#is more like a street food which would make sense

[celandeline]

Things Have Changed Pt. 8 (Carl Grimes X Reader)

Part 8 of 9 (we're almost done!) The moment we've all been waiting for has arrived! The reunion is here! And also the smut, but who cares about that, really.

You’re down to half a tank of gas, four days later. You spent the other half driving out here - if you don’t find him today, you have to turn back. 

Your logic had brought you here, to the ruined streets on the outskirts of D.C. Of course, you have no way of knowing if you’re actually in the right place, but it would make sense to go to the nearest city to scavenge. At least, you hope it makes sense. You don’t really have any idea about where the best supplies are to be found. You don’t even know where Carl was heading. 

At this point, it’s just chance that you come across him. 

Still, you start up the van, and get driving. 

Even with the comfort and relative safety of the van, it’s been tough living out on the road. You’re hungry from rationing the food you brought with you, and tired from constantly being on edge. The walls of your car are much thinner than those of your house, and you can hear walkers passing you by in the dark, bumping against your van. You’re utterly exhausted, to say the least, and it’s all you can do to keep scanning the streets as you trundle down each of them, searching for a familiar sheriff’s hat amongst the abandoned city. 

You almost chalk it up to the exhaustion when you see the car Carl had taken when he left, sitting on the side of the road, empty. 

You stop your own van and hop out, knife in your hand and heart in your throat as you approach. The whole city smells like decay, but you don’t hear any walkers as you approach, which is a good sign. The doors to the car sit open, and the keys are still in the ignition. You slide into the drivers seat, inspecting the interior for any clues he might’ve left behind. The car is almost completely empty, which is good, you think. He had time to collect his supplies. You test the ignition, not surprised when the engine doesn’t turn over. A breakdown then. That explains it. He got stranded. 

You slip back out of the car, scanning the surrounding area. There’s a chance he made camp nearby, but it’s been days now. It’s more likely he’s trying to lug himself and whatever supplies he scrounged up before he broke down back to Alexandria on foot. Now it’s just a matter of catching up to him. Hopefully. 

Heart pounding, you jump back into your van and start it up again. You still have no idea of how to actually find him, but some direction is better than none. Ripping open the glovebox, you pull out the map of the area stored there, and approximate your location. Tracing your finger back to the Safe Zone, you find the quickest route. “Okay.” You whisper to yourself, laying the map over your dashboard. “Alright.”

You start down the street until you come across the nearest intersection, and then turn left. Checking the map every so often, you start after Carl (hopefully). Knowing him, it makes sense that he would follow the quickest path back to Alexandria if he got stuck on foot. You only hope that he hasn’t had to change course or anything. If a herd was blocking the road, or a bridge gave out… you dont know if you could find him. 

Still, you’re going to try. 

You drive slowly, to make sure you’re following the map, and to avoid stirring up too many walkers too. It also gives you the chance to thoroughly scan the area as you roll by, looking for any signs of Carl. The houses begin to thin after a while, and there aren’t as many walkers that stumble out of the alleys when you pass by. So when you see a solid group of nine surrounding a house, you slow down slightly. There’s nothing special about the house otherwise, but with hope beating strong in your chest, you stop the van. Maybe they followed him in there… maybe…

Bowie knife in hand, you slip out of your van, assessing the group. Only one of them had turned around at the sound of your van, and is now shambling towards you. Nine is more than you’ve ever taken on on your own, but if you can get them to come at you one at a time you’re sure you can get rid of them. 

The walker snarls as it approaches, jaw slack, and you round the front of the van to meet it, blade poised and ready. It lungers towards you and you extend your knife. It impales itself with the force of it’s attack, the blade sliding cleanly through the eye socket and into the brain. All at once, the body slumps, dragging you down to the ground with it’s weight. You stumble into the van with a loud bang, yanking your knife free of the walker’s skull and shaking blood off the blade. 

When you look up, the other eight are stumbling towards you, single minded focus in their dead eyes. 

“Fuck.” You curse under your breath, and step back around the front of the van so that the car is between you. If you can just stem the flow somehow, you can still do this. Get them into an orderly line or something. The first one slams into the hood of your car, doing it’s best to reach across the expanse to get at you, and you bring your knife down into it’s skull, yanking it back out with force. You turn just in time to face the second one as it round the hood of the van, jolting towards you. You leap back, giving yourself enough time to line up a quick strike, sticking your knife through it’s ear. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” 

A shout breaks through the chaos, drawing some of the walkers attention away. Carl storms out of the house, armed with a machete and an angry look in his eye. You could cry at the sight of him, but there’s no time for tears as another walker lunges towards you, and you meet it with a sharp kick to the stomach, knocking it back just long enough for you to flip your knife in your hand and plunge the blade into it’s skull. 

You can hear Carl ripping through some of the others, but you can’t look, too focused on the undead in front of you. Muscle memory and adrenaline takes over, and you slash your way through the rest until all the bodies are finally, truly dead. Only then do you let yourself look at Carl. “Hey.” You say, panting a little from the exertion. 

“Why the fuck would they send you?” He spits, fury still clear in his eyes. 

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t that. “Are you-” You start, only to stop yourself. “Who the fuck else would they send?” You shoot back, brows furrowing. “What happened to fucking thank you?”

He snorts. “Thanks.” 

You roll your eyes as you crouch down to wipe your knife off in the overgrown grass of the house’s lawn. “You’re welcome.” You stand, tucking your knife back into its sheath attached to your belt. “What happened?” You ask. 

He sighs, running a hand down his face. “Car just died on me. And then I’m dragging all this shit I had in the trunk and a storm rolls in so I hole up for the night and when I wake up there’s a massive herd outside. I guess the thunder brought them in, but it took fucking forever for them to disperse. I’m-” He purses his lips, frustrated. “I ended up eating most of the food I found just waiting.” He stops again. “Is Judith okay?”

“Yeah.” You say. “I’ve been- or, was, I guess, checking in on her pretty much every day. She’s with Aaron now. I wouldn’t just leave her on her own-”

“Thanks.” This time it sounds more genuine and he relaxes a little, looking back towards the house. “I found some of the solar panel stuff.” Carl says. “I don’t know how good it is after I’ve been dragging it around, but its just up there.” He nods towards the door. 

You follow him as he treks back up to the house and inside. The little camp he’d made is bare bones, and just looking at it you can tell he’s been itching to leave. Tension thick between you, you start helping Carl pack up, trekking back and forth from the van until everything’s stowed safely in the back. You can feel him watching you, and your skin itches under his gaze. You take a breath, and then turn to face him. “Look, I’m sorry-”

You don’t get the chance to finish before he’s in your space, cutting you off by pressing his lips to your own with an intensity you weren’t - but should have been - expecting, considering how angry he’d been. You kiss him back before you realize you’re being kissed, and it releases a tension that’s been sitting tightly in your stomach, and you pour yourself into him, reaching up to wind your hands into his hair and tugging. 

He grunts at the bite of your nail against his scalp, and sinks his teeth into your bottom lip in retaliation. You pull away at the pain, bringing your thumb up to sweep across your mouth, collecting a smear of blood. “You dick-” You start. 

Carl pulls one of the back doors of the van back open and nudges you inside. You step back into the spacious trunk, still grumbling about your lip, and he follows you in, closing the door behind him. You barely have time to find space among the things you’ve just packed away before he’s kissing you again, brim of his hat bumping against your forehead as he crawls on top of you. 

You knock the sheriffs hat off his head to get at his hair again, butterflies swirling low in your gut. This wasn’t what you were expecting at all but it feels like that night after Aaron’s house again. You’ve been thinking about him constantly since he left - before that, even, and every moment you spend with his chapped lips against yours unknots one of the worries that had taken root in your stomach. You trace your hands down from his hair, pulling at the back of his shirt until you reach the band of his pants. You dip a hand just barely into his jeans, testing the waters. 

At the touch, Carl groans, pulling back to sit back on his haunches. You sit up with him, heart pounding so loudly you’re sure Carl and all the walkers in a two-mile radius can hear it, and watch as he starts to fiddle with his belt, ripping it from the loops of his jeans. “Fuck.” He grunts as the buckle gets stuck.

You stifle a giggle under your breath as you reach forward to help him, and he rolls his eyes before starting to work on your jeans, tugging you closer so that he can pop the button on your waistband open. You suck in a breath as his fingers sweep across your lower stomach, and suddenly what’s happening catches up to you. Electricity runs down your spine. You’re about to fuck him in this van.

Carl slides your jeans down to your thighs, and you do the same for him as you shimmy your legs out of your pants. In the dim light of the van, it’s hard to get a good look at him and you just get an impression of smooth pale skin before he’s pushing you back down again, hips knocking into yours. You stop him from getting any further with a hand on his chest, and he pulls back to look at you. 

“I’m on top.” You say, a little taken aback by how breathy you sound. 

You expect him to push back or say something, but he doesn’t. He just shifts, and you switch places, letting him take the little space you’ve carved out amongst the supplies he’d scrounged up, and you find yourself perched in his lap. Carl looks up at you almost reverently, his hands finding your hips and squeezing the flesh there. You take a moment to just look at him, mapping out how blown pupils and they way his hair feathers over the hard-packed carpeting of the vans’ floor. 

You rise up, sink back down, and then he’s in you. The moan Carl lets slip from his lips sounds more like a hiccup with how it catches in his throat, and he squeezes your hips again, this time more urgently. “Go.” 

You can feel it too - a sudden need that, now that he’s here and this is happening, it needs to happen now. Planting your hands on his chest, you start bouncing, working yourself up and down on him, watching how his head tips back in bliss. One of his hands finds its way under your shirt, flattening against your stomach and just holding you there - not squeezing or grabbing, but just touching. Just to feel. 

You can feel your knees rubbing raw against the rough floor, and you know they’re going to be rug burned to all hell, but you don’t care, not when he’s been gone for weeks and you’ve just found him again. His breathing picks up to match your panting - you don’t know when that started - and then his hand on your stomach moves, drifting lower to caress between your legs, rubbing in quick strokes. 

A tingling sensation begins to build low in your hips. “Carl-”

He shakes his head, a breathy whimper leaving his lips. “Almost.” He breathes. “Just -” He cuts himself off with a groan. “Please. With me?”

You nod. The feeling of him touching you is enough to almost get you there too, and it doesn’t take long until lightning hits and you’re grinding to a stop as you shake apart on top of him. Carl bucks beneath you three times before he’s crumbling as well, fisting into your shirt tight enough that you hear some of the threads snap. You linger in the moment until it’s well past, still breathing heavy. 

Carl slumps to the floor, eye closed. You let yourself fall on top of him, burying your face into the side of his neck. For a moment, the world is quiet. 

“I’m sorry.” He says, barely above a whisper. 

“Yeah.” You agree, swallowing to try and get rid of the scratch in your throat. “Me too.”

Another pause lingers in the air before he speaks again. “We’re good?”

“We’re good.” You confirm. 

[previous part] [next part]

[supernatural-ate-my-face]

Ok. I have thought about this a lot. If I am missing any other textual evidence, let me know:

1) Human Cas was drifting between homeless shelters and living on the street before he got rescued by Dean and Sam.

But when Dean comes to see him at work, Dean is surprised to see him there, thinks the job is "a cover," and acts like the job itself is beneath Cas. Then he posits that the job itself is really about Cas trying to hook up with Nora, the boss lady.

The fact that Dean doesn't think Cas would need a job to survive while hiding out from the angels leads me to believe that Dean gave him a plot armor credit card to survive on. Otherwise, none of that interaction makes sense.

Dean spends most of the scene like, "You don't need this fake job. Come hunt with me (ie, do real work.)"

I think the argument as written is supposed to read more as Cas saying he can no longer be an spn style hero guy, and instead must be only a sad normie. And Dean is arguing against the idea that Cas has lost any of his hero-ness. (It's hard to pay attention to that, because the audience is preoccupied with how Cas is buying food and clothes and the like.)

However, the next time we see Cas, he's still human but hunting out of a motel room, because he's decided to take responsibility for what's going on with the angels. Ie, he's not scared anymore. The change seems to indicate that the reason he was at the job at all was more about needing a sense of a place in the world/confidence in his own abilities and less about his survival.

At that point, even though he is still human, money definitely doesn't seem to be a problem. Nor is it a problem from this point forward in the series, even though Cas now has to pay for motels and gas for his silly car. And he's had a cellphone since season 5. Clearly that phone plan has been getting paid somehow. In later seasons he has money to buy Claire dinner and magazines and a motel room.

It stands to reason that we're supposed to assume Cas has money in the same nonsense way Sam and Dean do, and that his problems before getting to the bunker are supposed to be less about just not having money and more about how closely the angels are looking for him, combined with Cas not understanding anything about being human (needs like food/water/sleep/shelter), and Dean being unable to go grab him immediately because Sam is dying and then him not knowing exactly where Cas is hiding. Like once he has a new cellphone and a credit card, he's fine. Heck, at the end of season 8, just before any of this, he pulls a wad of cash out in that mini mart to buy Dean apology porn/pie/beer. Where was that supposed to have been from?? It's just plot armor money..

2) Cas seems like he didn't call until the conversation we see on-screen, and Dean doesn't yell at him for not having called, so that seems to indicate not.

I don't think Dean explicitly said to call, and I think that for multiple reasons: Dean doesn't give Cas a real explanation about why he can't stay, so I think he would have said as little as possible, because he'd be feeling too guilty to make any sort of demands on what Cas does or does not do next. I also think he would say as little as possible to avoid Cas asking him any further questions that he wouldn't be able to answer. The 3rd reason i think Dean wouldn't ask this is because he assumed Cas would call him anyway. And 4th, Dean seems to see Cas as more capable at that moment than Cas truly is. It seems like much of the episode with Cas's job is Dean reconciling that Cas is less capable, more afraid, and more human now. I think in the moment he makes Cas leave, he truly thinks Cas will be able to take care of himself fine now, which again leads credence to the "Dean gave him a credit card" theory, because other than that, nothing else has changed from 3 seconds earlier when Cas was homeless, starving, and at the mercy of the angels hunting him.

3) Cas is definitely shocked to see Dean, so I don't see any evidence that they spoke after that phone call on-screen. So either Dean did some spn style detective work asking around about a new weird guy in town. Which, on this show, would absolutely work after asking like, 2 people. Or he, also in spn fashion, is tracking the gps on his phone, or tracked the aforementioned credit card usage. However he got there, Cas definitely is not the one who told him.

I still have questions!!

1. Did Dean give Cas any money when he told him he couldn’t stay?

2. Did he tell Cas to call and let him know where he ends up?

3. How did Dean know where he was working? Did Cas call and give Dean an update of his circumstances? Or Dean just happened to see him while out and about?

I. Have. Questions.

[helliecarousel]

I was wondering why the Yiga are obsessed with bananas but we never see them cook it to get the attack buff...

Inside joke between me and gf about them making filipino banana-based desserts like banana-Q, sinaput, turon, etc.

[hayanahed]

Emergency: Help Evacuate My Family From GAZA WAR

Dear Humanity,

I'm Haya from Gaza , from a family of 8 people: my parents, two sons, and four daughters (two of them suffer from allergies).

I've witnessed the evidence of the tragedy that has struck our lives in Gaza, where my family and I have survived amidst numerous previous wars. But today, we face the most dangerous and fierce battle in the current war. The urgent need intensifies for us, as we have nothing left and are unable to secure our basic needs such as food, water, and safe shelter.

Here is our story - On October 7th, our lives changed forever, my family and I evacuated from northern Gaza to southern Gaza, hoping to return soon, but it wasn't meant to be. Our home was surrounded, burned, and then completely destroyed, Our home, once a fortress of hope, now lay in ruins, a stark reminder of our shattered dreams.

The night before we left from the north to the south was terrifying. Shelling sounds were everywhere, making a loud noise that felt like it went through our souls. Every explosions shook the ground like earthquakes, sending shockwaves of fear through our trembling bodies. filling us with fear. The air smelled of destruction and blood, making it hard to breathe. When dawn came, we saw the devastation around us, realizing our home was now a symbol of loss and despair.

We ran into the streets and with each step we took into the unknown streets, we felt as if we were plunging deeper into the abyss of our shattered existence, leaving behind everything we own in our home: Clothes, important official documents, the car, and literally it's almost everything - the enormity of our loss weighed heavily upon us.

Our home it was where we found hope, safety, and made precious memories. Losing it felt like losing years of our lives, leaving us adrift amidst the wreckage of our shattered existence.

A brief video depicting the devastation that struck our home and our entire neighborhood in Gaza.

Desperate Plea: Escaping Gaza's Allergy Nightmare

I, Haya, suffer from severe allergy to penicillin-derived medications, and my sister, Amal, also suffers from severe allergies to medications from my family such as Paracetamol and Ibuprofen.

These allergies create a deep sense of fear and anxiety for us, as we live in a constant state of tension and fear of anything that may require a visit to the hospital. We fear being given inappropriate medications due to the unavailability of suitable treatments in Gaza because of war or lack of awareness and not informing the doctor of our allergies, which could lead to serious consequences threatening our lives.

MY Father Income

Our dreams are heading towards oblivion in the labyrinth of an uncertain future

My story, along with my siblings, represents a united team of four individuals, three of whom are skilled programmers and one graphic designer. We work as freelancers in the world of freelancing.

As for my younger sister, she is a student studying at the College of Architecture. She has always carried a big dream in her heart, a dream of being part of changing Gaza, of making it more beautiful and better. She looked forward to the day when she would receive her degree and start building this dream. But the beginning of the war changed everything. The destruction of infrastructure and universities cast shadows of despair over her dreams.

When I think of my brother in Belgium, I can't help but feel deep sadness. He has been suffering from unbearable anxiety and insomnia since the outbreak of the war. Sleep eludes him at night, and his physical and mental health collapses under the weight of these heavy burdens, negatively affecting his performance at work. Problems and challenges pile up in front of him without the slightest opportunity for rest.

We all feel psychological pressure and extreme anxiety. The war hasn't been limited to external attacks but has deeply infiltrated our daily lives. We search among the rubble for a little safety and the basic resources for survival. Every day comes with a new challenge that we must overcome.

As we sway amidst the rubble of shattered dreams, our souls wrestle and our hearts beat strongly challenging the ravages of war.

Our parents earnestly seek a way to rescue us from this hell, feeling the heavy responsibility for every moment we spend under the shadows of fear and destruction. They dream of a safe place where they can build for us a better future, filled with security and hope, for we deserve life in all its meanings of comfort and peace.

Perhaps this fundraising campaign represents a light in the midst of darkness, it is indeed the only hope we cling to firmly.

I appeal to the world as a whole to hear my cry and the mournful cry of my family in Gaza. We need the helping hand that reaches out to wipe our tears and build a bridge to safety.

Your donation is not just a donation; it's an opportunity to rebuild life and brighten a better tomorrow. Be part of our hopeful story, for we need your hand to start anew.

The purpose of the fundraising campaign

The goal of this fundraising campaign is to rescue my family - my parents, my siblings, and me - through the Rafah Crossing to Egypt, which currently requires $5000 per person. This campaign is our only chance to stay alive, and I humbly request your assistance at this critical time. I will provide you with a comprehensive breakdown of the expenses, committing to transparency and clarity.

All of our important links are here https://linktr.ee/hayanahed

Verified by :

⭐️ operation olive branch, number 26 on their spreadsheet. (On Master list)

⭐️ Project watermelon,line 249 on their spreadsheet. Or you could see it as number 212 here is the photo for more clear proof

Thank you for your kindness and support.

.جزاكم الله خيراً

yours sincerely;

Haya Alshawish.

[pearlymel]

"The Masks We Wear"

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

Wc: 7.3k eat up

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

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

Credits: banner art by the great @/danijaci

Click!

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

Humans can be cute, you think.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Taking pictures.”

“Of the rats?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what is it?”

“… something or someone.”

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

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

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

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

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

what a bastard.

It.. certainly didn't look like that.

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

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

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

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

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

You need to rearrange a schedule in your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This curiousity will kill you next after the cat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“it's a side hustle, sunshine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“dinner's ready.”

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

“was looking at the hero's pictures.”

“not mine? I'm wounded.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was your target closer to you than you had expected?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yes he would, he's a man.”

“a good man.”

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

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

You'll just search his.. clothes.

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

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

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

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

Shit.

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

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

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

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

“i have it on me because—”

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

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

it was a dream.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Asthma? Nah.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Batman?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Poor neighbors

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I'm talkin’ to you too.”

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

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

It's the hero.

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

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

And before you could follow, the van explodes.

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

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

“I will call the police,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Someone's in the area.

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

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

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

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

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

Alright, you can be cool sometimes.

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

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

This is it, you just have to confirm it.

Your hand pulls at his mask, “Wrio—”

Huh?

This…

Is not

Wriothesley.

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

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

“You're the hero??”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-wrio—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i… i knew it—”

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

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

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

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

It makes you rethink your life choices.

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

“you hid it.”

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

What the hell?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sweetheart—”

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

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

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

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

“i love you.”

“Wriothesley!”

…

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

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

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

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

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

“it's been a year.”

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

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

Never existed.

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

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

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

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

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

Even if it will mean risking your life this time.

[mimiii-3]

For a bit more a fluffy au, I like to imagine that Batsib!reader, instead of sabotaging, just like leaves the manor and because genuinely no one cares (not Alfred or Darling) literally no one notices. Whilst that doesn’t sound fluffy, I think it’d really help with their healing.

They’ve already basically wasted all their life on their family, some of which they are literally related to (Bruce and Damian) just to see someone else loved, cherished and obsessed over.

In this case, I can imagine Batsib leaving Gotham and moving, maybe to the west coast (because Gotham is in New Jersey which is the west coast and starting anew. Maybe even starting a family of some kind, whether it’s a found family with friends or even taking in their own.

Cute idea!

…

Saboteur: Good Life

Yandere Platonic Batfam x GN Neglected Reader

Notes: fluff

…

What if batsib moves on from the family…

🦇 - while leaving your family would hurt, you knew it was necessary for your health

🦇 - you boldly made the cross country journey all the way from Gotham to Gateway City

🦇 - you drove for hours, slept at a hotel, and ate all sorts of fast-food

🦇 - you repeated this process for about a week and a half before arriving at your destination

🦇 - the city was so full of life it mesmerized you

🦇 - your apartment was small but it would work just fine

🦇 - you worked at a nearby diner and painted murals as a side hustle

🦇 - you started going to night school to earn your degree

🦇 - you made friends with your classmates and went out for ice cream after exams

🦇 - sometimes you would go thrifting after your shift at the diner

🦇 - you started to sell your paintings

🦇 - they eventually began to make enough money so that you could quit working at the diner and focus on your art

🦇 - after some time, you opened a small art supplies shop

🦇 - you spent most of your time taking care of the shop and getting to know the other small business owners nearby

🦇 - you moved into a condo that shared a wall with an elderly woman

🦇 - she caught you listening to her playing the cello and invited you inside

🦇 - your friendship with her was wholesome and she began to join you for holiday dinners

🦇 - she has deemed herself your honorary grandma and bakes you cookies

🦇 - your honorary grandma and friends from class often visit your shop and chat with you

🦇 - when the busy day is over, you walk behind your shop and down a sandy stairway

🦇 - the stairway drops you off on the beautiful beach next to your business

…

You walk across the soft sand to the edge of the water. The clear ocean water laps against your feet and you curl your toes into the sand.

You place your hands on the lower part of your spine and lean back. Your back cracks in relief and you stretch your aching limbs.

The sunset turns the distant water into an orange mirror that reflects the blinding light of the sun. The sea breeze clears your senses and whips lightly against your face.

Your body relaxes and you take a good look around. It’s all yours. Not really, but it practically is.

The beach, the people you meet, the paintings you sell, the streets you walk…they’re all yours. This is your life and you can’t help but smile at the thought of it.

You know it may not be a life full of manors and vigilantes but it doesn’t have to be. Instead you live your life full of love and that’s enough for you.

…

Extra notes: happy ending?!

Tag list:

@jjsmeowthie @shawty-a-lil-baddie @butratherbutrather @shirp-collector-of-fixations @stove-top96 @yaoizee @bellethesleepypotato @salfishers @eli-mayhaveatencats @wisefuncherryblossom @c4xcocoa

[whatifitis]

♡ Nine Lives - LH 44 ♡

Summary: Movie night with you and Lewis leads to yet another silly love declaration from the both of you.

Author's Note: This was a request that asked for a fluffy Lewis fic so here is my attempt at some extra fluffy stuff! Hope y'all like it. Feedback is always appreciated <3

WC: 964

CW: fluff, this whole thing is basically the nine lives song from webkinz so there's no originality i'm sorry 😭, roscoe mention

It was movie night and it was your turn to pick the movie. Well, it’s been your turn to pick the movie. Usually, you and your boyfriend, Lewis, will alternate who gets to pick the movie to make it fair, but the past 5 times, it’s been Lewis’ choice. 

You pointed out the other day that it was meant to be your turn since you hadn’t been able to pick one in ages, to which Lewis argued that the both of you had been mutually agreeing on movies which is a flat out lie. While you do enjoy watching his favorite movie Cool Runnings, it was getting to a point where you got annoyed every time the opening scene played. 

The alternate choice Lewis would give sometimes was Frozen and you could no longer let it go and love was soon gonna be an open door that would be shut in Lewis’ face. 

After some bickering, Lewis finally let you pick the next movie. You had decided that you were going to make him watch your favorite movie of all time, The Three Lives of Thomasina. You had watched the film for the first time as a child, and since then, it always brought you a sense of joy and comfort. 

The two of you prepared for your movie night by doing the usual, setting up a fort built out of couch cushions, pillows and blankets. Tonight you added some fairlights for some extra flair and in celebration of it finally being your turn to pick the movie. You had also gone out earlier in the day and bought a ton of snacks just for tonight, as well as ordering some takeout. 

Once everything was set up, Lewis, Roscoe, and yourself got settled and comfortable in your little fort. You and Lewis immediately dug into the food as you clicked play on the tv. Don’t worry about Roscoe though, you had prepared a special, vegan meal for him so that he was included in the family activity. 

When the opening scene began, Lewis was already, jokingly, sighing exasperatedly, rolling his eyes an excessive amount of times. His arms folded across his chest with a playful smile playing on his lips every time he complains about the movie, side eyeing you from time to time to watch your reactions to his antics. 

Half way through the movie, you and Lewis are cuddled up and the food has been run through. As the movie continues playing, a question pops into your head. 

“If you were a cat, would you live them all with me?” you asked curiously. 

Lewis looks down at you, brows furrowed a bit as he’s unsure where this question came from. Then he smiles, loving all the times you would ask him questions like this. They were just silly questions asked for fun and out of curiosity, but they were also ways he could profess his love to you in new ways. 

“If I had nine lives, I would live them all with you. We would go on more adventures than we do now. I would take you on a trip around the world on a sailing ship. It would be a simple boat built just for two and we’d set sail, just me and you. We'd go round and when we’d reach our destination, we’d start over. You’re the only one for me, darling. Can’t you see?” he tells you. 

“I can. For life two, we could build a home with lots of kids and garden gnomes. We would listen to the pitter-patter of feet running up and down the street.” you tell him, eyes sparkling like the night sky that shines over the two of you through the window.

“For number three, it’d be like now. I’d work a lot because that’s what I was always taught. But we’d buy all the things we’d need for a healthy family. And for life four, you would read because you love to. You’d have your own library that I built just for you. Every now and then, I’d look for your face among them.”, he rubs his thumb on the bare skin of your hip and continues, “For lives five, six, seven and eight, we would try and alleviate the sounds of suffering and the cris of hunger, pain, and forlorn eyes. We’d help people everywhere.”

Your heart is beating warmly in your chest, being reminded of all three love you and Lewis share for not only each other, but for the world that brought you two together. 

With a deep breath, you finish the story, “For life nine, we would be somewhere on a pair of rocking chairs. We’d be happy, slightly grey. If you’re lucky, I’ll bake a cake. And when I wish on a star, I will wish for nine more lives, cause nine lives would not be enough with you.” tears are now streaming down your face. 

Lewis holds the side of your face, wiping away the tears with his hand. He pulls you close to him and presses a kiss to your head, then moving to capture your lips in a soft and comforting kiss. He keeps you there for a moment, reminding you that you are his and he is yours. When you pull apart, Lewis is looking at you with admiration and love in his eyes. 

“You are my one and only love.”

Roscoe lets out a little whine, to which you and Lewis laugh at. 

You sit up and pull Roscoe to sit between Lewis and yourself. 

“How could we forget you, Roscoe? You’re the best thing to ever happen to us. My beautiful, beautiful boy. You would join us for all our lives as well, cause we wouldn’t want to do it without you.”

[dadsbongos]

how to (unintentionally) drive away a suitor

5.4 k words / warnings - misunderstandings, you're manipulative but in a marriage-seeker way, lame ass exposition dump at the beginning sorry

summary - you go to The Island in hopes of finding a suitor better than what your parents picked, you meet Laios. disaster ensues.

posting while bleaching my hair send hlep ~~~

When you were five, your father’s first hunting dog died. Matilda. A hound mix he praised as if she were his firstborn, and that would sound neglectful if she didn’t feel like your eldest sister. When she died, a true member of the family died. Your child heart exploding out of your little chest with the mosaic of grief ripping you this way and that. It was so ugly, you hadn’t expected to feel that way until your parents or a human sister croaked on you.

It’d also inspired you to do better for yourself than what destiny had in mind. As the youngest in a long line of children, you had little hope of a large inheritance from your well-off father. Instead, you would marry rich and smart and handsome.

Leading you, with a throbbing disinterest in the suitor picked by your parents, to set for The Island in the year 510.

Where you met a very strange man named Laios Touden.

Denial

Month 1 - your first proposition

“We should celebrate with drinks,” you skim a finger along the waistline of his cuirass, “Another dive with no deaths.”

“Oh, yeah,” Laios nods, grinning blandly at you, “You think I could rope Shuro into sticking around this time? He usually skips nights out unless Falin asks.”

“I was thinking something a little more private. Just you and me, maybe?”

“Sure,” suddenly his brows furrow, a serious ridge setting across his lips, “Is there something you need? I know rent in the western part of The Island is starting to go up, do you live there?”

“Laios, I- “ you cut yourself off before reminding him you two live on the same street because a sudden idea strikes you. He’s doing this on purpose. Of course, he is. He’s the type of guy that wants you to actually ask for it, “I mean, if you really want then I guess everyone coming isn’t so bad.”

But two can play at that game.

“Okay, great! I’ll let the party know,” he gives you a thumbs up and turns towards the rest of your group as they pack for the surface.

You watch him wrap an arm around Toshiro and beam at the withdrawn man. You deduce that he’s the type that likes to be chased. Which you feel is a little beneath you, but you’re willing to play a long game as long as he makes it worth your time.

Month 2 - the time you take him to dinner

“This place is so quiet,” Laios murmurs, both hands splayed across the table.

You study his fingers, thick and red at the joints -- you bet a gold wedding band would glitter nicely on his hand. Candle light flickers suddenly, a shadow sharpening across his face as he looks around. This snags your attention, you lean forward and curl both arms on the table, chest pressing into the well.

“Well, it’s nice, right?”

“I guess,” he avoids looking you in the face, instead focusing on your painted lips before flitting to the table, “I just feel like it's more for couples, right?”

This is it!

“Huh, you think so?”

“Mhm,” his eyes settle between your own, observing the curve from your forehead to your nose.

“I bet we make a pretty couple, then.”

“Oh,” he nods slowly, mulling over the suggestion, “Probably. I’d say we’re both decently attractive people.”

Is this it?

Just as you go to ask what exactly he means by that, your food is ready and Laios starts rambling about how hungry he was regardless of the awkward atmosphere. It makes no sense, but he’s the next village chief of his hometown so you let it pass.

Month 6 - the time you two take a walk

“Thanks for accompanying me.”

Laios waves off your gratitude, “It was nice to find out we live on the same street anyway.”

You bite your tongue from telling him that he should already know this in favor of boldly wrapping an arm around his. A rehearsed yelp splices your throat; practiced stumble rocking you askew. Immediately, you set to memorizing the feel of his beefy bicep around yours, wondering how his waist feels. His thighs. His neck and calves and cheeks.

“I saw a rat,” the lie slips easily, spare hand coming up to coyly cup your own cheek.

“Really?” he peeks over your head, “Where?”

“Laios, that’s not important!”

“I didn’t hear any squeaking, do you think it was trying to be quiet?”

“Laios!” you pinch his arm, apologetically rubbing over the tender skin when he whines, “I hate rats…”

“They’re just- “ your sudden furrowing brows and massive scowl halts the rest of his sentence, “Sorry. Are you scared of them?” before you can respond, he spins you towards his other side -- arms still linked tightly, “If you heard it over here, it’s probably best I stay on this side.”

“Aww,” you tilt your head against his shoulder, “That’s actually so sweet, Laios. Thank you.”

“Uh-huh,” you’re too blinded by the gesture to notice his intense stare scavenging along the dark ground, if you did then you probably would’ve realized he just wanted to see a rat.

Month 11 - the time you find his gourmet guide

“Is this why you started a party?”

“No,” his face flushes rogue from forehead to collarbones, eyes darting away from you. Hands twitching to rip the book from your own.

“You’re an awful liar,” you wave the stained, peeling green book -- careful to not rip any of his carefully placed tabs or note cards in the swaying, “Why hide this? Everyone already knows you’re chock full of monster trivia.”

Laios sighs quietly, reaching out for the book, and he seems genuinely surprised with what little fight you put up. He smooths one of the curling edges of the cover under his thumb, “This book hasn’t gotten the best reception before. It's easier to just avoid people seeing it.”

Somewhere in your chest, there’s a twinge and ache before you’re speaking again -- for once no plan or motive to your words, “That’s terrible, Laios. You should be able to show it off.”

“You think so?” he grins.

Technically comforting him will only advance your plan to wed, but strangely you’re finding that you just… want to. You don’t want him to filter himself to live, that sounds cruel.

“You can talk to me about it anytime,” you don’t find monsters so fascinating -- to you they’re no different from a common beast, what does it matter that they’re eaten by Laios? Despite your own indifference, you want nothing more than to indulge Laios, “I’d love to hear about how they taste.”

And you’re not sure where that desire comes from.

“I haven’t been able to eat one yet, but I’m hoping to. I can’t find time to traverse the first few floors by myself.”

You just know that it feels right to see him excited.

“You don’t have to go by yourself now, I can join. You’ll be able to go deeper that way, right?” you laugh at his flaming cheeks, “And what luck: I’m a support mage, you couldn’t ask for a better setup.”

“I’ll have to see when our next rest period is, that way we won’t be exhausted before going on our own.”

And when you’re in bed alone later that night, you justify to yourself that having a secret between one another will lay good foundation for future intimacy. You pretend that was on your mind the entire time you made the offer.

Year 2 - the time you invite him into your home

“I have lychees. It’d be a shame to let them go bad, you know?”

“What are lychee?” Laios glances from your neck to your room door.

“You’re kidding,” you twist the knob and swing it open with the weight of your body, thudding against the wall to allow Laios entry, “They’re fruits! Imports from the Eastern Archipelago, I would’ve thought you’d hear about them since you pester Toshiro about the area all the time…”

Laios’ head is on a full axis swivel to find anything unfamiliar, ready to taste all your excitement about the fruits, “No, never came up,” he watches you stride past him to a cabinet, “By the way, whose Toshiro?”

Quietly, you laugh to yourself, pulling down a rocky, pinkish ball. Laios is too busy thinking about the damage it’s looking to do to his bare hand to process the fact you never answered his question.

(you thought he was joking)

“Consider this a gift for walking me home again.”

“You asked,” he shrugs, watching as you squeeze around the fruit until it cracks in the middle, then peeling the shell away, “Besides, we live on the same street so it’s not out of my way.”

You hope he says that because he remembered, rather than having ‘discovered’ it for the fourth time. To stop yourself from asking clarification, you slice the pearly fruit in two, plucking the dark seed before handing both halves to Laios.

“I’ve heard some people just pop the whole thing in their mouth, but I’ve never tried it that way,” you confess, watching him roll the fruit from one cheek to the other before chomping down.

Laios’ eyes flutter shut, a muted moan following, “That’s sweet.”

“I know, right?”

“But I still get hints of citrus.”

“I know, right?!”

He points to the other lychee in your palm, “Do you have more, or…?”

You don’t.

“Have it,” you peel and deseed the one in your hand to press against his lips, “Say ‘ahh’!”

He smiles faintly at the cooing, popping his mouth open for you to slide the fruit past his teeth and onto his tongue. A soft kiss tickles your fingertips as he mutters, “Thanks.”

“Uh, yeah,” you pull back slowly, tangling your fingers behind your back and rocking onto the balls of your feet nervously, “Yeah, of course.”

You’ve never been nervous this way around a man before. You’ve felt fear and you’ve felt hatred and you’ve had crushes, but none of those have made your heart pound quite so hard.

It’ll be good to be attracted to your husband, you think, anybody can marry into power but it takes a real hunter to find power so handsome and polite.

Year 3 - the time you ask him to marry you

“We should get married,” you blurt, interrupting Laios as he ponders aloud the best way to safely boil a scorpion.

Laios darts up from his book, wide eyes unabashedly boring into your soul, “What?”

“You and me,” you’ve chased enough, now you’re ready for him to get serious -- you can’t live like this. Dangling just out of reach, only to be abruptly yanked at his whim. Your parents want to meet your fiance, the one you’ve abandoned home to find: the one you’re apparently certain is better than their choice for you. You need him to admit defeat before you go insane, “We should get married.”

“That’s what I thought you said, but I wasn’t sure,” he closes his beloved gourmet guide around a bookmark you crafted specially for him from braided yarn and beads. It had multiple tassels for slotting various spots through the guide simultaneously to more easily find sections he was currently occupied with rather than sort through tabs. He loves its practicality, and he loves it more when he thinks about how you made it with him in mind.

He thinks you’re nice. He thinks you’re charming. He likes spending time with you. You even already know about his monster obsession, and you’re on-board!

Which is basically the best he can get, right?

Dinners with his parents were silent, and the room’s temperature would sink to match their chilly demeanors.

Dinners with you would be warm, and the quiet moments would be comfortable.

“Sure,” he eventually answers, when he finds no protesting nausea bubbling in his gut he takes it as a good sign, “We can get married.”

Not the exact response you’d been hoping for. Though, you should’ve been more direct, Laios is stubbornly socially inept after all.

You’ll mark it as progress anyway, overjoyed Laios is baseline willing. Which is enough for you.

Definitely enough.

Definitely. Just. Enough.

Anger

Upon arrival to the dungeon three years ago, you found it difficult to acclimate to the fact that death was not the end down here. When you saw your first corpse on the second level, you were nigh inconsolable in the weary arms of Toshiro as he mumbled assurances in your ear.

Now, as a seasoned adventurer, you’re reasoning that coldblooded murder isn’t immoral in the dungeon.

(of course, it is, and also of course, you won’t murder anybody. but- )

You rather like the image of the woman flirting with Laios exploding

Honestly the longer he goes without refusing her, the more you like the image of him exploding too.

“Laios is an idiot,” Toshiro again is the one to comfort you, “It’s best not to watch.”

You’re sure he’s right. You’re also sure you want to keep watching -- which will entirely ruin your mood for the crawl ahead of your party. This is only your first day, on the first level, during the first meal before you all officially set off. And Laios is explaining to a strange, yet beautiful, woman the way a slime can seep out overhead and suffocate her to death. She isn’t even appreciating the knowledge, she’s just staring at his stupid pink lips.

“Once she hears what he’s saying, she’ll lose all interest,” Toshiro adds, then continuing as your glare fails to subside, “It isn’t like you two are actually married. She probably thinks he’s single.”

“He is single,” Chilchuck buds in, hands locked behind his head, “Inter-party relationships are bad news, you know? I’ve seen lots of people fall apart because of jealousy and cheating,” he shoots daggers at Toshiro briefly, “Pining is just the first step to an all out collapse.”

You gasp at the accusation. You are not pining!

“I don’t even like him that way. We should just get married for the land and wealth advantages!”

You entertain his monster fantasies for the money, you feed him lychees for the status, and you’re fiending to rip that woman away for the property expansion. That’s all! His being handsome is just a bonus, not a factor. His soft heart is a neat detail, not something you dream about holding.

Chilchuck doesn’t believe you. And you don’t think you believe yourself at this point either.

Depression

In the wake of Chilchuck’s ominous warning: you’ve been avoiding Laios. You’ve been avoiding most of your party, actually. First to lay and last to rise from your bedroll to most effectively close yourself off from nipping at Laios again.

He hadn’t even managed the nerve to ask what had you so perturbed following his conversation with the floozy on the first floor. He just strolls along, normal as he could hope to be while you languish in the back of the party with Toshiro. You wonder if Laios notices you’re not at his side, you wonder what precisely is going through his head. Did he notice she was flirting? Did he care? Is he still keen on marrying you?

Was he ever?

Toshiro catches the sudden exasperated huff you let out, you rub at your aching eyes. While he detests Laios’ clueless and overly familiar nature, he does feel grateful to work with you. He’d consider it a massive shame if you were to drop from the party because of emotional duress.

“Read any good books lately?”

Your hands lower, eyes blinking sluggishly until you’re staring at him with full inquisition, “What…?”

Maintaining a forward stare, Toshiro reaffirms his resolve, “Humor me.”

“Uh, well…” you comb through your brain for any answer other than the honest one, exhaustion and melancholy blurring your lying ability, “Just one.”

Eager to strengthen your bond and hopefully secure your stay in the party when this Laios fiasco fully explodes, Toshiro smiles softly at you, “Tell me about it.”

“It’s, well, old. Really old. A little gourmet guide…” you pout, “Laios and I read it together.”

“Oh,” Toshiro clears his throat, “Sorry.”

Bargaining

Laios could not seem to care less as the handsome dwarf perched at your side pays you yet another compliment. A shred of you feels terrible, terrible pity for the man as every other second your attention sears across the packed tavern to your party. To the blondie still in his armor; the blondie not even looking your way.

“Another drink, then?”

“Hm?” you beat ungracefully, forgetting you were meant to be charming the man.

“Would you like another drink?” he gestures to the barrels behind the bar, “On my coin, of course,” his tone falters, head shifting to follow yours, “I get the idea you need to forget this night.”

“Oh, I- no, it’s nothing…” you risk another peek at Laios, finding him somehow more disinterested in you than before -- thoroughly enjoying a one-sided conversation with Toshiro, “I’m not…”

“Better ways to get your mister’s attention than flirting.”

“Oh,” you’re embarrassed to be figured out like this, “I’m sorry. Really, I can’t- God- I’m sorry.”

“He’s lookin’ this way.”

Chancing it, you confirm that Laios is now looking at the both of you. His amber eyes flit from your face to the man beside you, to the floor. He returns all focus to Toshiro.

“Wow.”

From pitier to pitied at breakneck speed is more jarring than Laios’ carelessness.

“He said he wanted to marry me,” you reason.

“Did he now?” the dwarf so obviously disbelieves you, you’re sick just hearing his voice.

“Yeah!”

The dwarf nods slowly, a sarcastic lilt in his following words, “Seems like he meant it.”

“I’m not drinking anymore…” you slide off the bar stool, pausing when the man’s voice punches your gut once more.

“You should find someone more attentive to you.”

Racing away from the dwarf, you tug Laios away from your party’s table by his elbow. You’re glaring, you’re glaring so hard and so viciously that it genuinely startles him.

“Are you okay?” his neck cranes to gaze upon the dwarf, “You were talking to that guy, right? Did he freak you out?”

“So you knew I was with him?” you scoff, “Don’t you care at all?”

Laios shrugs, he didn’t see flirting -- he has no idea what you’re talking about, and he doesn’t want to seem like a nightmare boss, so… “Not really, I guess.”

“Are you serious?!”

“It’s not a crime for you to unwind at a bar. Besides, it isn’t like we belong to each other or something.”

You turn suddenly, back completely to him before charging out of the bar -- Laios chases, disliking how this conversation is slated to end. He slams into you at the edge of the street, and when he tries balancing you by the shoulders you knock his hands away.

“I thought- “ you circle back to stare at his face, “I thought we were… I was always on top of you, and we- I said- you said we should get married.”

Laios squirms with humiliation, then irritation, “Well, you said it weird. Marcille says that stuff to Falin all the time. Why didn’t you just ask to be together?”

“I did!”

“Did you?”

“All the time…”

Acceptance

Laios squirms with humiliation, then irritation, “Well, you said it weird. Marcille says that stuff to Falin all the time. Why didn’t you just ask to be together?”

“I did!”

“Did you?”

“All the time…”

“I never knew,” he blinks at you, and the most dreadful thing is you know he’s not bluffing. Laios is a terrible liar, you’ve prided yourself on plucking his fibs apart in the past, but this is not one of those times.

“You didn’t notice?” you’re lightheaded at his nonchalance, arms coiling around your waist as if to belt your insides right where they are, “You seriously didn’t notice?”

“No,” Laios’ pretty lips tear in a frown, “Should I have?”

He means it literally: are you terribly sad or can we start all over again?

You assume he’s being himself, oblivious and avoidant and so, so, so annoying.

“I’m…” you stumble back, face so hot you’re seconds away from blacking out with terror. Stretching out to steady you, Laios continues to play the kind leader, and it only makes your dinner lurch up your throat. Instinctually, you clasp a hand over your mouth, shaking your head and taking a step back toward the bustling dirt path, “I’m going home.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to, we can- ”

You shush Laios, memories whacking you over the head every millisecond just to taunt how stupid you were. Indignity blinds you, eyes snapping shut, “I’m going home, Laios.”

Panicked, you stammer a goodbye before lugging yourself away. Laios watches you fade into silhouette, drowning under the clogging crowd by townsquare until not even your head is visible. His fists screw at his sides, knuckles burning white, his feet feel the phantom pummeling of a rush against the ground; urging him forward. That might scare you though, and you already seemed awfully upset, so Laios figures it better to let you sleep off tonight. The two of you can rekindle tomorrow.

Peeking over your shoulder, you spot no broad shoulders or sandy blonde hair looming over the rest of the townsfolk.

Call it melodramatic and frustrating, but you were hoping Laios would follow just to grab your hand and ask you to stay. Not that you should be surprised. More often than not recently, you’d felt a burden on the party. Perhaps Laios is content you’re removing yourself. Perhaps he’ll be relieved you’re no longer pestering him. Perhaps he’ll walk inside and out your feelings to the rest of the party for them to share a laugh over.

(you should know him better than that, but you’re not in your right mind: storming into your room, a teary-eyed mess, to throw your things into bags)

Laios feels a lithe hand dig nails into his arm, he squeals sharply at the sensation and rips back to see Marcille gaping up at him. She throws an arm out toward the dirt road, “What are you doing?!”

Falin gently pries the elf off from Laios before humming thoughtfully at her brother, “They seemed really distraught. What happened?”

“Where’d you two come from?” Laios twists toward the tavern door, “I didn’t hear you at all…”

Flustered at the questioning, Marcille scoffs and drags Laios inside toward their table, “This isn’t about us! Have you never read romance before?! That was terrible!”

“They were upset, they probably wanted space,” Laios reasons, slumping into his seat at the head of the table, “We’ll see them tomorrow, we’ll talk again.”

“What’d you do now?” Chilchuck lifts a bottle of wine to his lips and tosses it back in a way that makes Toshiro cringe.

Namari quirks a brow at the man, waiting until he’s finished gulping to ask, “I thought you hated personal relationships and work?”

“I do, but if he just got rid of our other cleric then we should probably know about it.”

“I didn’t get rid of them!” Laios folds his arms with a sigh, “We’ll sort everything out tomorrow when we’re well-rested.”

Toshiro debates even opening his mouth. Laios is a one-man paradox, somehow well-meaning and belligerent in one breath -- overbearing and entirely hands-off. Laios’ spot in Toshiro’s heart is a complicated one: at this very moment the spot is incredibly tender. Down to that part of a night out where Toshiro empathizes with how clueless the bumpkin is, and it's that part of his brain that chastises him. After all, if it were him and Falin, he would want someone to say something.

“They’re going home,” Toshiro mumbles.

“Huh?” Laios cocks his head at the input, “I know, buddy, she told me she was heading home.”

“No,” be nice, be nice, be nice, be nice, “Home off The Island. No returning to the dungeon.”

“How’d you get all that?” Marcille leans onto the table with both elbows, nervously brushing long flaxen locks behind her ears.

“When we first met, it was something we talked about,” Toshiro confesses, “If they couldn’t marry on The Island, they’d have to take the suitor arranged by their parents back home. This rejection must be the final one.”

With Falin around, he decides to bite back his next statement: I’m not sure why Laios caught their eye in the first place, though.

“Pretty ditzy of you, party leader,” Chilchuck’s jab echoes into the bottle already resettled against his lips.

Laios stands, unsure of why except for the fact he cannot take the news lightly. His heart is racing in protest, one word jamming another in his hurry to speak, until he finally stutters out, “So?”

So, what should I do?

So, why wouldn’t you mention that?

So, why did he let you walk home alone?

“So…” Falin jumps to respond first, settling a massassing hand on Marcille’s shoulder to subdue the fuming woman, “If you want to smooth things over, you should probably go.”

Laios charges from the tavern despite Namari’s scolding that tonight was supposed to be on his tab.

Quickly coming to terms with the fact you’re long gone, Laios heads straight for the inn he and Falin live above. Certain once on that road, the memory of which hostel you’re renting out of will flood back to him.

. . .

You’re jamming bags puffy to the clasp when overzealous knocks threaten to rattle your door from its hinges. The only reason you don’t flee via window to shake the banging madman is because you recognize his voice: Laios, calling your name.

You sigh, forfeiting, “Come in, Laios!”

Despite your own disinterest, you want nothing more than to indulge Laios. It seems that this is something you’ll let devour you.

Flinging the door open and shut behind him, Laios stares at you -- slack jawed and pupils eating away irises. He stares into your face.

“What is it, Lai- “

“We can actually get married!” he blurts, stunning you into utter bewilderment, “You don’t have to take a suitor, you can marry me for real! I don’t care much for inheriting the village, but we can tell your parents I do.”

“Laios…”

“I don’t have much to throw for a wedding, though, so it’ll have to be something quieter than you probably imagined.”

“Laios.”

“Huh?”

“I can’t marry you,” you turn away from his confused pinch, now sweeping a finger along the scratched edge of your nightstand, “You don’t get it.”

“So make me get it,” he says so casually, you almost believe it’s really that easy.

“I can’t marry you because I don’t care about your dad,” he’s struggling to hold in the confused puppy-head-tilt of questioning, you can sense it, “I stopped throwing myself at you for stupid titles a while ago. For a long time I did it genuinely. Because I wanted to.”

“Because you liked me.”

“Now he gets it,” you huff bitterly.

“I can hear you,” Laios steps bravely to be beside you, “Do you still like me?”

You laugh because that’s all you can think to do. The sun just asked a daisy if it enjoys photosynthesis. A rhino wonders if the oxpecker is well fed. A black cat curls around an orange one in a window sill. Weeds grow so tangled up they need to be ripped as a knot. Two moth-gnawed coats hanging in the back of a rich man’s closet. Stars scorching at one another, colliding lightyears ahead. Squiggly stick figures holding hands in a defaced oil painting. Two eagles clawing at one another as they plummet from the sky.

“I don’t know if there’s a plane where I don’t.”

His morbid fascination and tactless enjoyment of life have you in a chokehold, one so fatally unshakable you’re certain he’ll someday kill you. Eventually, he’ll say something so thoughtlessly true to himself, with so much excitement it oozes from his pores, that you’ll have a heart attack then and there.

“So, why not stay?”

One day, he’ll lead you so deep into the dungeon that you cannot escape.

“You know what you’re implying, right?” your voice catches behind chattering teeth, a nervous whisper all you can manage, “I couldn’t, not if you’re just saying this out of guilt.”

“I know what I’m saying, I want you to stay so we can be together,” his face flushes, “I know how selfish it is, but I don’t want you to go home and marry someone else for your family. I want us to marry each other because I like you.”

His abrupt and daring confession has you petrified. Only your jaw is capable of movement, and the most it can do is dumbly drop before you gargle out a stunted, “Okay.”

“Okay!” he excitedly flails out both arms before crushing you against his cuirass, intensely aggressive and deeply endearing at once, “Do I have to meet your parents now?”

“Yes, that’s kind of the reason they let me stay here, you know? To see who I’d find on The Island instead of home.”

“I hate meeting adults… they’re so… weird.”

You choose not to point out that he, as well as everyone he associates with, is an adult.

“Just be yourself,” a sudden, maybe minorly manipulative, plan roars behind your eyes, “You’ll impress them so much, they’ll leave me alone forever!”

Hope

“And since they’re slimes, if you poke their eyes they stay perfectly calm! Which is another good way to tell them from the human they’re mimicking,” your dad made the mistake of asking Laios what he studied, misinterpreting your use of ‘fascinated by nature’ to mean ‘biology scholar’. Laios immediately began ranting and neither of your parents had reawakened from their shock yet, “Succubi can also duplicate people, but that’s usually when taking the most desired form their target has. Which is mainly sex appeal, so for me it’d probably be, well you know!” he affectionately squeezes your hand in view of your parents. You watch a little more of your dad’s soul crumble within his eyes, “The strangest is probably mirror monsters though, since they reflect what they see. They rely on flattery and illusions to swap with humans. I’d love to meet one so I could see their lure techniques in real time.”

“Wow, honey,” you grin, peeking at your parents across the table, “Can you circle back to how the shapeshifters make their copies? I just can’t wrap my head around why they’d use memories instead of the real things!”

“Oh, so it’s actually pretty simple!” Laios devolves into another ramble, eyes alight with excitement.

You’re just as glad to be feeding his need to talk about monsters as you are to be terrifying your parents.

“And you have a village in the North?” your father finally coughs out, holding a hand up to silence Laios.

“It’s my father’s,” Laios glances at you through his peripherals, visibly unsure how to carry out the conversation. To his credit, he’d pestered you about what exactly you wanted him to say about his father, and you only brushed it off as something you’d take care of.

“You’re the eldest, right?” your mom chews her thumbnail nervously, “A son at that!”

“Yes, yes, he’s a firstborn son,” Dad looks to you, “It was in the letter!”

“I am,” Laios’ foot taps beneath the table. Again glancing at you for further prompting.

“We’re not moving from The Island anytime soon,” you return Laios’ previous hand-squeeze, hoping to ease his nerves. You sit up straight, “We want to keep exploring the dungeon.”

“Yes, but after that?” Dad’s eyes are wet with concern and dread, “You’ll have to settle down eventually.”

“We’ll be fine, Dad. I’m fine living like this, I’ve had lots of fun -- I want to keep having fun. I’m excited to marry Laios, and he’s excited to marry me,” to add to your point, Laios nods enthusiastically, “I’m happy marrying for love, and I don’t care what it implies about me as your child.”

Meeting Laios was like striking gold. He’s different from anybody you grew up with, and you’re content to be with him as you continue to grow old.

“If you’re sure,” Mom lays a hand on your father’s back, as if to wrangle a dog before it bites, “Just visit more often, okay?” she catches how Laios perks up at the mention of more traveling, “And bring Laios, too. He’s very… interesting…”

You know. That’s why you courted (suffered) him for actual years.

[grandline-fics]

hello can I request Luffy for true loves kiss for ur valentine's event? ur prompts are super cute btw!! I literally was stressing over which character to pick for this prompt 😭

DESCRIPTION: True Love's Kiss- The moment they realise they're in love

WARNINGS: none

CHARACTERS: Luffy

WORDS: 1,046

A/N: This was also requested by @destynelseclipsa. I hope you both like what I came up with for this one and that it's to your liking. Thank you for the request and Happy Valentine's day guys

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI | VALENTINES EVENT MASTERLIST

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When the Strawhats docked at the island that morning the crew became confused about being told they wouldn’t be allowed to enter properly just yet. The explanation given was that there was a festival being prepared in the city’s centre for the evening and it would be too difficult to get everything ready in time with outsiders getting in the way. Most of the crew understood and settled in for an afternoon on the ship. Luffy, however became all but impossible to control. Knowing there was a city-wide party just hours away from happening left him a ball of frantic energy just wanting to sneak into the city centre and take a peek at what was to come.

Nami had been yelling at him to behave and just be patient, with Zoro and Sanji holding him firmly in place under the navigator’s instruction but still they struggled. If Luffy wanted to break free he would. You knew it was only a matter of time before he broke, with Nami soon following suit so you decided to get ahead of things to ensure everyone had a good time at the festival. 

Getting up from your seat you approached your Captain and boyfriend. Even with your steps being casual against the Sunny’s deck and muted over the sounds of Sanji, Zoro, and Nami’s yelling, the second you drew near Luffy’s head turned immediately towards you and his dark but bright eyes fixed on you. Anything the others were saying, were completely drowned out by this point as he smiled happily at you.

“You can go peek if you want, Luffy but it’ll just be boring. There won’t be any cooked food ready at this point and maybe a couple stalls built.” You explained with a shrug. “If you want to see that you can just go to Franky and Usopp’s workshops and see what they’re working on right? Or we could stay here and see if Sanji would make something to tide us all over before the festival?”

Sanji jerked when Luffy effortlessly pulled out from his and Zoro’s hold. He glanced at you and quickly grinned, anything to keep Luffy content enough to be patient and even better if he had a hand in it, it would earn him more favour with Nami. “Yeah. How about a pre-festival feast?”

The island they’d found themselves and now got to fully see was bursting with life and colour. Everyone was so cheerful, infectiously so. Luffy grinned broadly as he took in the sights and sounds overwhelming his senses in every direction. Now he was glad he listened to you and stayed on the Sunny until it was time to attend the festival. Keeping one hand firmly linked with yours, he hurried from one stall to the other taking in as many games, food, and possible trinkets to buy. Through it all you grinned at his enthusiasm, soaking up the radiant positivity and excitement that Luffy brought to the already joyous atmosphere. While Luffy was buying another local delicacy to try, Chopper called your name. You told Luffy you’d be right back and hurried over to the doctor to help him pick what to buy from a souvenir stall. Immediately Luffy pouted and watched you across the street. 

“Oh I know that look.” Luffy turned to see the old man in front of the stall he was at. His confusion grew when the man grinned broadly. “That’s the face of a man in love.”

“Love?” Luffy repeated, a hint of hesitation in his tone. Quickly he glanced your direction again. Yes you were both in a relationship but love was a new topic. “What makes you think that?”

“Not think. Know.” The old man clarified with a soft laugh and shake of his head. “That hopeless, lost look you got now even when they’re so close. Besides I’ve been watching you two since you got here. It’s obvious you’re in love with how you look at them. How they’re the only thing that matters above all else.” Luffy blinked at the explanation and looked over at you again, unable and unwilling to stop the smile shaping his lips when you waved him over to join you. At the smallest beckon you gave him Luffy was already moving, needing absolutely to be as close as possible. Now with the old man’s words in his head Luffy began to consider it with more seriousness than he would have without the prompting. He truly couldn’t be without you. But did you matter more than anything else? 

“Luffy! Careful!” You spoke suddenly with widened eyes. You were hurrying towards him to meet him halfway. He blinked in surprise to see you leaning down to pick up his hat from the ground. In his movements and the busy city streets, the tied rope keeping the straw hat around his neck had come undone and it had fallen. He hadn’t even noticed it was loose. He didn’t even realise or felt it had fallen. You had occupied his notice completely and even seeing it had been missing from his person for just a few seconds didn’t bring him nearly as much agitation as you leaving his side had done. 

His hat, his defining image and greatest treasure truly did matter less to him compared to you. Luffy smiled when you settled the hat firmly on his head and secured the rope to make sure it didn’t slip again. Meeting your gaze Luffy was struck with the confirmation that what the old man had pointed out to him was obvious. He knew people called him clueless sometimes but in this moment he fully agreed with him. “I love you!”

“For saving your hat?” You ask with a smile. Your boyfriend was a lovable and affectionate guy so you took his statement with a carefree smile. You only froze when you saw Luffy’s stare on your face was stronger and more serious than anything you’d seen before. His declaration wasn’t one being said thoughtlessly. He meant it with every fibre of his being and it shocked and warmed you instantly. Your lips parted and your took a breath before staring at him with just as much love as he was giving you. “Love you too, Luffy.”

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa, @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya ,  @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @its-a-dam-blue-brick , @thulhu , @appalost , @dindjarins1ut , @irumawife , @laidenbreecatchall , @redwolfxx , @jevoislesbrasdemer , @schanwow , @pao198391 , @glitchtricks94 , @nina-ya , @48daisies , @rosemary-lungs

[theblobmaster]

i've been thinking about omega jason for a while now. specifically why he'd be an omega.

jason was TINY before his dip in the lazarus pit. his death certificate says 4'6" and 87 lbs (137 cm & 39,5 kg) which at 15yo is very, very fucking small.

and then after lazarus pit he's now 6' and 225 lbs (183 cm & 111 kg). so that's a big difference from what is hinted to be an adjustment of his stunted growth because of malnutrition in his early childhood.

but back to omegaverse, now i normally don't really like the whole omega = small, alpha = big, because that's fucking boring and very heteronormative. BUT let's say that because of that course correction the pit did on his build would indicate that jason was supposed to be an alpha.

so what if, in an omegaverse au, because of his malnutrition, because of how he grew up, his biology changed. knew he no longer would be able to grow into that big ass alpha that his genes promised and instead decided to develop the more latent omega genes and after he begins to find a place at the manor to feels safe, a place where his body feels like he would be able to present in, he goes into heat not long before he dies. maybe he only has that one presenting heat and not really finding his footing with his secondary gender before he dies.

and then he comes back, the superboy prime punch, and then the wandering on the streets before talia finds him, and it would make sense if he didn't have any heats in that period because of the heightened stress his body was going through so he's not producing a lot of scent pheromones and omega hormones.

when he comes to himself after the lazarus pit, and his body starts to adjust to his new growth spurt, focusing his energy on that and still not producing any of those obvious omega pheromones and hormones and talia never learnt his dynamic before he died. (maybe bruce didn't know, maybe he did and just didn't tell who knows)

and if we go with the whole body not going into season when it seems like it's not safe. his years training with all of those expert teachers of how to kill ect he wouldn't get a heat.

just jason thinking he lost his secondary gender when he died, and not finding it important because there's nothing indicating he'll ever go into heat again. maybe it was just a fluke that first time?

and he comes back to gotham, and he has his showdown with bruce and it goes to shit. but then it starts to settle and jason starts to find a footing and places he feels safe in, finds teams he can count on.

with that his body starts producing those hormones again, people around him starts to notice a change in his scent, but jason doesn't notice how they also change with that pheromone change from him.

until one day where he is at that one safehouse, that's more home than the others and bam he's in heat and he has only experienced that once before, it's been a lifetime and many years since he was holed up in his room in the manor and had alfred making sure he had food and water and a hotpack for the cramps and for a short moment he panics. wants to reach out and call alfred, ask for help, but isn't sure if he'd get it

idk i have a lot of feelings about omega jason. and i think there's so many interesting ways to explore omegaverse and the way it can function through omega jason.

(also because i love them, dick coming to see if jason can help with a case and instead discovers his little wing sweating profusely and curled up and he can't not help out. he's not ready for all of those heat pheromones, but he takes it in stride and decides to work through how jason is apparently an omega later and instead just makes sure that jason is hydrated and takes care of him until jason is lucid enough to be embarrassed and kicks him out)

[ariichive]

feeling touch

k. sakusa

in which sakusa's first relationship comes with gentle surprises and a lasting sense of comfort. fluff | first relationship | mentions of assault | gn reader :) | established relationship | timeskip

sakusa was good at reading people. it was a skill that came with being a good volleyball player such as himself. knowing where to hit a spike, finding the perfect spot for a service ace, and understanding his teammates.

the ability even followed him outside of the court. sakusa found himself observing people everywhere. the couple on the train; the girl had a nervous look on her face as she clutched her stomach, often stealing glances at the man busy on his phone. pregnant. sakusa remembers thinking to himself. the same day, he watched a stray dog on the busy streets of japan circling a busy food vendor.

it was no surprise when the dog snatched food from the owners hands and ran off into an alley way, the curses of the owner blending in to the surrounding noise.

yes; this was all natural for him but not for most people. at least, to him in particular.

people did not understand kiyoomi sakusa.

he think it's his whole demeanor. sure, he might not be the most friendly looking, but he was still human with human normal reactions. he remembers one day after a dominant win against a damn good team.

interviewers flocked to him, fans were everywhere; it was overwhelming. there was nothing more he wanted than to go home, where he could relax after a long match and wait for you to come home from work.

home. he kept repeating in his head, making his way through the crowd. he answered questions simply if they were asked. he was almost through the seemingly never-ending pool of people, when a hand circled around his wrist. sakusa immediately turned around, yanking his wrist out their hand with swiftness. with a glare, he took a step back. a girl with a big number 15 on her shirt. oh, a fan.

"h-hi," the girl spoke in a high-pitched voice. like a dog whistle. sakusa nodded his head in a greeting, eagerly turning around to continue on his way. he wasn't the nicest when it came to fans, but if his fans were really genuine they would understand he did not appreciate being touched.

clearly, this girl was not so genuine.

she grabbed his wrist, again, this time with a bit more force. "w-wait!" sakusa sighed but stopped nonetheless knowing this could go on forever. she squealed when he stopped; his eye twitching. "can we take a picture? please?" sakusa couldn't deny there was a sparkle in her eyes and he feels as if he didn't take a picture her dreams would be absolutely crushed. while he wasn't big on social interactions, he wasn't exactly a monster. "yes, make it quick. please, do not touch me." he managed to mutter out.

the girl quickly stood next to him, a centimeter of distance between them as she whipped out her phone to take a selfie with him next to her. she pressed the button, a 3 second timer starting.

3...

2..

1.

as soon as the timer hit 1, the girl quickly pressed her lips against his cheek.

fear and disgust immediately ran through his body as he shoved the girl, not caring that she ended up on the ground. "never come near me again, you disgusting shit." sakusa meant every word, and he probably would have said more if he wasn't so focused on getting out. pushing throw the crowd, he barely paid attention to the concern looks of bokuto and hinata. if he would've looked back, he'd witness atsumu angrily snatching the phone from the crazed fan.

home. he had to get home.

the journey home was a quick one, he had too much occupying his mind. as soon as he stepped into his safe space, sakusa made a beeline to the shower. a shivering feeling of disgust and guilt taking over him. with the amount of reporters around, you were bound to see the news. he can't believe another persons lips were on him; he could only imagine your reaction. would you be angry? disappointed? disgusted?

sakusa scrubbed harder at his skin.

when he was done in the shower, he still didn't feel clean enough. he had half the mind to go back in, let the burning hot water consume him as a whole. he would have, if it wasn't for the sound of the front door opening. his heartbeat picked up pace, he quickly dried himself and threw on a shirt and sweats. it'll be okay. he reassured himself as he stepped out into the open space of your shared residence.

as he made eye contact with you, he felt a pinch of fear crawl up his spine when you didn't hug him as usual or give him a kiss as a greeting.

you knew.

he felt an apology about to slip out his lips, the guilt weighing on his heart.

"i'm so sorry, omi... atsumu told me what happened."

you said an apology before him, leaving sakusa stunned. why were you apologizing?

noticing his lack of response, you continued. "atsumu told me what happened... i'm so sorry you had to go through that. i understand if you want space to collect yourself, i won't overstep any boundaries."

you understood how dire the situation was; noting how important it was to keep sakusa's feelings in mind. he looked shaken up when you arrived home, so you thought it was best to not add to his discomfort; hence the lack of physical greeting.

sakusa sighed, "..you don't have to apologize. it was my-"

"don't you dare say it was your fault!" you took a hesitant step towards him, and when he didn't move away, you hugged the tall outside hitter; he melted into your arms.

"the only person to blame is that crazy fan, it had nothing to do with you. nobody deserves that to happen to them."

sakusa bathed in the comfort of your words, finally finding the energy to hug you back.

"you're right, love. i'm glad to be home with you."

yeah, you knew this was his way of saying i love you. "i love you too! now let's find something to eat, you must be hungry after that game. ugh, i wish i could've gone! your highlights are trending, the ladies at work..."

he listened to you chatter away, a big smile present on his face.

sakusa wasn't hard to understand, it just took the right people to understand him.

bonus

"whaddya gonna do with this photo?" atsumu stared at the phone of sakusa's fangirl, a look of disgust and hatred taking form. he quickly deleted it as he went to her recently deleted album to ensure it would be gone permanently. he wasn't surprised to see her lock screen was a picture of sakusa, or the number of pictures she had of him in her photos. "oh you're not right in the head," he chuckled mockingly as he stared down at the girl, who tried to get up only to be pushed back down by bokuto. "oops, didn't see you right there." bokuto said almost robotically; everyone knew he was lying as he scratched his neck in boredom.

hinata eventually made his way over. "oooh, a fan?" to any onlooker, it would look like the hyper-orange-haired male had genuine, pure curiosity. but his teammates knew.

"yeah, a fan. huge fan of omi omi, hundreds of pictures of him in her gallery." atsumu said as he slung an arm around hinata's shoulders. he found pleasure in the embarrassed look on her face. she stuttered out lame excuses he didn't bother listening to. "hey, kou, shoyo, since she's such a big fan, why don't we show her an up-close play?"

"hell yeah!" bokuto cheered as he high fives hinata. the obsessed fan could only watch in horror as her phone was tossed to hinata, who bumped it to atsumu, who then set it towards bokuto.

bokuto, feeling a strong sense of defending his friend and teammate, spiked her phone into the floor with a loud cracking sound that echoed throughout the stadium. meian turned a blind eye to his team's antics.

atsumu took out his own phone, taking a selfie. he made sure the crying girl on the ground hovering over her broken phone was in the background.

[sent to (name) 6:48pm]

[acid-ixx]

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

partly inspired by @l0vergirls and @on-leatheredwings.

i like to think that jason todd as your yandere would be very subservient in a sense that he's willing to drown deeper into the depths of corruption and bury all of which hurts you. he's already killed hundreds, no thousands— you eventually lose track of your kill streak the moment blood touches your fingertips— what more can a couple of your foes or even harassers do? you don't even need to acknowledge his existence to guarantee that by the time the clock strikes the dawn of another evening, another life or even lives would be taken justly (in jason's eyes) to ensure you would walk the streets without the need to periodically check your back for any thieves or to feel adrenaline rush through your veins whenever you hear something out of the picture. no, you wouldn't, not when your savior, red hood, would be quicker than all to eliminate any dirt on the street.

sure, jason's moral code was to never murder low-life criminals but hell be damned if any filthy hands lay on your body. he would rather be shot with his very own collection of guns, than let your eyes glint with fear, with trauma he was so accustomed and hardened to. whereas bruce would be known to prioritize missions, jason would immediately abort his the moment he was given a signal that your safety was compromised. jason todd is a child of gotham, and he knows she wouldn't be merciful enough to spare a breathtaking soul such as yours; a life he promises to cherish with the second life he was blessed with. he knows, for sure, that you are the one to hold the very privilege to take his life. but while he's alive, he would take every opportunity to make sure your life was every bit as comfortable.

jason todd is never gentle with his identity as red hood, but as robin, as your jason; he is a man whose actions speak a thousand words. with him as your protector, he has taken to a habit of making sure you know he isn't there to hurt you, but rather keep you safe. and you know it in yourself to not see him as a threat. you would be greeted with your favorite copies of books, either limited or collector's edition. oftentimes, your table would be filled with warm food the moment you step inside your apartment after a night shift. sometimes, you would feel his presence in your room, just right after you enter would you know that he was in there minutes ago, leaving small trinkets or gifts that reminds him of you. they may be jewelry, or music boxes, or keychains. pieces that remind you that under that thick wall of hatred, there is a heart filled with a love for creativity.

he may be known as violent, but with you? you are his everything. your knuckles would be kissed by his bloodied, busted lips, softly, patiently with every reverence in the world. every kisses you sear him with are kisses to his wounds; bruises from which he knew he took for you. your waist or hip would be protectively caged in his scar-filled arm, the other ready to point a gun at another who perturbs his peace. his chest is your safe haven, you can lay on it at any moment and sleep to your satisfaction. his hold on you may be tight, but it would never be as tight as the fingers that would crush the throats of the people who would dare to even make you cry.

jason todd is your right hand man— never beneath you, never above you, but he will kneel for you as he would offer the land of the damned if you would ever accept his sinful sacrifices. all you have to do is say the word, and your very own lover would be glad to shed more blood for your namesake.

[bubblebbg]

❝𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞: 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧❞

Mizu x Reader

- Reader in this fic is of some sort of mixed or foreign descent, but this can also be interpreted as having any trait that would make them a pariah of sorts. Warning, not proofread lol. All spur of the moment.

When you found the blue eyed stranger laying bloody on a lonely street, you took her in. You keep her warm, fed, and with mends on her wounds. Mizu knows well that there are sacrifices to be made on her path. She doesn't know just how much they can sting.

Mizu can't quite pinpoint the most irritating part of the pain. The ache of broken bones, the sting of stabs and slices, the consistent ringing in her head; everything hurts, and she supposes that like every other injury, it's all par for the course. Small price to pay for revenge. She knew she'd have to rest at some point, but she didn't expect to be incapacitated, edging on consciousness for days. Every now and then there's a sensation like coolness on her forehead, or water at her lips.

It's on day three that she becomes lucid enough to realize someone's taking care of her. Her distrustful brain is immediately sounding alarms, but her body can do little to react in such a broken state. Mizu can do nothing but lie silent and weak on this futon, sipping medicines and soups when it's brought to her mouth and being patched, cut for cut, wound for wound.

The first thing she notices about you, her caretaker, is your eyes - eyes brimming with concern and care, eyes that catch every weakness of her flesh and seek to heal. She hears your whispers of "poor thing" and "I'll get you healed up in no time". And being Mizu, her first thought is...

"Why?"

She hadn't meant to say it out loud, but she doesn't rush to take it back. Why are you, a stranger, so willing to take care of her? Why are you expending your resources on a broken thing, a mistake that any other sane person would let rot in the street where they found it?

You only smile at her, and in such a way that makes her heart race. Gentle, patient, tentative. She doesn't like it one bit, the way it pulls at doors she's kept locked for years. Her eyes focus, taking in what you look like as you stand and ready yourself to leave the room.

"I don't need your pity!" She manages to choke out. It has you stopping in your tracks.

"It's," she coughs, sputtering on words, "It's because you're just like me, isn't it? You're different. A monster."

The look on your face is one of mild amusement, an eyebrow raised and the corners of your lips upturned. She's not sure if it's that or the confidence in your next words that makes her cheeks heat up.

"I am not a monster. Neither are you."

And you're gone, leaving her to deal with the weight you've left in her chest.

𓆩… . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . …𓆪

The days turn into weeks, the weeks into months. With so many parts impaired, it'd only make sense that healing would take this long. Most of all, it's your endless patience that surprises Mizu. When she reopens a wound by carelessly trying to train despite your cautions, you're there patching it up. When she expresses her frustration with not being able to take up the sword yet, you're there reassuring her that it'll all be fine in time. You're kind when she's haughty and sarcastic (which makes her feel guilty, and thus even more indignant), and this extends to others as well. She often sees you helping children or neighbors, anyone in need. You're loved in this town.

It makes her a bit irritated, seeing your kindness bestowed on others. At first she thinks it's because she sees weakness in your actions. Then she thinks it's jealousy - why are you, someone who would otherwise be an outcast like herself, so beloved by your town? How come it didn't turn out this way for her? But when she sees you cooking enough for the both of you and the family next door, stirring slowly as the food steams, she thinks to herself, god, they're even patient when they're cooking. And then it hits her.

She is jealous, but not in the way she thought. In the way that yearns for your priority, that seeks to be the only recipient of your sweet manners and loving nature.

It doesn't help that you've grown close, too close for her liking. There have been nights spent in each other's company, saying nothing but gazing at stars. There have been conversations in which you've both laughed, some in which you cried. Mizu's mind can't help but remind her that this isn't safe; the last time she opened her heart up, it returned battered.

But this - you - feel safe. You dedicated nearly three months to healing her body, all the while you had been patching up wounds the eye can't see.

"I'm leaving," she says meekly on a warm evening, the two of you sat in a field of grass overlooking your village. You look to her and she only stares forward. You suppose it's better than her leaving without telling you, but the pain is no lesser because of the thought.

You take a deep breath and exhale before answering, "I had a feeling."

There's a long silence between the two of you. It's your turn to watch the sun setting over the trees as Mizu looks at your expression, the hints of sadness in her eyes.

"Do you... do you really have to? You are welcome here, you know. You'll always have a home here with me."

The words have Mizu choking up and suppressing the sudden and unnerving urge to cry. What you've done to her in three months still astounds her.

"I do. You know I do. I was always going to have to leave."

Mizu is caught by another urge, the urge to take those words back when she sees streams on your cheeks. You sniffle and hiccup, and it's so much less pleasant than your usual smiling disposition. It hurts in the way no blade ever could.

The sun is disappearing, and she wills herself to stand. If she doesn't, she might never go. She turns to leave and you stand as well. She stops in her tracks when you tug on her sleeve. She faces you and you slowly, carefully bring a hand to the side of her cheek. When she doesn't flinch away, you lean in close. Your lips meet in a kiss that conveys words that neither of you have the power to say.

You pull back after a moment, your forehead pressed to hers and your eyes closed. Your voice is quiet, almost inaudible when you say your goodbye.

"Break my heart once by leaving. Do not break it again by dying."

She turns and leaves while your eyes are still closed. You open them to an empty field, your palm still wet with her tears.

[devotion-disorder]

i have nothing to post but im itching to yap so here are random bits and pieces of DoL things™ and me yapping about them. ⚠️spoiler warning for kylar's manor and dog pound storylines⚠️ and also this is a longass post

so after 9000 years I finally got around to seeing the kylar's manor storyline because i heard there was real freaky cult shit going on (and also rare bailey content). I grinded the whitney alleyway encounters for so long (all of the events are apparently ordered so its not even rng) only to discover that I accepted the owl plushie so IT WASNT GOING TO WORK ANYWAYS

so i had to speedrun de-traumatizing robin then romancing them, which thankfully didnt take very long (sowwy wobin im usually too locked in on making money LMAO)

i think its just really funny that one of pc's method of escape is just. sending bailey an email. like can u fuckign imagine bailey getting an email thats like

Subject: EHLP Sender: [kylar's cringe email handle]

AUHXJKAUS HEEOLP BAILY IMSTUCK> IN SOME HAUNTED HOUOSE ON DABUBVE STREET I MADE MY KIDNAPPEDR MOW THE GRASS AND DANCE 4 ME BUT HES SO BAD HEELPPPP

and then he actually proceeded to believe the email and went to save pc im cryin.

i cannot believe he SNATCHED kylar mid-air LMAO????????

also,

WHAT THE FREAK JORDAN.........I WAS UNFAMILIAR WITH YOUR GAME.............................

i thought bailey would at least escort pc back home but he didnt(😔) but my pcs has already racked up so much stress i passed out immediately...which triggered the kylar's abduction event (💀💀💀💀) GOOD JOB BOZO

I also did the dog pound questline because im scavenging for any and all bits of bailey scenes, but atp my pc has S Skullduggery so i got in and got out of there in like. less than half a day

mainly i just wanna share this........oughhh what does it mean.............

speaking of bailey i also learnt that annoying him in his office is a great way to grind sadism so my pc has been waking up at 7am sharp every day to be a menace :)

I've been trying to unlock Mason's pond but I wasted most of the non-school days doing gacha for whitney alleyway events (see above) and ive never wanted there to be more rain than now

which also. I finally got one of whitney's favourite food recipes but IT JUST WONT RAIN SO I CANT GIVE IT TO HIM RAUGHHHHHH

I was going for both 'stressful challenge' feats so this has sadly been a very harperless run. though now that i think about it it's kind of a miracle i managed this despite the stimulant kidnapping questline.

i find that in late game when you inevitably accumulate more negative fame it gets kinda hard to get the 'stretcher to the hospital' outcome because noncon encounters will almost always "intercept" in a sense. i went 250 ish days without even seeing harper get mentioned lol

how did they make this flavor text even hotter.

[minyard-05]

ok so here's the thing about andrew minyard's hashtag DIY rehab tactic. what actual rehab does, what it's supposed to do, is not just flush the drugs out of your system (because you can technically do that pretty effectively the way andrew did) but rehab centers are supposed to help you by letting you come off drugs slowly in a safe environment, and provide you with ways to prevent relapsing once you get out. it's supposed to help you to stop relying on substances day-to-day, so a lot of them will have counselling services and other methods of helping you adjust to being clean.

obviously this is not everybody's experience with rehab, but in my understanding this is the main aim.

so let's just make some ground assumptions here while i talk about this. 1) aaron was addicted from an early age, most likely with the effects of fetal alcohol syndrome combined, and it got worse as he got older and started relying on the drugs more heavily as his mother's abuse equally worsened. 2) he did not stop after tilda died. the week or so between her funeral and andrew locking him in the bathroom were probably some of the worst for him in terms of his addiction and what he was using. 3) he was taking, regularly, a mixture of different street drugs all with varying effects and was probably high more often than not.

what andrew did, exactly, was stock the bathroom with canned food and lock aaron inside against his will for an undetermined amount of time. given the assumptions i made above, i'm going to say he collected enough food for about a week, accounting for how long aaron's withdrawal symptoms probably would have lasted. the thing is, that method would have worked in the sense that any drugs aaron had taken before being locked inside would have worn off and withdrawal would've kicked in not long after, depending obviously on what he took and when.

this means that aaron essentially quit completely cold, and he spent withdrawal locked inside a small room with canned food and two people in the house who wouldn't let him out until he was clean. and when he was let out, yes, he was sober, but he also had a very high risk of relapsing for a while after, because he would've had nothing to replace using.

which leads me to cracker dust. now, andrew says in the books that they took it up for aaron's sake, which means that in a sense it's basically a gentler way of letting him relapse. it's probably nothing compared to what he was on before the bathroom, but it's a way to get a similar, if limited, kick on a semi-regular basis, that at least maybe helps to ease him off it a little. is this the best way to handle drug addiction? the short answer is no, not at all. but i wouldn't be surprised if neil asking andrew to quit cracker dust is another reason why aaron quietly doesn't like him, because it would definitely hit him harder than the rest of the monsters.

some food for thought :P

[rainbowberriesandcookies]

Orihime's weird food combinations actually make a lot of sense-

It's one of those things that in the moment, it's used for comedic relief when other characters see her or hear about her weird food combinations but honestly there's also a lot of subtlety that makes me wonder if Kubo has more personal experience growing up poor or with food security because my god it makes too much fucking sense.

We know that Sora and Orihime had abusive parents who were described as the types of people that would hit a child until it stopped crying and that Sora intentionally hid her away from them to take care of her.

Chances are, their parents never taught Sora how to cook or take care of himself properly, and growing up, he likely had to feed Orihime little bits of what he could put together before he was able to turn 18 and run away with her.

At the start of the story, Ichigo says that Sora died three years ago and at the start of the story, Ichigo and Orihime are both around 15 years old. Which means Orihime was no older than 12 when Sora died.

Have you seen what 12-year-olds left to their own devices eat? And eventually, we find out that Orihime is taken care of by a distant relative who only sends her money as long as she keeps her grades up. Given that she lives by herself, it's likely only enough money to ensure that Orihime isn't homeless or starving - but not enough to actually buy proper meals.

And if it is - Orihime likely doesn't know what a proper meal looks like. From how Sora described their parents, he likely had to raise himself as many children do in abusive relationships, and then had to raise Orihime. But children often learn things from their parents like how to cook, clean, etc.

Another character with a similar home life that Orihime reminds me of is Taiga from Toradora.

Until she met Ryuji, Taiga pretty much lived on convenience store food as her parent(s) only sent money every so often. Likely - once again - it was just enough to make sure she wasn't homeless or on the streets but not enough to be able to afford cooking proper meals and Orihime - like Taiga - likely doesn't really know what normal food or meals really look like.

And as early as the volume 2 character profiles, we learn that Orihime is supported by relatives.

At one point, she's even seen eating bread likely because it was all she could afford.

In Chapter 14, Orihime just brings an entire loaf of bread and a can of red bean paste to lunch and as early as Volume 2 we learn that she's supported by relatives - yet we also know that she lives alone which even as early as this it can be assumed that they're fairly distant and only do so out of obligation rather than love.

Come Chapter 450, this is elaborated on even more

She outright mentions that a distant aunt pays for her living expenses and sends her less when her grades go down. And here, you can see her recounting what she heard about her parents being "really abusive" from her brother all with a smile on her face despite the fact that it's a pretty somber.

Another hint to the food insecurity is how Orihime looked at the donuts earlier and Riruka upon hearing this, let Orihime eat as much as she wanted.

It's in her own way, but Riruka clearly understood that Orihime didn't really have a good home life. But she's a tsundere so Riruka has to say that she doesn't want them anymore instead of outright saying she feels bad and doesn't want to deprive someone who likely has never really had too much food security of food that's right in front of them. The typical "It's not like I care or anything" from tsunderes like Riruka.

Jumping back to earlier chapters-

Orihime joked with Tatsuki about having to carry around a sleeping bag and sleeping outdoors after being kicked out of her apartment following the hollow incident in Chapter 24.

Given that Tatsuki didn't appreciate the joke and up till this point, she's one of Orihime's closest friends, chances are Tatsuki knows that Orihime has a precarious living situation which is why the joke didn't come off as funny because Tatsuki would also know that Orihime is the type to just smile her way through all of her troubles.

So combined with what we know...

As early as Chapter 4 her apartment was damaged as a result of Ichigo's battle with Acidwire, in Chapter 14 she brings bread and red bean paste to school to eat and in Chapter 24 Tatsuki doesn't appreciate her jokes about having to be in a sleeping bag until she finds a new place before admitting that she's actually staying in a hotel.

Chances are her grades slipped to the point she couldn't afford rent anymore or the damage to the apartment was that bad - either way the result was a pretty big strain on her already tight finances.

Orihime's odd food tendencies aren't just to make her quirky, but one of the only ways she knows how to survive. After all - a lot of people who live in poverty or struggle with food security eat and enjoy strange meals like mustard sandwiches where it is just bread and mustard or sugar sandwiches where it's just butter, bread, and sugar... A lot of struggle meals honestly involve some type of bread because it is cheap and filling.

Bread is one of the cheapest food items you can afford and while everyone else thinks that her food combinations are horrid... there is at least one person who appreciates them.

Rangiku!

And from what we know, Rangiku also had a very similar upbringing where she was found starving and alone by Gin. He offered her persimmons, a fruit that when eaten at the wrong time is very sour but when it's ripe it's mushy/soft. Because of this, persimmons can be something of an acquired taste - and when they're dried the flavor of them is even more concentrated

All in all, her quirky food habits are a subtle nod to her upbringing, and thinking about it now, it makes sense as to why it never really sat right with me when people would callously make fun of her food combinations or rather treated them like a genuine character flaw to mock and demean her over.

It's used for comedy because when you hear certain struggle meals, they really don't be making any sense and sound disgusting! Yet at the same time, it's a result of having to make do with what you have and your tastes revolving around that.

Even with the consistency of Rangiku, someone who was found starving enjoying her food combinations - it makes me wonder if Rangiku is no stranger to eating weird things or combinations on occasion. It also contrasts with Toshiro who was shown not really enjoying the food combinations, but unlike Orihime or Rangiku, he's never really been shown starving or hungry in his backstory because he had his grandmother and Momo with him.

Because of that, it's kinda hard to chalk up Orihime's weird food tendencies and growing up poor to be a "lucky coincidence" because the other person who enjoys them too grew up similarly to her - where food was scarce. Given how seemingly well thought out it is, it makes me wonder if Kubo himself may have either had or knew someone who struggled with food scarcity.