#Normally‚ I want to eat the rich yet for him I still want to do that but in a very different context

[vigilantesyth]

Damian wayne head cannon, bro is either over dressed or underdressed but always in style. The Wayne's tend to just pick a stugle some times as Dick, Jason ans steph and known for being in tight/short/ skimpy fits with loads of accessories and Bruce, Tim, babs, cas and Duke tend to do a...lot because why show up if it's not to show up? They are beautiful humans and they show off. Damian is from a place where everyone dressed over accessorised.

You can not convince me that the RAs don't walk around with gold/silver/broz/metal and gems apart of every fit.and everyone dose it too just they the main blood line is extra about it something about the wight helps training and you can't go around looking homeless if your a ra. So dami comes with his own gems why thank you and gets more 'anonymously'. It's also a good way to get in his good graces or earn is help or silence(this is abused by the family on 'don't tell xxxx').

So some days you see Damian in this 50 layer kimono because he favourite anime character of the week died or in botty shorts and a crop top (Both with mannny accessories) because he just felt like it.

Mind you he is still wearing heavy jewellery so people do try to rob him. But he is Damain, his rep is of a wild but beautiful dog. He dose bite he also has security detail thanks to his mother and grandfather that only do nothing if they themselves send assassin's to harm him.

He knows everyone knows. They are his old servants and nanny's he acts like it too. Alfred likes the extra help and plays card games with them. One of the mannor floors is dedicated to Damains 'guards'.

Witch leads me to another au.

The nanny's and servants help with house work alot so alf have more time with the family and the family gets to know them as well but they know the servants don't need to awnser to them and it's only because Damain likes them it happens. They are loyal af.

One time burce asked Damain why can't he act like kids his age at the time. The only kids outside of his siblings he knew was the rich brats at school.

This gose wrong fast.

As damaian has them disguise themselves in a mall area and plan for a meeting with one of his classmates who talked bad about his mother one day to come fight.

Damaian had an outing with a 'friend' that day conveniently.

So they met at the mall the kid had like 10 guards all buff and some with guns. Damaian smirked, and like a demon who won a prize, he started cackling.

Brat" why ate you laughing your surrounded "

Somebody was recording in the background BTW. There was even a crowd. When the guards surrounded him he grinned and clapped.

His guards sand up some dropping trays and lifting guns, others lifting knives. All looking at the small crowd of 11.

D: "No you are surrounded"

People in the crowd gasp as more jumps from. The 3rd floor to the 2nd floor some hand off wires with more guns by now even some coming out of the crowd with more weponds totalling to almost 300 men and women.

D"now what was it you said about my mother?being a broke, whore?"

He lifted his hands and grined eith a glint in his eyes.

"Everyone around you is an enemy shawn. You best kneel and beg before me for forgiveness before I have them wiped you off the map."

By this time the crowd was growing and it was on the news all asking who the armed people worked for.

Then they turned red in the center from Sniper aims and it becomes national news it's on NBC and BBC how some wayne kid plans to kill a classmate with 100 men and 40 snipers for being disrespectful to his mother talking about how Bruce is letting his kids use his money.

Then a chopper appears because damain is dramatic he came that way and his family *caough * Dick *caough * made it worst.

His grandfather walks out in all his glory, and it becomes known to the world as it is now world news it has the kids' parents showing up even. That Damian is a part of the Al Gulh royal family, and they came out of hiding because of the disrespect they faced in a school. The parent where bowing a grovelling to spare them. Then talia shows up in her crown princess clothes. It makes RA act even bolder because she often refuses to wear clothes he gives her. She apologized for the mess her son and father cause on international news.

The a chopper came over from the Korean royal family asking who disrespected their family.

Damnian becomes international overnight. His mother and grandfather now have Twitter, and so do the very much hidden in the plane sight empire. While the world want to know what land is, they refuse to talk about it.

And Bruce is pissed he scolds him and then some when he reaches home. Damaian said.

"You said 'why don't I act like other kids' I acted like my classmates are you happy now?"

Bruce sinks in defeat and noe has to make up a story as to hoe he and talia met and now has to fit royal meeting into Damains schedule as the korean[ he didn't know ] side of family also wants turns with him and his siblings if they wish to come. Ras is the same and nobody questions damians linage again.

And all racist comments stop in his presents, his slate wiped clean anyone who offended him where either expelled or conveniently disappeared. Gotham acts like it's an every day thing and now news reporters and other people try to dig into his life more than the other Wayne's forming sort of a protection for them because who cares I'd Jason and Tim had a gun fight in the middle of Gotham (paint gun) all of Gotham didn't care because they too also joined into to the mess.

Damain looks actually too tired to care now because too much is on his plate and he can't get work related injuries else take a leave of absence which last time made international news again, he played off the brused lip as he lost a tooth while reading a book and it fell on his face. Had to get check out infount of t.v to confirm it by at least two nations doctors. All 3 of them did and confirmed the sooth got shook out by something falling on his face. [It was jon. Jon fell on his face].

Damian also has to walk around with food testers and his school released his gardeds once to show off and his private touters [smartest people in the world] showed thier certificates from when he was a child of him being thr smartest kid they have ever thought.

It's not the end of it, Damain now basically sits and eats at galas because who has the standing to talk to him, both good and bad because everyone is watching him and he don't have to talk to them.

(I'm just building help:^

I need to stop alright one more

Sick as fuck rn )

Damains clothes become trendy and scrutinised. Because look at this, he is either over dressed or under dressed but never worse dressed and refuses to care about gender or cultural norms. Once, we wore a whole silk gown to a beach, like the after divorce, or just married a rich man type gown with the slit and everything with heavy jewellery, garter belt and that toe chain that ties up to your calves with a parasol.

(In my cannon, he looks more like talia than Bruce)

[respectthepetty]

Be On Cloud's project announcement event is this week, and either way, if KinnPorsche II is or is not announced, I will be unstable.

KimChay were living in their own little bubble, and when that bubble burst, the show ended. Plus, I need whatever this poster was giving me about TimeTay(Tem) to be properly explored

I know Barcode just got accepted into school, so please don't let this be a Tul-level postponement holding up Transplant all over again (good for him, keep that big-brain energy Tul, but I will write that thesis for you if it means I get Transplant sooner).

And if BibleBuild really are doing a spinoff based in the Triage and Manner of Death universe, I don't even know who I will become with such wealth.

Basically, I have never trusted a man with money the way I trust Mile, and it is causing my brain to melt. BOC is already giving Perth Midnight Forest, so I have hope, which is the worst thing to have in situations like this.

*Prayer circle*

[inupibaldspot]

Back off,kid.

Pairing : Gojo Satoru x Reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : (Teen)Gojo is jealous over (kid) Fushiguro having a crush on you.

Fushiguro Megumi always wonders if he made the right choice every time a white-haired sunglass wearing teenager walks into the house.

The tall older boy would grin as his hands form a salute. “You doing good Megumi and Tsumiki?”

He was as useful as the indoor plants. Fushiguro thought.

Gojo wasn’t much good at cooking and neither helped with cleaning, probably because of his rich background—but he did spoil them with lots of food and pocket money but he wouldn’t ever admit that.

As much as Fushiguro would love to throw insults at Gojo, he holds back his tongue each time; Tsumiki would send sharp glare and nag him if he did.

The first friend he brought to visit them was a girl; it was after Gojo went missing for a while and when Tsumiki inquired about it ,he simply said one of his dear friend went cray-cray as his finger twirls at the temple of his head.

The girl had short, brown hair with a distinct smell of cigarette; her name was Shoko Ieiri. She wore an impressed look when she entered the house as she looked over to Gojo. “Heh— The place is pretty neat,Gojo.”

Fushiguro looked to Gojo who placed some groceries on the counter top with a proud smile on his face. “I know right!” Gojo replies.

The young boy frowns. “It’s Tsumiki who keeps the place clean.” Shoko gives Gojo a stare before she cackles.

A week later when Tsumiki was still in school with club activities, another person makes an appearance ,you. He could faintly hear conversations between you and Gojo through the front door on how you’d actually wanted to visit them sooner but was bombarded with mission before it swings open.

The first thing Fushiguro noticed was how Gojo seemed to make you enter first— other times he barges in without a care for Shoko— his hands near your back with a slight space, without touching it. Why was Gojo being nice?

You blink at the dark haired boy. “Fushiguro Megumi, right?” Gojo peers from behind as you smile. “Did you eat?”

“Not yet. Waiting for Tsumiki to get home.” Fushiguro thinks you’re the first person who is kind of decent.

You nod take plastic bag from Gojo’s hands and lift up it, your smile widen. “I’ll make you some good stuff then.”

“I want to eat your cooking too,y/n.” Gojo chirps in only to be ignored. And to your credit, it was actually good. He didn’t remember the last time he had something this good home made.

After that, your visits seemed to increase which Fushiguro Megumi did not mind, in fact he was getting fond of your presence. You helped with food, cleaning which lessened the load on Tsumiki plus you also helped him with his studies.

“You seemed to get it now, Megumi.” Poor kid, blushes a bit hearing your compliment. “Practice this set of questions and I think you’ll do pretty well on your tests.” You smile.

Fushiguro nods as he does as you say, face still heated up. He looks up at you, who was reading a book. Your hair slightly in your face, lips slightly parted with eyes focused. You were extremely beautiful and as much as he wouldn’t admit it , he had a big fat kid crush on you.

“Megumi-chan.” Suddenly he is shoved to the side as a body makes way in between you and him. It was Gojo who sat in between. “Move over~ This seat is mine.”

The boy frowns and so did you, not liking Gojo’s action. “Don’t interrupt the kid, who is studying.” Kid? Ouch…You huff as your move over, despite you complaining you make space for him, focus back on your book.

Fushiguro watched as Gojo leans closer to you, almost resting his head on your neck as he looked over to your book; after a while eyes slowly moved over to you, his expression softens.

Gojo smiles as he tugs a piece of hair behind your hair, to which you don’t react as if it was normal. Thee older man then turns his head to Fushiguro—oops,he got caught staring.

The white haired boy then grins, a condescending one in fact as he mouths out the following words.

‘y/n-is-mine.” Fushiguro huffs. ‘back-off.”

·:*¨༺ Part 2༻¨*:·

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[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: Get Me Out of Here || Rook Hunt

You’re isekai’d into a trashy novel and stuck as a tragic side knight character. All you want is survival, but your boss is Rook Hunt—a poetic, eccentric duke.

Now you’re caught in his chaos and, worse, you kinda don’t mind.

Series Masterlist

You’re a completely normal person. You eat normal meals at normal times, sleep the normal amount of hours (give or take a few, who needs all eight anyway?), and hold down a regular, soul-crushingly normal job. It’s not glamorous, but it pays the bills and lets you indulge in your one true love: reading web novels for five hours straight like some kind of feral literature goblin.

Your current obsession? The Lady’s Tragic Love. It’s the sort of story that you can’t put down—not because it’s good, but because it’s so excruciatingly terrible that it loops back around into comedy. The heroine has all the personality of a wet tissue but somehow manages to ruin everyone’s lives with reckless abandon. It’s almost impressive.

You rub your temples as you skim yet another chapter. “Oh my God, this woman has the moral compass of a black hole,” you mutter.

The plot makes less sense the deeper you go: the heroine starts off as the daughter of a down-on-their-luck noble family. Her father racks up an unholy amount of debt, so she’s forced to marry a viscount who—get this—is actually a nice guy. Like, genuinely kind. He agrees to marry her in name only to protect her from debt collectors, even offering to fund her hobbies.

And what does she do? Poison him. Poison him!

"Okay, maybe she's misunderstood," you think, in the kind of delusional optimism only a web novel enthusiast can muster.

Nope. She poisons him because she "can’t stand looking at his face," which is only mildly unattractive and not the ogre-like monstrosity the text implies. Also, he was literally helping her stay alive.

“Oh, sure, let’s kill the only decent male character in this hellscape. Why not?” you hiss, scrolling furiously.

After committing literal murder, the heroine sets her sights on an archduke, who is tall, handsome, and very much engaged to the so-called villainess. The villainess is stunning, kind, intelligent, and inexplicably hated by everyone because—checks notes—she’s too perfect?

At this point, you're gripping your phone so hard that it’s a miracle it doesn’t snap in half. “Why is the villainess the villain? This should be the heroine’s title! She’s practically speedrunning how to be the worst human being alive!”

But no, the heroine gets rewarded for her nonsense. The archduke doesn’t fall for her (because he has taste), but the crown prince does. The prince, apparently a sucker for chaos, marries her. Instead of being happy with her new title and riches, the heroine spends her days scheming to ruin the villainess’s life because, in her words, “How dare the archduke choose someone that isn’t me?”

You pause and reread that line. Then reread it again.

“WHAT?!” you yell so loudly that your downstairs neighbor bangs on the ceiling.

It’s a spiral of nonsense that drags you through emotional whiplash until you finish the last chapter with a migraine and a full-blown existential crisis. You stare at the screen. "Why...why did I do this to myself?"

You stumble out to your tiny balcony to clear your head, phone still in hand. The cool night air washes over you as you lean on the railing, your brain buzzing with rage and confusion.

“Why does she get a happy ending?” you grumble. “She’s a walking red flag factory! The villainess deserves to be queen, and the prince deserves a lobotomy for his taste in women!”

In your frustration, you kick the balcony railing. Unfortunately, your landlord hasn’t exactly been diligent about repairs. The rusted screws holding it in place give way with a terrifying screech.

“Oh, come on,” you say, deadpan, as the railing collapses beneath you.

You plummet ten stories down, bouncing off an awning like some kind of cartoon character before landing face-first in a suspiciously placed fruit cart.

As darkness creeps in, your final thought is not of regret, nor fear, but of pure, unfiltered pettiness:

“I hope my next life is more exciting… and I never have to read about this heroine again.”

With that, you pass out, blissfully unaware of the absurd fate that awaits you.

You wake up, groggy and disoriented, and immediately ask yourself the first logical question: Why the hell am I alive?

The last thing you remember is gravity betraying you and a suspiciously convenient fruit cart breaking your fall. But when you sit up and look around, it’s very clear you’re not in your crappy apartment anymore. For starters, this place is way too clean, smells faintly of vanilla, and—oh, is that sunlight streaming through those beautiful glass windows? Not the dim, depressing flicker of the streetlight outside your old place?

Something is very wrong.

You scramble out of the bed, which is definitely not your rickety twin-sized monstrosity held together with duct tape and misplaced hope, and start poking around. The furniture is elegant, the carpet is plush, and there’s an oil painting on the wall that practically screams, Welcome to Generic Medieval Europe™!

The realization slams into you with all the subtlety of a freight train: You’re in that garbage web novel.

You pause, frozen, your brain throwing up a million red flags at once. Your knees almost buckle. "Nope. No. Absolutely not. This is some kind of cosmic punishment," you whisper to yourself, clutching your temples.

You creep towards the ornate mirror on the other side of the room, your reflection getting clearer with every step. “Please,” you mutter, “if there’s a single merciful entity out there, don’t let me be the heroine. Or the villainess. Or, God forbid, one of the male leads.”

You finally reach the mirror, squeeze your eyes shut, then crack one open. And there you are: just some random face.

“Oh, thank God,” you exhale, slumping against the wall. You’re not the heroine. You’re not the villainess. You’re not one of the tragic walking disasters that make up the main cast. You're just… some person. A total nobody.

But just as you’re about to bust out your victory dance of mediocrity, something catches your eye. You lean closer, squinting.

Wait.

No.

NO.

You’re that nobody.

You’re the tragic commoner knight who gets blackmailed by the heroine, coerced into doing her dirty work, and ends up assassinating the villainess for her. The same commoner knight who dies in three chapters because the heroine throws them under the bus as soon as the villainess's fiancé finds out what happened.

You stagger back from the mirror like it’s cursed. “Nope. Nope. Absolutely not. I did not reincarnate into this medieval soap opera just to get unalived in the dumbest way possible,” you say, pacing the room like a lunatic.

Your character’s life flashes before your eyes: the abusive father, the crippling family loyalty, the gambling debts. This poor soul had it rough even before getting turned into the heroine’s personal murder minion. And you? You’re not about to pick up that torch.

So you grab some parchment and pen what might be the most passive-aggressive resignation letter of all time.

“To Her Highness, the Crown Princess,

Kindly do your own dirty work from now on. My father can gamble himself into oblivion. I’m out. Good luck with your reign or whatever.”

Satisfied, you sign it with an unnecessarily large flourish, slap it on the desk, and prepare to bounce.

You’re halfway down the hall when you almost walk face-first into him.

Rook Hunt, the walking embodiment of “this guy doesn’t belong in this novel but here he is anyway,” stands there with his golden hair and overly dramatic smile. He’s loud. He’s eccentric. He’s dressed like he’s about to break into a musical number about the beauty of life. Oh, and he’s also the duke whose household you served in as a knight before you quit.

“Mon ami!” he exclaims, throwing his arms wide like you’re long-lost lovers. “You’ve returned to me! What an exquisite twist of fate! Shall we celebrate the beauty of reunion?”

“No,” you say flatly. You attempt to sidestep him, but Rook doesn’t just let things go.

“You cannot leave me again! Do you not wish to resume your role as my loyal knight?”

“Absolutely not,” you snap on instinct, because why on earth would you willingly dive back into this mess? But then it hits you. Wait.

Rook isn’t part of the main plot. He’s not the crown prince, not the archduke, not the villain, and definitely not one of the doomed love interests. He’s just… there. A minor character. A colorful extra who pops up to sprinkle poetic nonsense into the plot and then wanders offstage.

Your brain kicks into overdrive. If you stick with him, you’ll be close enough to the action to keep tabs but far enough to avoid the heroine’s nonsense. Plus, salary. And minor characters like him rarely die!

Your decision solidifies. You plaster on a winning smile and nod. “Actually, on second thought, yeah. Let’s do that.”

“Magnifique!” Rook practically beams as he grabs your arm. “Come, let us bask in the splendor of returning home!”

You follow him, letting his endless stream of poetic babble wash over you. Is this the best plan? Probably not. But it beats getting murdered for a heroine who couldn’t find her moral compass with both hands and a map.

You make it back to the duke’s grand estate—because of course it’s grand. Every aristocrat in this godforsaken novel seems to have a mansion the size of a small country. Rook practically floats through the gates, his dramatic energy causing every passing servant to give him the “not again” look. You follow, still trying to process the reality of your current situation.

After an unnecessarily flowery tour of the place (you’ve been here before in this body, but you let him talk because it’s easier than interrupting), he finally stops in the courtyard. He turns to you, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Now, mon chevalier, reclaim your rightful position as my trusted bodyguard!” he declares, flinging his arms wide as if inviting the heavens to applaud him.

You blink. “…Respectfully, sir, why do you need a bodyguard?”

He pauses, staring at you like you just asked why water is wet. Then, with an infuriatingly serene smile, he says, “Ah, but the shadows are filled with secrets, my dear knight! The beauty of life is in its mysteries, n’est-ce pas?”

You squint at him. “Okay, but that doesn’t answer the question.”

He leans in closer, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Because the wolves, mon ami. The wolves.”

You freeze. “…What wolves?”

Rook straightens up, tilting his head as if contemplating the meaning of the universe. “Ah, they are everywhere and nowhere. In the forests, in the halls, in the hearts of men. Who can say where danger truly lies?”

This man just said a whole lot of words without saying anything.

“Right,” you say slowly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “But you’re, like, ridiculously strong. I’m pretty sure you could take on any wolf—metaphorical or not—by yourself.”

“Ah, mon chevalier,” he says with a wistful sigh, placing a hand on his chest like he’s reciting a Shakespearean soliloquy. “Strength alone cannot protect one from the unexpected, the unseen, the poetry of peril!”

You stare at him, trying to figure out if this is some sort of elaborate prank. But no. This man is completely serious.

“So… wolves. Poetry of peril. Got it,” you mutter, rubbing your temples. “I’ll, uh, just… go patrol or something, I guess.”

Rook claps his hands together, beaming. “Ah, magnifique! I knew you would understand! Truly, you are a gem among knights!”

You slink off, still scratching your head. You’re 90% sure the wolves are a metaphor for absolutely nothing, but who are you to question the logic of a trash novel? At least the pay is good.

You quickly realize this trash novel is trying to trash you right back. It’s like every corner you turn, fate has decided you don’t deserve a peaceful life.

Walking through the garden to calm your nerves? Someone leaps out of the hedges with a dagger. You narrowly dodge, trip over a decorative fountain, and the attacker runs off, cackling.

Trying to enjoy the roses because you’re starting to think, “Hey, if I gotta die, at least let it be aesthetic?” Nope, arrow. Right past your ear.

By the fifth assassination attempt (some guy “accidentally” dropping a potted plant from a balcony), it clicks. The heroine must’ve decided since you’re not doing her dirty work anymore, she needs to eliminate you before you spill the beans. But, unlike her, you have brains.

So, you write a letter.

Dear Villainess and Esteemed Archduke,

I hope this letter finds you well, though considering the general chaos surrounding us, that feels optimistic.

I am writing to inform you of an unfortunate situation involving a certain someone (cough the crown princess cough) who has, shall we say, less-than-noble intentions toward your continued existence.

To clarify: she asked me to assassinate you. I know, shocking. However, as someone who values integrity, personal safety, and not being murdered by shady royalty, I’ve decided to step down from my position as her unwilling assassin.

This does mean she may hire someone else to handle the job, which is unfortunate for you but also none of my business anymore. I’m not sure how you typically handle murder plots, but I suggest taking precautions, like perhaps not smelling your roses or standing under precariously placed flower pots.

Lastly, while I am admittedly a pawn in this chaotic mess, I felt it was only fair to let you know what���s going on. I wish you both a long, unassassinated life.

Warm regards,

Your Local Retired Assassin

P.S. Please don’t kill me. I’m just the messenger.

You thought this letter would buy you peace. Instead, it bought you an invitation.

And by “invitation,” you mean you’ve been dragged into a private meeting with the villainess and the archduke, who are both sitting across from you now, looking like they’re deciding whether to thank you or strangle you.

“So,” the villainess says, her voice like ice. “You’re telling me the crown princess is plotting to kill me?”

“Uh, yes,” you say, your palms sweating. “But, like, not me anymore! I’ve retired. Permanently.”

The archduke raises an eyebrow. “Why would she want to kill us?”

You glance at the villainess. “Uh… because you exist?”

Before the villainess can stab you (she looks ready), the door swings open, and in saunters Rook.

“Ah, my friends!” he says, grinning ear to ear. “How serendipitous that we are all here. I believe I can shed some light on this matter.”

You gape as Rook launches into a detailed explanation of the heroine’s convoluted scheme—exactly what she’s planning, who she’s hiring, and even the color of the dress she’ll wear while gloating about it.

The villainess and the archduke exchange a glance, then rise, thanking Rook for his “invaluable insight” before sweeping out of the room, leaving you and Rook alone.

You turn to him, your jaw still on the floor. “How do you even know all that?”

Rook just winks at you. “Ah, mon chevalier, the shadows have ears, and I am their maestro.”

He struts out, humming a jaunty tune, leaving you sitting there, more confused than ever. At this point, you’re half-convinced Rook is either a genius or just making stuff up as he goes. And honestly? You’re too tired to figure it out.

You’re stationed at the edge of the garden, trying your best to blend into the scenery while the tea party unfolds. Rook, as usual, is the life of the gathering, passionately chatting with Vil and Epel, who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.

You’re in your usual "bodyguard mode," which mostly consists of staring off into the distance and trying not to fall asleep. It’s peaceful—for once—until Epel casually drops a comment loud enough for even you to hear.

"Rook, you finally got them back, huh?"

Your brain screeches to a halt.

Got you back? Back? What does that mean? What is there to get back? Was there something to get back in the first place?

You barely have time to process any of this before Rook, in the most Rook way possible, interrupts with a flurry of poetic nonsense.

“Ah, young Epel, the winds of fortune have indeed graced me with their bounteous song! But let us not dwell on the past, for the present blooms before us like a radiant garden of opportunity!”

You blink. Did… did that mean anything? Epel seems to think it doesn’t, judging by the way he rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath. But you’re too busy processing the odd look on Rook’s face to care.

Because, for the first time ever, Rook looks nervous.

His usual serene confidence is still there, but there’s a hint of something else—a faint pink dusting his cheeks, an almost imperceptible shift in his tone. And why the hell is your heart fluttering at the sight?

You squint at him, trying to decode whatever is happening here. Is he… embarrassed? Flustered? Can Rook even be flustered?

Before you can spiral further into overthinking, you notice Vil’s sharp gaze cutting through the moment like a knife. His violet eyes lock onto yours, and an infuriatingly amused smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

Oh no. He knows.

Vil, of course, pretends like nothing’s happening, smoothly pouring himself another cup of tea and joining the conversation like the consummate aristocrat he is. But every so often, you catch him glancing at you with that same entertained expression, like he’s just discovered a juicy secret.

You try to shake it off, refusing to let yourself be dragged into this nonsense. But Rook’s flushed face lingers in your mind, and every time he smiles at you for the rest of the party, you feel the heat creeping up your own cheeks.

Great. Just great. Whatever this is, it’s going to haunt you for days.

It started with an uproar in the palace—a desperate, urgent call for help sent to Rook, Duke of Hunt.

"The wolves are attacking!"

You were mid-sword practice when the messenger arrived, breathless and frantic. He handed the summons to Rook, who took the parchment with an amused smile.

"Wolves, you say?" he mused, tapping his chin dramatically.

"Yes, my lord!" The messenger practically collapsed from the effort of delivering the message. "They’ve breached the outer gardens, and the prince and heroine request your immediate assistance!"

Rook looked at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Ah, mon chevalier, do you recall what I told you once about wolves?"

You blinked, frowning. "You mean the thing about being surrounded by wolves one day? I thought you were joking."

Rook’s grin widened. "Oh, I never jest about wolves."

You opened your mouth to demand clarification, but Rook waved the parchment dismissively. "Alas, I must decline."

The messenger froze. "W-What? But…you’re the Duke of Hunt! The greatest tracker and marksman in the kingdom! Without you, the palace is doomed!"

Rook leaned forward conspiratorially. "Tell me, mon ami, what makes you think I’d risk life and limb for the likes of the heroine and her precious prince?"

The messenger stammered. "B-But—"

Rook held up a hand, silencing him. "No, no. I simply cannot. My schedule is far too packed. Why, just this morning, I promised my chevalier here that I’d help reorganize their weapons rack." He turned to you with a wink. "Isn’t that right?"

You rolled your eyes but nodded. "Yep. Super busy."

The messenger left, looking utterly defeated. You figured that was the end of it.

It wasn’t.

Over the next two hours, messengers kept arriving, each more desperate than the last. Rook refused them all with increasing flamboyance.

One messenger was sent away with, "Alas, the stars are not in alignment for such a hunt!"

Another was dismissed with, "The winds whisper that this is not my destiny today."

Finally, a personal plea came from the heroine herself. She barged into the estate, dramatically throwing herself at Rook’s feet.

"Oh, noble Duke!" she wailed. "You are the only one who can save us! Please, I beg of you!"

Rook tilted his head, pretending to think it over. Then he glanced at you, his expression suddenly sharp beneath the veneer of cheer.

"And what of my chevalier?" he asked.

The heroine frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You’ve made quite a nuisance of yourself lately," Rook said lightly, though there was an edge to his voice. "Why, only yesterday, you sent someone to ambush them in the gardens, did you not?"

Her face paled.

"I might reconsider," Rook said, his tone taking on a singsong quality, "if you promise to leave them alone from now on."

There was a long, tense pause. The heroine’s expression flickered between rage and fear before she finally forced a smile. "Very well. I promise."

"Splendid!" Rook clapped his hands and stood. "To the hunt, then!"

You stood there in stunned silence as he walked out the door, bow in hand. When he turned back to flash you a grin, you couldn’t help but mutter, "What the hell just happened?"

Rook’s laugh echoed through the halls, and you were left wondering yet again if you’d ever fully understand this ridiculous man.

It’s payday, baby.

You’ve never been more excited to hold a pouch of jingling coins in your life. Your day off couldn’t have come at a better time, and you’ve already decided to treat yourself. No assassination attempts, no cryptic poetry, no Rook yammering about beauty—just you, the market, and sweet, sweet retail therapy.

After wandering for a while, you stumble upon a fruit stall, and your eyes light up. The produce is incredible—vividly colored, juicy, and nothing like the waxy, suspiciously glossy stuff you’d get in your original world. You don’t even know what half these fruits are, but they smell amazing, and you’re buying them all.

As you carry your haul back to the manor, an idea hits you like a freight train. You’ve been craving dessert—specifically, something you can’t get in medieval Europe. Something simple, sweet, and utterly anachronistic.

And that’s how you end up in the kitchen, surrounded by fresh fruit, flour, sugar, and whatever else you’ve managed to scrounge up. You’re determined to make crêpes. Yes, you know they weren’t invented yet, but the cooks don’t even seem to know what a waffle is, so they’re not going to stop you.

It takes a bit of trial and error—because, shocker, medieval kitchens are not equipped for finesse—but eventually, you’ve got a plate of soft, golden crêpes filled with fresh fruit and drizzled with honey. It’s so beautiful it almost brings a tear to your eye.

You’re mid-bite, mentally congratulating yourself, when Rook materializes out of nowhere like some kind of dessert-seeking missile.

“Mon chevalier! What marvel have you crafted here in this humble kitchen? The scent alone rivals the sweetest perfume!”

You freeze. This is fine. He’s just curious. There’s no reason to panic. Subconsciously, you scoop up a bite on your fork and offer it to him, your body on autopilot.

Rook doesn’t hesitate, leaning in and accepting the bite with the elegance of a prince at court. “Magnifique! Truly, you have woven magic into this creation, mon cher!”

You relax slightly, pride swelling at the compliment—until he takes your hand and licks a stray drop of honey from your finger.

Your brain short-circuits.

Before you can even form a coherent thought, Rook grins at you with that infuriatingly charming smile of his, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your cheek.

“You are as talented in the kitchen as you are with a blade,” he says, his voice warm and soft, as if he hasn’t just dismantled your sanity.

And then he’s gone, striding out of the kitchen with his usual jaunty step, leaving you standing there like an idiot, replaying the sensation of his lips on your cheek and his tongue on your finger.

You slowly sink to the floor, crêpe in hand, trying to process what just happened.

“Why,” you mutter to yourself, taking another bite of your crêpe for courage, “does this keep happening to me?”

Life had been…dare you say it, pleasant recently. No assassination attempts, no tea parties and no surprise arrows whizzing by your head. You were almost convinced this world might not be so bad after all.

But like clockwork, the plot reared its ugly head.

You were outside, basking in the rare serenity of a quiet afternoon, when the shouting began. You knew the voice instantly. It was grating, furious, and way too familiar.

Your abusive father—the original you’s deadbeat excuse for a parent—had somehow crawled out of the woodwork.

“You useless brat!” he snarled, stomping toward you. “How dare you stop sending money? Do you think you’re too good for your family now?!”

Oh, for the love of—

You crossed your arms, already done with the theatrics. “First of all, family implies mutual care and respect, neither of which you’ve ever provided. Secondly, kiss my ass.”

The man’s face turned a deep shade of purple, veins bulging in his forehead. He raised his hand, and you didn’t flinch. You weren’t scared of him. You were just irritated that he had the audacity to show up and ruin your vibe.

But before his hand could even swing down, an arrow whizzed past, slicing through the air with deadly precision. It nicked his cheek, leaving a shallow cut, and he yelped like a scolded dog.

You turned, and there he was.

Rook.

But this wasn’t the poetic, flowery Rook who praised sunsets and waxed lyrical about everything under the sun. No, this was Duke Hunt. His bow was clenched tightly in one hand, his expression colder than you’d ever seen. His eyes locked onto your father, sharp and unyielding, and for the first time, you truly understood why people called him a hunter.

Your father stumbled back, clutching his cheek. “Y-you’ll regret this! I’ll get my revenge!” he spat, turning tail and running like the two-bit villain he was.

You didn’t even watch him go. You were too busy staring at Rook, your heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the fact that, dammit, he looked good like this.

You silently scolded yourself. Really? Now? This is when you’re going to have a revelation about your feelings? Pull it together.

Rook’s gaze softened as he looked at you, and without a word, he closed the distance between you. Before you could process it, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a firm, steady embrace.

You stiffened for a moment, but then it hit you—you were shaken. You hadn’t realized it until now, but the encounter had left your hands trembling. And Rook…he didn’t say a word. He just held you, radiating warmth and reassurance, as if he knew exactly what you needed.

Slowly, you relaxed, leaning into him, letting the tension bleed out of your body. For once, there were no witty remarks, no poetic musings, no cryptic riddles. Just Rook, steady and solid, and the quiet comfort of his presence.

You closed your eyes, letting out a shaky breath. Maybe life here wasn’t so bad after all.

It was the hunting competition trope—the bread and butter of every third-rate villainess novel ever written. Noblemen rode out in droves to massacre innocent wildlife in the name of prestige, while the women gathered on the sidelines to swoon over who could kill the most majestic creature.

Normally, you'd find this whole affair ridiculous, but today? Today, it was a strategic opportunity.

Rook and you had cooked up a plan. After bagging his game, Rook would publicly gift it to the villainess, cementing the stance of his household against the heroine. A subtle yet unmistakable message to everyone present: this duke’s house wasn’t here to play politics; it was drawing battle lines.

Rook was, predictably, ecstatic about it all. “Ah, mon chevalier, what a splendid opportunity to honor beauty and justice with the art of the hunt!” he proclaimed, twirling dramatically as he readied his bow.

What you didn’t anticipate was his strange fixation on a handkerchief before he left.

Throughout the day, noblewomen approached Rook, each one batting their lashes and holding out dainty, embroidered handkerchiefs. It was practically a parade of desperate peahens.

“Oh, Lord Hunt, a token for luck!” cooed one particularly persistent lady, pushing her frilly kerchief toward him.

Rook clasped his hands to his chest with exaggerated reverence. “Ah, mademoiselle, your thoughtfulness moves me beyond words, but alas, I cannot accept. To carry such a treasure into the wild would be to risk its loss, and I could never bear such tragedy!”

Another woman attempted to loop her kerchief around his wrist directly. Rook gracefully dodged, as though she were offering him a live snake. “My dear lady, your artistry is unparalleled, but the only adornment fit for this hunt is the pure, untainted spirit of nature herself!”

By the third rejection, you were practically biting your tongue to keep from laughing.

But then came the curveball.

“Ah,” Rook sighed as he approached you. “If only I had a handkerchief imbued with sincerity. A simple, honest token to guide my aim and steady my heart!”

You blinked at him. “What, like…this?” You pulled out your completely ordinary, unembellished handkerchief and held it out.

Rook’s eyes lit up as though you’d just handed him the Holy Grail. “Mon chevalier! How perfect! How divine! This humble square of cloth shall be my guiding light!”

Before you could protest, he tied it around his arm with a flourish and rode off, looking like he was ready to star in his own personal opera.

From his place in the pavilion, Vil Schoenheit took a slow, deliberate sip of his tea, his sharp eyes locking onto yours with a glint of pure amusement. The smirk tugging at his lips seemed to say, Oh, I know exactly what’s going on.

Meanwhile, Epel squinted between you and Rook, his expression shifting rapidly as though he’d just cracked the secret to immortality. He whispered something to Vil, who nearly choked on his tea before regaining his composure.

What the hell is going on? you thought, baffled.

Fast forward to now, the present, where the plan was supposed to culminate with Rook triumphantly presenting his prize to the villainess. Simple, elegant, strategic.

So why, why, was Rook standing in front of you holding a literal griffin?

“Uh, Rook,” you whispered through gritted teeth. “What are you doing? This is supposed to go to the villainess.”

But Rook was having none of it.

“Ah, my loyal chevalier,” he declared loudly, drawing the attention of every noble in the vicinity. “It is only fitting that such a prize goes to the one who inspires my steadfastness and resolve!”

Your jaw dropped. “Rook. No.”

He turned his radiant smile on you, looking like a proud schoolboy showing off a crayon drawing to his teacher. “Yes!”

The gathered nobles erupted into murmurs, and you could already feel the weight of every single judgmental stare. This was not part of the plan. But despite your internal screaming, a small, annoying part of you couldn’t help but feel…flattered. This was a duke, and you were just a knight. A very confused, very underqualified knight, sure, but still.

Vil, still seated with his ever-present cup of tea, took another long, pointed sip, his eyes glimmering with amusement.

This was the drama he’d signed up for.

The hallway leading back to the room where Vil, Rook, and Epel were sitting felt oddly silent, the muffled voices of their conversation barely filtering through the door. You weren’t one to eavesdrop—but when you heard your name, well, curiosity got the better of you.

"Just confess already," Epel was saying, his tone exasperated. "We’ve all seen the way you look at them."

Vil chimed in, his voice tinged with amusement. "Epel is right for once, Rook. Love is about timing, and yours is abysmal."

"But love is an art, mon ami," Rook replied, his tone unusually hesitant. "It cannot be rushed. It must unfold naturally, like the petals of a flower in spring."

"Okay," Vil drawled, clearly unimpressed. "But what happens when someone else plucks your ‘flower’? Say, the gardener they’ve been spending so much time with?"

The silence that followed was deafening. You leaned closer, your heart pounding, hoping—no, needing—to hear Rook’s response.

Instead, you heard nothing.

The stillness stretched unbearably until you couldn’t take it anymore. You shoved the door open, startling all three occupants. "What are you talking about?"

Vil raised an eyebrow, the picture of nonchalance, though the corners of his mouth twitched with mischief. "Perfect timing, as always. I’ll leave you two to sort this out."

He grabbed a very reluctant Epel by the collar and dragged him toward the door. "Wait, I wanna see what happens!" Epel protested, but Vil shut the door behind them with a decisive click.

Which left you and Rook alone.

You crossed your arms, leveling him with a look that you hoped masked the frantic hammering of your heart. "So…what’s this about a confession?"

Rook’s usual composure faltered. For once, the poetic, perpetually self-assured Rook you knew looked…unsure. Vulnerable. His hands fidgeted with the hem of his gloves, and he avoided your gaze, staring instead at the floor.

"Rook," you said softly, stepping closer. "Please, just tell me what’s going on. I need to know."

He finally looked up, and the raw emotion in his eyes was enough to steal your breath.

"Mon chevalier," he began, his voice low and trembling, "I have loved you from the start. At first, it was the camaraderie of equals, a kindred spirit I admired. But when you returned from the heroine’s side, defying expectations and staying true to yourself…you captured my heart completely."

You blinked, stunned. "Rook, I—"

He continued, the words spilling out as though he’d been holding them back for far too long. "You never treated me like I was strange. You accepted me as I am, even when others mocked my passions or dismissed my eccentricities. I never truly needed a bodyguard. I just needed you. Near me. Always."

His voice broke slightly on the last word, and you felt your resolve crumble.

You sighed, but it wasn’t from exasperation. It was the sound of relief, of something clicking into place. "Next time," you said, stepping even closer, "just tell me your feelings directly. It’ll save us both a lot of trouble."

Before he could respond, you reached up and pulled him into a kiss.

It was everything a first kiss should be—long, searing, passionate. His arms wrapped around you instinctively, pulling you flush against him as though he never wanted to let go. You melted into him, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, and for a moment, the world outside that kiss ceased to exist.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless. Rook’s lips quirked into a smile as he whispered, "Your lips are the sweetest arrow, mon amour, and they have pierced my heart beyond repair."

You burst into laughter, burying your face in the crook of his neck to muffle the sound. "Gods, Rook, only you could ruin a moment like this with something so cheesy."

He chuckled softly, his arms still secure around you.

And as you stood there in his embrace, you couldn’t help but think that this ridiculous, trashy novel world was the best thing that had ever happened to you.

The parlor was warm with the golden light of afternoon sun filtering through the windows, but the atmosphere buzzed with anticipation. You stood near Rook, his arm casually draped across the back of your chair, as Vil and Epel looked at you expectantly.

“Well?” Vil prompted, raising a perfectly arched brow.

You glanced at Rook, who smiled encouragingly, as if to say, go ahead. Clearing your throat, you announced, “We’re…together.”

Vil sighed dramatically, setting down his teacup with a soft clink. “Finally. I was starting to think I’d have to intervene.”

Epel, on the other hand, froze mid-sip of his cider. Slowly, he set the glass down, stood, and walked over to you. His expression was a mix of grief and dread, like someone had just informed him of some terrible, life-altering news.

He placed both hands firmly on your shoulders and looked you dead in the eyes. “Good luck,” he said, solemn as a funeral bell. “This is a life sentence, y’know.”

Rook chuckled, clearly amused. “Mon cher Epel, you wound me! Surely being with moi is more of a treasure than a trial?”

Epel turned to him, unimpressed. “Treasure? You follow people for fun. You recite poetry to wild animals. You can’t even eat pie without analyzing its existential meaning. I mean, who does that?”

You were already laughing, shaking your head as you patted Epel’s hand reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Epel. This is a sentence I’m more than happy to serve.”

Vil smirked behind his tea, watching the scene unfold with obvious amusement. “Frankly, I’m just relieved we won’t have to endure any more of his tragic sighs every time you left a room.”

Rook clasped a hand to his heart in mock offense. “Oh, Vil! My sighs are poetry incarnate!”

Vil didn’t even blink. “Your sighs are the sound of unspoken melodrama. Spare me.”

Epel plopped back into his seat with a long groan, running a hand through his hair. “Anyway, I guess congratulations or whatever. At least now we can all stop pretending we don’t notice him staring at you like some love-struck puppy.”

“That’s rich,” you shot back, grinning. “You’re the one who looks like your pet rat just died every time we get close.”

Epel huffed. “I’m just saying! Now you gotta deal with him being even more poetic! And clingy! You thought the prince and heroine were bad? Wait till you see Rook when he’s in love. You’re doomed.”

At the mention of the prince and heroine, Vil made an exaggerated sound of disgust. “Speaking of those two… Honestly, has anyone ever been so painfully predictable? The prince has all the charm of wet cardboard, and the heroine—don’t even get me started on her hair ribbons.”

“Ah, the heroine,” Rook sighed wistfully, but there was a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Always so delightfully transparent. Her schemes are like open windows to her soul.”

You snorted. “If by soul, you mean her desperate attempts to turn everything into a sob story, then yeah, sure.”

Epel leaned forward, grinning. “Did you see her crying at the hunt competition? Like, girl, it’s a competition. What did you think would happen? That the griffin would apologize and hand itself over?”

Vil smirked, tapping a manicured finger against his chin. “Or how about the prince declaring his ‘eternal devotion’ to her at the banquet last week? I nearly choked on my wine.”

Rook chuckled, turning to you with a soft smile that was far more genuine than his usual theatrics. “Ah, but let us not waste all our words on such trivialities. This moment, mon amour, is one of joy.”

You leaned into him, your laughter subsiding into a contented smile. His arm slipped around your shoulders, holding you close as Vil and Epel continued their playful bickering in the background.

For the first time since you’d been thrown into this absurd world, you felt completely at ease. If this was the result of being trapped in a trash novel, then so be it. You were exactly where you wanted to be.

Trash Novel Masterlist

Complete Masterlists

[ghostbsuter]

This is the fourth time damian brought the college student over.

Damian, despite being 14, has been accepted to a gifted school as he had already been taught in the most subjects one usually learns at a slower pace.

(He still gets a headache over the fact his son won't get a normal childhood.)

Which is how he befriended the 17 year old Daniel, an overworked and sleepdeprived college student, getting dragged along and following with no complaint.

Bruce is, even if he wanted damian to befriend someone more around his own age, very welcoming of the student.

Alfred made sure the boy took enough food with him home, always leaving the mansion at point 4 pm.

It really shouldn't have been surprising when Bruce Wayne, yes, THE Brucie Wayne, summoned him to his office.

Danny entered the room fidgeting, giving a nervous smile to the man behind the desk and questioning what he did wrong to offend the patriarch of the family.

(Lies and slander, we, the readers, are fully aware that Alfred is the patriarch.)

"Uh— hi, Mr. Wayne." He sat when gestured to the chair, shitting bricks with how nervous he's.

The man nods in greeting, smiling. "Hello Danny–"

"Please don't kill me!" The teen in question blurts out, flushing in embarrassment once registered.

Taken aback and startled, Bruce snorts, stifling laughter by putting a hand against his mouth.

Shit.

"I don't know what I did! Very sorry if I offended someone!" He rambles, panicking and waving his hands around.

"Danny—"

"I must have done something! Why else would you call me? Oh god– I'm gonna be murdered by THE Brucie Wayne!"

At this point, the rich guy in front of him is barely restraining himself from laughing, trying his best to stay professional.

"Danny–! I- I won't murder you." He reassured, eyes crinkling from smiling.

"But–" he sniffs, both embarrassed and teary.

"I'm not gonna— danny." Bruce sighs, which sounds a lot like a choke, really. "Look, I just wanted a 1-on-1 talk with you about your friendship with damian and some concerns."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh."

Danny sighs in relief at this. "I can do some good old interrogation–" "it's not an interrogation–" "totally interrogation."

He huffs lightly, getting comfortable in his chair and preparing himself mentally.

"Alright Mr. Wayne! Shoot me!"

(Was that a pun? A joke to murder? Really?)

The man clears his throat, straightens his back and looks serious as he was before the accusations of murder.

"What are your intentions with damian and why become friends in the first place?"

Blinking, the teen brightens. "Oh, that's easy! Damian needs a friend. We just kinda clicked after I scared away a few pesky bullies."

Then he shrugs. "Besides, it's great training."

"Training?" Bruce asks, curious, tone light in the way that shows he's very interested.

"Yes. Despite his badly hidden murderous tendencies, love for knives, and slight lack of slang language and knowledge, he's still a kid." He nods.

"A young teen that goes through teen stuff that I barely remember going through and now get to relearn will be handy once Ellie becomes a teenager herself."

Batman was filing the information away, but Bruce kept going.

"Ellie?" He questions.

"My daughter– has damian not mentioned her? We always leave around 4 to get her from my sister. Sometimes, dami stays over for a few hours!"

Ah. Well. Seems like Alfred will have to make more food for the teen now.

"Would you like to stay for dinner today?" He asks, "Bring your daughter too. We won't mind you joining us." smiling and already planning for the new adjustments to make.

"On another note, what are your and your daughters preferences? Any allergies?"

Danny didn't even agree yet, not that he was gonna— mind you.

"No allergies, soft foods only, easy to eat." He answers, listing the stuff from the top of his head.

In a whirlwind of– of planning dinner?? Danny is out of the door and wide eyed.

"What just happened?"

(On the other side, Bruce face-palms, having forgotten to ask what age Ellie is. Damn in Bruce.)

—

On the fifth visit, Danny stayed for dinner.

Damian must know the age, for there are bowls with freshly cut fruits, yoghurt, and rice mixed with veggies and chicken.

On that note, where is damian?

Dick meets his eyes, asking the same quetsion with a look.

Just as Bruce was gonna ask, the door opened, and the cutest picture to ever exist was created.

(Dick RIPPED his phone out of his pocket, swiping a picture of the scene as fast as possible.)

Steph can't hold back the coos at the sight of Damian walking with a toddler into the dining room, her tiny feet propped up on his and in hand together.

She's wearing a Robin onesie and he is wearing his (stolen) Nightwing hoodie.

"Sorry, hope we aren't late!" Danny waves with a grin from behind the pair.

"You aren't, just perfect, in fact." Bruce reassures, waving the teens over to the free seats.

Damian leads the two to his seat, making sure they're next to him.

The conversation during dinner is one spoken fondly, Cass likes to make Ellie laugh with silly faces, Duke and Steph "secretly" feed her tiny pieces of strawberry and Dick is in a rather passionate discussion with both Tim and Danny.

Damian, once he makes sure no one is watching him, wipes the mess from Ellies face.

(Bruce was watching, looking away once damians face snapped to him. He wasn't aware his youngest had such a soft spot for toddlers.)

(It takes a while, but Danny and Ellie become family like every other person, while having not slept over yet, Alfred already has prepared a room for the two in the Family wing.)

(It's barely a week after that everyone bought and gifted him onesie's of their hero personas, with the excuse of them being the gotham vigilantes when questioned. After all, the Robin can't be a one man team.)

—

The Nightwing and his Robin.

[takumiraine]

Once Upon A Time chapter 5

<first> <prev> <next>

Jason Todd knew it was only a matter of time until his bubble burst and one of his brothers found out what he was getting up to. He was just hoping he could pull it off for a little longer. Even though the pit still reacted at the strangest times, he felt calmer, more normal, than he had in years. He wanted to hold it close and make sure nobody could take it from him.

From Replacement: you went back to college? Does B know?

Fuck.

—

Danny had been wary at first. Rich boy Jason Todd-Wayne in his college classes. The man was older than Jazz, though not by much, and a freshman with him. Either the guy was a bad influence or Danny just had really shitty luck.

He and the universe both knew the answer to than one really. But 60 bucks a week to reteach the guy basic math and Jason always gave him dinner in the deal? Danny wasn’t going to look that particular gift horse in the mouth. If there was one thing Danny had forgotten during the past almost two years it was how hungry his human side got. Not having money and being on the run meant opportunities to eat were few and far between.

What Danny didn’t expect was how sarcastic and assholish the rich guy could be. He loved trading snark. Danny assumed that it came from them both having older siblings. But between that and the half formed core that was slowly shoring up, Danny found himself growing attached. He had missed having friends. Getting to talk to Sam, Tucker and rarely Jazz through a conspiracy message board wasn’t enough. Most of the time it was just a way to make sure that nobody had been captured by the GIW. They had a way to pass longer messages but to do that too often would be suspicious.

“So I don’t get it,” Danny said, gesturing at Jason with some fries almost a month into tutoring, “What do people actually do at Galas? The tabloid pics just show a bunch of people in uncomfortable looking suits standing around with champagne.”

“….thats really it. It’s boring as shit.” Jason kicked his chair back on two legs, leaning against the wall. “If I liked you less I’d invite you.”

“If you liked me less?”

“Oh yeah. Because then you’d have to meet my brothers, the assorted not quite adopteds, my dad and scarier yet, our butler.” Danny choked on his laugh.

“Your butler is the scary one in that situation?”

“Alfred is like a ghost. Always there when you turn around.” Jason put on the accent “Master Jason, you really must come home more. Nobody quite enjoys my cooking like you.” He let the chair legs settle on the floor. “Now imagine that from behind you in a dark kitchen at two am while you’re half drunk and trying to make a sandwich.”

“Okay, yeah, I could see it being that scary. My sister was….” Shit he hadn’t meant to mention Jazz. “She was the only one who cared sometimes.” May as well rip that bandaid off.

“Yeah?” Jason asked, taking a drink from his coffee cup. “Didn’t know you had a sister.”

“My family and I don’t see each other anymore. It’s for the best.” He hoped Jason wouldn’t ask more questions, because ‘my parents sold me out to the government that only knew where I was because of the Justice League which is why I hate them and by association your dad, and now my sister is in hiding in a different state with a new identity’ was way too difficult to explain. “I left before they could kick me out.”

Danny watched Jason’s face twist into a frown. “Bigots suck. Sorry man.”

“Yeah…. Well…” Danny busied himself with finishing his burger. Then, once he chewed and swallowed. “Wait. Is your dad the one that fell into the champagne tower last year?”

Jason groaned, “he’s not always like that I promise.”

“No I get it. A weird ‘Family Friend’ invited us to his fancy party so he could hit on my mom once. I accidentally on purpose took out the entire buffet table including a cheese fountain so we had to go home.”

“Cheese fountain?”

“You know those chocolate fountains?” Danny asked. Jason nodded. “Like that, but with fondue cheese instead. And before you ask why, all I can say is it was in Wisconsin.”

Jason watched him with an unreadable expression for a moment, and Danny assumed he was processing it, because when the expression broke, Jason was laughing.

He looked so much younger when he laughed like that, and Danny remembered that they had both had, in their own ways, a rough life. “Yeah. I know. I was finding cheese in the weirdest places for weeks.”

“Did you get invited back?” Danny’s heart ached with the fact that a month or so later, Everything Fell Apart.

“No… I…” he cut himself off, remembering the horrified looks his parents gave him as their weapons, the ones he fixed, were turned against the ‘beast’ that ‘possessed’ their son. The looks mimicking the ones they gave him when the party screeched to a halt as he did his best impression of a Scooby Doo villain being unmasked. The screams of shock turning into ones of horror. The -

“-anny? Danny?” He blinked and shook his head.

“What? Oh, sorry.” He took another drink from the coffee, emptying the cup. “No. I never was asked back. You done?” He looked at their empty plates and grabbed the tray. “We should get to the library. Though I’m sure someone as good looking as you has plenty, these x-es won’t find themselves.” He was overcompensating for zoning out now, words coming out faster than normal.

“Yeah… are… you okay?” Jason asked, as Danny bussed their tray and grabbed his backpack, a backpack bought by his tutoring money. A tutoring gig he desperately did not want to fuck up with his own bullshit.

“Me? Fine. More than. I just zone out sometimes. Come on.” Danny’s words were still coming out too fast. He took a few breaths during the couple seconds Jason took getting his things, trying to ground himself as much as possible. He was going to be normal. He was going to be normal if it killed him. Again.

The walk to the library was quiet and Danny was thankful for that. He needed to get his head on straight if he was going to be any help to Jason and he still had his own homework to do after. As they walked in, both Danny and Jason instinctively looked towards the desk where Barbara usually worked, but she wasn’t there, some other guy was checking in books with quiet beeps.

Danny had learned over the last month that while Dick, Tim and Damian were Jason’s official siblings, Barbara was an unofficial one and he liked her the most.

It made sense, since she didn’t seem to pry into Jason’s life the way Jazz would have if she was here. Not that he would have minded her prying for how much he missed her, but four years ago he would have hated it.

—

Jason knew the haunted and hunted look that had settled into Danny’s eyes. The way he trailed off into something vacant. How his breathing seemed to get stuck in his chest. Which is why he tried to interrupt the cycle before he could spiral. Something big happened to him, and Jason knew he wouldn’t want to break down in a cafe in front of people.

Thankfully he seemed to snap out of it quickly, instead overcompensating into energetic. The message was clear. ‘Don’t ask about what just happened.’ Carefully, Jason let Danny lead him into the library, aware of his positioning and making sure not to follow too far behind or loom too much. Considering he had at least six inches on Danny, that last part was hard, but he tried.

He could feel the pit spiraling in him, circling and coiling like a dragon deep in his chest. Itching to do…. Something. It wasn’t punch or claw or fight. This was new. He didn’t like it in the slightest.

He looked over to where Babs usually was, then remembered she had a class, criminal justice degree, how apt, as he and Danny went towards what was now their spot. Jason found he had the sudden impulse to pull Danny’s chair out for him, and shoved that particular useless idea back down into the abyss it belonged in.

—

Danny looked over at Jason who stood at the edge of the table looking…. Angry? Confused? and pulled out his own books. “I promise, my zoning out isn’t contagious.” He said, looking up at Jason and kicking the chair across from him out from under the table for Jason to sit. He gave a wry smile, “if it was, I don’t think anyone in my high school would have made it.”

Jason snorted a laugh, snapping out of whatever thoughts he had been thinking. Jason pulled the chair out further and sat, sitting more comfortably than he used to. More of the true Jason, Danny was realizing, less of the person he was supposed to be. In another lifetime…. But no. He couldn’t… not while he was being hunted. It wouldn’t be fair to Jason to have to hide such a huge part of himself and his past.

Not to mention he hadn’t ever come out to Jazz and his friends. Well he had…. But more in the ‘hey I’m dead but not really’ way and less in the ‘so I like guys’ way.

But in spite of those barriers, this tentative friendship with Jason was enough to keep him happy.

Which made the next kick in the teeth from the universe completely expected.

All he had wanted was to walk home in peace. Sure it was almost midnight, in Gotham, but still. He made it most of the way, and was slinking through the Bowery when it happened.

Guys with dark clothes and weapons were suddenly in front of him. He turned only to see more at his back. There had to be five in total? Or was it six? Danny didn’t have time to count.

“Hey guys.” He hedged, muscles tensing as he raised his hands to show he wasn’t a threat. “Don’t mind me, I’m just trying to get home. Long walk and all that. If I could just…. Scooch past you?” Danny took a step to do just that and the lead goon swung at him with a baton.

He hopped back slightly, dodging the hit when it came. “Not a chance. Boss needs some…. Help with his latest ideas. You’re coming with us.”

Danny ran through his options in his head. Option 1: get kidnapped. Option 2: get the shit kicked out of him. Option 3: beat the shit out of them and get labeled as a possible bat to be or possible rogue to be. Option 4: go fully ghost and either escape unscathed but wind up more firmly on the GIW’s radar.

Option two or three would wind up happening, because he wasn’t going to put himself at the mercy of the Bat-ass again, and he wasn’t going to offer himself up on a silver platter to the GIW.

The moment one tried to grab him, Danny dodged out of the way, and that seemed to bring the goons on him en masse. They seemed well practiced, but considering it was Gotham, there wasn’t a big surprise there. The next few minutes were a flurry of elbows and knees, punches and kicks, batons and clubs.

Danny would dodge and counter, disarm one and fling their weapon across the street. He would have sore ribs and bruises from his elbows to his knuckles come morning but he was slowly winnowing them down. He had a brief thought about the conservation of ninjutsu, as the fewer goons there were the stronger they seemed to get. The realistic answer was they were less concerned with hurting each other when there were fewer of them, he knew that. But everything was more fun with ninjas.

When there were three left, one threw a punch that connected with his nose. There was a pop and crunch and a hot rush of blood down his face even before the pain set in. He spat out the blood that collected in his mouth from the way his head snapped back when he was punched. Another one came at him, and his own years of training caught the guy’s arm, judo throwing them into another look and sending them both careening into a wall. The move was trickier with gravity, but he made it work.

Danny looked up at the last remaining goon. He grinned, teeth too sharp and stained with his own blood, eyes glowing just the faintest green. “Run.”

They did.

Unfortunately for the goon, they ran smack into the chest of one Batman.

[prettyboykatsuki]

alkali. | m. bachira

✮  tags ; afab + gn!reader, established relationship, omegaverse, morning sex, unprotected sex, knotting, bachira being a lovesick mess, 18+

✮ wc ; 2k (guys....)

✮  a/n ; a comission for @cottoncalicoes. thank you for commissioning me!!!

✮  synopsis ; every moment of bachira's life has been painted by you.

or a soft post story from another word for homesick, from bachira's perspective.

tip jar | commission post (currently closed) | ao3 link.

[ TWENTY-ONE ]

"Meguru," Your voices catches on a breath, just short of pleasant sigh as your hand lands on his chest, pushing him away from you. "Quit it already."

There's an edge to your exasperation - familiar and affectionate that makes Bachira purr deep from his chest. He's wrapped around you tight, morning sun filtering through the blinds and casting a soft yellow glow on your skin. He buries his face in your neck, nose brushing your scent glands.

Something rich and warm suffuses through him as he inhales it. Years and years of his life entangled in you.

He's giddy with it. It's been months now and he's still so restless with his love you for.

His voice comes out whiny, high pitched yowling as he hugs you tighter, still, somehow. Trying to squeeze you into his ribs like you'll fit there with enough effort - he slots his morning wood against the swell of your belly and inhales. Marks you with his own scent until it covers you completely.

(Bachira developed this habit forever ago. Back when you were kids and you were convinced that he was another innocent omega. It worked well enough to keep alphas off of you, omega's not so much.

He wishes it worked on both. On everyone so you could be his so obviously nothing could get between you. He wishes he could bond with you so many times over until he's engraved into your bones

It might be enough then. Probably not though.)

You laugh again, and it's beautiful and measured like always. "Meguru,"

"Don't wanna get up yet." He whines. He can already feel you concede. "Wanna do stuff. And have lots of sex."

"It's too early to have sex,"

"It's never too early to have sex, silly," He replies, all smiles. "I'm an alpha you know? With the worlds prettiest omega in my bed. This much is normal. It's fine already so come on."

"I had plans for today." You say, ignoring his words with an expertise of a life time. "Errands, chores."

"Ehh?? Boring—like super boring. Super duper boring. Don't wanna, wanna stay here with you."

"You're so difficult," You're smiling while you say it. "We spent most of this week together again, Meguru."

You skirt around the obvious. Most of the week making love. Bachira can't keep his hands off of you. He can't get enough of you and during the limited weeks of his off season - there's nothing to do but indulge his strongest emotions.

He lets his nose brush your jaw, placing a kiss a a fading mark on your neck and the permanent bond on your nape. "Mhm. And you look so full and perfect with my knot, I can't help it. It's in my instinct."

"Your instinct is to keep your knot in me 24/7?" You tease. Bachira nods.

"Duh. Right where it belongs." He says, then adds. "I want to be close to you all the time. Cuddling isn't enough, yknow? I'd eat you if I could."

Weak against him, you move to curl up into him. It makes Bachira so happy he feels like he could explode into a million pieces. It's there again, that feeling. That he's so happy he could burst at the very seams of him and there's no other way to express it other then loud enough for the world to hear.

A wave of affection and aggression and adoration come over in one go. And he's swift as he flips you onto your back. You turn over with a yelp, arms securing around neck. "Don't be so rowdy this early in the morning,"

He looks at you where you look up at him, soothingly pushing hair from his face when you say it. You're not even slightly upset. You look like you love him, like you always have. Kind and perfect and lovely and wholly like you understand. Like you know Bachira. Not once in his life do you look at him like he's too much for you.

He loves you. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you, he—

He kisses you. Hard and desperate. A kiss to your lips, then the corner of your mouth, to all over your face as his fingers deftly pull away at your PJ shorts. You're a mess of giggles— sweet between gasping breathes. Bachira thinks it might be his favorite sound. He kisses you while you laugh, between breathless sharp bouts of it until you're content with sighing.

His brain loops the same thought, simple and constant like a stream. Or maybe more like a tidal wave. More like a tsunami, more like an Earthquake. Maybe there's no disaster grand enough to put the feeling into words - maybe a love so pure and full exceeds language entirely.

Bachira thinks so. His head is so filled with you it feels like you're what makes up the gray matter of his body and what words could there be for something so physical ? He feels it in his chest when he breathes. When his shoulders tremble with laughter, when he cries or sleeps or eats, when he lives at all and every cell in his body are screaming at him that he loves you more than anyone else in the world.

He's unceremonious and desperate when he takes your shorts off. He wants you. He needs you. You're all he's ever needed.

When you spread your legs, he's greeted by the perfect view of your pussy - hairs slicked back from arousal. He should get to take his time with you. He thinks about it. How to treat you gently, properly. He's never been good at it though.

He's never been desired you in a way that's gentle and you've never asked him too. His feelings are overbearing and possessive. Even smothering you isn't enough.

You've been dating again for a few months now, together again after years. Drops of affection piling up inside of him leaving an ocean of longing in it's wake.

You're the first person Bachira has ever known. You were the one to approach him, to trust him, to be honest with him, to accept him wholly.

He doesn't think there'll ever be a time where he can tell you what it meant to him.

He can't bring it in himself to be patient when it's so heavy in him all the time—when you've got yourself spread open like this. Pretty and perfect and dripping - aching for his knot early in the sunlight, familiar flush on your face. A wetness to your eyes, color to your lips.

"It's soft enough," You tug at his wrist. "C'mon. If you're gonna do it. Hurry."

This is how Bachira has spent every day of this week. Listening to the pleasant melody of your voice when he goads you again - loving the way you break down for him. He sits up slightly on his knees and draws his thumb against your slick folds.

Your body is so inviting. Throbbing with need as you whimper in response to his touch, his thumb settling on the swollen nerves of your clit. Drawing circles too slow on purpose and watching you get wetter. You keen.

"Meguru, don't be mean."

God. He grins a little, pulling his hand away as he shoves his pants and boxers down his thighs. His cock stands, fat and heavy as he taps it against your sex. You look down in anticipation, look up again for him at mercy. How could he fuck you gently when your expression reads as so desperate to be pounded?

He leans down to kiss you hard as the tip slides into your entrance. He captures the gasp you let out, a hand on your waist to anchor his grip - another at your jaw to hold it and kiss you deep. His tongue slides against yours sloppy and you make a noise of protest - probably concerned about your breath or something silly.

Bachira doesn't care. He can't think of anything other than how much he utterly adores you. How it wires him. Makes the parts of himself he's always been disconnected from—the alpha he's always felt separate to, pant with desire. He can feel every nerve in his body, every fiber of his muscles—all the ways they want you to be between his teeth. Devour you, makes a mess. An apex predator who so adores his perfect prey. Born to hunt you. Born to love you.

He slides his cock into the soft, wet, sticky warmth of your cunt with ease. Your slick makes it easy for him - built to take his cock in smooth motion. A soft sound comes from your throat as he thrusts in easily.

"It's so full, Meguru," You mumble, a hand on your belly. "I love you."

"So cute," He kisses your jaw, waiting for you to adjust only long enough to breathe. "You're so cute."

He rocks his hips slowly building to hard thrusts, feeling you clench down around him whenever he slides out - cunt gripping down like it needs him always.

Bachira lets the temptation of that thought guide his hips. He's always learning new things about himself with you, or maybe just the old parts of him always evolve to fit you better.

He can feel how easily his body wants to succumb to the pleasure of you around him. You wrap your legs around his waist as he fucks into you again and again, arms around his shoulders. The way you moan his name is sweet, makes Bachira feel even wilder.

Your hands card through his hair even while he fucks you hard and reckless. Gesture sweet and domestic, it makes him laugh against your mouth.

Bachira thinks of your life together as he buries his dick deep inside you. Thinks of the years you were apart and feels his chest get tight. Thinks of all the time he wants to make up for it by spending the rest of his life with you now and forever.

He was made for you. That's the only way he can make sense of it. Why else would Bachira be made to be too much if not to be softened and nurtured by you? The only omega in his life. only one he'll ever miss.

Here is the only place he'll ever feel at home.

The thought drives him over the edge. He feels his chest well up with emotion as he thrusts - gripping onto your hips as he lets it all go. He cums hard, his knot swelling at the base of his cock. You whine loudly as it stretches and stretched and stretches you, the air punched out of your lungs.

He holds it in until he can give you the same. His hand slides against between your bodies, clumsy and desperate, as his fingers find your clit. You're sensitive to the touch, throbbing endlessly as he rubs the bundle of nerves, fast and hard.

It just doesn't feel good if he doesn't cum together with you.

"Meguru—c-cumming,"

He cums right alongside you. You pulse and spasm, legs clasped around his waist and holding onto him desperately as your cunt milks cock. He follows, filling you with his cum almost instantly before the base of his cock begins to swell with a familiar euphoria.

The pleasure is intense. It never seems to settle down, sensitivity spiked as he plugs his knot inside of. The way your body accommodates him makes his stomach tie in knots, cunt clinging to him possessively in the same way his knot anchors inside of you. He shivers.

The intense feeling of longing doesn't dull even after you both catch your breath. Instead it shifts, changes to something heavier as he sniffles.

He always cries during sex lately. You comfort him the same way you did when you were kids.

"You're crying again," You whisper, all warm.

"I love you," He sniffles. He doesn't know how else to say it. "I love you so much. You're never allowed to go anywhere ever."

You laugh loudly at that and he smiles even through tears.

"I don't have any plans to do that anyhow," You hum holding him. "We're made to be a pair, you know? Makes more sense that way,"

An ocean of longing and you—the hopeful sky above it. The moon to his sun. A corrosive acid and his great equalizer. A perfect pair.

Yes, Bachira knows exactly what you mean.

[feltit-wroteit]

Spoiled and Loved

Art Donaldson x Fem!Reader

In every way, you were the person that made the college experience that much better for Art. You, on the other end, were still struggling to find your place at Uni.

Watnings: inscure reader, lost reader, small angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, reader has rich parents, one s3x joke

There he was. In your usual spot in the cafeteria eating a lunch that his athletic nutritionist must've assigned him to eat. God was your boyfriend beautiful... "Baby?" He called you out of your trance and you smiled at him. "Come?" He motioned for the chair in front of him with his head. You walked toward it and sat down with your lunch that was healthy but certainly not planned. "Hey!" You said. You started eating and asking how his morning practice was and he smiled throught it all. After finishing his lunch and while explaining his morning, he drew mindless doodles on your left hand with a pencil. One was a tennis racket the other a heart and another a paint brush. Once he was done, silence had fallen and Art looked up at you, stopping his drawing. "Y/N?" Art asked while looking for your gaze. "Hmm?" You answered still looking at your left hand. "Look at me." He asked and lifted your head up with the help of his palm on your jaw. You looked at him and smiled. "How was your day so far, baby?" He then asked with certainty. You sighed and went to look down again, only to feel your boyfriend rubbing your jaw and hearing him hum no. When you met his gaze again you felt it.

The need to tell him the truth.

"Art?" He nodded at your interpellation, waiting for you to continue. "I don't think I belong here." You had felt like this for a while, but your boyfriend's joy at being here made that feeling simmer down a little.

That was until yesterday.

"That's Donaldson's girlfriend, right?" A girl said behind you during your history of the arts lecture. You normally tuned these type of conversations out, but today your ears decided that it was a mighty fine time to do as they wanted. "She play any sports?" The girl, Jenny from what you heard her friend call her earlier, proceeded to ask her friend, Luna. "Not that anybody knows of. Not to his level at least." The other girl answered with a certain turn in her voice. It wasn't a nice one at that. ""But she must do something else around campus for her to be with him, right?" Jenny continued her interrogations. "The only place other than her lectures that people see her at are Donaldson's games. She just does those two things that includes school life. People have said and know that she doesn't even have a major yet. She just does classes until she finally finds something that makes her spark. It's pathetic really." Luna said and chuckled with her friend who fired back : "Why would he want to be with her? If I were Art Donaldson-" And you never heard the last of her life hacks, because your ears decided you had been tortured enough as it was. The notes you had started taking were the only ones you took for the rest of the 3 hour lecture. Well, what was one more exam failed?

You would stay in this godforsaken place until you found a stupid major to work in life with.... Why bother studying right now? Your parents paid for your acceptance at Stanford. Your life was as corrupted as that.

"What do you mean Y/n/n?" Art asked with a concerned look and rubbed his tumb over your jaw. "I don't know what I mean by that. But that's also a problem, I never know..." you tried to explain but it was still unclear to him. He only wanted to comfort you and make you feel at ease at all times, but right now he couldn't understand you. That made him mad at himself. "I don't know what I am going to major in, I don't know why I went to college in the first place and I don't know what you find in me. Before you start to argue that point, I have to tell you that I don't doubt your love, I doubt my ability of being loved right now. I am a mess Art... I can't do it anymore! The only thing I do know, is that I'm going to end up like I always feared..." You continued to elaborate on your feelings while he was listening. "Baby... I love you for who you are. I'm sure what you feared for your future isn't even that bad-" you cut him off on that and laughed while letting some tears flow. "Oh yeah, it is. I will end up as every other rich kid who doesn't amount to nothing and will live off my family's money for my whole life." You said and removed his hand from your face. You didn't feel deserving of his touch right now. "Stop." He said sternly. How could he have left this go this far? How couldn't he have seen you were feeling like this? How bad of a boyfriend was he? "Y/n, you are not messed up. You are beautiful and intelligent and you are worth more than your family's wealth. You are important. Not only to me but to a lot of people. Listen, college isn't for everyone, baby. I know it 's easier listening than believing, but please don't pull away from me." He had tears brimming his eyes now.

What did you do to deserve him?

"I love you, Art. I'm sorry for upsetting you..." You explained and held his hand that had been squeezing the edge of the table. "Don't, baby. You do not have to appologize. I should appologize for not seeing how you had been feeling. Please... talk to me about these things. I want to be there for you like you are for me." He took your hand back in his to play with it lightly. "Okay." You said and smiled softly at him. "Okay?" He asked smiling softly too while looking into your eyes. "Yeah. I'll talk to you more about my feelings, baby." You nodded and affirmed.

As you both walked to your last class of the day that you shared, the girls of your history of the arts lecture passed you. They were looking at you and art with sadness. It was then you realized what they had been doing. Only wallowing in their jealousy because:

Art had chose you. Not them.

His heart was set on you and that made them mad. Some part of you felt like you could see them. Maybe you were loved by someone like they wanted to be, but you were also envious of how these girls would be graduating in Teaching in less than two months likw you wanted to be graduating.

Everybody was jealous of somebody in this world.

"Art?" You asked while going closer to his side. "Hmm?" He had answered when wrapping his arm around your shoulder to pull you in even closer. "I think I'm jealous of you." You confirmed while giggling. "Oh yeah? How come, y/n?" He smiled at your randomness. "You have a massive dick. I want that." You said in the most serious tone you could master in that instance. Art burst out laughing and admitted that he was jealous of you too. "How come, Art?" You copied his sentence. "Imagine being as pretty as the one and only Y/n Y/l/n under sun rays. I'll pray for that to happen one day." You looked up into his eyes and stopped walking for a second. You smiled at him and went up to kiss him on his lips. The kiss was slow and full of love, just how you prefered then to be.

"I love you, baby. Even if you are a spoiled little brat sometimes." He said and tried to cover his head before you shoved his head to the side playfully.

[peachyjeonss]

SUNKISSIN’ | J.JK

© peachyjeonss 2023. Do not repost and modify unless permitted to  

Pairing: Tattoo artist!Jungkook x Lifeguard!Reader    

Genre: strangers to enemies, enemies to lovers, Smut

Warnings: Reader has a belly piercing, mentions of getting high, Jk and reader have nose piercings, size kink, slight daddy kink, Jk is pretty dominant even when it’s not sexual, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap pls), readers kind of a bitch at first, Jk is also kind of a dick at first, clueless reader at times, Jk gets jealous, jk eats her out, reader gets jk off, ass slapping, reader gets bent over the kitchen counter, reader’s kind of a spoiled brat, brat-taming, choking, tummy bulge, praise, degradation, cum eating, brat tamer jk, dirty talk, slight exhibition, Jk is kind of an aggressive person (not in a toxic way obv), 

Rating: M

Synopsis: Summer has begun and so has your job as a lifeguard at the Stillwells Country Club  — Which means; sunny weather, blue pools and cute bathing suits! You’re looking forward to it; just another normal summer working with friends, but your summer takes a turn when you see his sweet eyes and intimidating stature at the staff car wash.

A/N: This is my first posttt, here’s the teaser!

His sunglasses lean on the tip of his nose as he looks up at the sky, breathing out.

“This is the most relaxed I’ve seen you in a minute.” Yoongi laughs, sitting next to him as he lathers sunscreen on his pale arms.

“Yeah, surprisingly work hasn’t come to my mind yet.” Jungkook admits, letting out a breathless chuckle as he kicks his feet in the water.

Yoongi hums, “Me neither, and I’m not even a sun person.”

“That’s what the rich life does to you, I guess.” Nari giggles, swimming to them.

Taehyung follows suit, pushing his falling sunglasses back up his nose. “Yeah, I’m about to order a pina-colada just ‘cause.”

“Don’t abuse the free membership either.” Jungkook warns, looking back down at his friend. “It was nice of her to do this for us.”

“Yeah, Aya’s always been pretty sweet.” Taehyung agrees, “She has her spoiled moments though, can't take the rich out of the girl completely.”

Nari smiles, “She’s better than me, I wouldn’t even interact with you peasants if I had country club money.”

“Yeah, that’s why you’re not rich.” Yoongi teases, “You’d be horrible.”

“I suppose.” Nari shrugs, looking around before her mouth falls into an O, “This resort even has good-looking lifeguards...”

Jungkook cocks a brow at her, last time he remembers the lifeguard was some scrawny dude with a permanent scowl. Looking up, Jungkook sits up quickly, pushing his sunglasses over his head at the familiar figure he sees switching seats with the old lifeguard. 

“Isn’t that the girl you checked out the other day?” Yoongi asks, his eyes raking over your body shamelessly, making Jungkook shove him gently.

“Yeah, it is.” Jungkook smirks, watching as you offer some kids a cute smile, telling them to watch their step as they run. Even in the basic red swimsuit the lifeguards were required to wear you still somehow managed to look like sin. “She’s friends with Aya, right?”

“Yeah, they're actually really close.” Taehyung says in a forgetful manner, too preoccupied in doggy paddling around his friends. “Been friends since middle school.”

“Shit, so they're like sisters then.” Nari corrects, “Middle school to college is cool, they saw each other get out of the awkward stage.”

“If she even had one.” Jungkook laughs, still eyeing you.

“They say the prettiest girls have the most awkward phases.” Nari shrugs, “I mean, look at me, gorgeous and my awkward stage was horrendous.”

“Yeah, sure.” Yoongi laughs, wincing when Nari pinches his leg.

♡ If you like this story, comment under here to be on the taglist for when it comes out!

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[angellesword]

BAGGAGE | SPECIAL CHAPTER

Summary: In television dramas, the male lead's mother bribes the female lead with money to get her to leave her son. But Jeon Jungkook is different. He isn't a mother to begin with. He's just...rich.

"₩33,354,771,840.," Jungkook says, voice impassive as he stares at you. "A Lexus LC and a house near your sister's home. I'll give you everything you want if you stay with me."

Or alternatively,

Filthy-rich Jungkook doesn't know how to propose to you, so he simply bribes you.

Will you say yes?

Word Count: 3.6k

Genre & Content Warnings: established relationship, fluff, friends to lovers, kissing

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (Set in Baggage universe) {{Read end notes for clarity}}

****

As Jungkook’s best friend and girlfriend, it isn’t weird that he clings to you. He’s like a cat, clipping his claws and bringing you presents—this is evident by the random (but hella expensive) gifts piling up in your room.

Jungkook loves you (it's a simple fact everyone around you knows), although there are times Jungkook isn't sure how to show his affection to you the 'normal' way.

Take, for instance, now:

"Jungkook." Your voice on the other line lacks energy, immediately causing Jungkook's stomach to drop. He has a bad feeling he won't like whatever you will say.

"I'm gonna be late tonight. You shout eat first. Don't wait for me." And Jungkook is right. His brows furrow, lips protruding into a sulky pout because he hates what you just said.

"How late." But Jungkook doesn't give up. It's your anniversary, after all. How can you act so nonchalantly as if your relationship is for naught?

Don’t you love him anymore? The thought leaves a bitter taste in Jungkook's mouth.

"Really late, Kook." You sigh, but a hint of softness can be traced to your voice. You sound sorry. Jungkook's heart clenches. "We've lots of things going on lately, especially now that my final exam is scheduled soon.”

You are a twenty-five-year-old student taking up your doctorate degree. You don’t want to give up studying as you want to be an educator in the future. It's fun—your studies. You get to research and develop strategies to gain more knowledge and inspire your future students, especially those full of dreams. Studying also lets you catch up with many students who have become your friends. You recently flew to France as an exchange student. You are so busy with school that you no longer have time for Jungkook.

Jungkook has yet to discuss this dilemma with you. He can't because he doesn't want to appear like a needy asshole, but he also can't because although you’re back in Korea, you are still jetlagged and caged to your classroom. Jungkook hasn't seen you in months, and now you’re telling him you’ll be late for your anniversary celebration.

Jungkook has had enough.

"I'll wait for you." He forces down the lump in his throat, contemplating grabbing an antacid tablet to wash the bitterness staining his lips.

"But—"

"I will wait for you." Jungkook cuts you off. 

It's non-negotiable. Jungkook is not like any normal boyfriend. He'll pretend everything is okay even though it's killing him inside. He refuses to act like Jimin—this friend of his likes bossing Taehyung, his boyfriend, around. But he wouldn't act tough if Taehyung got busy with his modeling career. Jimin won't hesitate to show affection to Taehyung, acting like a clingy dog until Taehyung spends time with him.

Unfortunately, Jungkook is not a dog. He's a feisty kitten, and cats don't beg their mommy to canoodle them—they'll simply stay calm while planning how to let their owners willingly do their bidding.

*****

You swear you love your school. You really do, but on God, was it testing your patience.

"Shit." You cuss under your breath when you trip down the stairs. It's no one's fault but yours. Running while climbing the stairs isn't ideal, yet you cannot not do it.

You can't wait for the elevator; you want to reach Jungkook's home as quickly as possible. Your boyfriend's apartment is at the penthouse, so it took you a shit ton of running before you found yourself banging on Jungkook's door.

You’re tired. You’re so fucking tired you want to cry. School monopolizes your time so much that you fall asleep inside the train and miss your stop. You woke up slouching on the train seat, head hanging close to the pole as countless people bumped into you. You jolt awake with a stiff neck and judgmental stares from other people. Drool stains the side of your mouth. You can't help but bow your head and scurry from their funny eyes. Your embarrassment doesn't last long as you have more important issues to deal with.

July 21.

Today is July twenty-one, your fifth anniversary with Jungkook as lovers. You are clueless about it. You’d probably go on with your day hadn't it been for your alarm. Your phone notifies you that you have yet to log your yearly date experience with Jungkook for your anniversary. You are drowning with paperwork, and the event you’re looking forward to the most is forgotten.

You feel horrible. In the past years, you used to pester Jungkook to have a sweet bone on his body and indulge you during your anniversary. It's a special day, after all. You will never forget how you got together:

It was the year you graduated high school and started college. You chose a university near your hometown so you could still live close to home and visit your loved ones during breaks. For you, nothing much has changed. You got busier with school, but you’re still very much close with Jungkook. You hang out in each other's room, spending half the day doing whatever.

Contrary to what people think, Jungkook, although an asshole who likes teasing you, is fun to be with. He's a good listener, too, and is willing to try things as long as he doesn't have to go outside and exert too much energy. He's just a lazy bum who is highly attached to his bed.

--And apparently, attached to you too.

You noticed that your best friend acted differently a few months after starting college. Jungkook is weirdly quiet and seems to develop the habit of pursing his lips into a thin line whenever you tell him stories about the university. If asked if something was up, Jungkook would shake his head and shoo you away.

You tried to understand your enigmatic best friend for some time. You are very patient with Jungkook, acting like a mature adult who needs to look after a lost kitten and ensure the kitten gets his milk and plays with his toys.

Jungkook has lived a happy and healthy (although tiring) life, so imagine how upset you are when you find out your best friend got sick. Jungkook said he’ll help Jimin’s business and defer for one year to think about what he feels about college, but soon, he'll definitely get into a good university, too. You don’t understand why he's abandoning his health.

"I can't believe you, Jungkook." You click your tongue. You are currently inside his room. Jungkook is running a fever, curled into a ball, and shivering. He didn't even drink his medicine. "You stayed up all night playing video games with random strangers, didn't you? Will it kill you to go out of your room and eat? Just look at your face. You're so pale!"

You are trying to change your habit of screaming, but your voice raises slightly as you take in Jungkook's poor state. He looks like a stray animal seeking shelter.

Jungkook snorts and grips his blanket tightly. "Will you shut up?"

"I—what." You are at a loss. Here you are, pouring your care for Jungkook, and this is all you get?

You clench your jaw, heart going wild.

"I won't shut up, Jungkook. You're being unreasonable. Jimin had to call me because you only leave your room if he tells you I'm home. What's up with you? Didn't you already beat the big boss in the game? You reached the final level, Jungkook—"

"Ugh." Jungkook kicks the blanket around his body as he sits on the bed. You are beside him, startled by his sudden movement.

"Jungkook—"

"So noisy." Jungkook glares at you. "Didn't I tell you to shut up?"

"But you're ruining yourself for a game—"

"Who said I was playing games!?" The last time Jungkook was this angry was when he fought those who bullied you during elementary. Jungkook never liked confronting people, as it takes too much energy. He's too lazy for it, but now he can't help but scream in your face. His pale face turns a bright shade of red because of mixed emotions:

"I wasn't playing games. I am up all night studying." Shame. Frustration. "Can't you understand? I need to study harder to get into the same university as you. I want to be with you." Longing.

You are startled, your lips parting wide as this is the first time you see how honest and vulnerable Jungkook is.

"Jungkook."

"I know, okay?" Jungkook wipes at his cheeks aggressively. Your eyes dilate. Fuck. Jungkook is crying. "You're a college student now. You're busy. You have other friends—friends who don't make things hard for you. Friends who don't make you cook crab spring rolls, but I can't." His voice breaks, choking back a sob. "I miss you every day. I miss you at school. I miss you nudging me to eat breakfast. I miss you encouraging me to run another lap. I miss you hiding me behind your back when things get overwhelming. It's just that..." 

Love. Hurt. Comfort.

"I miss you."

It can't be said that this is all too sudden. Jungkook has been feeling like shit for months. He hasn't been himself ever since you started college. You painted his life since he was young. How is Jungkook supposed to function when he is a canvas and you hold the brush?

You might be the brush, but your feelings for Jungkook are the paint colors. Jungkook bottled up his emotions for a long time, and so did you.

No one's to be blamed now that the colors spluttered like torrential rain.

You can't help it. You grab Jungkook's cheeks with both hands and kiss him hard. But your heart is in your throat, and your eyes are tightly clamped shut as you’re afraid Jungkook would find the kiss appalling.

Jungkook doesn't. He melts against your lips. It takes him a few seconds before purring and kissing you back.

Your lips are soft. Jungkook is a breathy kisser, as if he wants to suck the air out of your mouth, making it seem like you are his oxygen. In truth, you really are.

"I miss you too." You stop kissing Jungkook to whisper this, but he chases after your lips, so fussy that you dare to stop.

You laugh and press your lips against Jungkook's. But you stop again. You are not done with your speech yet.

"And I love you, Jungkook. You've no idea how much crazy I am for you." You nearly lose your mind when attending university and can't see him. You hate seeing unfamiliar people despite your friendly and airy nature.

You miss doing your homework with him. You miss packing extra lunch to ensure Jungkook is eating well. You miss him. You miss Jungkook so badly that you run toward Jungkook's house every Friday right after your last class.

You miss Jungkook, so you can't help but kiss him more. You lick his tears away, too. Jungkook is hot—he's so, so hot.

Literally.

"Tsk." There's a warning tinging Jungkook's tone when he calls your name as you stop kissing him. Jungkook thinks you are toying with him, but you will never do that.

"I know. I'm sorry." You settle a kiss on Jungkook's forehead before brushing his hair with your fingers. "But you're still sick. You need to eat and rest."

Jungkook whines, his hands clenching into fists. He wants to kiss you more.

"But it's Sunday." That is all Jungkook can say. His words imply: If I sleep now, you'll leave, and I won't see you until Friday. I wanna spend more time with you.

"I'll see you tomorrow. Don't worry. You need to ask me out properly tomorrow."

"Huh?" Jungkook blinks innocently at you. He doesn't know how you end up straddling his lap. 

"Don't huh me." You click your tongue. "I've already told you I love you. Don't forget you kissed me back. You like me too, right?"

Heat flares up Jungkook's cheek. He nods slowly before looking at your eyes.

You chuckle. "Then it's settled. We're together now, but you will ask me properly tomorrow."

"We're together?" Jungkook asks dumbly—as if he didn't hear the same thing from you.

You are tempted to flick his forehead. But you simply look at your smartwatch and laugh.

"July twenty-one. Yes, Jungkook. We're dating already. Is that okay with you?"

Of course, it is. Jungkook has been in love with you since he was young. He only raises his eyebrows for acceptance, though.

You smile. "Good. That's good. You're officially my headache.”

For years, things have stayed the same. You indulge Jungkook in whatever way possible, but it gets progressively hectic this year, and you can't even see your boyfriend.

And now, you’re a minute away from missing your fifth anniversary.

"Jungkook. Answer the door." You are out of your mind, forgetting that you know your boyfriend's door password. It takes you a couple of knocks before realizing that, but when you do, Jungkook is already opening the door.

"Jungkook!" Your eyes are blown wide. You hurriedly look at your smartwatch, your heart dropping when you see the time.

12 am.

It's July 22 now. You miss your anniversary.

"Fuck." Your shoulders sag. You gather your boyfriend into your arms. "Fuck, Jungkook. I'm so sorry."

You are not a crybaby. You didn’t cry after what the people in the club did to you. But this is different. This isn't the club. This is Jungkook.

Tears well up in your eyes. Your distress is apparent. Jungkook has never seen you like this. It makes his heart ache.

"Hey," Jungkook calls softly. He wraps his arms around your waist. Jungkook's lips are dry. "Let's get you inside first."

You don’t fight him. You enter Jungkook's home, and you settle on the couch. It's late, but Jungkook is still wearing a suit. He hates suits as he prefers hiding his figure over an oversized hoodie while his shoulder-length hair is tied into a messy bun.

The Jungkook you’re facing now has cleaned up so nicely. And oh God...

"Your hair." You stutter a breath. Jungkook ties his hair into a bun, which isn't messy like how he usually styles it. "I heard you need to look presentable when planning a proposal," Jungkook explains why he changed his hairstyle.

Your brows knit. Your mind can't still catch up to the present moment. You are stuck looking at Jungkook. Your boyfriend is so, so handsome. And goddamnit, his lips look soft—as if begging to be sucked.

You forced yourself to look away and pay attention to your boyfriend's words. "Proposal." You say as you lick your lower lip, still high from looking at Jungkook, climbing many stairs, and missing your anniversary. "What happened? Are you planning to woo some new investors?”

You gulp.

"Please tell me it's not Professor Verlaine." Verlaine is among the smartest businessmen out there, but you can't forget how you ran after him yesterday at 4am to get his insights about your paper.

Verlaine follows a strict routine, especially now the semester is about to end. He doesn't have time for you, so you sneak up to him for a few words. The only reason he doesn't call security on you is because he respects your diligence.

You shake your head at the memory. You swear you don’t want to take the spotlight from Jungkook, but you are exhausted and can't help but groan.

"I hate the education system so much, Jungkook. The bastard made me run three kilometers with little to no breaks." You rest your head on your boyfriend's heaving chest. You want to apologize properly to Jungkook and listen to his milestones, but you want to yap more than ever and fall asleep. You’ve been studying for more than twenty-four hours straight.

Jungkook's stomach knots with worry ang guilt; he beats himself up for thinking you don't love him. You clearly do. But life is getting in the way of your relationship. This isn't ideal at all. 

Jungkook is a good boyfriend. He rubs the back of your head, encouraging you to voice out your grievances. You smell of commute and smoke. You probably dealt with your chain-smoker professors earlier. Jungkook doesn't mind, though. If anything, it makes him realize how much he loves you. He can kiss you all day, even in this state.

"This used to excite me, you know? But I'm tired of unrealistic expectations in school. How can I write a whole dissertation in a few weeks? I’ve had oral examinations and business projects, too.”

Sometimes, you are not free to learn as you are bound to follow what is written in the book and set by the education sector.

You long to express your idea and not be barred by endless examinations to test your intelligence. You want to explore learning habits and see how students can express their knowledge, not just through exams. But more than ever, you want a slow morning without skipping breakfast to run to the train station to get to your 7 am class. You want to laze around your home, water your dying plants, prepare meals for you and Jungkook, and host barbeque parties with your other friends.

Your school hinders you from doing what you want. But you can't quit if you want to achieve your dream. 

"My love," Jungkook calls when he thinks you have fallen asleep while ranting. You are very much awake, though. You’re busy daydreaming about a life you don’t have.

"Sorry." You feel defeated. "I rambled, didn't I?" You kiss Jungkook's cheeks. "And I took the spotlight away from you. Can you tell me about your proposal later? I just need to get some shut-eye." You need to go to school in a few hours. Jungkook doesn't mind that you are sleeping around him.

But not this time.

"No." He holds your face. "I have to tell you about the proposal now."

"Huh? Ah." You force yourself to stay awake. You really don’t want to upset Jungkook. Besides...your boyfriend sounds serious. "I guess I can spare some time."

You have gotten nervous about Jungkook's tone. You can even go as far as to say that your drowsiness fades a little.

Thankfully, Jungkook goes straight to the point.

"I don't want to be your boyfriend anymore."

"Huh?" Now, you are wide awake. Your heart trembles violently against your chest.

"Jungkook." You call, voice strained. "Are you serious? You don't want to be my boyfriend anymore?"

Please say no. Please.

"Yes."

Fuck.

You feel your heart drop. Heat crawls to your face as your lips part. No words come out, though. You don’t know what to do or say.

Jungkook is breaking up with you. Jungkook doesn't want you anymore.

"I don't want to be your boyfriend anymore because I have a new proposal about our relationship."

What do you mean? You want to ask, but you’re still too stunned to speak. Luckily, Jungkook explains.

Jungkook takes your stone-cold hands. You don’t feel anything. You don't realize that Jungkook's hands are shaking. More importantly, you don't feel it when Jungkook hovers a ring on your finger.

You only realize what's happening when Jungkook forces a nervous smile; his tone is delicately soft when he asks, "Will you do the honor of marrying me?"

You let out a strangled gasp.

"Jungkook." You call.

Jungkook panics. He swears he can already feel the rejection in your mouth. He can't.

"Hear me out first." Jungkook schools his expression to be neutral. It's okay. He tells himself. He has prepared for this moment.

"You have no reason to say no." He doesn't mean to be aggressive, but he sounds like one. Jungkook can't take back what he started.

He pushes through.

"₩33,354,771,840." Jungkook tightens his hold on the ring and your hand. "I computed your average yearly salary as a future professor until retirement." 

Silence permeates the room. You are just staring at Jungkook.

Jungkook clears his throat, “And then I multiplied it by ten—that’s how I came up with the amount.”

You have no idea what Jungkook is saying.

“You said you wanted a Lexus LC, so I brought you one. I bought a bare house near your Jisoo-unnie’s home because you said you want to live closer to her. It’s up to you how you want to design it.”

Jungkook is proud when he adds, “Everything will be yours if you agree to marry me. You can quit now if you’re not happy with school. You can work as my full-time wife or build your own school. I can help you with the capital. I will be your number one investor.”

“Are you bribing me, Kookie?” You ask when you recover from the initial shock. You can’t help the playful smirk creeping up your face.

Jungkook snorts. “No. They’re merely your perks. You will marry me because you love me.” Confidence is not something Jungkook focuses on. He only says things he has analyzed—just like his tactics in business. Based on his calculations, you will say yes after hearing his proposal. Jungkook got nervous and afraid earlier because he had yet to say his piece. But now that he did…

“My assets are hundreds of times higher compared to what you’ll make in the future. I want you happy, my love. I can give you what you want.”

It pains Jungkook to see you looking tired with bloodshot eyes. He wants you to freely experience what it’s like to be happy—this is mainly why Jungkook works hard to earn money. He longs for you to have a comfortable lifestyle.

“Jungkook.”

Jungkook ignores your defeated look. “So, what do you say, will you marry me?”

Silence engulfs you. Jungkook mentally recomputes his chance as his heart beats erratically. He says his chance is 98/100.

Perhaps he needs to convince you more—

Jungkook’s train of thought halts when you lead his hands into inserting the ring into your finger.

“It’s a yes, then,” you say after the ring slides to your finger. You smirk at Jungkook. “I’ll let you marry me so I can officially be your wife. What do you say, Kookie?”

Jungkook nods. He grabs your face and kisses you hard. “Mn.” He hums as he licks the seams of your lips. “Let’s get you a collar for here too.” Jungkook’s lips paint bruises on your neck. “That way, you’ll be mine in all aspects.”

You laugh.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s send out our wedding invitation soon, too.”

Jungkook nods. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Kookie.”

- End - 

*****

A/N: I originally posted this as a Haikyu!! fic, but I figure, why not share it as a JJK fic to people here on Tumblr and give you guys a break from the original baggage plot? I wrote this all day, heavily inspired by what I want to happen in my life. Seriously, I need my Jungkook too. My corporate job has been stressing me lately, so my brain daydreams of things I know will not happen to me in real life.

Sighs. I want to eat and just write fics all day.

Note: THIS IS IN NO WAY RELATED/ CONNECTED WITH THE ORIGINAL PLOT OF BAGGAGE. (This doesn't contain spoilers on what's gonna happen in chapter 12 onwards. This is merely an alternate universe where Jungkook didn't fuck up and isn't a coward about expressing his emotions to OC. There's no Soobin here, though.)

See you soon!! What do you guys think about this?

[emojellyace08]

Lookism Men x Female Reader "Their types on a woman" (J-High Main boys)

A/N: Hi fellow human! Sorry if I hadn't made any posts this past few weeks, I was taking a break and my laptop isn't working properly. Anyway, the important thing is I'm back making more Lookism (especially Danny content), so enjoi! :) Genre: Fluff☁️and slight angst? (for everyone) Warnings: NONE! just pure cuteness and sweetness I guess? Add in!: this post is also inspired by another Lookism Men (J-High boys) with a female reader. Though I can't really remember the acc or post so I'll just paste it in here incase I find it :) I'll probably make a part 2 about this

Daniel Park (Park Hyung Seok)

This man will be the biggest simp in the whole world. Will always look at you with that puppy eyes like 🥺👉👈 halk;hkld;ahfkl;ahf I love him so much

It's canon (kind of) that Daniel doesn't give a damn about how you look like for the most part. What matters to him most is that you respect everybody and treat them equally. But since the incident with Yui kind of traumatized him from finding true love, it also left and taught him a good and knowledgeable lesson. Since Danny went through lots of character development, he learned to himself that he can't just trust someone who acts nice and that he needs to know someone better if he really likes someone.

If you already interacted with his main body and haven't judge him for his looks just like a normal person would do or if you met this cinnamon roll on middle school when he's still being bullied by that fucker Logan, if you had the balls to save him from that mf congratulations! You made him interested in you!

If you also helped him in his homework or if you insists to spend some time with him like going out to the mall, patching his bruises when the bullies beat him up or if he gets in trouble with the gangs, and helping him out like giving him advices on his worst days even on the tiny things, he'll be head over heels for you (though he stills feel guilty that you're spending your money on him but you keep reassuring him that is fine) But if you're also the broke girl he can empathize more since he also faces this issues like his mom forcing herself to work just for him. Rich or not, fat or slim, girly or tomboyish, if you're overall kind, unjudgmental yet completely honest, and generous not just to him (in both of his bodies of course) but also to everybody without wanting anything in return, then you earned this man's respect and heart ;). I also headcannon that he's more into quiet and calm women since he's easily overwhelmed by noisy people and places. But even if you're the type of extroverted woman or the introverted type, as long you're nice and helpful then you'll catch his attention.

I feel like after having his second body he'll start to have the confidence to befriend you. At first he wouldn't make things obvious since he's still shy about his feelings for you since he wants to know you even more as you show your true colors. He'll also probably going to ask some advice on Jace and Zack about approaching you since he doesn't have that much of a romantic experience xD. Since you always treat him, he'll ask you to hang out with him like going to the mall to watch movies or going to the park and eating on every food truck or stand you see but he'll bring some of your friends too like Zack, Jay, Mira, Zoe, even Vasco to hang out so things won't be obvious.

If he enjoys your company and the energy you have, he'll ask you out more but this time is just the two of you (if he has the budget). Or if you're in the same class/school as you, he'll always ask you out to eat with him on lunch too making all his fangirls jealous lol. "You want a piggyback? No problem! Need help from your homework? I'll help you out!" Or even if you don't study at the same school, he'll still ask you out privately and if you accept it Daniel would be the happiest man alive and him just being here for you every time even if he's broke or mentally unstable too lol like how you company him too. Overall just him being there for you and ready to help while being sweet (please I just need a Danny in my life lmao).

And since he's a really shy and introverted person, he's afraid of opening up about his issues and insecurities. But knowing that you're a sweet person yet you don't sugar-coat things (no pun intended), he will probably talk about it with you even when he's still afraid of him being a burden to you. But if you reached out to him first if you noticed when he's acting down and strange, he'll appreciate and love you even more. An example of this when he writes a letter to you when he ran away. Since he can't express his self with words, he decides to write his thoughts on a piece of paper while confessing his problems and probably his true feelings to you. "Y/N I don't know how to tell my thoughts in the first place but seeing Logan back when I try to run away from my problems just kills me inside. It may sound selfish to you but I felt like a burden for you and especially my mom. But I thank you for being there for me in my darkest times, when you help me out from those bullies and you don't judge me by my looks. Though I just need time for myself now. Please don't look for me. You're really a sweet and honest person and that's why I love you, and I mean it and not just for being a friend. Though I don't expect you to reciprocate my feelings it back. The larva that waits for years to be reborn as a cicada decides to return back to it's shell and to not spread it's wings. I'm sorry". You'll definitely going to cry while reading the letters and words written on the wrinkly paper if you're really close to him. As the time he returns back home just imagine hugging him and scolding him for running away. "JESUS CHRIST DANIEL! DON'T RUN AWAY LIKE THAT AGAIN YOU'RE SCARING ME!" you hugged his small and chubby form while you stain his clothes with your tears. "Y-Y/N I don't know what I was thinking. I-I'm sorry I won't do it again".

Just be a green flag in general to him whether size, shape or form he's in. And bonus points for you if you treat his mom well ;).

Zack Lee (Lee Jin Sung)

Another approved simp here lol. Like this man is fine tf, ehem excuse me back to the topic

I feel like this man is insecure deep inside his tough shell. He really worked hard for his strength and in boxing to protect his friends like Mira and Johan since the cult incident. So he wouldn't be different with you if he sees you as a valuable and good person.

And remember when he's still a notorious bully and many people were afraid of him? (tbh I really hate him before when he beat Little Daniel before) I headcannon that no matter how hard he tries to be ignorant from other's comments about him he actually feels bad about the horrible things he have done yet he's still hesitant at first to change since he felt vulnerable if he listens to other people's gossip about him. Why is this so angst this is supposed to be fluff :(.

So if you tried to approach him when you noticed Zack's face had a bruise he didn't even know he has when he got into a fight, he'll be annoyed by you at first as why your talking to him. Do you know that his heart is only devoted to Mira? (Not that you're aware of so calm down boy). "Who the hell are you? Do you know that I only love Mira! She's the most beautiful person on Earth and I just can't hit on you sorry!" He continues to ramble that he likes someone else until he became speechless as you patch him with the extra band aid that you have on your pocket, you tip-toeing to reach his height as your warm and soft hands make contact with his open wounds while he froze. "I'm just trying to help and clean off your wound y'know. Don't worry I'm not hitting on you" you replied coldly yet with the same sweet tone on your voice that just makes him melt. This can't be happening, he likes Mira! She's been his crush since childhood! So why is he feelings butterflies in his stomach whenever you're near him??? (I love Mira so much but ahhhhh) Are you not scared of him? He's literally a bully in your school yet you chose to help him.

The thing is just like Daniel's preferences, what he likes about you is that you're free-spirited, you're a sweet and gentle person, honest and you're willing to help others. You also help him out with his ego-issues while giving him some constructive criticisms to work on himself. It may be a little bit hurtful on his part but he knows deep inside that you're expressing your thoughts that others can't tell to him because they're scared that he'll misunderstood it and beat them. But coming those constructive criticisms from your soft voice calms him even more and you want to bring out the best of him on his attitude. It may look like he's not listening, but trust me if he really likes you he'll lend his ears and mind for you.

Like Daniel, he'll be hesitant about his feelings first about you. Not because his insecure about himself but because he's insecure about it. He may look like a bad person on other people's eyes, he's DEFINETLY NOT THE TYPE to double-time two women. He likes Mira. Yet when he sees you eating lunch alone or just sitting on your desk on class and being quiet and minding your own business, he wants to approach and talk to you. "Wait is Mira absent? I guess sitting with Y/N in lunch won't be a bad idea." And he'll probably talk about his feelings for you to her. He's scared that if he confessed to him and you don't like like him back and that he's also going to hurt the other girl's feelings. That's why he'll conversate with the brunette. And despite liking Zack too Mira will definitely try to understand on what he's trying to say and will 100% support both of you. And Zack will also dress to impress xD. He'll flex his accomplishments to you "Y/N do you know that I'm a professional boxer? I won lots of boxing competitions y'know" he boastfully said while winking at you and being proud of himself. "But I thought you lost to Johan Seo-" "SHUT UP JIHO!" And will take you on "friendly dates" and will try to change his bad habits for him to be a good influence to you (though he will beat the sh*t out of everyone who ever tries to mess with you, not caring if you'll lecture him later).

Overall be nice, patient, be honest and understanding to him. And also take care of Zacky and he'll reciprocate it back :).

Vasco (Lee Euntae)

If the other two are simps, this man will follow you like a lost puppy lol

You know Vasco is innocent despite his gangster-looking body and face. This boy likes animals especially puppies! This man will also get superrrr excited when he sees you walking on the park with your dog (Will 100% approach you with a cute smile even if he doesn't know you lmao. It may freak you out but I told you Eun Tae is innocent so be patient about it). "Hello! Is this your dog? He looks so cute!" "Oh yeah he's a golden retriever." "Like a chihuahua?" "Oh no. Chihuahua is smaller than a golden retriever" you chuckled lightly at the tattooed male while his eyes sparkled even more as he bended down to reach the dog's height while apologizing to you about his mistake which you shrugged it off saying that it's okay. "Hi little dog, oh I mean woof woof!" AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Since this man has zero percent romantic experience, he's literally going to fall fast for you. He will also introduce himself to you if you're not classmates or study at the same school since he's excited to have a girl friend (ehem) that likes animals too! If you also find him interesting and you gave him his number, he will tell everything to Jace and the other Burn Knuckles members about you all the time. "JACE! I TALKED TO A GIRL TODAY HER NAME IS Y/N!" "Vasco keep your voice do- wait. WHAT! YOU TALKED TO A GIRL!!!"

If he also notices about how you're a gentle and caring person and also likes helping others without wanting anything in return, he'll literally catch a crush on you. Being an animal lover will definitely makes you and Vasco make less tense with each other and have a very special connection with each other.

And if you also taught him to understood things in his surroundings, he'll definitely appreciate your help! You know how this man isn't really conscious on almost everything even on the little dirty things so when he doesn't know what he's doing wrong. So he'll really listen to you if you explain it to him in a detailed yet understandable statement! You don't have to be completely smart but you're intellectual thinking can also help him understand you way better. He'll also let you call him by his real name if you're really close to him. (Also I can imagine the Burn Knuckles crying and cheering when you and Vasco became a thing. Y'know the FBI cheering meme? And yes they will do the Invisible Charlotte on you lmao).

And you know how his sense of justice and helping people can also get him through hard situations sometimes? Yeah it makes you worried when his hero complex gets him in trouble despite just wanting to help others who can't defend themselves.

So imagine just patching and treating his wounds while lecturing him. "EUNTAE! YOU CAN'T JUST BE INVOLVED WITH FIGHTS EVERYDAY!" you scolded him while he tries to hold back him crying. He doesn't even know if he's going to burst down into tears because you're angry at him or because of the sting and pain he feels when the soft cotton made contact on his wounded skin. "S-So you-you're telling me that I can't defend the weak? They're literally getting bullied Y/N". you sighed as he misunderstood on what you're trying to imply while he sniffs as he can't control the liquid pouring out from his brown-colored orbs. You sat beside him as you made eye contact on his sad ones. "You know Euntae, I understood you. It's okay to help others but you can't just always get into fights with everybody. I'm worried for you y'know". "But the bad guys won't stop hurting the innocent if I don't stop them" he replied while feeling wretched. "Because that's the sad truth. But evilness has a reason to spread". "Why?" he asks innocently. "Because the world wouldn't be balanced if we don't make mistakes. We will be perfect like Gods but emotionless like robots. And the reason why evil is taking all over us is to open the eyes of others on how our own world and our own kind has become corrupted and to solve it is to help others. I have no problems of you helping out Vasco. But it makes me worried on what is going to happen to you." "That's why I'm trying to be stronger!" he cheered and stood up while his warm tears are still rolling down on his face. "It's to protect others and to protect you too Y/N!" you smiled at his optimistic thinking as you ruffled his hair making his heart skip a beat. "And that's what I like about you Lee Euntae".

Jay Hong (Hong Jae Yol)

A mixture of a simp and a puppy lmao.

I feel like he doesn't really fall in love so easily (unless it's Daniel lol)

Since Jay is also a quiet person (who literally doesn't talk), so I bet he can't stand whiny and noisy girls (lmao pls don't attack me). I think he prefers women (if it's women ;) who leans more on the quiet and gentle side yet is still fun to talk and be around with. Video games on his apartment, hanging out in the mall or talking about fashion styles and brands are his way to go dates.

It's canon that he buys expensive gifts and brands for someone he likes so just expect him to just gave you 4 bags full of clothes and jewelry that almost anybody can't touch and buy for themselves. But despite him buying you everything that you want, he still hopes that you just don't like him because he's hot, mysterious and rich. He really wants someone who values him not just by his looks and social status. But if simple signs of helpful gestures is enough for you like him helping you out on your homeworks when you're in struggle or if you need a shoulder to cry on then Jay will be available 100%.

If you decided to approach Jay first, it's completely normal for him to be a bit shy and tense in front of you. He can really caught the attention of many women because of his beautiful features and good taste on fashion style while the other dudes just stare at him with envy. But if you really want to make friends with anybody, talking to Jay can be a challenge. Not only is that he don't literally open his mouth, he can't help but to feel nervous when a girl or literally anybody who approaches him since he's not used to it. Though after befriending him out of pure innocence and not wanting anything from him, he'll start to be more open about his interests and Jay will start to be more caring about you and just be himself in front of you and everybody else.

Just like the rest of the dudes, your sweet and warm personality can break the ice between the two of you and if he's starting to like you even more than just a friend, his affection would be more and more obvious. He will also patch you up and clean your wounds when you get hurt and he'll beat the sh*t out of everyone who tries to mess and hurt you (just like the other three boys). But he won't let you know why your bullies/enemies look like they've been used as a punching bag. He's also willing to give you his whole wallet full of cash if you can't buy your lunch (he'll still force you to take it especially if he knows you're the broke type lol).

Will probably start to learn sign language and Morse code with you so you can understood each other more lol (and talk about dumb shit a lot that only the two of you will understand lmao). But if you can already comprehend on what he's trying to express, he'll appreciate it and fall for you more considering how his close friends and family are the only ones who at least understand on what he's trying to pick up. And listen to him when he's ranting about his problems even though there are no words coming out of his mouth. He might even let out a sad whimper and a huff when he tries to suppress his feelings since he doesn't want to be seen as a burden especially in front of someone whom he really cherishes.

Just be a green flag. Don't just use him as a sugar daddy or he won't be returning the sweet treatment and attitude back at you. Actions speak louder than words after all.

A/N: my first ever fluff to be written about and yeah sorry if this sucks.

[themaevethcometh]

okay i've had this scene from an au stuck in my head recently so here's 3k of timkon identity shenanigans where kon has been recently taken in by luthor for nefarious reasons and is forced to attend a gala where tim and bruce show up. robin hasn't revealed his identity to the team yet even though they've been friends for years. canon/timeline has been put in a blender and liquified.

Kon takes a deep breath in through his nose, holding it for a few seconds before slowly letting it out of his mouth.  It’s a technique that Robin taught the team when he was trying desperately to get them on a more bat-approved training regime, including meditation and an acrobatics routine that Nightwing allegedly used on the Teen Titans years ago.  Kon is fully aware that he’s got weird stuff going on with his body’s organs and systems compared to humans, but the slow, rhythmic breathing still brings comfort and helps center him, slowing everything down enough so he no longer feels like he’s going to accidentally fry someone with his heat vision.

He tugs at the collar of his dress shirt, gulping and taking a deep breath again.  The shirt and tie feels so much more restrictive than his Superboy uniform, tightening like a noose around his neck, and the inflexibility of the suit coat makes him feel like a stiff, awkward mannequin.

“Stop that,” Luthor says, putting a heavy hand on his shoulder.  Kon immediately stills, straightening and trying to relax at the same time.

“These people are vultures,” Lex says, voice low.  Kon tries to focus his super hearing on him, rather than the woman with the loud laugh across the ballroom or the clink of glasses down the hall where the staff is continuously loading and unloading equipment.  He can hear the steady beat of Lex’s heart, the rhythmic whoosh of air traveling in his lungs, the slight gurgle of his stomach (gross!).  Kon decides he doesn’t like listening to Lex Luthor very much.

“Remember what I told you,” Lex is still saying.  “Be on your best behavior.  Today is about getting your name and your face out there.  Be polite, but not a pushover.  Never let them see weakness.”

Kon forcibly bites back the retort that his only weakness is kryptonite and makes himself nod instead.

Luthor leads him over to a group of people with his hand still clamped on Connor’s shoulder like a shackle.  From there, it’s an exhausting parade of schmoozing with millionaires and billionaires, shaking hands firmly (but not too firmly!), laughing at unfunny jokes, and pretending that he loves dear old Dad instead of wanting to punt him through the nearest wall.

Kon is charming.  He knows this.  It’s something that he’s known since he freshly came out of a test tube, and it’s something that he’s perfected with smiles and body language and a well-placed word or phrase.  Kon can get most people eating out of his hand with barely any effort, but it’s usually normal people a little closer to his age, not rich, egotistical, out-of-touch old people who want to pinch his cheeks but absolutely cannot be allowed to due to his invulnerable skin.  Kon forgets everyone’s name almost as soon as he hears it, clutching his flute of sparkling cider like a lifeline (but not hard enough to shatter).

Kon doesn’t know how long he gets paraded around as Luthor’s newest pet, but it feels like forever.  Everyone talks around where he’s been for the past 17 years of his life (nonexistent and then in a lab and then gallivanting around with superheroes and then, finally, as of two month ago a little farm in Kansas until Lex Luthor uprooted everything with a few well-placed threats), and Kon lets Lex tell the cover story about how he didn’t find out about Connor until recently, but he’s happy to be reunited with his son now.

Son.  Connor isn’t anyone’s son.  He was maybe getting to be a family member to the Kents finally, but Luthor threw a wrench into all of that.

Connor had a room at the farm.  He had a chore list to do and homemade meals to eat, and Clark has finally stopped flinching when he sees him.  Clark grinned at him the other day, not his public smile or a small, polite thing, but an actual, honest to goodness grin.  Connor bets he can kiss that goodbye now, just like he can kiss goodbye ever knowing Robin’s real identity, because there’s no way that Batman will let him tell Kon now that Kon is semi-legally under the guardianship of a supervillain, and just like there’s no way that Kon can have anything remotely resembling a normal teenage experience as the ward of a billionaire and forced showpony, and just like–

“I’ll be damned,” Lex breathes next to him, interrupting Kon’s spiral.  Kon follows his gaze to the entrance of the ballroom, ears picking up the loud, boisterous laugh of Bruce Wayne clapping someone on the back a little too forcefully.  Kon has never seen Bruce Wayne in person, but he’s difficult to miss in the papers, especially with how often he finds himself in trouble.  Robin has told him of a few instances when he or one of the other Gotham vigilantes has had to rescue him, and Kon knows that Lois interviewed him once and Clark has informally run into him at a gala such as this.

Clark says he tried really hard to be the journalist from the Planet here tonight once Lex demanded that Connor be there, but it was too late notice.  Neither Clark nor Lois are among the reporters clustered in the corner.  Kon is alone.

“He didn’t RSVP,” Lex says, miffed.  Kon immediately likes Bruce Wayne significantly more because of it.  “Oh, and he brought a friend.”

Kon peers around the crowd that has quickly amassed around Gotham’s favorite billionaire and finally spots the person Bruce Wayne has a hand on the shoulder of.  It’s a teenage boy, dressed in a dark suit with dark hair parted in the middle to keep it out of his eyes.  He’s slight, but not skinny, and he’s not overly tall, probably closer to Robin or Bart’s height than Connor’s.  He doesn’t show any signs of discomfort at the press of adults around him, offering polite handshakes and letting the women kiss his cheeks the way some of them have tried with Kon.  Bruce doesn’t stray far, taking the boy with him when they finally finish with the crowd near the door and head to the bar.  The boy doesn’t seem to mind the attention.  Kon, however, does not appreciate the tone of voice that Lex used when he said friend.  He’s ready to do some superheroing if he needs to.

“Let’s go,” Lex says, putting his hand on Connor’s shoulder again to steer him through the crowd.  “Let me handle Bruce Wayne.  The kid is Timothy Drake.  He recently became the head of his parent’s company when his father died.  This is the first time he’s been seen at an event since the death.  Bruce is almost certainly going to adopt him.  Timothy stayed with him when Jack Drake was in a coma, plus he has the dark hair and light eyes and Brucie favors in his kids.  He’s your focus for the rest of the night.  Forget about everyone else.”

“Lex!  I didn’t know you’d be here, you old dog!” Bruce calls before Connor has time to process all of that, slinging an arm around Luthor’s shoulders and seemingly crushing all of the air out of him in less than a second.

“It’s my party,” Lex wheezes.

“Good thing I’m here to liven it up, eh?” Bruce asks, elbowing Luthor in the ribs.

Kon really hopes that Bruce Wayne’s obsession with dark haired, light eyed boys is an innocent coincidence, because he doesn’t want to apprehend him for being a pedophile when he’s pissing Lex off so easily.

“Hello, Timothy,” Luthor greets, holding out his hand.  Bruce pouts at being ignored while Timothy shakes politely.  “May I just say, it’s refreshing to see you out and about.  I’m sure running your parent’s company is stressful all by yourself.”

Timothy tilts his head, reminding Connor vaguely of a bird.

“I’m happy to do it,” he says, polite but firm.  “It’s what my parents would have wanted, and they left things well organized for me.”

“And I suppose Bruce here has been giving you advice?”

“Now Lex,” Bruce says, wagging his finger at him, “you know that’d be a conflict of interest.  Besides, Tim could run circles around me.  I should be asking him for advice!”

Connor feels his eyes start to glaze over as Luthor and Bruce volley back and forth, seemingly forgetting that he’s even there.  Having Lex’s attention off of him and on someone else is a much needed break, so he’s not about to complain, but it’s also really fucking rude.  Connor hasn’t even been introduced to these two.

Timothy catches his eye, sweeping his gaze over to Luthor and Bruce and rolling his eyes.  Connor smirks.  Timothy raises an eyebrow and Connor mirrors him, just a slight quirk.

Timothy looks pretty nice, up close.  His eyes are the promised light blue, but his dark eyelashes are long and thick, framing them beautifully.  He’s pale, almost reflective in the glittering chandelier light, and he carries himself with a self-assuredness that Connor envies in this environment.  The suit fits him really nicely, hugging his shoulders and accenting his trim waist and long legs.  When he raises his flute to take a sip of the drink inside, Kon finds himself tracking the liquid as it disappears past his pale pink lips, his throat flexing as he swallows.

He’s not bad to look at.  He could easily turn out to be dull as a brick or a total douchebag, but so far first impressions are good.

“And who is this young man?” Bruce asks, snapping him out of his thoughts.  Luthor puts a hand on his back to push him forward a step, and Kon doesn’t have to move, but Lex is going to be mad if he doesn’t and the situation is delicate.

“This is my son, Connor,” Luthor introduces.  Kon offers his hand with his most charming smile.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, shaking first Bruce’s hand (better grip than he expected) and then Timothy’s (rougher than he thought it’d be, skin warm).

“Son, eh?  He must take after his mother!” Bruce laughs.  Lex’s face pinches, but Connor doesn’t have a chance to relish in it before Bruce is sweeping Luthor away with another arm around his shoulder, talking loudly about secret children and parenting hacks.  Luthor tries to protest, but it’s quickly drowned out by Bruce, and he doesn’t have a chance to so much as glance back at Connor before they’re swallowed by the crowd.

Kon blinks.

“Bruce will keep him busy for a while, sorry,” Timothy says, not sounding very sorry.  He takes another sip from his glass, then leans in.  Cologne tickles Connor’s nose.

“Hold your drink by the stem, not the glass,” he says quietly.  “It’s supposed to keep your drink from getting warm, an old etiquette thing.  It’s small, but it’ll help you blend in a little more.”

Kon looks around the room, taking in the people with flutes like him and where they’re holding it.  The majority are holding the stem, and the ones that aren’t are people that Luthor hasn’t bothered to introduce him to yet.  Kon adjusts his grip accordingly, off-balance and embarrassed.

“Thanks,” he says.  Timothy tilts his head.

“You want to get some air?  There’s a balcony over there.  Your father will be able to find you easily once Bruce releases him.”

“Yes,” Kon agrees immediately.  He’s used to not fitting in, but having the eyes of so many judgy rich people on him when he’s pretending to be Lex Luthor’s human son has been exhausting.  No one has been too rude so far, but the weight of Lex’s hand on his shoulder is heavy, and this complicated set of social rules that he still doesn’t understand puts him on edge.

Normally he’d say fuck the rules and do what he wants, but the situation is too delicate for that.  Clarke and Robin both told him that he needs to be careful and think twice about every move he makes, and for once neither of them sounded condescending about it.  He could tell that they don’t like the situation, either, worry and sympathy clear in their faces.

“Come on,” Timothy says, heading towards a set of double doors.  He doesn’t glance back, trusting Connor to follow him, and Connor does, stepping in his footsteps as he expertly weaves through the crowd, deflecting anyone trying to stop to speak to them with smooth excuses and a well-placed smile.  In no time at all he’s pushing open the large french doors, releasing them from the ballroom and into the cool night air.

Kon tilts his head up, blinking at the night sky above him.  It’s cloudy, obscuring what few stars manage to make their way through the light pollution to reach Metropolis.  Connor wishes he could fly up there, feel the dampness of early rain on his face, burst into the dark and escape everything.  For now, he keeps his feet on the ground, instead joining Timothy by the railing.

“So, how often do you come to these things, Timothy?” Connor asks, leaning back on his elbows.  The other boy perches with a hip pressed against the railing, arms crossed over his chest.

“Tim, please,” he says.  “Timothy makes me feel like I’m in trouble or you’re trying to swindle me out of a business deal.”

“Okay.  How often do you come to these things, Tim?” Connor corrects, testing the feel of it in his mouth.  Tim relaxes at the sound.

“Decently often, but I usually stick to Gotham,” he says.  “I’ll have to start coming to more now that I’m in charge of Drake Industries, but I grew up going to galas.  Is this your first one since Luthor found you?”

“Is it that obvious?” Connor asks.  Tim smirks, but shakes his head.

“I think I’d remember if I’d seen you at one of these before.”

Connor flashes him a charming smile.

“I bet you say that to all the boys.”  Tim’s cheeks turn pink, his blush noticeable against his pale skin even with the limited light out here.  Kon takes a sip of his sparkling cider, satisfaction making it taste sweeter on his tongue.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but we’re probably the only people under thirty in the whole building besides some of the catering staff,” Tim says. 

“You missed the toddler earlier,” Connor hums.  “She was throwing a tantrum.  I very much sympathized.”

“Did I really?” Tim asks dryly.  “What a pity.  Oh no.  How unfortunate that Bruce likes being fashionably late to everything.”

Connor snorts.

“Bruce Wayne, huh?” he says.  “How’d you two meet?”

Tim shifts so he’s leaning back against the railing like Kon.  Kon takes a moment to drink in his profile, tracing the sharp jut of his nose, the hair shielding his eyes from him at this angle.

“He’s my neighbor,” Tim says.  “I’ve kind of always known him, but our families weren’t really close until a few years ago.  When my dad was in a coma, Bruce took me in.  My uncle was supposed to get custody of me now, but…”

Tim trails off, searching for words.  Eventually, he shrugs.

“He’s fostering me right now.  We’ll see where it goes from there.”

“Do you want to stay with him?” Kon asks.  Tim considers his words carefully.  Connor’s mouth is always running away with him, but Tim seems to have the opposite approach.  Everything is measured and careful, cold and tactical.  It reminds Kon of Robin in the middle of missions, keeping his reactions even and methodical to counteract the impulsiveness of the rest of the team.  Kon wonders if Tim is the type of person to let himself be stupid and emotional around friends like Robin is, or if he always keeps everything bottled up.

“Yeah, I do,” Tim breathes eventually.  “But it’s complicated.”

“What do you mean?”

Another pause.  Kon does Robin’s breathing exercise, staying patient.  Some people need time to talk, and Kon can’t help if he doesn’t know what’s wrong.

“I guess I don’t want him to adopt me because he feels obligated,” Tim says.  “He has a family.  There’s–It’s a long story, too long to explain now.  Sorry, this is a weird first impression, huh? But enough about me!  What about you?  Where were you before Luthor found you?”

“Uh,” Connor says, still recovering from the whiplash of topics and searching for Luthor’s cover story.  “Kansas.”

“Kansas?” Tim prompts.

“Yeah, Kansas. I was in the foster system for a while, then I got adopted by this nice old couple who live on a farm in Smallville, which is just as small as it sounds.  I didn’t know anything about my birth parents until Lex showed up.”

“Wow,” Tim says.  “This has to be a big adjustment, then.”

Connor scratches the back of his neck.

“Yeah, kinda.”

Kon’s whole life feels like a big adjustment, from adjusting to existing and Clark’s negative feelings towards him, to adjusting to working for Camdus and living in Hawaii, to adjusting to Young Justice and Teen Titans, to finally trying to adjust to Smallville, only to be ripped away from that and forced into Metropolis high society.

“Do you miss them?” Tim asks.  “The old couple who adopted you?”

Kon swallows against the unexpected pang that rolls through him.  He can almost taste Martha’s pancakes on his tongue and hear the crinkle of the newspaper as Jonathan hands him the cartoons.

“I wasn’t with them very long.  Only a few months.”

Tim tilts his head.

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

Connor shrugs.  He doesn’t know what the right answer is here.  Martha and Jonathan are the closest thing he’s ever had to parents, but part of him never expected to stay with them.  When Luthor ripped him away from them, there was a part of Kon that wasn’t surprised at all, even if a bigger part was in agony.

Martha kissed his forehead when he left the farm and gave him a sad smile.

“You can always come back here, okay?  This is your home, no matter what Lex Luthor has to say about it.”

“If they formally adopted you, Lex Luthor’s claim as your biological father isn’t enough to force cut contact,” Tim says, pushing off the railing and taking a few steps closer.  “Trust me.  I researched this stuff when my dad came out of his coma.”

Kon frowns.

“He didn’t like Bruce?”

Tim wavers.

“It’s complicated,” he offers.  Kon snorts.

“Yeah, I get that.”

Tim’s mouth quirks up, giving Connor the shadow of a smile again.

“It’s not really a first meeting story.”

“Guess we need a second meeting, then,” Connor says.

“Yeah?” Tim asks.  “My weird family dynamic really captivated you, huh?”

“It was your eyes first, actually,” Connor says.  Tim opens his mouth, then closes it again, eyes wide.  Kon holds his breath.  He says flirty things all the time, both to his friends and to people he rescues who seem like they need a pick-me-up, but it’s been a while since he sincerely flirted with someone he plans to see again.  He almost never does it with someone who only knows him as Connor rather than Superboy, much less a boy.

If this goes badly and Tim tells the entire Metropolis elite that Lex’s son is a homosexual, maybe the scandal will be enough for Luthor to send him back to Smallville.  If it goes well…

“You have… very nice eyes, too,” Tim says eventually.  Connor beams, then beams even more at the sharp inhale Tim draws in response.  Tim shifts.

“Hey, do you want to get out of here?” he asks.  “There’s a decent ice cream place open late a few blocks away.  We can be there and back before anyone misses us.”

Connor glances towards Luthor in the ballroom.  He’s still talking to Bruce Wayne, and they’ve amassed a small crowd around them.

“Bruce will keep Lex busy for a while.  He likes to talk.  Besides, you can always tell him that you were networking,” Tim offers.

Luthor said that Tim should be his focus for the rest of the night.  He never said that they had to stay at the gala.

“Lead the way,” he says, gesturing grandly towards the French doors.  Tim blinks once, then again, then smiles.  His eyes light up with it, and Kon suddenly understands why Tim had to inhale before.

“Come on,” Tim says, leading the way.  Kon follows just as closely as he did before, trailing him until they spill out into the Metropolis night and he can stand next to him, almost close enough for their arms to brush.

Maybe living with Lex Luthor won’t be so bad if comes with seeing Tim Drake, too.

[gabessquishytum]

Vampires have taken over the world so everyone is a vampire. Except for 7 people. Now, that makes human blood incredibly rare, and of course, it's better than animal blood could ever be.

Vampire!Hob runs into a very pretty, pale vampire who is all ghotic and emo. Human!Dream has no idea how his new boyfriend hasn't figured out that he's human yet, but he's glad that for the first time, someone wants him for him and not for his rare blood.

- 🚒

(Bonus: Hob brings Dream the best, tastiest animals he can find to spoil him, and Dream has to figure out a good way of corpse disposal because the situation in his freezer is getting ridiculous.)

ASKDJFGJSJA I love this bc it's like a reverse on the usual vampire tropes, and also the idea that Dream just looks so fucking vampiric, no one would ever suspect him of being human!

Now, it is technically possible for vampires to drink from each other. But they have far less blood than humans, and it also just tastes really bad. So although Dream is sooo horny about Hob’s fangs and really wants to be bitten, he knows that Hob will never do it. So he has to resort to staring at Hob’s fangs and furiously wanking about it later. The fangs are just so sharp and shiney and Dream wants. Whenever he sees Hob snacking on one of those fresh carcasses, Dream can't help himself - he gets hard. And to think, he used to be a vegetarian!

Hob is a very doting boyfriend so he's always concerned about Dream’s health and eating habits. Generally Dream can get away with drinking something like red wine and Hob will simply assume that it's blood. But Hob does worry about him. See, Dream’s got all these little physical quirks. His heart beats so fast (normal for a human, worrying for a vampire!) and although he's deathly pale, he does tend to flush red sometimes. Hob worries about him, tries to feed him up and pamper him. He just loves Dream so much!

Eventually the truth comes out and Hob is honestly relieved - he thought that Dream had some kind of disease, so learning that he's just human is really a weight off his mind. Hob promises there and then that he'll never bite Dream, but Dream actually disagrees. He obviously doesn't want to be drained or turned, but he doesn't mind if Hob just has a little nibble now and then.

So, Hob still gets to pamper Dream. He doesn't bring quite so much fresh meat, but he still encourages his beloved to eat an iron rich diet. Its important, if Hob is going to drink from him. And really... Hob is the one being pampered, when it comes to meals. Dream’s blood is like the finest cuisine. Hob is genuinely in ecstasies every time he's allowed to sink his fangs in. Honestly he acts a little drunk afterwards, which is surprisingly flattering for Dream.

Plus Dream's greatest fantasies are coming true, and he gets to ride on his boyfriend's wonderful thick cock while being equally penetrated by the fangs at his neck. No more hiding his arousal - he fully intends to show Hob exactly how much of a turn on his fangs really are...

One well fed vampire + one horny human = happily ever after <3

[heronoegg]

I mean this in the best way possible: If i looked up the word "spaghetti" in the dictionary i would find your art style.

On another note, i request bnha wing au lore, such as how similar their diets are to their specific bird species and birds in general as well as how cities look like, and a picture of Northern Goshawk Sero (because apparently they're the most acrobatic birds according to google.)

i don't even like spaghetti all that much if im being honest hjbghjfb it hurts my stomach and tomato makes me break out yet here i am eating pizza

anyway Sero is actully a sparrow because the pun was too good for me to pass it.

original colors and one i blasted with filters because i like doing that jvkgf hcj

i didn't want him being a hawk cause in their society Hawks are viewed as the "better" birds (by better i mean like Hawks though raptors are viewed as stronger, more successful, beautiful/handsome ect they are so this and so that) Sero's quirk compared to Bakugo influences my choice of making Bakugo a Hawk and Sero a common bird - a sparrow. there was another reason but i forgot what it was

Now as for your other questions.

-How similar are their diets to their specific bird species and birds in general

I mean, i wouldn't say somebody is eating another person, but it's not severely uncommon in their world that a person would eat another person if they were starving enough and there was nothing else around. Raptors would sooner eat a rat before another person they'd have to be severely pushed into eating another person and it's only raptors/predators cases that have eaten other bird persons but that hasn't happened in a long time (at least that they know about) It's frowned upon to eat people jfknvbghfj

They do eat seeds, they grow vegetables, they eat roots, they grow fruits, bugs that aren't sentient, they eat other little critters that aren't sentient, they eat rats that aren't sentient - they have some form of non-sentient cattle cause if rabbit people like Mirko exist that means rat people exist, i don't think sentient cow or pug people exist but bugs and lizards aren't off the table there are sentient bugs and lizards cause bug people are incorporated in wing society.

-how do cities look like?

I actually have this written out. Ok so in this AU for somereason i never explained but the planets flora grew to like massive height so giant trees that reach the clouds exist, flowers that are big as houses exist, plants making people look like bugs even if they are a bird exist but normal size land, plants and trees exist as well.

living arrangements

Bird people

they typically nest in tree houses or live in hollowed-out trees that serve as single-family homes or communal living spaces almost that of hotels.

Higher branches are reserved for the rich or successful - safety and status all that noise.

Mid-level branches have platforms and hanging structures it's middle-class neighborhoods. The poor/under paid live in shrubs where bugs live or smaller trees closer to the ground floor but still elevated enough that they aren't touching the complete ground.

Houses include perches and structures robust enough to support winged living. Regular furniture but adapted for wings and tails. Beds that provide space for wings i imagine their round?

People do still do nest-building - i think my friend said Deku's mom owns a nest. -it's an older generation thing, i assume they integrate natural materials into their living spaces either inside normal homes or in custom-built house.

i think the bird houses are my favorite thing in this AU cause i sit here and think about how their houses look alot

I think of balconies, roof gardens, open spaces it's really cool in my head think of skyloft from skyward sword but without the clouds kinda? i had skyloft in mind when i was making this AU

Bat people

They prefer caves or cave-like structures that can be built into cliffs or large trees. Wealthy bats love spacious caverns higher up, lots of privacy and security from predators

Middle-class bats may have communal roosts on ledges or hollowed parts of large trees, while the less fortunate find shelter in smaller crevices and overhangs closer to the ground but still vertical enough for their needs.

Bug people

those with butterfly or moth wings build around massive flowers and tall vegetation.

The rich live high in canopys but i think bugs are the lowest ranking species here.

some might dwell on large leaves or within the stems of tall plants, lots of vibrant communities akin suburban life. it's silly jhtbgfhj

Some individuals may resort to makeshift accommodations among thickets or low-lying plants, some elevation to facilitate their flight-based movement.

There are no streets; travel is facilitated by flight between different areas. There are lots of glades and clearings that serve as social and trading hubs for interaction between different species and economic classes.

i have other things about this AU but i wanna save it for it's own post i just wanted to answer your question.

[thebottomfromhell]

ONE-SHOT

Female Human (later Demon) Reader becoming Muzans lover

Ok, I will be evil with this one. This is the typical "reader/oc is yeeted i to the Mary Sue role because she is oh so special" but done my own way, which is basically destroy the promt into something more in character, so it might not be everyone's taste. Also being Muzan's part from this post.

Warnings: Manga Spoilers, Sexism, Power imbalance, Non-consented body modification (being turned into a demon), Narcissistic character, and Slight yandere behavior.

Muzan would never admit humanity has impressed him more than a fingers count of times. There have been several humans he found himself amazed with, but honestly? That only makes them less special. But the fact is still the same, when a human is capable os such a thing, it means they are worth of being more. Of being... almost perfect. Because no matter how many times he finds himself linked to human, humanity is a desease. The desease of getting tired, old, injured, weak and dead.

Not that he would ever go as far as to get rid of humans completely, what would he eat if he did? And raising them as cattle seems rather cruel, not only that but he must admit he enjoys human's products. The technology, the arts, the arquitecture... it would be a waste to get rid of it.

You were, are, impressive, not at the same level of Tamayo, but still an impressive woman he met as he was passing by as human. There was something about you, something he wanted. He couldn't ignore it, even if he did try, even if he had a hard time recognizing it. Specially because he didn't know why. With Akaza, it was his strengh. With Nakime, it was his wickedness. With Enmu, it was his... oddity. With Gyutaro, it was his hatred. With Gyokko, it was his art. With Rui, it was their resemblance. With Hantengu, it was his will and madness. With Kokushibou, it was his power and pride. For fuck's sake, he transformed Douma because of his shitty eyes! But in every case he knew exactly what he was doing and why at giving them their position in the Kizuki system.

Meanwhile, you can't compare to any of them. You aren't half as strong as most humans who called up his attention, you are sane, you are normal, average. Why are you here? In his head? Why does he let you stay near him, even when he should have killed you after switching to a new life. You met Muzan as a child, an odd one, very mature and smart for his age, but also had something you couldn't describe, but it set you off. Specially as he kept staring at you while you followed your routine.

You always made sure to show him bare minimum courtesy, he was the child of someone rich, after all. You didn't really care, until a young man came to you, he was very attractive and you did consider for a few seconds asking to meet or something. You are already an adult but haven't married yet, so people talk a lot about you, mostly condensending or nosy things. Maybe getting someone would stop the talking, as, depending on particular people, can be from annoying to hurtful. But after considering a few seconds, you decided it's not worth it, since you didn't know this man. You never wanted to come off as "desperate", that would make the rumours about you worse.

The thing is that. You didn't know this man, "Hello, Y/N." and yet he knows your name. He has a sweet voice, but something upseting from... you don't even know from what. "Excuse me, do we know each other?" You ask nerviously, and every second you look at him, he somehow manages to be more scary. There is something in the air, something... almost cursed. "We do, actually. But that doesn't matter. Tell me, dear, what do you think of your life?" He asks, but honestly? It feels that this is more to make up a conversation than to actually know about you.

You answer, lying in some details, saying some things mostly because it's correct to say it. In some aspects, you don't feel like other women, like you are not like the other ladies, hence you are also treated differently, maybe that is the reason you never got a fiance, even is it's considered unsightful that a young lady doesn't get any attention at all. Most men think you are "hard to manage", so they don't. You don't really like it but at this point you learned not to care. You also tell some truths, but not really giving so much detail. You just want to leave. There is something about this guy giving you creeps.

"I see." He chuckles a bit, and while it sounded nice, melodious even, it only made you tense up. "Honestly, I don't know what I was expecting asking such a silly question. But I guess you do have something interesting, you want to scape your life." That is not odd to find, most of his demons felt that same way. Akaza wanted to scape his family's death and lack of purpose, Kokushibou wanted to scape his weakness and sense of inferiority to his brother, Douma wanted to scape the numbness of the cult, Hantengu wanted to scape his criminal record and death sentence, Nakime wanted to scape her life as a poor wife of a gambler, even Rui wanted to scape his sickness.

You are no different. You are not special. And yet, annoyingly, he can't shake off his interest towards you. Maybe, because you are not special, he should enlist you with the others. In the best case scenario, you will join the Kizuki system. At the worst? He will get bored of you when you prove to be useless. Because, while attracked, he doesn't have the patience to stay by when there is so much to do. He can only have the best and the most useful assets by his side. Prove yourself then.

You didn't even manage to blink before you feel a potent sting of pain in your skull, the smell of blood that runs through your face makes you panic, but you can't move. The pain becomes numb as a liquid, an odd liquid, is... injected to your brain. It burns, but every pain is subdued. Then you feel cold air against your flesh as he removes his hand. "Join me, my dear. Prove that you deserve to be at my side." Everything else goes in a flash, as you become more overwhealmed and your body stretches, your skin becomes ick, your blood preassure rises. Everything becomes pain for a moment... and then nothing.

No pain, no cold, no nothing. Just hunger, hunger for more blood. For him. But humans will have to do, because you are just so hungry you can't think straight. Did you ever? Because now. It's just your hunger and him what matter. "You are doing well, Y/N. Prove yourself worth it, and I will have an special gift for you." How could you reject that?

[vroomian]

actually. maybe abo hana/alastor is extreme slow burn. god knows hana isn't gonna confess and alastor is over there going 'new possible friend??' seven years in lol.

so. they're not actually together-together yet when the story timeline hits cannon. al still took shelter in hana's house, but it's exchange for him teaching her magic and then making one meal a day for the both of them (hana does actually let al eat bits of her, because it'll grow back pretty quickly and she doesn't care that much. she promised to help and he seems to enjoy it). (also hana has definitely eaten people stew without blinking.) there's still the mating bite, but that's honestly something hana does for omegas she looks out for if they want it.

i think it might be angel dust and lucifer combined that act as catalyst for their relationship.

al (on charlie's urging) finds a place where Angel can work that val can't touch -- sweet tooth, hana's biggest club and the one candy runs. angel is very doubtful of this (because sweet tooth is fuck you pay me levels of rich, and it's every strippers dream to be scouted) but hana is like sure, whatever. shes' not afraid of val lol. (how the fuck would pheromones work on a plant??? also i think hana is as good at sex as she is at everything else and val has def hit that, and wants to do so again.).

so they trade favors again and angle is like ????!!!?? you used up a favor on me??? and hana is like: chill. he's gonna make me dinner. and angel is like oh they're friends-friends. also hana reeks of alastor, like way more than is normal for regular acquaintances. but they're also not together, despite al's possessive nature. matchmaking time! to repay alastor for using up a favor for angel, of course. no ulterior motives here.

lucifer and hana get along way to well for al's peace of mind. hana is like 'oh this person smells normal. none of the abo bullshit.' and lucifer is like 'this sinner seems perfectly at ease in my presence, despite my lack of designation. it seems to relax her??? also she offered to get me pregnant (and i'm thinking about it help)???' and they end up parallel playing together whenever hana's at the hotel lol. hana gives off a deeply chill vibe that i think lucifer would appreciate. alastor is seething with jealousy -- it's a coin toss on who he's jealous of lol.