#randomly found this on my computer

[craiteys]

badass cutie-patootie

[perpetuallylocked]

thirty-three nancy drew games x one picture per game

[bigweldindustries]

having autism is so fucking funny bro like sure I have my whole main current special interest in prions but I have so many random hyperfixations tucked away in there. I just unleashed the rhythm game autism on a bud

[vatrocvet]

sandwich.jpg

[darewolfcreates]

My digimon :]

[billie-the-sleepyhead]

You can put a dress onto your male character in fallout 4?!

AMAZING GAME JUST FOR THAT 10/10!

[beyondthetemples-ooc]

Oh yeah! Reblogging to add my friend's tags:

#if you set your computer to a metered connection it can't update without your consent (:

This works on Windows 10, not sure about 11 yet though. (It's in the Settings menu, network settings, and I think you have to go into the settings for the specific network you're connected to. If you do a network reset, it removes that setting, so be sure to set it back afterwards!)

Also I believe no piece of software except for internet browsers should have always online internet connection. In fact, if you have something like an multiplayer game, you should go and click a very visible, very noticeable button that allows it to connect to the internet. If there is an update to an application, even your own OS, it should be in a very, very visible notification and only start with your express consent. You should be able to tell when something in your computer is connected to the internet. If you update your program in the background you should be shot.

[gay-dorito-dust]

could I request randomly shouting “floor is lava!” In front of the batboys? I’m in the mood for a crack fic

It was a dreary day within the Wayne manor and everyone was bored out of their minds. Nothing they did was enough to cure the boredom they were subjected to that day.

However a day of hope appeared before them in the form of you bursting through the door, holding a unbothered Alfred the cat in one hand and a confused Jerry the Turkey in the other, screaming: ‘THE FLOOR IS LAVA!’

Dick is pushed to the floor and stepped on by a mysterious assailant but manages to get up and use his acrobatic skills -cheat skills as Jason would like to call them- to project himself upwards to the expensive chandelier and clung on for dear life.

He was 100% safe.

Smug bastard and his cheat codes -Jason Tood, certified older brother hater aka the younger sibling.

Jason pushed dick onto the floor and step onto his back, somehow trips and lands flat on his face against the carpeted flooring. However he quickly recovers by picking himself back up and bolts towards the curtains instead, where he tries to cling onto them for dear life as the sound of fabric slowly ripping could be heard by everyone.

Jason was on a time limit before he was sent plummeting back to the floor and towards his second death. 39% survival rate.

Damian is the first of the bunch to move into action as he -somehow- managed to grab Titus in a feet of hidden strength fueld by adrenaline, throwing the Great Dane over his shoulder, and still found it within himself to then clamber up the book shelves in the library where he stayed to watch the chaos below him like he was god.

The bookshelves are wooden, it was only a matter of time before he and Titus would have to change to a different location. 50% survival rate. Titus is a good puppy.

Tim shuts the computer, sets it aside and follows Jason’s example by lying down on the floor and awaits his fate with a blank expression. ‘My time has come.’

0% survival rate, instant death but Tim don’t give two shits, he’s lived long enough.

Duke: poor lad is freaking out trying to find a good spot and settles with standing on the table with the janky leg as he was forced to continuously fight for his balance atop of it.

He’s lost too many times just to loose again. He hates floor is lava with a vengeance. 50% survival rate if he doesn’t fall off and looses his fight with the table.

Stephane: the mastermind behind the whole ordeal, cackles as she stays lounging on the plush sofa, sipping her drink unbothered by the consequences to come through the door.

50% survival rate, may drop lower if she tries to reach for her phone that she had left on the table where Duke was. She hadn’t thought this whole thing through admittedly.

Bruce Wayne: heard the chaos and went to see what was happening and sighs upon seeing his children, plus you, practically having destroyed the library over a stupid game.

He’s too old for this shit but ends up showing all of you up either way by standing atop of the stone mantle piece of the fireplace, menacingly.

10000% survival rate bc it’s Bruce Wayne.

[solxamber]

Roommate Rumble || Vil Schoenheit

You and Vil end up as roommates due to administrative error. Unstoppable force (Vil's perfectionism) meets immovable object (your chaos). It ends up working out perfectly.

and they were roommates!!!!

You’re sitting in the most soul-crushing waiting room imaginable—stale air, uncomfortable plastic chairs, and the smell of desperation. You’re waiting for the housing office to process your late application, which, in hindsight, you should’ve done weeks ago, but hey, it’s college. Time isn’t real here.

Between borderline disastrous drinking sessions, last-minute assignments, and your general vibe of chaos, the fact that you’ve even made it this far is kind of a miracle. But now, thanks to your masterclass in procrastination, you’re about to get assigned a random housemate for the year. At this point, you’re too mentally checked out to care who it is. As long as they don’t steal your ramen, it’ll be fine… probably.

The door swings open, and in walks the most absurdly pretty man you’ve ever seen. Like, this dude looks like he stepped straight off the cover of a magazine. And not just any magazine—like, one of those high-fashion ones where people look all ethereal and judgmental at the same time.

You try not to stare, but it’s impossible. He’s got this aura about him, as if he’s too good for this building, this situation, this plane of existence. He walks up to the front desk, where the housing clerk is, predictably, typing at the speed of a snail.

“I’m here to check the status of my application,” the guy says, his voice smooth but with a distinct undercurrent of annoyance.

The clerk squints at her computer, clicks around a bit, then frowns. “Uh… what was your name again?”

The guy rolls his eyes, but still answers with the grace of a runway model, “Vil Schoenheit.”

You nearly choke. Vil Schoenheit? Isn’t that, like, some kind of celebrity? You’re pretty sure you’ve seen him on billboards for fancy skincare products or something. Now you’re really trying not to stare.

“Uh… huh,” the clerk says, now looking vaguely uncomfortable. “It seems… we may have, um, misplaced your form.”

Vil stares at her, and you can practically feel the temperature in the room drop by several degrees. “Misplaced?” he repeats, his tone icy. “You lost my form?”

“W-Well, not lost,” she stammers, “more like, uh, temporarily… not found.”

Vil’s eyes narrow, and you have to hand it to him—he makes passive-aggressive sound like an art form. “And how, exactly, do you plan to rectify this?”

The clerk clicks around desperately on her computer again, clearly wishing she was anywhere else. “Well, um, we’re going to have to randomly assign you a housemate. Since we don’t have time to redo the whole process… y-you’ll just have to— Oh, wait!” She pauses, glancing between you and Vil. “You both applied at the same time, so you can just… be housemates! Problem solved!”

There’s a beat of absolute silence as you and Vil both process this. You glance at him, and he glances back, slowly looking you up and down with the precision of someone scanning for flaws in a diamond.

Finally, he sighs, his eyes narrowing just slightly. “Acceptable.”

You blink, unsure whether you should feel insulted or… flattered? He says it with the same tone you’d use to describe a pair of shoes that don’t quite match your outfit, but are passable in a pinch.

You don’t even get the chance to respond because, let’s be real, your brain is still trying to catch up. Did Vil Schoenheit just say you were “acceptable” as a housemate?

Honestly, though, you shrug it off. If you’re being real, as long as he stays in his room and you stay in yours, who cares if you’re housemates with a guy who looks like he bathes in designer moisturizer?

“Great!” the clerk chirps, relieved to have avoided death by model glare. “You’re all set, then! Enjoy your semester!”

You glance at Vil one more time, who’s already looking like he regrets every life choice that led him here. Meanwhile, you’re just hoping he doesn’t judge you for eating pizza rolls at 3 AM.

It's three days into this whole housemate arrangement with Vil, and honestly, it’s not bad. You’ve barely even crossed each other’s paths, which works out perfectly. He does his thing, you do your thing—totally peaceful.

You stumble out of bed one morning, still half-asleep, grab the first set of clothes you can find on the floor (you’re 90% sure these jeans don’t belong to you), and zombie-walk your way to the kitchen. You’re already 15 minutes late to class, but who cares? Time isn’t real, and neither is your motivation.

As you shuffle in, you spot Vil at the counter. He’s sitting there, back straight, eating what looks like a perfect, Instagram-worthy breakfast. It’s all eggs and avocado toast and some kind of smoothie that’s probably made from fruits you’ve never even heard of. He’s impeccably dressed, even though it’s like 7 AM, and you can’t help but be mildly impressed. The guy is a full-time student, works as a model and actor, and still manages to look like he just walked off a red carpet.

Meanwhile, you’re over here in a mismatched hoodie and some band T-shirt from high school, hair resembling a rat’s nest, and the sheer determination of a person who’s willing to eat raw cereal to survive.

You try to be polite, offering Vil a smile. Or at least, what you think is a smile. It’s probably more of a grimace, to be honest. You’re running on fumes, and it shows.

Vil glances at you, eyes narrowing like he’s silently assessing every poor life choice you’ve made up to this point. Still, he says nothing, just gives a tiny nod of acknowledgment.

You head straight for the pantry, grab a box of cereal, and rip open a Red Bull. Breakfast of champions. You’re about to pour the cereal into your mouth raw, no milk, no dignity, when suddenly—

SMACK.

The Red Bull flies out of your hand, clattering to the counter, and you’re left holding an empty cereal box like some kind of fool. You stare at it in shock, then turn to Vil, who’s looking at you like you just summoned Satan.

“Dude??” You blink, genuinely confused.

Vil crosses his arms, expression disgusted as he points at the stove, where there are some leftovers of whatever perfect meal he made earlier. “That,” he says, enunciating like he’s explaining basic math to a child, “is food. What you were about to ingest is poison.”

You look between him and your spilled Red Bull. “Uh, that was breakfast?”

“No,” Vil snaps, “that was a caffeine overdose waiting to happen. And dry cereal? Have you lost the will to live entirely?”

You’re still processing the fact that he just slapped your breakfast out of your hands when you glance at the stove again. Your stomach growls, and, well, you guess your organs could use something that won’t actively try to kill you.

“Fine,” you mutter, shuffling over to grab a plate. “But if I’m late to class, I’m blaming you.”

Vil barely glances at you as you load up your plate with whatever masterpiece he’s made. “You’re already late,” he says flatly.

“...Okay, fair.”

You sit down at the table, expecting the silence to be awkward, but it’s surprisingly chill. You eat, Vil eats, and for a brief, strange moment, it’s kind of peaceful. You didn’t think breakfast could be… normal. Not with someone like him.

Just as you finish, Vil stands up, wipes his mouth, and gives you a small nod. “You’re welcome,” he says, like he’s just saved your life—which, in his eyes, he probably has. Then he grabs his bag and leaves the kitchen without another word.

You sit there for a moment, fork still in your hand, feeling oddly touched. Then you glance at the clock.

You’re now 30 minutes late to class.

Totally worth it.

You pass out at 4 a.m., your body finally giving in to the pure exhaustion that college life has inflicted on you. You're in that deep, blissful sleep when, at exactly 7 a.m., you're jolted awake by a scream so loud it feels like it rattled the entire room.

At first, you try to ignore it, desperately clinging to the last remnants of sleep. But after a moment, you groggily realize there’s no escaping it. You groan and roll out of bed, stumbling into the hallway with all the grace of a sleep-deprived zombie, not even bothering to change out of your mismatched pajamas.

Standing outside his room, on top of a chair(???), looking absolutely frazzled, is Vil Schoenheit. Hair still perfect, but his usual calm demeanor is gone, replaced by… well, panic?

“What the hell happened?” you mumble, rubbing your eyes.

Vil’s face is pale, and he gestures to the door of his room with a shaky hand. “There’s—there’s something in there.”

Your brain immediately jumps to the worst. An intruder? A stalker? A wild animal? Something actually dangerous? Vil shifts behind you, as you carefully open the door just enough for you to peer inside. You brace yourself, expecting to see something terrifying.

Instead, Vil points dramatically toward the floor. “There.”

You blink. And then you see it—a cockroach. A big one, sure, but still. A cockroach.

You turn to Vil slowly, your face a mask of pure judgment. “You woke me up… for this?”

Vil, now perched on a chair, crosses his arms indignantly. “It’s not about fear. It’s about disgust. I am not touching that.”

You sigh, dragging a hand down your face. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

“...No. No, you don’t.”

Resigned, you grab a cup and a piece of paper from the kitchen. You approach the cockroach like some kind of extermination expert, scoop it up, and open the nearest window. With one swift motion, you throw the unfortunate bug into the outside world, praying it finds a better life somewhere far, far away.

“There,” you say, tossing the cup in the trash. “Crisis averted.”

Vil, still standing on his chair like the floor is lava, steps down carefully, brushing off his clothes with an air of dignity as if he hadn’t just been screaming at a cockroach. “I wasn’t scared,” he says, straightening his posture. “I was disgusted.”

You nod along, patting him on the shoulder with the patience of someone who knows it’s best not to argue. “Sure. No problem. Don’t worry about it.”

Vil purses his lips, his pride clearly a little bruised, but he still offers a tight smile. “Thank you.”

You wave him off as you shuffle back to your room, your bed calling you back like a siren. As you flop onto the mattress, you think to yourself, He might be a diva, but damn, he’s gorgeous.

With that, you pass out again, hoping to squeeze in a couple more hours of sleep before the universe inevitably conspires to ruin your day again.

You and Vil have settled into an odd but functional arrangement. If not quite friends, you’re definitely acquaintances with benefits — and by benefits, you mean Vil keeps you from dying a slow death via your terrible diet, and in return, you serve as his on-call exterminator for the various bugs your old house seems determined to spawn. It’s a mutual understanding, and lately, he’s stopped questioning your life decisions. Well, not as much.

One afternoon, you’re sprawled on the couch, half-asleep and doomscrolling on some social media app, when Vil clears his throat. You jolt upright, momentarily thinking you’re about to get a lecture about posture, only to find him standing there, looking at you in a way that’s… almost awkward?

“What’s up?” you ask, genuinely curious because Vil being awkward is as rare as you cooking anything edible.

Without a word, he hands you an invitation, embossed with gold lettering and all. It's for a performance competition on campus. The kicker? Vil’s participating.

“You want me to come?” you ask, surprised.

He waves a hand, trying to look nonchalant. “Only if you’re available,” he says, but there’s a slight tremor in his voice. He’s trying to play it cool, but the slightest hint of tension betrays him.

You have no plans (unless eating ramen at 2 a.m. counts), so you agree. “Sure, I’ll come.”

The day of the competition arrives, and you actually dress like a normal human being for once. Vil didn’t give you any kind of ultimatum about your outfit, but you figure you should at least try to look like you belong among the living.

You’re in the front row — of course, Vil had VIP tickets to a performance competition. The crowd is buzzing, but you’ve barely noticed because your attention is glued to the stage.

Vil appears, bathed in light, and you swear you’ve just glimpsed into heaven. His voice is smooth and captivating, his moves are graceful, and his gaze? One hundred percent lethal. It’s almost unfair. He’s the kind of performer that could turn someone to stone with a look.

You’re standing there, feeling the ridiculous urge to brag to the people around you that he’s your roommate. “Yeah, that’s right, I share a bathroom with that guy.”

Then, Neige LeBlanche takes the stage. Now, you’ve heard the hype. Neige is the campus sweetheart, the kind of guy who probably smiles at babies and rescues kittens from trees. If Vil is the untouchable beauty you admire from afar, Neige is the best friend you’d want by your side, also weirdly gorgeous.

You expect another powerhouse performance. You’re bracing yourself for it. And then… he starts singing.

Wait.

Is Neige… singing a nursery rhyme?

You blink. The crowd is eating it up, swaying along like they’ve been hypnotized. Meanwhile, you’re just standing there, dumbfounded, the only person in the front row not bopping along.

You glance around, jaw practically on the floor. Is everyone here insane? The man is singing something that you swear you heard at preschool.

And then it happens. Neige wins. The audience erupts into cheers, and you think the universe is playing a cosmic joke on you. What the actual—?

“What the fuck?” The words slip out before you can stop them, loud enough that the people around you turn to stare. Apparently, your disbelief is showing. You even catch Vil’s eye for a moment, and he smirks weakly at your outburst, but it’s clear the loss stung. A little part of you feels something unfamiliar—anger on someone else’s behalf.

You don’t even stay for the encore. It’s either leave or throw something at the stage, and you’d rather not get banned from campus events. You march out of the hall, still fuming.

Later, when Vil returns, you can see it in the slight slump of his shoulders. The air of perfection is still there, but it’s a little cracked around the edges. That anger bubbles up again.

But you have a plan. A master plan.

Vil’s been telling you for weeks that you’d look decent if you just took care of yourself, and you’ve been brushing him off like the human disaster you are. But tonight, for him? You’re willing to make a sacrifice.

So, when he looks at you, barely meeting your eyes, you blurt out, “You can do whatever you want to me.”

His eyes widen slightly. “What?”

“Whatever creams, lotions, skincare products—you want to use on me. Go wild. I’ll be your project for the night.”

Vil’s expression lights up like a kid who just found out Christmas came early. You didn’t think it was possible for someone to get this excited about transforming you from a crusty goblin into a passable human, but here we are. And honestly? You kinda owe him at least this much, considering he makes sure you don’t die from malnutrition.

The next hour is nothing short of war. Vil is aggressively applying products to your face like he’s trying to sandpaper your soul clean. His focus is deadly serious, his hands precise as he rubs some fancy serum onto your skin.

Between all the smearing of moisturizers and the occasional Ow!, the two of you start talking. Or rather, you start griping about Neige’s performance.

“I mean, seriously? A nursery rhyme?” you groan, rolling your eyes.

Vil huffs, his fingers moving swiftly over your cheeks. “Don’t remind me. The judges clearly have no taste. What kind of competition rewards… that?”

“Right? I was ready to riot. Your performance was like…” You search for the right words as he smears something cold on your forehead. “It was like watching art come to life, and then he goes and sings Twinkle Twinkle and everyone acts like he just reinvented music.”

Vil laughs—an actual laugh, something deep and genuine that makes the tension in his shoulders ease a little. “You sound like you wanted to run on stage and throw him off.”

“Maybe I did,” you mutter, wincing as he pats something into your skin a little too enthusiastically. “Honestly, the only reason I didn’t is because I didn’t want to get banned from campus events.”

By the time he’s finished, Vil steps back to admire his work like an artist assessing a freshly painted canvas. “There,” he says, his voice softer now. “You look… acceptable.”

“Wow, high praise,” you snort, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks, Vil.”

He smiles back, something quieter and more genuine. “Thank you.”

You wave him off, already heading to your phone. “So… delivery tonight? I’m thinking chicken?”

Vil wrinkles his nose. “Not fried. How about sushi?”

“Deal,” you grin.

As you place the order, you can’t help but think—yeah, maybe you and Vil are friends now. Weird, slightly dysfunctional friends. But friends, nonetheless.

You’ve been working on this project for months. Countless sleepless nights, caffeine-fueled coding sessions, and a pile of stress larger than your student loan debt have led to this moment. It’s crunch time. You’re this close to submitting your final assignment. You think you deserve a break, so you go to order a coffee—just 10 minutes, tops.

But when you come back? Your laptop, your precious laptop, is gone.

You look around in disbelief. This can’t be happening. Someone stole it. The weeks of coding, months of planning, your entire project, everything. Gone.

You do the only thing you can think of when life throws you a sucker punch like this: you go drink.

You’re a few shots deep when your phone buzzes. It’s Vil. He’s asking, “Are you going to be home for dinner?” His voice is sharp, but you can’t even string together a coherent answer. You let out some garbled mess of a response that’s more slurred syllables than actual words.

There’s a pause, then a very clear “Send me your location. Now.”

Vil shows up at the bar like he’s stepped out of a luxury fashion magazine, a vision of elegance in this grimy little dive. You’re nursing what can only be described as a sad excuse for a cocktail, and he just gives you this look—disapproving, concerned, and about two seconds away from reading you the riot act.

He doesn’t say a word as he helps you out of the bar and drives you home. You can barely sit upright in the passenger seat, mumbling something about losing your laptop. You’re not even sure if he hears you.

Back at home, Vil sits you down on the couch and hands you a glass of water. “Drink,” he orders, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You sip the water, slowly sobering up, though your mind is still a mess. Meanwhile, Vil is pacing back and forth like an actor in a drama, preparing for his monologue. And then it comes. He’s yelling at you, frustration and worry bubbling up to the surface.

“What are you doing to yourself? Why are you so determined to self-destruct?!” he demands. “You eat like garbage, you barely sleep, you pass out at random hours of the morning, and now you’re drinking like you’re on some kind of mission to obliterate your liver!”

You can’t take it anymore. His words break something inside you, and you just… fall apart. Tears stream down your face, and you sob, unable to hold it together any longer.

Vil immediately stops pacing, his expression softening in an instant. He crouches down in front of you, gently resting his hands on your shoulders. “Why are you crying?” he asks, his voice now quiet, almost tender.

You try to explain between hiccupping sobs. “My laptop—it’s gone. I… I worked so hard, and now it’s all gone. Someone stole it.”

Without hesitation, Vil pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice soothing. “We’ll figure it out.” He holds you like he can somehow undo the theft, like he can bring back what’s lost just by being there. And in that moment, you cling to him, sobbing into his shoulder as if the world could collapse around you and it wouldn’t matter because he’s holding you together.

You wake up hours later, still curled up on the couch, with a hangover so brutal it could bring empires to their knees. But something’s off. You realize you’re not just lying on the couch—no, you’re lying on someone’s lap.

You blink and look up. Vil’s sitting there, talking softly on the phone, one hand gently patting your head. You try to make sense of it, but the pounding in your skull makes that nearly impossible.

“No, Rook, I don’t care how you do it. Just find it.” Vil says into the phone, his hand still idly resting on your head. He doesn’t seem too concerned about you waking up—if anything, he seems almost like he’s daring you to go back to sleep.

And you do.

The next time you wake up, it’s to the world’s loudest human: Rook Hunt.

“Ah, mon ami, I come bearing treasures!” he announces as he swoops into the room, a grin plastered across his face. In his hands? Your laptop.

You sit up, blinking in disbelief. “What…? How did you get my laptop?”

Rook flashes you a sly smile, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Ah, it was no small feat, but for Vil’s amour—”

“Rook!” Vil snaps, cutting him off with a glare that could freeze fire. “That’s enough.”

You look between them, still not fully understanding what just happened, but you’re too relieved to care. You practically leap off the couch and grab your laptop, hugging it to your chest like it’s your long-lost child.

Before you can stop yourself, you turn and hug Rook, then Vil, a huge grin spreading across your face. Then, in a moment of pure, unfiltered gratitude, you kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you.”

Vil blinks, momentarily stunned by the gesture, but before he can say anything, you’re already dashing back to your room to finish your assignment.

As you shut the door, you can hear Rook’s laughter from the other side.

“You’re impossible,” he mutters to himself, but there’s a warmth in his eyes. Maybe you are a walking disaster, a self-destructive potato. But you’re his favorite potato.

It’s finally the end of the semester, and a little notification pops up on your phone: Housing Applications Now Open.

If you apply now, you could get your old dorm back—no housemate, no interruptions, just you and your tragic life decisions. No one telling you to eat healthy or waking you up at ungodly hours over insect-related emergencies. Just you, alone, in your beautifully chaotic mess. And Vil? He’d probably go back to wherever he was before, maybe with someone like Rook who actually knows how to behave like a normal person.

You should be thrilled by this prospect. A whole apartment to yourself again. But instead, your stomach is doing weird somersaults, and not the normal “I forgot to eat breakfast” ones. This feels... different. Kind of like the time you ate that suspicious leftover curry, except this time it’s your heart that feels like it’s about to implode.

Oh. Oh no.

You sit there for a solid 10 minutes, staring at the housing application, feeling something suspiciously like heartbreak. And being the impulsive disaster that you are, you decide the best thing to do is to blurt out your feelings without any consideration for how unhinged it might sound.

So when Vil comes home, looking elegant and put-together as always, ready to greet you with his usual "Good evening..." you don’t even let him finish. You jump up, and before you can second-guess yourself, you blurt out, "I’m in love with you. Deeply. Hopelessly. In love."

Vil freezes mid-step, his eyebrows shooting up so fast they might actually fly off his face. There’s a solid beat of silence as he processes what you just said.

“…Excuse me?” He blinks, looking like you just told him you set the kitchen on fire again. “What did you just say?”

You gulp but there’s no backing out now. You’ve committed. “I said I’m in love with you. Like... seriously. I think you might’ve ruined me for life.”

Vil stares at you, and for a second, you’re terrified that you’ve broken him. But then—he laughs. He laughs so hard he doubles over, clutching his sides like you just told the world’s best joke.

You blink, baffled. “Uh... you good?”

Vil wipes at the corner of his eyes, still chuckling. “Oh, potato…” He takes a deep breath, shaking his head, amusement still dancing in his eyes. “I love you too, you ridiculous creature.”

“Wait, what?” Now it’s your turn to stare in shock.

Vil sighs, but there’s a fond smile on his lips. “I was going to ask if you wanted to room together again next semester. But, you know... in a better apartment. One without bugs or whatever demons this place keeps spawning.”

You blink once, twice, processing his words. He wanted to room with you again? In a better place? Your heart does a little flip in your chest, and before you can stop yourself, you’re grinning like an idiot. “Oh, hell yeah.”

Without thinking, you pull him close and kiss him. It’s quick and impulsive, but somehow it feels right. When you pull back, you find Vil smiling at you with something soft in his eyes, like he’s genuinely content.

“Maybe I don’t wanna die young after all,” you mutter, mostly to yourself.

Vil raises an eyebrow, his smile widening. “That’s a start. Now, go drink some water before you pass out from dehydration.”

You laugh, content for the first time in forever. Maybe this whole “life” thing wasn’t so bad after all. At least, not when you had Vil by your side.

Masterlist

guys I promise I don't hate neige I just hated the VDC ending I wanted to off myself fr

[ms-demeanor]

This is regarding your post involving making friends. I have had a spectacular amount of failures in meetup groups, particularly involving men from multiple meetup groups trying to take advantage of me or using me. In addition to that, the other members of the groups tend are often quite rude. Also, many meetups in my area tend to fall into one of the following categories: professional seminar, mommy & me, or the other members are double my age or older. What would you advise?

Volunteering - find something you care about and see if there is a local volunteer opportunity; you might want to look into food banks or mutual aid projects.

Crafting - this will likely be an older crew, but making friends with older people is cool honestly.

Sports - see if there's a kickball league or some other variety of low-key sport that you can sign up for.

Get super into the local music scene. Go to bar shows, go to basement shows, go to backyard shows. If you go to places where they have local music and hang out a bunch you will get to know local music people eventually, which includes both people in bands and people interested in bands.

Become a regular at your local library. Go once a week at the same time of day and you'll start to get to know people.

Become a regular at something else local. If you go to the same coffee shop three times a week for a few months and are polite to the employees you will probably eventually have friends among the people there; even if you do this by walking around the neighborhood park at the same time of day you will start getting to know the park regulars people love habits and if you can become a chill part of their daily scenery they will eventually want to investigate further.

Start your own club of some kind. Maybe start a book club for a particular genre of book that you like, or start a movie group where you meet up to see a movie together twice a month. You can post things like this on meetup websites or facebook, but you can also make fliers to put up in places that you think people you might find interesting would hang out.

Join a gym and go regularly. Sometimes a random person you see all the time in a gym can go from being a reliable on-the-spot spotter to a good friend.

Take a class locally. See if your town has a community center that offers cooking classes or computer classes or any kind of classes even things you already know. I keep making jokes about improv but improv people are great; see if you can take an impov class. See if your local music store offers music classes (I made weirdly good friends with the folks at the music store where I took vocal lessons; this was a pleasant surprise!)

When you try any of these places make friendly smalltalk with the people you encounter and express interest in them. If you are speaking to employees, make sure you're giving them lots of conversational outs because attempting to befriend people who are working can feel like you're cornering them, I'd actually say don't try to befriend the employees at a business unless you go there and they attempt to befriend you, however as someone who worked in coffee shops for ten years if someone randomly started showing up for six hours a week I would almost certainly have gotten to a friendly shoot-the-shit level with them within a month; if you go out among people who are sociable and are around them enough sometimes the sociable people go "aha! new friend sighted!" and do the hard work for you, but you do have to go to places to let yourself be found by the sociable ones.)

I do not, generally speaking, use meetup groups as a generic thing as much as I look into what groups exist locally that I am interested in. If a local game store is running a weekly Magic tournament, that's a better place to meet people in my opinion than a one-time bowling event.

[jyoongim]

Can I request an Alastor x reader where she is a newer sinner. Really nerdy, obsessed with history, fun facts, animal facts, and shy at first. Just says things randomly, like “did you know that if a cow has twins more often than not she abandons ones just rearranging things when bored, someone will come down to lobby in the middle of the night and there she is moving the couches at like 3am. Doesn’t think when she speaks when she sees Alastor in his overlord form just says something like “smash” before walking off. Kind of a this gives me conflicted feelings and made me learn something about myself I don’t think I should know. It can be smut or fluff I don’t mind! My friends just say I have adhd, never been tested, don’t wanna be lol, I just ramble when I get excited and talk too much or too loud when excited too. It’d be nice to see a reader like me :) thank you love! I’m trying not to ramble so I’m sorry if this all over the place!

Hehehe could be possible adhd but I’m also certain everyone has a touch of tism as well so you’re not alone hehehe.

(I too have undiagnosed adhd)

Typing this from my phone cause I’m scared to do it on my work computer😭 should have brought my iPad to work

————————————————————————-

You had always been…different.

When you were alive you spent most of your time doing your hobbies or reading. You weren’t much of a social butterfly but did make the effort every once in a while. But people always treated you like you were an annoyance.

You were strange. Even by demon standards.

But you made a lovely addition to the Princess of Hell’s hotel.

You enjoyed being about to sprout random facts and have people actually be interested.

Animals, history, science you name it you randomly knew it.

You rambled during bonding excersies until you caught yourself yapping and instantly apologized.

You talked to yourself (having been caught in the act more than once)

Husk called you a loose screw but Angel found it charming. Charlie thought you were just the cutest.

And Alastor….

Well you definitely piqued his interest.

————————————————————————

You and Angel were having a “self care” day. Well Angel was. You were just happy to play in his fluff. Angel was telling you about the latest shoot he had to do and then the subject jumped to saying lives. “Oooh cmon toots don’t tell me no one’s were had the hots for that brain of yours” you pin curled his hair, “hmmmm not that I know of. Besides most people think I’m strange, wouldn’t want to scare the masses”

Angel rolled his eyes “well what about here at the hotel? Anyone catch yer fancy?”

You think about it but your mind comes to a blank. Nope you couldn’t in point who you would be the SLIGHTEST but interested in.

The sound of shoes met your ears and you turned to see Alastor entering the lobby. Your ear perked up and your eyes immediately locked in.

You would say you and Alastor were friends. The two of you had great conversations, he listened to your rambles and always told you facts of the time period when he was alive.

He wasn’t in his usual pristine attire. Instead of the polish look, he was dressed more casual. A white button up, rolled at his elbows, wearing dress pants and suspenders, he even didn’t have his gloves on.

He paid no mind to the two of you in the lobby, seemingly in his own world.

“Smash” you said tilting your head, causing Angel to burst out laughing and you blush when you realized you said that out loud.

Alastor turned around, eyebrows quirked “something amusing was said?”

You quickly shook your head while Angel chuckled “Our fact machine here thinks you’re hot*

Alastor blinked, his eyes settling on you.

You wanted to hide in the couch from embarrassment, but Alastor just took a sip of his coffee and began to walk from where he came. He got to the hallway door because pausing briefly, turning to look at you over his shoulder

“I suppose I would ‘smash’ you too dear”

Your cheeks burned and Angel choked as Alastor disappeared.

[minniesmutt]

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐜 𝐨𝐫 𝐯𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: HAN X READER ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: VAMPIRE!HAN, HUMAN!READER, SOMNOPHILIA, CONSENT JEWELRY, IMPLIED FREE USE, UNPROTECTED SEX, NO PREP, SMUT W/ LITTLE PLOT, ☾ ━━━ WC: 1k ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

     Jisung loved his girlfriend with all his undead heart. He just didn’t like their sleep schedules. His was pretty unavoidable. Yeah, he could walk in the sun, but night was when he was most active. And it’s not like he needed sleep to get his energy back like humans. That’s what blood was for. 

     So while he was up all night doing whatever, his pretty girlfriend was fast asleep. It had started taking a toll on their sex life. He didn’t want to complain much to her. He was centuries old, and he knew humans couldn’t go for hours nor did they often have the drive supernatural beings did. He only said something when she brought it up.

     “Do you know the last time we had sex?” Y/n asked randomly

     “Fifty-four days ago. I don’t know the hour and minutes to but—”

     “Were you counting the days?”

     “Yes…?”

     “And you didn’t bring it up to me at all?”

     “I wanted to after the first week but I didn't want you to think I was that needy.”

     Y/n sighed and walked over to her boyfriend, cupping his cheeks, “Ji, sweetie. I’ve told you my sex drive is high. You can always talk to me if you need me. I didn’t realize how long it had been.”

     “Everytime I want to though your… it’s going to sound dumb.”

     “No it won’t. What is it?” Y/n asked 

     “Everytime i’m in the mood you're always asleep and I don’t want to wake you because I know you need sleep.”

     “Then,” Y/n tried coming up with a solution. She knew it was hard with their occult difference.

     “See. There’s not really —“

     “Just fuck me when im asleep.”

     “Huh?!”

     He couldn’t deny he had thought about it a few times. Just pull back the covers and slip into her. Something about how pretty she looked when she was peacefully sleeping did something to his brain. 

     “Fuck me when—“

     “I heard you the first time, baby. But, are you sure? I don’t want to take advantage of you like that. Because if I fuck you, I’m going to want to bite you.”

     “You always want to bite me.”

     “I always want to fuck you.”

     “You can fuck me whenever you want.”

     “What if you’re not in the mood?”

     “What if we have a code word or something? Something for me to tell you, ‘I’m not in the mood today’ or ‘I’m in the mood today’? Would that help you?”

     “Yes. A lot,”

     The couple sat on the bed and brainstormed some ideas. Searching the internet a bit for ideas as well. Finally the settled on a piece of his jewelry. A necklace, easy floor him to spot since the camper may not always pay attention when he was focused on something and her neck was something his eyes always focused on. 

     He found an old necklace of his he had completely forgotten about. Nice enough that it could go with anything she wore. Y/n took the necklace from him and pecked his lips. She didn’t put the necklace on yet. She waited till she was getting ready for bed. She finished her skin care and clasped the necklace around her neck, making sure it was visible over her sleep shirt. 

     Jisung had zero clue. Forgetting a little about it and focusing on a track he was working on. He got pulled out when she kissed his cheek, “I’m going to bed,” Y/n told him, smiling a bit 

     “Have a good night,” Jisung said as he turned and pecked her lips. He saw the necklace but didn’t think much, again already having forgotten about the conversation a bit. It wasn’t until a few hours later he suddenly remembered. He froze at his computer, Eyes darting to the clock in the corner. Two twenty-nine in the morning. He didn’t know when she said goodnight to him so he didn’t know if she was asleep or not. His eyes needed a break anyways so he got up and walked down the hall to their bedroom. 

     “Baby,” he called a couple of times, no responses. He walked in, double checked and was wearing the necklace, and checked her  pulse. Both her pulse and her breathing were even and slow. She was asleep. 

     His cock sprung up at the thought of acting on things he’d thought about for so long. He walked over and pulled back the covers. He didn’t catch much of what she was wearing to bed at the time but boy was he happy to find his girlfriend in just one of her large t-shirts and nothing else. Making it easy for him. 

     “Fucking hell baby,” Jisung groaned then turned her onto her back. 

     The vampire put her thighs over his easily. He pulled down his shorts and boxers enough to get his dick out. He could see her folds glistening. He really wondered how long she was waiting in anticipation for him. 

     He pressed his tip into her slowly. Watching her to make sure she didn't wake up. Slowly pushing in further when she didn’t wake. He let himself get used to it. Feeling like he could cum from just the thrill of the action alone. He gave himself a minute then pulled back and thrusted into her. 

     His pace started slow. Careful to not wake her up but his pace picked when he realized she was sound asleep. Grabbing her thighs and pushing them up towards her chest. He pushed deeper into her, cock twitching inside her. 

     He tried keeping his voice down. Trying to swallow his groans as best he could. Gripping her thighs tightly as he frantically thrusted in and out of her. The thrill of what he was doing catching up to him and coming out inside her. Filling up her womb and burying himself into her. Grunting as he rode out his high. 

     Jisung took a moment to regain his clarity and pulled out. Amazed she managed to sleep through it. He grabbed a warm washcloth from their bathroom and cleaned her up. Kissing her neck before sinking his fangs into her. Drinking her neck, hands holding hips. 

     He pulled his fangs out of her neck and laid down beside her. Pulling the blanket over them and holding her close. Whispering an ‘I love you’ into the back of her head

☾ ━━━━━━ KINKTOBER M. LIST     M.LIST    TIP JAR

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[fictionismyreality3]

Take a Break

Warnings: hints at smut no actual smut, romance and everything that comes with it

Notes: every so often the need for this man will just suddenly pop up like gOD LET ME LIVE

The fingers you were clenching around your pen were beginning to hurt. Trying to write this essay was making you feel more like a wide eyed freshman than someone aiming to finish senior year at the top of their class. You stared aimlessly at your laptop, your eyes burning from how long you’d been looking over the work you had so far.

Which was only the title.

Just 2 more months. 2 months and then you could graduate, and you’d have your degree, and you could have your dream job and not be cramming book after book in your head, hoping you’d pick up the knowledge when really all it did was make you feel like punching your-

“Darlin’? You doing okay with your homework?” The honeyed voice of your boyfriend echoed around your dorm you, a light breeze the only warning you were given as he appeared randomly behind you.

“Yeah, Jasper. M’fine.” But just looking at his unfairly gorgeous face made you want to punch him instead of your TA.

It wasn’t fair. He got to be stupidly handsome and smart and he could easily ace your classes, probably finishing your degree in a few days with his stupid fucking vampire memory, and everything was so easy for him that you- “Honey, you’re frownin’ at me.” Jasper’s words drew you out of your little thought spiral.

“Yeah, I know, I know.. I’m sorry, I just..” You took a deep breath. “This is making want to rip my hair out.”

Jasper’s face now wore a frown mirroring your own, his gaze ever attentive, searching your face like he was looking for some hidden solution you couldn’t see. He ran his hand through your hair soothingly, his thumb brushing away the crease between your brows. The frustration and self-loathing that was radiating off you had hit him like a thick summer heat, pulling him up to your dorm in an instant.

He didn’t like to see his pretty little mate upset.

You were supposed to be happy. It was the last few months of school and he should have been feeling waves of glee and satisfaction dripping from your pores. Not this. And so, Jasper made up his mind. It wasn’t often that he used his abilities on you, it was something you’d discussed early into your relationship, something you insisted could only be a last resort kind of thing.

But the tears welling in your big eyes made his heart clench, and he found himself layering calm and relaxation over you like a blanket. “Why don’t you take a break, darlin’?”

Your head went all fuzzy, the cotton candy filling your skull making the words on your computer screen seem irrelevant. Blinking slowly, it took you a second to realize what was happening.

“No, no Jas, I have to finish this.” The words of protest sounded funny in your ears, the idea of doing anything but slumping back in your chair seemed exhausting. “No, you need to rest. You work so hard, honey.” Coaxing hands pushed you back in your seat, a sense of lethargy filling your bones as you hazily made out Jasper kneeling in front of you.

“Can’t.. I hav’to.. have..”

A Cheshire grin curled over Jaspers lips as he watched your body grow lax and pliant. Sure, adding little bouts of arousal between the relaxation would be breaking the rules you’d set, but he couldn’t have his mate overworking herself. Ghosting his hands up your legs, he pushed a little bit more bliss into you, enjoying the little whimper that slipped out.

“Don’t worry, darlin, I’m gonna take real good care of you.”

[littlelordfuckler0y]

Felix catton x reader Instagram au [part2] [part1]

yourusername proofreading my essay (he’s about to descend into madness)

fe1ix_catt0n There were some rough patches I’d say…

yourusername uh huh

yourfriend Exploiting English major friend perks 🙄

yourusername he offered alr

annabel_ he doesn’t even proofread his own essays lol

-

Felix sat in the library with legs crossed across y/n, these days he just happened to be in the library when y/n was. Just happened to be there to finish his reading assignment whilst she studied. He saw the frown on her face as she seemed to be stuck on something against the white light of her computer. They couldn’t group study as in help each other with assignments given their majors were entirely different but they had study sessions, finish their respective work together. “What’s wrong?” He asked, by now he was used to her patterns of difficulties, it was generally ‘thermodynamics’ and even though he didn’t understand it listening to her rant about it was somewhat cherished by him.

“This fuckass essay” she said with a sigh and deadpanned herself.

“Oh you’ve to write essays now?” Felix asked leaning forward in his seat given this was something he could help with.

“Not really, it’s just for the robotics seminar remember? There are supposed extra points if we submit an essay on how excited and emotional we are about partaking in it…” she trailed off as she stared at her screen “As if the model isn’t enough.”

“But you have been excited about this for months?” Felix mentioned tilting his head, “what’s the problem?”

“This essay, this is my third final rough draft and it’s so exhausting” she replied and slouched back on her seat crossing her arms.

“Let me help” Felix offered as she turned the computer to his side as he sat across her. Just going through the first paragraph his eyebrows knitted together trying to make coherent sense of it. Stem majors write the worst essay stereotype was now more than a stereotype to felix. “So” he paused going through it “You’ve just left gaps here with ‘something’ in the middle-what? What’s that for?”

“Oh yeah I’m supposed to put a fancy word there so it looks pretty.” She mentioned with a shrug.

“Just a fancy word? As in randomly?” He asked puzzled as he scrolled through her essay thoroughly and found she’d actually done that. Halfway through a sentence she’d added big words with some context.

“Not randomly no, just, put one in those places.”

“Oh-alright see the second body of the essay is well done, you’re talking about the system of your model and the workings of it, it sounds smart but isn’t the essay supposed to be about how you feel? I mean the assigned title is literally on it.” He explained “It doesn’t align with the main objective.”

“So what? I’ve written about my model which I’m entering IN the seminar.” She reasoned leaning back up on her seat as he shook his head and motioned his with his chin for her to come around the table and next to him.

“Yes but it barely covers the feelings aspect, which is what you have to write the essay on. It literally says that here” He said pointing to the middle portion of the screen where her essay was displayed as she stood beside him.

“I don’t read the small print” She said. Felix paused to look at her a are-you-serious look on his face and waited for her to catch on his disappointment “What?” She asked.

“Okay let’s see, you’ve just kept ‘something’ in quotes at places, which is fine for your first draft-”

“Draft?” She interrupted him with an obvious scoff “Oh no this is the final one. I don’t do drafts.”

“What? What do you mean you don’t do drafts?” He asked somewhat confused.

“I write then I proofread and cut, honestly I don’t know why you’re wasting so much time it’s just for extra” she shrugged so casually, felix felt like stem majors had an entirely different set of brain cells when it came to anything literary.

“This is going to take it a while.”

fel1x_catt0n Congratulations to Y/n and team! Great work guys ❤️

yourusername aweee thanks felix 🕺

fel1x_catt0n much deserved, angel

katie_ congrats

annabel_ did felix attend the nerd convention today? 😂

fel1x_catt0n it was very interesting despite your generalisation

farleigh_start Congrats girl!!

-

The whole science seminar was initially optional, even with such there was a lot of competition and a crowd. The crowd was mainly the college professors and seminar conductors and some juniors who had to volunteer for extra credits. However the crowd seemed huge from the stage minimising everyone into a small dot given the auditorium space was gigantic. After the prize distribution y/n and her team had gotten first place for their model. A big deal amongst a handful of people because not a lot of stem majors themselves cared about extra irrelevant to their portfolio projects. But well there were some. Y/n was very giddy, laughing amongst her team of three people as they walked down from the stage and through the auditorium amongst the crowd. They were then approached by the only student dressed in a full on tuxedo, not even a stem one. Felix.

“Felix?” Y/n blinked as she stopped in her tracks as she saw him approaching her direction with a giant bouquet of flowers and hugged her. She was confused and amused at the same time, she recalled telling him that the project was a big deal to her but she didn’t think he’d show up actually. “Woah you showed up?!” She asked giggling as he wrapped his arms around her even tighter and kissed the top of her head.

“Of course I did silly” he scoffed as he pulled away and handed her the flowers, “congrats smarty pants, all of you.” He spoke to her group as well with a victorious smile as he kept his arm around her shoulder.

“Thanks!” They said one after another, assuming Felix and y/n were perhaps a thinking. However the way Felix was dressed was rather funnier to them. They made their smell talk and went on about their way still snickering amongst themselves.

“Strange what was so funny…” he trailed off looking back at y/n as the rest of her team left.

“Your tuxedo” she replied with a small chuckle.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“The only set of people who’re wearing a tuxedo at this function are our professors, it’s just blazers I guess you’ve done out-dressed everyone” she jokes as she fixed the bow tie of his shirt and he playfully rolled his eyes at her.

“The invite seemed fancy, fancy attire for fancy invites isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?” He reasoned for himself.

“What invite?” Y/n questioned.

“The one on the function website” Felix replied.

Initially y/n had just forwarded the message she got from her group about the timings and venue as a vague invitation because zero art majors are interested in these events “what? We have a website?”

“Yeah. I looked it up” he answered with a shrug, he wanted to look just perfectly suitable for her event because it seemed to be a big deal for her, so he did his research despite failing miserably at fitting y/n found it to be a very heartwarming gesture.

“Wow? Such dedication…”

“Of course my love” he said with an obvious huff, hoping his hints would pass through her.

yourusername the one and only. tuxedo at da science centre.

yourfriend he was out there outshining professor john’s Maxwell theorem themed necktie🤗

yourusername LITERALLY?

teammate1 bow tie AND cufflinks…

fel1x_catt0n I see I’ve gained a reputation

teammate2 jokes apart you two are such a cute couple 💖

annabel_ LOL they’re not dating!!!!

yourusername yeah haha ^^

-

“are you serious?!” Y/n friend exclaimed as they spun around the flowers felix have in their hands. “He gave these? They’re bigger than our torsos man”

“Yeah…yeah…” y/n trailed off with a shrug trying to downplay it somewhat.

“AND he came in a tuxedo, AND he posted you…do you have zero situational awareness or what?” Her friend scoffed as they gently whacked the flowers on y/n’s forehead.

“Look, felix is a friend’s friend. He’s the most friendliest of them all. Stop trying to induce romanticism in me, he’s a great friend. Very outgoing, giving, sweet…that’s how he is.” She explained.

“You are most definitely blind are you not seeing these!” They pointed to the ever so gigantic bouquet of flowers, “helping you with your essay, bringing you snacks, wanting to hang out with you all the time-”

“That’s what we do too.” Y/n reasoned.

“Girl.” They took a deep breath. “I hate you and I never want to hang out with you.”

Y/n snickered falling back to her bed, “Yeah sure. I hate you too.”

“That’s not the point-we’re us and Felix is a completely new person in your life who’s doing all this for YOU.”

“Yada yada” Y/n said rolling her eyes at her friend as they once again whacked her with the flowers.

“You pull shit like this and that Annabelle will steal him from you. Dig your own grave.”

Y/n burst into a hearty laugh at that, “Steal felix? What are you on about we’re not a thing to begin with and Annabelle is his friend just like me.”

“YOURE NOT EVEN LISTENING TO ME” Her friend said with a sigh as they crossed their arms.

“BECAUSE YOURE NOT MAKING SENSE.” y/n said back with a high pitched tone, this was their normal between the best friends when one couldn’t get a point across, not just normal, civil even.

“OF COURSE IM NOT BECAUSE YOU ARE FUCKING BRAIN DEAD.” They said as they forcefully throw the flowers in her direction.

“YOU WANNA HAVE A GO AT ME OKAY.” she seethed and threw back a pillow, “Fucking come here” she said as the set of, almost grown ups, fought with one another in the most figurative sense with a pair of pillows aiming for most harm.

“Not my hair-not my hair you gangly uncoordinated bitc-” the wrestling match was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Followed by the familiar voice “everything alright in there?”

Felix.

“PAUSE.”

“-Pause.”

“What the fuck’s he doing here?” Y/n whisper yelled as her friend pushed her to go open the door, straightening her hair out hurriedly as she walked up there.

“GO.”

“Felix…Hi” y/n said as she caught her breath and smiled at him, despite of the disheveled state of her room.

“Hey…I was just passing by and I thought you were fighting-?” Felix asked with a soft smile as he leant on the doorframe of her dorm. It was as if he never needed an invitation.

“No we were just, er what is it we-we were” y/n looked back at her friend to jump in with an answer.

“Roomie wars.” Her friend shrugged off. “Ya know…where’s my candle, where’s my ramen from yesterday”

“Oh…” Felix trailed off with an understanding nods. “Yeah I get it.”

“Funny you were just passing by, through dorm hallways, when yours is—three buildings down isn’t it?” Her friend intervened with an accusatory chuckle receiving a disapproving look from y/n.

“Yes I was actually here for y/n.” Felix said, he would never be put in a situation where he’d get awkward, blatantly open and confident he didn’t truly care for implications if they were correct. “Do you have any lectures this evening.”

“No.” Her friend answered quickly before she could.

“Yeah no I don’t.” Y/n replied with a tight smile at her friend.

“Great then I’ll pick you up at 5 yeah?” Felix said.

“Wait-for what?”

“Anything.”

yourusername this man is drowning in pussy

fel1x_catt0n this is so foul

yourusername the cats wuv you

fel1x_catt0n yet your caption is that of a comedic genius

yourfriend I have no words

farleigh_start just not yours…

-

HIII I am sorry I don’t update regularly I promise I will now, I am going through a very difficult and traumatic time in my life it’s so so so hard to cope at the moment.

Any comments on this or opinions would help me a lot more than you think either ways if you’re here and read this thank you so much <3

[roosterforme]

Batting Practice Part 5 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Your kitten costume leaves Bradley feeling more and more possessive of you and Everett. And hopefully Frank can take a hint.

Warnings: Fluff, angst and swearing (eventually 18+)

Length: 3100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

You kept glancing down at the tote bag on the floor next to your desk. It was filled with everything you bought on Amazon. You only needed to get through the afternoon, and then you could change into your kitten costume and sneak out of work. 

When Frank knocked on your door, you were so distracted, you accidentally told him to come in, even though you were trying to avoid him.

"Hey, baby," he said cautiously. "I just wanted to see how your weekend was."

"It was fine," you answered without looking away from your computer monitor as you typed away. 

"Who answered your phone on Saturday?" he asked.

Your fingers typed a word that didn't exist in any language as you finally glanced up at him. "Everett's tee ball coach."

"Oh. He called you Kitten."

You sucked in a breath. "Yeah...."

"I could start calling you Kitten," he said with a grin. "You like that?"

"You don't get to call me that," you gasped. Unexpected lust for Bradley pooled low in your belly at the same time as dread filled you up. You needed to be done with Frank. "In fact, don't call me anything. And please don't call my phone again."

"Come on, Kitten," he said, closing the distance to your desk.

"No." You were shaking your head at him. Nobody else should be calling you that. 

"So that guy can call you Kitten, but I can't?"

You sighed and rubbed your fingertips along your temples. He was ruining what you were hoping was going to be an excellent day. 

"Please, Frank. This was fun while it lasted, but I don't really see us going anywhere. And I don't think we should see each other anymore outside of work related business." That should hopefully do the trick since you never overlapped work with him. And really, what was the point in being with Frank if you were thinking about Bradley the whole time anyway?

But he still looked confused. You sighed; how had you managed to get yourself into this mess? Had he honestly gotten attached after a few months of randomly hooking up without defining the relationship?

"You don't want to be together anymore?" Frank asked.

Your eyes went a little wide. "We're not really together, Frank. We were just hooking up."

He nodded at you and just said, "Right, right," a bunch of times before leaving.

"You need to pick better guys," you whispered to yourself. And then your mind was flooded with images of Bradley in various baseball related articles of clothing, smelling sweaty and spicy, and talking in that deep, raspy voice. 

You squeezed your thighs together before focusing your attention back on your work. But your mind started drifting again. What if none of the other parents dressed in a costume today? At least you were Team Mom, so if would be expected of you to wear one. But what if your costume choice was too forward? What if Bradley didn't like it? Oh no, you had chosen it just for him. What if you embarrassed yourself?

"Shit," you groaned when it was time to get changed and pick up Everett. It was too late to turn back as you slipped into the ladies' room and convinced yourself this was a good idea. You changed into the skin tight, black bodysuit and your black jeans. But you kept your black heels on. 

After you checked your makeup in the mirror, you clasped your thick, burgundy choker around your neck. "Oh god," you gasped, already embarrassed about what you were doing. But part of you found yourself too sexy looking to backtrack. 

Then you managed to sneak out to your car with the ears, tail and makeup in your tote bag. Everett was beyond excited to go to practice today. When you picked him up, he immediately asked, "Do you have everything for my costume?" 

You just laughed and promised him you did. "I've got your Phillies hat and jersey. And the stick-on mustache, and the sunglasses." 

Everett insisted on dressing up as Coach Bradley today. If you and Everett didn't embarrass yourselves off the baseball field, you would be shocked. 

But as you tried to park next to the Bronco, you saw Sandra whip her car into your intended spot. With an eye roll, you chose a different one, but you still had to watch her climb out of her car dressed as a slutty referee. At least Henry looked cute as Spiderman.

"Great," you muttered, handing everything back to Everett so he could get changed in the car. You saw Piper and her mom were both dressed as The Incredibles, which was really cute. But a lot of the other moms were wearing things that were short and tight. Bradley probably wouldn't even notice you at all. 

You folded down your visor and used the washable makeup to draw on a nose and some whiskers. Then you touched up your lipstick and slipped the cat ear headband into place. You did look cute, even you thought that much. 

"I need help with my mustache," Everett said, and you climbed out of the car and helped him stick it on before clipping your tail into place.

"I didn't know you liked cats, mommy," Everett said before he took off toward the bleachers with his gear back, leaving you to gingerly walk in your heels across the turf.

"Apparently, Coach Bradley does," you murmured to yourself as you followed your son at a much slower pace. But when you saw Bradley and Bob standing together, laughter bubbled out of you. Bradley was dressed as Mario, and Bob was Luigi, and they both had plungers slung over their shoulders as they chatted with a clipboard between them.

You watched Sandra desperately trying to get their attention, bending over and stretching with Henry in front of them. But as soon as you rounded the bleachers and headed for the spot where Everett was already changing his shoes, Bradley looked up and met your eyes. 

You watched as Bob continued to talk, but it didn't look like Bradley was paying attention. His hand holding the plunger slowly fell to his side as he looked you up and down. Then he licked his lips, and you felt faint.

You waved your fingers at him and mouthed, "Hi, Coach." And then he was heading your way.

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

Bradley avoided looking at Sandra's rear end as she strutted around in front of him. Bob was aware of her ass as well, and was also trying not to look. She had pulled the same thing with Bob about exchanging phone numbers 'just in case'. 

Instead, the coaches were focusing on the plans for practice, and Bradley was already grinning at the kids in their costumes. When he saw Everett, he immediately glanced further past the bleachers and saw you. Dressed as a kitten.

"Holy shit," he muttered, wandering away from Bob as he was mid sentence. You looked sexy, waving your fingers at him and biting your lip. He wanted that lip between his teeth. He wanted your body pressed between him and the Bronco. He wanted his face between your legs. 

Bradley was flushed and sweating as he approached you. "Kitten," he rasped, throat dry, heart pounding. "Jesus. You look..."

He took a moment to really appreciate you up close. You were wide eyed and looking up at him expectantly, red lips parted below your drawn on whiskers. You were wearing a choker made out of a shiny, deep red material that he wanted to touch. He smiled at the cat ears you were wearing, but when his eyes dipped to your chest, he felt his body pulse. He could tell you weren't wearing a bra under your skin tight top. He reached for you, unable to help himself. And you didn't stop him when he ran his thumb down your forearm and along the back of your hand. 

"...like a sexy Kitten," he finished, and your lip went between your teeth again as your eyes fluttered closed. "You wear this for me?" He needed to hear you say it. 

"Coach Bradley! You look like Super Mario!" Everett called, and Bradley took a quick step away from you. 

"Hey, kiddo," he said, swallowing hard and focusing on your kid. "Wait a second... are you dressed as me?"

"Yes!" Everett replied, slipping a pair of aviator sunglasses into place. He was wearing Phillies gear. And a fake mustache. 

Bradley burst out laughing. "You look good, kid. Authentic. You just need a Super Hornet to round it out."

"What's a Super Hornet?" Everett asked, eyes like saucers. "I don't like bees."

Bradley chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. "It's a really fast airplane. Maybe I can show you one up close one day, if it's okay with your mom."

"Mom! Please?" Everett turned to you, begging, and Bradley was happy to have an excuse to focus on you again.

"You could come too, Kitten," he said, his name for you slipping out before he even realized what he had said. Everett was looking back and forth between the two of you, but thankfully Bob blew his whistle, and Everett took off toward home plate. 

"That sounds fun, Coach," you told him with a grin. 

He looked you up and down one more time, letting his eyes linger on your lips. "Do not even think about walking to your car later without me."

"Okay, Coach," you told him with a grin. 

Bradley turned and tossed the plunger next to his bag, and ran his hands over his face. You dressed up like a fucking kitten. He was already jerking off nearly every day to the image of your face and your ass in that pencil skirt. But this was too much. He glanced back once, and he could see your taut nipples pushing against your bodysuit, your tits pressed together as you tucked your hands into your jeans pockets. 

"Fuck," he groaned, pressing his lips together so none of the kids could hear him losing his cool. He was never going to make it through this practice without embarrassing himself. 

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

You couldn't help but smile as you watched Bradley and Bob dressed as Mario and Luigi. They actually looked adorable. And all of the kids in their costumes were so cute too. You laughed as a unicorn ran for home plate while Bradley cheered her on. 

You snapped a few photos of Everett and texted them to your sister, Molly, as you eavesdropped on the other moms.

"Grown men should not be allowed to look hot dressed in bright blue overalls, but here we are."

"I'd let either of them seduce me in a bad Italian accent, Tara. And I would love every minute of it."

You pressed your lips together to stifle a laugh as you read the new text from your sister. 

What is Ev dressed as? A Phillies player? And who is that hot Mario? What is going on at tee ball? I have more questions than answers. 

You just rolled your eyes and told her you would call her later. As soon as you told her that Ev had hot coaches, she was going to show up to a practice. And frankly you'd been enjoying the time to yourself to ogle Coach Bradley in peace. 

You watched your son tossing a ball back and forth with Bob in the outfield. It looked like Bob was practicing some skills one on one with each kid to try to find which position might be best for them. You watched Everett throw the ball with some pretty good accuracy. 

Part of you figured you should invite Danny to come to one of the games or practices. You doubted he would come; he probably wouldn't even respond to you. But it was the right thing to do when you technically shared custody with him. You had realized over the past year or two that 'sharing custody' was simply Danny's way to get out of paying child support. But you didn't need his money anyway.

You groaned and texted him about tee ball, but you wouldn't hold your breath that he would spend two hours away from whichever twenty year old he was sleeping with to see his son play. 

When practice ended and the kids all dispersed for the bleachers, Everett ran right to you.

"Coach Bob said I might be a really good pitcher!" he told you, out of breath.

"That's fantastic!"

"And Coach Bradley called me a power hitter again!"

You hugged him against your body and let all thoughts of Danny go as you watched Bradley chat with the lineup of moms. He kept glancing your way, as if to make sure you weren't leaving without letting him walk with you. 

"Can we go? I'm hungry," Everett whined. 

"Chill. I put apple slices in your bag," you told him as Bradley nodded his head and slowly backed away from Sandra as she tried to step closer to him. Finally, you and Everett were the only ones left besides the coaches. Bob gave you a once over and blushed before he nodded in your direction and waved goodbye to Everett, who was munching on his apple. 

Bradley and Bob bumped fists before Bob headed for his truck. "Sorry for making you wait, Kitten," Bradley said softly when he reached you. 

"We didn't mind," you told him. Your heart was already pounding harder with him standing so close. 

"Ready, kiddo?" he asked Everett who nudged himself between the two of you for the walk to the car. But Bradley was smiling at you over his head as Everett asked a million questions.

"Coach Bob said I might be a good pitcher. Do you know how to pitch? Even though you used to play shortstop?"

"I've got a decent curveball," Bradley replied, smiling at you. "Sliders are okay, too."

"Can you show me?" Everett asked, bouncing as he walked. 

Bradley looked down at him and nodded. "Sure. We can go to the park one day."

And now your heart was pounding even harder, because he really did seem to want to spend time with your son.

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

Bradley finally glanced away from your face and your body as the three of you neared the parking lot. He frowned. "Why didn't you park next to me?"

You sighed and rolled your eyes. "I tried to, but Sandra cut me off and parked there."

"But that's your spot," he grumbled, already used to standing between your car and the Bronco and helping Everett get in the backseat of your car. He liked the way it felt kind of private. 

You were grinning. "Should I put out a 'Reserved for Team Mom' sign?" you asked with a laugh.

"It's not a bad idea," he replied, opening your back door for Everett. "Way to go, kiddo. And once again, top notch costume. You really nailed the mustache."

Everett high fived him and climbed in, still munching away on his apple slices. 

Bradley closed the back door and leaned one hand against the driver's door, which your back was pressed up against. He was hoping for a few minutes alone with you, but he knew this was the best he was going to get. At least all of the other moms and kids from the team had already left, and Bob was pulling out of the lot right now.

"Kitten," he whispered, and your eyes fluttered closed as you pressed your palms back against your car door at your sides. Your reaction to him had him inching closer to you. You were spread out flat against the car, and Bradley wanted to press himself against you. But he saw Everett in the backseat, flipping through a book, and he knew he shouldn't.

"Coach," you replied, a teasing lilt to your voice.

"You never answered my question earlier."

"Which question?" you asked softly, and he stroked the back of your hand with his fingertips and leaned in a little closer. 

"Did you wear this for me?" His eyes dipped down to your choker and then to your chest. 

You bit your lip again, and Bradley had to fight for control as you looked up at him and said, "Yes. Just for you."

"Fuck." He let his finger trail up your arm and watched you lips part as he brushed your bare collarbone with his knuckles, fingering your choker. When his gaze met yours again, he boldly asked, "A collar, Kitten? You're domesticated? No more claws?"

Your sharp intake of breath had him beyond needy. Then you said, "Claws are for the bedroom, Coach." 

His cock throbbed, and he was speechless. He was never speechless around women. Especially not when he was flirting. But this shit was next level. He was so into you, and nothing physical had even happened yet. 

"I always wanted a cat," he told you with a smirk. "But I'm allergic. I don't seem to be allergic to Kittens though. Gotta spend more time around you to find out for sure."

"Mommy!" Everett called, and Bradley watched your chest heave as you sighed. 

"Might be easier said than done," you murmured, turning your body toward the door and holding up your index finger for Everett. "One second, sweetie."

"I'm in no rush, Kitten. But I would love to take you out one night," he whispered, and you looked up at him over your shoulder. 

"Really?" you asked, and Bradley had the urge to kiss off all of your red lipstick and your whiskers. He wanted to run his fingers along your choker.

"Text me. Let me know if I can take you out for dinner."

You nodded and smiled. "I'll text you, Coach. See you on Thursday."

"Bye, Kitten."

Bradley watched you pull out of the lot as he stripped out of his costume and tossed it onto his back seat. He stopped for some takeout for dinner and got gas. But by the time he got home and checked his phone, he was speechless again. 

You had sent him a selfie in what he assumed was your bedroom in all your Kitten costume glory. The photo was followed by one word. Meow.

Bradley saved it to his photos and wrote back to you.

Kitten, you're teasing me like a ball of yarn.

You simply responded telling him you couldn't wait to see him on Thursday. And Bradley supposed that was just as sexy. 

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

Kitten's costume has Bradley feeling some sort of way...but can we mention Ev's costume?! Tiny Bradley! Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32!

PART 6

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[im-lost-in-ikea]

sponsored by my last bat family chronic illness cross over doing well

a ranking of how bad I think the batfamilys spines are, from best to worse.

1. Alfred- Have you seen my guys posture. My God.

2. Duke- He's a newer edition, not an athlete in any crazy sports, my guys spine is probably average.

3. Jason- I can only assume any problems were reset in the pit, and also Alfred DRILLED proper posture into him, and no one can tell me otherwise.

4. Cassandra- I have no good thoughts here just. It's Cass. I feel like her training has to have wreaked a little bit of havoc, but overall I feel like she's perfect and special and so so fine.

5. Damian- He's so young, doing so much. Like his spines not fully developed and he's just jumping and fighting.

6. Steph- idk she might be lower on the list but. SHE GAVE BIRTH. WAS TORTURED. girls spine is screwed.

7. Bruce- He old. Degenerative disk disease is coming for him.

8. Tim- that man spends so much time bent over a computer. The curves of that man's spine. And then you add on the training? Oh and also that one time he fell out of a window. And no spleen like idk how but that's gotta do smth.

9. Dick- hes done gymnastics at an Olympic level since the age of like two. The havoc??? Guys I skate like badly and have only done so for a few years, and I randomly found out I have two old fractures in my spine. Can you imagine what he's got going on?