in my ear, causing me to roll my eyes. “Hey, Stats Girl,” I heard the familiar voice of Tashi Duncan just before she sat next to Patrick, cursing the day I decided to trust Art Donaldson and show up at his game. “The one and only,” I muttered with the best smile I could muster, feeling myself blush at the ridiculous nickname she gave me. “How’s he doing?” she asked Patrick. I wondered what their connection was. “He’s good, you know, as usual. Ice.” he replied, and they started talking quietly about the game, about Art, and about the opponent.

All I could think about was how good Art looked. He looked as if everything came to him effortlessly, as if he didn’t need to try for anything—everything just happened. And I knew that wasn’t true, I knew he worked hard, trained, ate properly, invested in his studies, and that he was probably a good grandson and a good friend. He was good to everyone except me. “Are you enjoying the game?” Tashi asked, pulling my gaze away from Art for a moment. “Huh?” I asked, not understanding what she wanted. “The game, are you enjoying it? He’s playing well,” she clarified. “Yeah, he’s really good,” I mumbled. I didn’t know what else to add to make it sound convincing. “Leave her, Tash. She doesn’t know anything about tennis, she’s his cheerleader,” Patrick answered her, snickering. I shot him a murderous look. “Patrick, don’t be rude,” Tashi said, “I’m sorry about him, he doesn’t know how to behave around people,” she turned to me, as if he wasn’t there. “It’s fine,” I replied, feeling my leg start to shake from the frustration. They went back to talking about the game, and I suddenly felt how pathetic it was, showing up to watch him play. To come and see him in his element, when he wasn’t part of my life anymore. When his friend sat next to me, mocking me to my face. “I’ll be right back…” I mumbled, walking toward the exit. I had no intention of coming back. . . . Two hours later, there were chaotic knocks on my door. “You left,” Art walked in without waiting for an invitation the second I opened the door. He looked angry. “I told you I didn’t know if I’d stay, I have an exam tom-” “Bullshit. What’s your deal? Why did you come?” He practically shouted as I closed the door. “You asked me to come,” I mumbled. “I also asked you to stay, but you left in the middle, so what was the point of you coming?” He crossed his arms. I don’t think I’d ever seen him this angry. He’s always calculated and calm. “Did he say something?” he added, asking a question. “What?” I returned, not understanding what he was talking about. “Patrick, did he say something to you? Why did you leave?” He asked again, speaking to me like I was a child. “He didn’t say anything to me. I left because I didn’t understand what I was even watching. I don’t know anything about tennis, Art, and I have an exam to study for,” I tried to justify. “Enough with that exam. I heard you studying for it yesterday, you know the material, we both know you know it.” He sighed. “I didn’t ask you to come to give tennis commentary. I asked you to come because I wanted you in the crowd. I wanted to see you in the crowd,” he continued. I could hear the effort in his voice to keep it together, to not lose control.

“Tashi was in the crowd; that should be enough for you,” I muttered, lifting my gaze to him, seeing that he was already staring at me. We had never talked like this about Tashi. She had always been this figure hovering above us. He talked about her constantly, unrelated to anything. He talked about her like she was a god. He talked about how she played tennis, about her training, how she helped him. He talked about parties he only went to because Tashi wanted to go. But I never responded in a way that would let him understand that I knew. That I wasn’t completely clueless. That I knew he was completely in love with her. That he loved her the way I loved him and that nothing would change that. “Oh, so that’s the problem. You could’ve started with that. It bothered you that Tashi was in the crowd?” He chuckled. He fucking chuckled. “Why did it bother you?” He moved closer to me, and I had no choice but to avert my gaze from his piercing blue eyes, which felt like bullets at that moment. “It didn’t bother m-” “Look at me.” He was close enough to grab my head and turn it back to face him. “I asked you a question,” he added, not letting me escape. And if there’s anyone I didn’t want to talk about, it’s Tashi Duncan.

“Why did you invite me? Why did you want me in the crowd?” “Because I wanted you to see me play,” he answered without blinking, as if it was obvious. As if there wasn’t a single question I could ask him that he wouldn’t have an answer for. “You love Tashi, Art. You lo-” His lips were on mine the second I said it. Again, there was nothing calm or calculated about this kiss. He was trying to prove that he didn’t, that I was wrong. While we both knew I was right. “You can’t say things like that, Peaches. You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he mumbled as he pulled away from me to catch a breath. “It’s okay that you love her. I’ve made peace with it. I just need you to let me move on, Art,” I sighed, trying to catch my breath again. “I don’t fucking love her.” He was angry; I could hear it in his voice. “What do I have to do to make you understand that you’re the only girl for me?” He kissed me again, and I could feel him getting hard from the way he pressed against me, causing me to moan into his mouth. “Yeah? Is this the only way I can get through to you? Is this the only way you believe me?” he asked, running his lips down my neck. "Art," it was half a moan, half a cry. My eyes closed, and as they did, I felt the weight of his hands on my shoulders, pulling me down until I was on my knees in front of him. I unbuttoned his jeans and quickly pulled down his boxers. I felt almost possessed as he sat on the edge of my bed, forcing me to crawl toward him. “There we go. Is this the only way I need to treat you for you to understand your place?” he muttered as I knelt before him again. I felt a light slap on my cheek from his cock, much more humiliating than painful. “I asked you a question,” he continued.

“N-no,” I mumbled. “Even your voice is annoying me right now,” he muttered, and without warning, I felt his cock in my mouth. He didn’t give me a moment to adjust, punishing me for leaving the match, maybe for bringing up Tashi, maybe for everything combined. You could never tell with him. I felt him hitting the back of my throat, and I tried to suppress my gag reflex with little success. Three months since he’d been in my mouth showed signs. “Shhh, you can do better than that,” he half-stroked my hair, half-held me in place by it. Then he pulled me back, leaving a trail of spit and precum. “You’re such a mess,” he chuckled, and again I felt a light slap of his cock against my cheek. I put my lips back where I knew he needed them the most, and this time, there was no gentle stroking of my hair. There was only a hand forcing me to stay in place as he used my mouth however he wanted. “Nothing to say now, huh?” he said, not very coherently, as I began to feel the warm, thick liquid spill into my throat. “Atta girl,” he patted my hair twice before letting me pull back.

I stood up slowly, trying to catch my breath. “Come here,” he mumbled, pointing to his thigh. I can’t refuse Art Donaldson, so I sat on his lap, placing my hands on his neck in an almost embrace, watching him smile. “Why is everything so hard with you?” he muttered, and his lips lazily found my neck. “I just don’t know what you want from me,” I responded, trying to focus on anything other than his lips currently on my collarbone. “I told you I love you,” he mumbled, his eyes locking onto mine. “You don’t mean that,” I shot back.

“Oh yeah?” His smirk spread across his face, and in seconds, he tossed me onto the bed as if I weighed nothing. He was above me. “For now, the one acting like a brat is you,” he said, his presence casting a shadow over me like a predator playing with its prey. “The one who left in the middle of my match is you.” His lips again left trails on my skin. I don’t even know when he took my shirt off. I felt a light bite on my nipple that made me moan. “Fuck, fa- Art,” I mumbled, unable to focus. “The one avoiding interaction with my friends is you.” His hand joined in, starting to torture my other nipple as his kisses moved further down. “I’m not,” I managed to respond, just as he easily removed my panties.

His breaths hovered over my pussy, short and hot, and if I didn’t know Art Donaldson so well, I would’ve thought he was looking up at me with almost a pleading expression. But he was in complete control. A small kiss on my lips, but not where I really needed him, made me shift my hips a little, and he chuckled- a laugh that was almost childlike. “Hey, ask nicely,” he managed to say, and I returned to the position I had before, legs around his head. “Please, Art,” I knew there was no point in arguing; he always got what he wanted in the end. “No problem, baby,” in seconds, his tongue was on my clit, starting slowly with circular motions and picking up speed with every moment. “There you go, you’re almost there,” he muttered, pulling back just before I could come. “What-” I tried to catch my breath again, craving the euphoria only he could give me at that moment. “I want to be inside you,” he answered without waiting for the full question, and in an instant, his cock filled me, making me moan. “Fuck,” I managed to mumble, feeling my eyes roll back. “Hold on a little longer, Peach,” he said, slipping his finger into my mouth like he liked to do, watching my lips close around it. “Now,” he muttered, pushing it deeper into my throat while he thrust into me, feeling me tighten around him like only an orgasm from him could make me do.

He fucked me stupid. There’s no other way to describe what I experienced, and as we both tried to catch our breath, I wondered how long it would take for him to leave this time and what his excuse would be. “Don’t you have practice tomorrow?” I quietly asked, trying to throw him off balance for a moment. “No, but I don’t know anything for the stats exam,” he admitted and chuckled. “Art! I taught you all the material yesterday,” I rolled my eyes. “I can’t concentrate when you’re teaching me.” “Then why did you ask for help?” It was my turn to laugh. “Because you’re the most beautiful when you’re in your element,” he shrugged like it was obvious. Like hearing me talk about statistics would make him fall in love with me. Like it wasn’t what I felt two and a half hours ago when he played tennis, until I almost choked on love.

“When are you going home?” he asked, probably knowing my last exam was in statistics. “I’m not,” I replied casually, and he quickly shifted positions. “Why the hell not?” he asked, and I saw a small wrinkle form between his eyebrows. “It’s no big deal, Donaldson,” I chuckled, “I picked up extra shifts, and I have a paper to work on. Speaking of shifts, I need to get ready for mine.” I added as I checked the time. He watched me as I walked around the room, trying to decide if I smelled too much like sex to push the shower until after work. “Are you coming to the study marathon tomorrow before the exam?” he asked, starting to get dressed too. “Of course,” I looked at him like he was crazy. “Don’t think about skipping it, Art. You need it,” I said, knowing exactly who I was dealing with. “Okay, Mom,” his voice was amused, and I rolled my eyes, looking at him for another moment. We don’t get too many moments like these. Almost domestic. Almost mine.

"Hey, we're good, right?" he suddenly asked, holding my hand and not letting me continue running around the room. "Yeah, Art, everything's fine," I smiled half-heartedly, feeling a bit embarrassed. "Because I don't want another two months like these," he muttered, and I knew it was hard for him to admit. It was hard for him to say that the past two months had been strange, to say the least. Difficult, to be honest. "Me neither." I nodded at him. "When are you flying home?" I asked as we were both already outside the door, after I had locked it. "Four hours after the exam, I’m supposed to be on a flight," he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Wow, two weeks at home, excited?" I asked. "Not that much, mostly glad I get to visit my grandma. She follows my matches with her entire retirement home, it’s a big deal for her." "Ooooh, you've got fans, Donaldson?" I joked. "You know I do," he replied. "Seriously though, why aren’t you going home?" he added. "It’s not that deep, just an opportunity to make some extra money. Plus, my mom and I aren’t in the best place right now," I shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal. "Don’t you miss home?" he asked. "Not like most people probably do," I smiled at him. "I hate it when you smile like that," he said and suddenly stopped. "How?" I asked, looking at him as if he were crazy. "Without teeth. That’s your fake smile," he replied without blinking, as if it were strange that I was even asking. "I didn’t think you noticed," I mumbled. And I really didn’t think there was a possibility that Art Donaldson paid attention to details that, until now, I thought only I noticed about him. "I’ll see you tomorrow at the marathon?" he asked when we reached the point where I was supposed to head to the cafeteria and he to his dorm. "Don’t be late," I ordered, giving his face a small push, watching him chuckle and walk away from me. . . .

The next morning, I woke up with the worst headache I’d ever had in my life. I felt my nose was blocked, and I knew for sure I had a fever, though I had no way to measure it. 'Where are you?' -A-

'Sick, I’ll come for the exam' -(Y/N)-

'What’s wrong with you?' -A- I didn’t respond to that message, preferring to sleep a bit more before waking up for the statistics exam.

I got in the shower, and when I got out, I looked at myself in the mirror, seeing my flushed cheeks as a contrast to my pale face. There was no mistaking it when you looked at me- I wasn’t at my best. The auditorium was partially full when I entered, people chatting among themselves, and I looked around, seeing Art already staring at me before he approached, getting ahead of Janet, who shot me a questioning glance. "Well, you look like shit," he stated, placing his hand on my forehead. "Fuck, Peaches, you’re burning up," he muttered, looking at me with an almost angry expression. "How did you manage to start dying in the minute and a half I left you alone?" he said. "I’m talented, Donaldson. Can you not yell? My head hurts," I mumbled, sitting in the empty seat I found.

The exam went smoothly and ended faster than it began. I physically couldn’t wait for Art to finish, so I texted him, hoping he’d enjoy his time at home, and I went to sleep. Half an hour later, there was a knock at my door, chaotic like the one from the day before. "Hey," he muttered. "You’ll miss your flight," I replied, running a tired hand over my eyes. "I’m not flying," he said quickly. "What?" I asked, not understanding what he was talking about, seeing him take off his shirt and pants, left only in his boxers. "Art, I physically can’t have sex," I chuckled, not understanding what was happening. "We’re going to sleep," he declared, pulling me toward him, leaving me no choice but to get into bed next to him. "Your bed’s worse than mine. Tomorrow we’ll sleep at my dorm," he stated.

"You're going to get sick too" I rolled my eyes, "Why aren’t you going home?" I asked quietly, while his hand traced shapes on my shoulder. "It felt weird going home when you’re sick and staying here," he replied, not ashamed for a second. "Your grandma must be disappointed," I mumbled. "I told her my girlfriend is sick," he said. I wanted so badly to see his face, but I had my back to him. "She must’ve been surprised you have a girlfriend," I said the first thing that came to mind, feeling my heart race. "Not at all, I talk to her about you all the time."

. . .

So here it is. The second part I didn't plan. Hope you like it even tho I wrote half of it while being super sick and didn't check my own grammar at all, so bear with me (a reminder: English is not my first language). Let me know what you think. It's always the best part. Also, I think I'm up for some requests. Let's see what we can come up with. Love you guys