#anyway as always just tryin to do my part to get people to read more than just mxtx

[unforth]

Danmei and Baihe C Novels and Manhua Officially Licensed in English

Things are getting licensed fast enough that keeping a list like this up-to-date is basically impossible, but I saw someone asking in the tags so I figured I'd try. All titles are danmei unless otherwise noted (very little baihe is licensed so far). I've included Chinese titles and linked novelupdates for each title when I was able to find them, but sometimes publishers change the original titles so much that I can't track them down, apologies.

Basically: this is everything I know of as of April 12, 2024. There might be more. I tried.

For the latest danmei news, Danmeinews.com is a great resources.

Note that some of this information was sourced from this Carrd, last updated in March 2023.

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Seven Seas:

The full list of danmei novels licensed by Seven Seas is here. The full list of danmei manhua licensed by Seven Seas is here.

These titles are in various stages of publication, from "entire series released" to "license literally announced less than a week ago." As far as I know, all Seven Seas titles are available world-wide, through major distributors and libraries, and in e-book and print formats.

Mo Xiang Tong Xiu titles:

The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System (Ren Zha Fanpai Zijiu Xitong).

Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (Mo Dao Zu Shi)

Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (Mo Dao Zu Shi) manhua

Heaven Official's Blessing (Tian Guan Ci Fu)

Meatbun Doesn't Eat Meat titles:

Case File Compendium (Bing an Ben)

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun (Erha he Ta de Bai Mao Shizun)

Remnants of Filth (Yuwu)

Meng Xi Shi titles:

Thousand Autumns (Qian Qiu)

Peerless (Wushuang)

priest titles:

Guardian (Zhenhun)

Stars of Chaos (Sha Po Lang)

Other titles:

Ballad of Sword and Wine (Qiang Jin Jiu) by Tang Jiuqing

I Ship My Rival x Me (Wo Kele Duijia x Wo de CP) manhua by PEPA

Run Wild (Saye) by Wu Zhe

The Disabled Tyrant's Beloved Pet Fish (Canji Baojun de Zhangxin Yu Chong) by Xue Shan Fei Hu

You've Got Mail: The Perils of Pigeon Post (Fei Ge Jiao You Xu Jin Shen) by Blackegg

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Rosmei:

Rosmei licenses are Singapore distribution rights only. There is a list of international partners organizing group orders here. I've personally placed my orders through Yiggybean, as discussed in reply to this ask.

These titles are only being released as print editions.

Eta: titles that weren't originally on JJWXC (of which there are several here) WILL have e-book editions.

Ning Yuan titles:

BAIHE: At the World's Mercy by Ning Yuan

BAIHE (I think???) The Creator's Grace by Ning Yuan

priest titles:

Coins of Destiny (Liu Yao)

The Defectives (Can Ci Pin)

Drowning Sorrows in Raging Fire (Lie Huo Jiao Chou)

Other titles:

Albert from Earth by Jie Mo Jun

The Bat (Bian Fu) by Feng Nong

Breaking Through the Clouds (Po Yun) by Huai Shang

Don't You Like Me (Ni Shi Bushi Xihuan Wo) by Lv Tian Yi

The Earth is Online (Diqiu Shangxian) by Mo Chen Huan

Everyone Loves the Cannon Fodder (Chuan Cheng Wan Ren Mi de Paohui Zhuma) by Qie Zai Shan Yang

Global Examination (Qianqiu Gao Kao) by Mu Su Li

Gold Class Enforcers (Jinpai Dashou) by Pao Pao Xue Er

How to Survive as a Villain (Chuanyue Cheng Fanpai Yao Ruhe Huming) by Yi Yi Yi Yi

Kaleidoscope of Death (Siwang Wanhuatong) by Xi Zi Xu

The Killer of Killers (Sha Qing) by Wu Yi

Nan Chan by Tang Jiuqing

Obsessed (Ki Ma) by Wu Chen Shui

Wine and Gun (Jiu yu Qiang) by Mengye Mengye

Wow, You Guys are Really Good at Gaming (Nimen Nansheng Da Youxi Hao Lihai O~) by Yi Xiu Luo

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Peach Flower House:

Peach Flower House titles are primarily for sale through their website and through some distributors, such as Amazon.com. Whether titles are e-book only, print only, or both varies by title.

Da Feng Gua Guo:

The Imperial Uncle (Huang Shu)

Peach Blossom Debt (Taohua Zhai)

Other Titles:

Golden Terrace (Huang Jin Tai) by Cang Wu Bin Bai

In the Dark (Zai Hei An Zhong) by Jin Shisi Chai

Little Mushroom (Xiao Mogu) by Shisi

University of the Underworld by Ziloi

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Via Lactea:

The full list of danmei novels licensed by Via Lactea is here.

Via Lactea titles are primarily for sale through their website and through some distributors, such as Amazon.com. All titles are either print-only or e-book + print. Only a handful have actually been released, the rest are licensed and presumably in progress.

Jing Shui Bian titles:

Salad Days (Jing Jiu)

Silent Hearts (Mo Mai)

Other Titles:

Dawning (Liming Zhihou) by ICE

Euthanasia by Feng Su Jun

Falling (Luo Chi) by Yu Cheng

Psycho (Feng Zi) by Xiao Yao Zi

Limerence (Wo Xichen Ni Nan Pengyou Henjiule) by Jiang Zi Bei

Lip and Sword (Chun Qiang) by Jin Shisi Chai

The Missing Piece (Maoheshenli) by Kun Yi Wei Lou

Raising Myself in 2006 by Qing Lv

Rose and Renaissance (Wo Zhi Xihuan Ni de Renshe [Yule Quan]) by Zhi Chu

Killing Show (Sha Lu Xiu) by Fox

Soul Vibration (Linghun Saodong) by Dr.solo

To Rule in a Turbulent World (Luan Shi Wei Wang) by Gu Xuerou

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Monogatari Novels:

It is unclear to me if Monogatari Novel titles are available for world-wide distribution, but there are group orders being organized or I think they can be ordered directly from their webpage; they are based in Spain. These titles can also be ordered from at least some major retailers. Note that there has been some controversy about Monogatari Novels.

BAIHE: A Clear and Muddy Loss of Love (Jing Wei Qing Shang) by Please Don't Laugh

BAIHE: Female General and Eldest Princess (NuJiangjun he Zhang Gongzhu) by Please Don't Laugh

How to Survive as a Villain (Chuan Yue Cheng Fanpai Yao Ru He Huo Ming) manhua by Yi Yi Yi Yi

The Legendary Master's Wife (Chuanshuo Zhi Zhu de Furen) by Yin Ya

The Silent Concubine (Ya Nu) by Qiang Tang

BAIHE: Soulmate manhua by Wenzhi Lizi

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Aloha Comics:

A tiny, Hawaii-based press focusing on manhua. Titles appear to primarily be available through Diamond Comics. There are also pre-orders on Yiggybean. All of these are pre-orders, though the earliest are coming out by the end of April 2024 (about two weeks after when I'm posting this).

All these titles are manhua!

Day Off by Qing Cai

Here U Are by DJUN

Link Click by Li Haoling and Haoliners (not technically danmei!)

Nirvana in Fire (Lang Ya Bang) by Hai Yan (not technically danmei!)

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Chaleuria:

As far as I can tell, Chaleuria has not updated their webpage since April 2023, so the current status of in-progress titles is unknown. All titles are digital and/or e-book, and I'm not sure how to purchase them as I haven't tried.

Complete Guide to the Use and Care of a Personal Assistant (Zhuli Shiyong Zhinan) by Why Radiance

Deep in the Act (Ru Xi) by Tongzi

Fake Slackers (Wei Zhuang Xue Zha) by Mu Gua Huang (no longer available)

From Body to Love (Leng Yan E Nan: Xian Shenhou Ai) by Wan Wan Yi Xia

Interstellar Power Couple (Xingji Qiangli Lianyin) by Kun Cheng Xiongmao (no longer available)

Intoxicated Friends (Zui Qing Zhi Pengyou) by Ye Shu Ying

The Long Chase for the President's Spouse (Zongcai Zhui Fu Lu Manman) by Three Thousand Crow Language

Reborn into a Hamster for 233 Days (Chong Shengcheng Cangshu de 233 Tian) by Yi Shu

Records of the Dragon Follower (Cong Long Ji) by Yueren Ge

Urban Tales of Demons and Spirits (Dushi Yaogui Lu) by Qie Er

World Hopping: Avenge Our Love (Ni Wufa Yuliao de Fenshou, Wo Du Neng Gei Ni Song Shang) by Xiaomao Bu Ai Jiao (no longer available)

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Honorable Mentions:

There are a handful of titles I know of that are official translations of C Novels, where the C Novels aren't danmei or baihe but are often treated as adjacent within fandom (as in: I've seen people shipping characters from them, lol). I've included two above under the entry for titles from Aloha Comics (Link Click and Nirvana in Fire) and here are a couple others I currently know of:

The Grave Robbers' Chronicles (Daomu Biji) by Nanpai Sanshu (six volumes are available in English from Things Asian Press

The Legend of the Condor Heroes (She Diao Yingxiong Chuan) by Jin Yong from St. Martin's Press

Romance of the Three Kingdoms (Sanguo Yanyi), attributed to Luo Guanzhong, available in multiple translations

The Seven Heroes and Five Gallants (Zonglie Xiayi Chuan), attributed to Shi Yukun, there are two translations to English listed at the linked Wikipedia page

Note that to the best of my knowledge both of these are considered very substandard translations. I've personally read the official DMBJ translations and... yeah... and I've heard the LOCH translation is also mediocre.

I will add to the "Honorable Mentions" list if I find any other more mainstream titles with official translations.

Please don't come at me for including a couple classics. The characters shippable, what can I do? I've written fic for Romance of the Three Kingdoms...

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A handful of other licenses are mentioned on the Carrd I linked at the beginning of this post; I have no idea the status of those titles and wasn't able to find information on them while putting together this post other than what was listed on that Carrd, so I've omitted them.

As a final note, I've personally purchased from every printer on this list EXCEPT Monogatari Novels (I'm holding off because of the controversy and will see how things play out) and Chaleuria (which I vaguely knew existed but nothing beyond that).

Seven Seas translation varies but the editing is general strong and the editions are sturdy and nice. Extras that have come with final volumes are lovely. I am buying literally everything they publish except for You've Got Mail, due to information about the author that was shared with me that the author is a transphobe. Note that Kinnporsche by Daemi is not danmei as it's Thai (and I've heard unsavory things about the author - I don't have a link for that as the information was shared with me on Discord, and I encourage you to do your own research rather than taking my word for it). No judgement if you make a different choice than me, to be clear, I'm just sharing the information I have and why I personally am not buying the books). Note that Seven Seas isn't without controversy, especially for treating their contractors poorly resulting in them unionizing. Some people have also been unhappy with the fidelity of their translations compared to the original Chinese (I've been satisfied personally but ymmv).

Peach Flower House has inconsistent inconsistent editing quality, but the books are very readable, and I'm excited that they're working with translators such as E. Danglars. I haven't bought any of their special editions so can't speak to their extras, but I've bought all their print translations and will continue to do so going forward.

I just got my first title from Via Lactea last week and finished reading it on Sunday, and the translation read very well and there were minimal errors. It also came with a bundle of cute extras, which I wasn't expecting and pleased, and writing this post has caused me to cave and spend $150 to buy the rest of their books. Thank you, tax refund. (Should I spend this money? No. Did I anyway? ...)

No Rosmei titles have actually shipped yet, so I can't speak to their quality, though the previews they've shared on social media (as outlined here, for example) read decently and I'm optimistic. The cover art is also lovely, and they've been communicative and responsive, for example they've already issued a statement related to a recent controversy over perceived poor marketing for At the World's Mercy.

Tl:dr, the above is absolutely everything I personally know about mlm and wlw Chinese novels and manhua that have been licensed for English publication. I hope it helps someone.

Now go forth, and buy some books!

#danmei #baihe #mxtx #priest #priest novels #tang jiuqing #mu su li #meng xi shi #yi yi yi yi #this probably needs a billion other tags but oh well #i've been meaning to write something like this for ages #like there's literally a similar post saved in my drafts #but apparently today is the day i don't have the willpower to not #as also evidenced by my literally buying some of these books while in the middle of putting the post together lmao #i broke a windshield wiper on sunday and SHOULD spend money fixing that instead but here we are #at least it's the passenger side wiper??? #anyway as always just tryin to do my part to get people to read more than just mxtx #not that i don't love mxtx #but please guys there's so much amazing stuff out there READ MORE BOOKS

[waywardxwords]

The Fix - Part 8

Summary: Everyone has a past, but yours seemed to haunt you. You've tried to move forward with a normal life, but the day comes when that's not possible anymore. When Sheriff Beau Arlen enters your life, you're certain he is going to judge you just like everyone else in town does. But something about Beau is different.

Warnings: Slight language, discussion about drugs/drug dealing, slight angst, fluff-ish

Word Count: ~2.7k

Beau’s foot pressed down on the accelerator of his truck until it had touched the floorboard. He tried to get a handle on his emotions, but he wasn’t used to feeling this way and he hated it. He had always been able to use his adrenaline as fuel in his line of work, but this felt different. All he could think about was Matt Donahue’s words—“We’re going to offer him a plea.” 

In all honesty, he should’ve seen it from a mile away. As a Sheriff and someone who worked with prosecutors on a daily basis, a plea deal made sense. The FBI weren’t interested in some small town drug dealer. They wanted the big guys. But he was too close to this case, and it felt dangerous. 

The tires of his truck squealed as he pulled into the parking lot in front of the office. His feet carried him to the front of the building as he tried to slow his breathing. 

The glass door swung open with more force than he had anticipated as he barged into the lobby. Justin Markham, the district attorney, stood there as if he were awaiting Beau’s arrival. Next to him was Matt Donahue, the agent Beau was getting increasingly annoyed with seeing in his town. 

“Beau,” Justin started carefully as he read the frustration and anger across his face. “I need you to just hear us out.”

“Hear you out?” Beau bit back as he planted his feet just in front of them. “You call me, tellin’ me you’re offerin’ Jackson Lyle a plea deal. Jackson Lyle, the man who has been dealin’ heroin, cocaine and meth in this town for the last four years. The man who kidnapped his child, shot one of my deputies and then held me and the child’s mother at gunpoint?!” He couldn’t control the volume or tone of his voice any longer. 

“I know you’re disappointed,” Justin spoke while Matt remained silent. “There’s a reason–”

“There’s absolutely no reason for us to explain this to you,” Matt sneered as he cut Justin off. “This one’s above your pay grade, Sheriff.”

“It’d be in your best interest not to speak, agent,” Beau snapped back. He turned back to Justin. “How do you expect me to keep the people of this town safe when you’re just gonna let this piece of shit back out on the street? What’s the deal, anyway? Is he even gonna see the inside of a cell?”

The DA took a breath and glanced at the agent. Matt seemed to give up and waved, as if saying he didn’t care and to just fill Beau in at this point. 

“Let’s go to your office, alright?” Justin placed a hand on Beau’s shoulder as the three men walked in and closed the door behind them. “The judge is ready to sign a restraining order for the victims today. There’s no question on that, it’ll be very clearly stated to Jackson that he’s not allowed anywhere near them or their property. He’s already agreed to it verbally.”

“Oh, yeah, that sounds great. Let’s trust the abusive drug dealer who doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself,” he said sarcastically. “Fan-fuckin’-tastic work, guys.” 

“Sheriff,” Matt said firmly. “We have an opportunity to get to the root of the opioid crisis in Big Sky. We can take out the source, and that starts with information we get from Jackson Lyle.” 

“I’m not an idiot, I hear you,” Beau snapped back. “I’m tryin’ to figure out how I’m gonna tell the mother that just got her daughter back and has been afraid of this man for all these years that he’s gonna walk.” 

“It’ll take some time,” Justin tried to assure him. “The restraining order will be firmly in place, and the FBI still has a lot of information they need to get out of him. He will remain in custody until everything checks out. We’re talking a month, minimum. It could be six months, for all we know.” 

Beau sighed and rubbed a hand down his mouth as he processed. “Alright,” he finally conceded, more so because he knew there was absolutely nothing he could do to change the outcome. He shuffled in his pocket as he felt the device vibrate against his thigh. 

“The FBI has promised they will keep you in the loop along the way,” Justin looked at Matt pointedly—as if he was reminding him of the expectations. 

“I sure as hell hope so,” Beau’s voice trailed a bit as he saw Cassie’s ID on his phone—he had received a text message. He scrolled to open it. 

Cassie Dewell Hey, can you send me their home address? 

Beau quickly wrote back. 

I don’t have it on hand. It’s off of Arbor Road just off of Main. Why?

“I, uh, I gotta get going. I’ll say thank you for keeping me up to speed, but I’m still not happy,” Beau grumbled as he nodded at both the agent and DA. 

“I’ll call you later,” Justin shook his hand before Beau headed back for the front door. He stepped into his truck and pulled his cowboy hat from his head, placing it in the passenger seat before he put the key in the ignition. His phone vibrated once more. 

Cassie Dewell They left a note that they headed there to grab a few things and to meet them there. 

Beau felt like he could scream. He knew there wasn’t any immediate danger after talking to Justin and Matt, but he also knew he had asked one thing of you—to stay put and just wait for Cassie to get there. 

“Dammit,” he couldn’t help but curse as he squeezed the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white.

The tires crunched upon the gravel. He barely waited for his truck to stop before he shifted into park and threw open the door. 

“Hey,” you said, a bit confused as you approached from the front door. You had heard the familiar sound of his truck pull up and decided to greet him from there. “You okay? I thought Cassie was coming. What did they say?”

Beau slammed his door shut. “Was there any confusion about what I asked you to do before I left? Was I clear, or do you just not care that I’m trying my absolute damnedest to keep you safe?” His words nipped, much like the cool Montana air. 

“I just wanted to come back to get some fresh clothes and bring Bailey back to the comfort of our home for a few minutes,” you tried to explain with your eyes widened. He was mad; pissed, even. But you didn’t feel like it was fair. “Jackson’s locked up, right? Even with a potential deal, there’s no way they’d let him out right now.”

Beau knew you were right, but the fear just wouldn’t dissipate. “But if there are people lookin’ for him, where do you think they’re gonna go when they find out he’s locked up, huh? Where would they go when they realize that he’s probably gonna strike a deal for ratting them out? Who would they go after to get to him?” His eyes hadn’t faltered from yours as he took focused steps towards the stairs leading up to your porch. He stopped just before the first one.

You, too, knew there was truth behind Beau’s words. “So you’re going to stand out here and yell at me?!” You couldn’t help the rise to your voice. After what you went through with Jackson, you had sworn you’d never let a man control you like that again. Even though Beau was being rational, you couldn’t allow yourself to accept it. “You’re going to argue with me because I just wanted some normalcy again?”

“I’m arguin’ with you because I’m trying to fix this,” he sounded exasperated, though unphased by your tone. “I’m tryin’ to keep you safe.”

“Oh, don’t you worry, Sheriff,” your tone was snarky. “I don’t need you to fix a damn thing. There isn’t anything broken that needs fixing.” You muttered, frustration burned your eyes in the form of angry tears. It was a lie. You felt completely broken most of the time, but your frustration had gotten the best of you and you didn’t feel like admitting it. Beau knew anyway. 

“You know what,” Beau grumbled as he shook his head. He sucked on his teeth for a second before he returned his gaze to you. “You’re right, darlin’. You don’t need fixing. But this situation you're in? It makes me crazy. You don’t deserve it—an ounce of it,” his words were purposeful as he stood planted just in front of the first step of your porch. “And over the last few days, I’ve gotten to a point where I care…I care a lot. So I’d be damned if I put you in a situation where you’re not safe. Because when you’re not safe, I can’t even think straight.”

The air between you was tense, and you weren’t sure what to say for a moment. Beau’s chest rose and fell with each heavy breath he took. The air he blew out created small clouds, a clear indication of how hard he was breathing and how cold the air was. 

“I’m sorry that you were scared,” you tried to dissect his words. “I’m sorry that I didn’t listen. I’m not used to this…” you paused as you tried to think about how you wanted to explain the situation. “I’m not used to having someone look out for me. I look out for myself.”

“You’re gonna have to let that go, darlin’,” Beau was still frustrated, but his tone had softened. His feet moved slowly as he climbed the first stair. “I am standin’ here, telling you I want this.” His voice was low as he took another step. “I want the hard times, the good times; I’ll take on all the crazy…” with one more step, he was level with you now. He stood there unwavering, and you found it hard to hold his eye contact under the weight of his words. “And if that’s what you want, too? Even better. But I need you to meet me halfway, sweetheart.” His voice was just above a whisper now. 

Frustrated tears had pooled in your eyes again, but this time it was something deeper. Your life was complicated—it had been complicated—for a very long time. You hadn’t thought of sharing your life with anyone but Bailey for as long as you could remember. But here Beau stood, telling you he wanted all of it. 

“How am I supposed to meet you halfway when you won’t open up to me? I barely know anything about you, Beau. You can’t take your walls down, so how am I supposed to meet you in the middle?” You folded your arms across your chest and stood your ground. 

Beau broke eye contact and a hot breath escaped his lips. “You’re right, darlin’,” he said softly. His tongue darted out over his lips. “You wanna know my story? I left Houston because I screwed up.” He lifted his head to find your eyes again. “There was a case I was investigatin’ and it went south. I was followin’ the wrong trail, and a deputy got killed because of it. I panicked, and I wasn’t gonna take this job because of it. But I had to be close to my daughter and I didn’t know anything other than law enforcement. Nine times outta ten, I feel like an imposter in this job. But I promised myself I’d never make another mistake again. I’ve spent the last three years trying to fix it—all of it. Trying to fix myself, and tryin’ my damnedest not to screw anything up.”

He paused, and your heart sank in your chest a little. You felt overwhelming sympathy for him and what he had been through. “You can’t blame yourself, Beau.”

He chuckled almost sarcastically. “Oh, I can and I do, sweetheart,” he sighed. “But that’s besides the point. We all have stuff. And you’re right, I need to open up more if I’m askin’ you to meet me in the middle. I’m willin’ to do that…I’m willing to try.” 

“I want to try, too, Beau,” you breathed out, Beau’s smile hidden for only a moment as your breath fogged in front of you. “I can’t promise we won’t have more moments of me not listening or pushing back on you…”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, darlin’,” he drawled, just before he captured your lips with his. 

Cassie had arrived shortly after and agreed to hang out with you and Bailey. Beau had said he had one more stop to make, and while you didn’t know where he was headed, you didn’t push back or ask any questions. 

Beau had called in a favor, one he wasn’t sure would be granted. But for the first time since this whole ordeal started, the FBI had come through. 

He pulled open the heavy metal door and prepared himself to go through the metal detector. 

“I’m meeting Matt Donahue with the FBI,” Beau said to guard just past the security entrance after he showed his Sheriff’s badge. The man led Beau through a code-locked door that closed shut with a loud bang. 

Matt stood there in his suit with his hands in his pockets. “I’m breaking a lot of rules letting you do this,” Matt grumbled as he glanced at the watch on his wrist. 

“Yeah, well,” Beau cleared his throat. “I helped catch him, didn’t I? He’s been creating mayhem in my town, I think you can give me five minutes.” Matt rolled his eyes but started down the long hallway. Beau followed. 

There was another guarded door with a code lock. Matt nodded at the guard there, who unlocked the door and opened it for them to walk through. 

Beau glanced around at the barred cells. Chatter and yells from the prisoners echoed off of the walls. Matt stopped in front of a cell. 

“Ah, if it isn’t the pretty boy sheriff,” Jackson Lyle sneered from where he sat on his cot. He had bandages around his shoulder and upper torso. Seeing that brought Beau a little bit of joy. 

“At least one of us looks good,” Beau snided back. He glanced at Matt with a pointed look. 

“Five minutes,” Matt repeated before he retreated back down the hallway, as promised. Beau turned his attention back to the cell. 

“Ooh, what’s the pretty sheriff got to tell me, hmm? You hear I’m getting a deal? I’ll be out of here in no time,” he seemed so proud of himself. 

“Yeah, about that,” Beau glanced down but then locked eyes with the man on the other side of the bars. “As we both know, you’ll have two restraining orders against you the second you step foot outside this prison. But I also want you to know, I’ll be watchin’. Every step you take, you’ll have eyes on you as long as you stay in Big Sky.”

“You say that now, but just you wait and see. My ex-wife can be a real bitch. You’ll get tired of her shit the same way I did,” he sneered. “She’s a broken woman. She won’t let anybody try to fix her.”

“Here’s the difference,” Beau was firm in his words and made sure he held his composure. “I’m gonna go in there and pick up the pieces that you broke. And she and I, together–we’ll fix it ourselves. While you’re only interested in getting your fix, I’m prepared to put in the work and be what she and Bailey need. You’ll never see them again, Jackson. And if you do, you’ll end up with a bullet between your eyes. I’ll put it there myself.”

A/N: And there we have it, folks! Part 8! Did we love it? Hate it? Surprised by our least favorite FBI agent's slight change of heart (or that he has a heart at all?).

It pains me to say, but this will be the last full chapter for The Fix! I'll post the Epilogue on Wednesday that will bring things full circle. I've struggled with if I wanted to carry this further (and while I think there are opportunities for additional development, I also sort of feel like I'd be drawing it all out if I kept going). All of that to say: I do think there may be a one shot or two (or more, I mean--who knows?) in the future. I really loved branching out and pushing myself to write Beau Arlen, and I truly enjoyed writing the reader & Bailey in this series, as well.

While it's not quite the end just yet, I can't forget to say THANK YOU! I have gotten so much love on this series, and I truly appreciate it.

See you on Wednesday :)

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Tag List: @jackles010378 @ladysparkles78 @zepskies @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @djs8891 @globetrotter28 @deans-baby-momma @k-slla @agentorange9595 @dragonfly92 @nancymcl @springsteeen @perpetualabsurdity @deanwinchestersgirl87 @mimi-luvzyu @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @ultimatecin73 @spnfamily-j2 @impalaspixie @daughterofcain-67 @lacilou @jasminewinter140 @yvonneeeee @stoneyggirl2 @rizlowwritessortof @marimarvelfan @jc-winchester @taylortot @siampie1990 @thewritersaddictions @raisinggray @tabsluvsu @rachiem4-blog @leigh70 @nyotamalfoy @ades106 @akshi8278

#big sky fan fiction #big sky fanfiction #big sky fanfic #big sky fan fic #big sky ff #beau arlen fanfiction #beau arlen fan fiction #beau arlen fanfic #beau arlen fan fic #beau arlen ff #beau arlen x female reader #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x ofc

[your-local-uwu-artist]

its fitting its kirby day cause today my animation on youtube reached 1k views <3 i really dont have the words to describe how thankful i am~

anyhow some sketches i got and bits from my curretn wip video essay (im more then halfway through my initial draft!!!) the fic "being a knight is easy" by @/azzie_tangerine under the cut

anyway i wanna talk more about my process on my curretn wip, bassically to make iteasier on me i diecided to just do a re-read taking notes of litterally whatever comes to mind along the way, some of it is complete unrelated nonsense, some of it is just noting a specefic thing i liked, some are vague start ups for something to think more into, and others are more fledged out paragarpahs of anaylsysis, bassically i was just typing in the notes app but now im switching to google docs cause it keeps lagging sdafnksd anyway once i finihs the main first draft then ill start working on organizing everything and cutting out the side rambles, after its more organized i can work on more actual anaylsisi writing, decideding when an excerpt or quote is needed or not and actually making it a script, im not sure how many drafts ill have

anyway, heres the snippets ive found that are more comprehensive

"we've reveiewed hw the battles are written this one is very different as kriby is feeling confident now but there is a snippet of text in it i want to bring to attention

"Fluff said it was okay to be forgetful, it was a part of him. And sometimes, accepting something won’t work is better than trying to force it… right?"

i would like to note the word acceptance and the phrase "it was a part of him" sense are other protag has a part of him he needs to accept, its small and aubtle but it really neat how are 2 povs segments are so intertwined" (note on battle scene in chapter 15)

"okay also this part is very much a me thing but i really want to point it out because it would be a fun scene to adapt to a visual medium, probably animation rather than comic but i love a challenge but there's a scene or two where metaknight talks about knight stuff to kirby while they like, go through different stances, the point is it would be super fucking fun to adapt to animation, if i do ever adapt this fic as a comic or something than i do thing the dialogue of this scene would probably be one with more changes sense in a written medium this had more writing to like, start the scene where as in a visual format it would be more seamless for the act to have less words to start it and expand and shorten some parts of meta's dialogue to match with the comic flow, as word bubbles are very much a part of comic art" ( i didnt note what chapter it was form god damn im gonna have a lot of editing to do later)

"i think one thing this whole fic does really well BUT ESSPECIALLY helps scenes that need more tension in them is the variety in length of paragraphs, okay i really hate when people complain about fanfics without paragraph gaps cause like, i get it the writer is just tryin to get their ideas down and share them and honestly fuck it i know im in the minority here but ive always found that often these fanfics arent at all bad because i can feel that the author cares aout it and had an idea and all that, BUT.... i do think that paragraph gaps are a storytelling tool on their own. its like an extremely watered down version of panel layouts, emphasis on extremely watered down because panel layouts are a LOT like a LOT a LOT, so much more than some people realize but it has a similar effect in the sense that it impacts the sense of the passage of the time and it creates a sense of rhythm but most of all it can create emotion and communicate through the empty space" (on the first battle scene i think)

#kyuchat #kirby

[certified-sloth]

Ok but imagine one of the brothers just following you all over in the human world after the exchange program

But he finds how horrible they treat you and it's either he brings you back to Devildom, or you ask him to take you back

Warning!! May be triggering to some readers, please read at your own risk!!

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Lucifer

"I left my work and I never would have expected this kind of behavior towards you." The eldest stated, sitting at the edge of your bed with crossed arms.

Sighing in defeat, you sat on the floor and looked up at him with tired eyes.

"It's not like I haven't done anything wrong, it's just that some people pick on others for their own entertainment." You responded.

"They're immature."

"And you're not?" You asked with a small grin plastered on your face.

He scoffs at you, "I'm the eldest of my brothers. I hold a huge responsibility, having fun is a hard matter to come by."

You didn't bother replying, and the room was enveloped with silence.

"...would you like for me to bring you back to Devildom for a break?" He offered.

You met his eyes in slight hope, "is that ok?"

Nodding in confirmation, he answers you.

"Of course."

Mammon

"If it weren't for ya, I woulda jumped them already." He complained with a deep frown.

You nod, "i'm sorry."

It took him a moment to realize as he turns to you confused. "Why are you apologizing?"

"What-"

"Take that back right now. You ain't done nothing." He cut you off with furrowed eyebrows.

"..." you look at him dumbfounded.

"Listen, MC. You should've told us, mostly me, but if you said something before you left, then maybe I coulda asked Lucifer to-" he pauses and stares at you.

"You didn't wanna bother, did ya?"

You couldn't form words, so you only ended up nodding as an answer.

Sighing in frustration he smacks your head lightly.

"And I thought I was dumb." He mutters to himself before shaking his head.

"Whatever bothers you, bothers me too. So there's no point in not tryin-" he cut himself off and looks away, clearing his throat.

"I-I mean, it's not like I want ya problematic or anything... it's just that... I don't like how you're treated." He excused with a faint blush forming on his cheeks.

"We already said that the house of lamentation is your home too! You're always welcomed there..." he trailed off before sighing in defeat.

"I can't believe i'm doing this. J-just... it's your choi-"

You smiled before telling him, "take me home."

He blinks as what you said caught him off-guard.

"Really?"

You giggle and confirmed. "It's not like there's much left for me here anyway."

He laughs, but soon yelped when you take hold of his hand.

Looking away in slight embarrassment, he mumbles.

"Yeah, home..."

Leviathan

He spams his controls, half of his focus on the game, and the other half had his mind stressed out over your well-being.

"You've ENDURED this?" Levi started, turning to you the moment he finished his game.

You stare at him confused. "Yes..?"

He watches you with a deep frown. "Can't you just abandon them? They've done nothing but hurt you."

"And where will I go if I do?" You asked him.

He answered, "Home!"

Smiling at him amused, you asked another question. "And where is that, 'home'?"

He pauses and blushes slightly. "Now you're just teasing me..."

You giggle before you pulled him into a hug, making him flinch.

"Y-you don't even look bothered at all." He pointed out, if it weren't for the background music of his game, you probably would have heard his fast heartbeat.

"Because it's more bearable now that I have my Lord of Shadows with me."

He didn't respond to you, so you look up to see him a blushing mess.

"You're not joking... are you? Out of all of my brothers, you're not just doing this for fan service, right?" He asked for reassurance.

"Now who was the one that followed me here? For someone that calls me normie and avoids me, you're suddenly here."

"T-that's..." he stuttered, looking away from you as if he was desperate to look for an answer on your walls.

You laughed before giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"It's time to go home, Levi."

Satan

"Hey Satan..." you called out to the blonde demon, your head resting on his lap as he plays with your hair.

"Hm?"

"Do you... think I could call the house of lamentation my home?" You asked, staring into his emerald eyes.

He gazes down at you before smiling. "Of course. It was, and always will be your home."

You turned slightly to inch closer to his warmth, catching him off-guard.

"Then what if I asked for you to take me back?"

"That will be arranged. You don't have to deal with these mortals, I have a special gift waiting at their doorstep." He responded, leaning down to kiss the side of your head.

"So no one really does get pass the avatar of wrath." You joked.

He chuckled as he let you sit up.

He held your hand for comfort before giving every part of your face a kiss.

He wasn't the type of person to often show love in this manner.

But it seemed as if you needed it at a time like this.

Placing one last kiss at your neck, he nuzzles his head further in it.

You could feel him smile on your neck, you stroke his hair as his other arm has wrapped itself around you.

"Shall we go home?"

Asmodeus

As he was combing your hair, he rants about the treatment you've been receiving.

"Why do you let them do that darling? They don't deserve to treat you like trash. It's not as if they're any better."

He frowns in distress, "some nerve they have."

"There's no point in fighting for something you think you don't deserve." You dismiss it with a sigh.

He raises an eyebrow and looks at you through the mirror in disapproval.

"That won't do, you're only giving them more of a reason to stomp on you. You're supposed to be treated with respect." He reasons.

You smile at him and he stops for a moment.

"You're just gonna let them?"

"Remember when you kept asking me to come back to Devildom with you?" You tried changing the subject.

He furrows his eyebrows before placing the comb down and putting a hand on the side of his waist.

"If you're considering to come back, at least let me give them a goodbye gift before we leave. I'm not taking no for an answer."

You smile and shook your head.

"There's no stopping you when you're like this... but don't overdo it, you don't like getting your hands dirty, right?"

He giggles and kisses your cheek. "Oh darling, i'm a demon. I'm bound to be harsh no matter how I dislike it."

Beelzebub

Both of you were silent for a moment.

He opened a packet of biscuits and fed you a piece before eating the rest.

"Now I get why you hated it here." He started before you rested your head on his shoulder.

"Right." You responded.

The 6th-born stared at you with eyes of sympathy.

"Don't look at me like that, Beel. I don't like being pitied." You pointed out with a frown.

"I know, i'm sorry. I couldn't help it." He said.

"Do you want to eat something?" He suggested as a way to comfort you.

You gave it a little thought before smiling longingly.

You then answer him, "A homemade meal back in Devildom sounds nice..."

His eyes lit up from the mention of a meal before he stood up.

"Then let's do just that."

Belphegor

He comforts you with a deep frown before letting out a bitter laugh.

Turning his gaze away from you, he clutches onto his cow pillow.

"Humans... are as sinful as they always were." He muttered as he stood up.

Tapping your shoulder, you look up at him with bloodshot eyes.

"Let's go."

You asked him with a hoarse voice, "to where..?"

He stares at you for a moment before patting your head gently.

"Back home with us. Just like how you should've been."

He pauses for a moment before cupping your chin.

"But you don't have to come back with me if you don't like it. It's your choice." He assured with a small smile.

#obey me shall we date #om! #obey me scenarios #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #lucifer obey me #mammon obey me #levi obey me #satan obey me #asmo obey me #beel obey me #belphie obey me

[ms-starflower]

Young Survivors — Maribat

It’s almost four am here, I just finished writing this and am just tired enough to actually go through and post it. And this title is the only thing my tired brain could come up with. Anyway. I haven't posted something I wrote in years, but all the Maribat I’ve read recently made me want to write something for it.

I don’t know if I’m ever going to write a 2 part, but if I do it’s definitely going to be Timari and contain a couple of typical Maribat tropes. And a pinch of salt.

Also, disclaimer: I haven't watched Miraculous in years and most of my DC knowlege come from fanfic or tumblr so... sorry not sorry.

Now with a part 2!

Next >

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

Mei Leyton’s oldest memories were of her mother, dolled up in pretty dresses and elegant makeup. In her daughter‘s eyes, Margaret Leyton was the most beautiful woman on earth.

For as long as she could remember, Mei would sit on the bed and watch as her mom would get ready to head to work. She had always loved those moments with her mom.

(How do I look, my little flower,” she said, twirling around Mei with a grin, making her laugh. It was Margaret’s favorite dress, a vintage halter blue dress with white accents and a white bow around the waist.

“Like a princess, mommy! The prettiest princess ever!”

“Oh no, no no no. You are the prettiest princess ever, my little flower.”)

She was four when her mother let her help for the first time, letting her pass along brushes and products. It’s then that she understood what were the purple marks on her mother that she covered with her makeup.

(“Life is not fair to us, my little flower,” she had said when Mei asked about it for the first time. “Being an orphan and pretty little girl in Gotham isn’t safe, and it doesn’t give much choice when it comes to survival.”

Mei didn’t understand then, but it didn’t matter anyway, life would make her understand soon enough.)

When Mei was seven, the GCPD found her mother’s body.

When she didn’t see her that morning, Mei hadn’t been worried; it wasn’t the first time. Mom would be home by noon, she always was. Until that day.

(The investigation wouldn’t get very far, it was just another prostitute of Camellia street, nobody cared about them. They were just there until they weren’t anymore.

Another girl would take her place in a couple of days. It was how those kinds of things worked in Gotham.)

That day was kind of blurry in her memory. She remembers being pulled out of class in the morning, and that the cop that told her about her mother’s death was very rude.

(“Your mom is dead, kid. A lad found her body in a dumpster this morning,” the guy had said as soon as she had sat down in the headmistress’ office. “Do you know who she worked for? Or on what side of the Camellia she stayed?” He had asked, halfheartedly.

Mei had shaken her head, even though she did; you don’t talk to cops in Gotham, mom always says said that it was the easiest way to get yourself killed, for people like them.

“Alright,” he had said, not surprised. “A social worker is going to pick you up in a bit to take you to your new home, kid.”

With that he had walked out of the office, not looking back. As if where she would end up was going to be home.)

She remembers that the social worker from CPS was a brunette with tan skin, and looked really overworked, but had a kind smile.

By the end of the day, she was taken to Elliot's Hall for Children, an overcrowded, understaffed orphanage with more kids than they could realistically care for.

(They don’t care for the children, they just put them there for a while and act as they do. Most children leave after a couple of days, and if they don’t, they get taken anyway.

Some come back with a police escort, some manage to survive in the streets, and nobody talks about the ones that are never seen again.

You don’t work there because you love children, and if you do, you don’t last for very long.)

Mei wasn’t stupid, her mother told her stories about those kinds of places. She came from those kinds of places, and Mei saw how the man in charge here had looked at her when the social worker dropped her off.

She wasn’t going to just stand here and wait for him to sell her back in Camellia street. Or worse, to the Candy Dealers.

Taking with her what she absolutely couldn’t leave behind, Mei made a choice her mother hadn’t been able to and took her chance with the streets.

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

Mei was a Camellia kid and, as such, took to the streets easier than most newcomers. She had picked up a few tricks from her aunties and her mom, and it helped her to survive out here.

The only (glaring) differences were the absence of her mother, the lack of a permanent roof above her head, and the fact that she had to provide food and money herself now.

(One of her favorite places to pick up wallets was Gotham Academy, where Gotham’s rich send their children. The kids always had money on them, and it’s not like they would miss it.

Though she couldn’t go too many times in a row, not without risking being spotted and remembered.)

She had been on the streets for two months when she met Jason Todd; the boy who would become her family.

She heard him before she saw him, to be honest. It was an awful crashing noise coming from around the corner, and it made her look.

He was running like the devil was after him, and judging by how the cops running behind him were clutching their batons, she wasn’t that far from the truth.

The noises were because of a couple of trash cans the boy had spilled in their way to slow them down.

And he was coming her way.

Against her better judgment, she grabbed his arm when he passed in front of her, and pulled him behind her into her hideout. Quickly getting the plank of wood back in place, she put her hand on his mouth before he could say anything. With the dumpster in the alley, the entry was almost invisible from outside.

They stayed there as they heard the men pass in front of their hiding place, listening as they argued about where the boy could have disappeared before their voices faded completely.

They waited another couple of minutes before he removed the hand she still had on his mouth and crawled out of there.

“Thanks,” he muttered with a scowl. “I woulda’ve been just fine without help but… yeah, anyway.” Then he had started to walk in the direction he came from.

“Hey! Wait!” She said before she could think about it. “Are ya just gonna, like, go? Just like that?”

“Huh, yeah? What do ya want me to do?” He asked, looking back at her from above his shoulder without stopping his walk. “Stay to drink a cup of tea and talk about the weather?”

“Well.. no. But I just… I just wanna talk a bit, ya know?” She couldn’t really explain why she didn’t want him to leave yet, it’s not like he was the first street kid she had helped out. He just felt different, and somehow she knew he could become important to her.

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed before turning his head back to look forward. “The streets are not some daycare for princesses who want to make friends, kid.”

“Kid— hey, dumbass, you’re, like, ten years old! You’re a kid too! And I’m not a princess, I can survive alone just fine!” Before she knew it, she was walking behind him, the weird feeling forgotten for the offence his comment created. He looked back at her with a frown, before choosing to ignore her. Not letting that deter her, she rambled at him about all the ways why she wasn’t a kid any more than him.

“I thought you could survive alone?” He said, talking over her, when he realized that she wasn’t going to let him be.

“I can.”

“So why are ya following me? Tryin’ to drive me crazy?”

“Well, no. It’s just... that I can do it doesn't mean I want to.”

“Look, kid,” he said, ignoring her protest and talking over her, again. “You should just go back to whatever orphanage you came from, there is probably some nice little family who's gonna pick you up. Then you could make all the friends you want.”

“Like people actually adopt kids in this city. This is Gotham, you dummy, not ‘Annie’. Some rich white guy isn’t going to come and pick up children from the streets to make them live the Grand life.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever,” he growled out without pausing in his steps. “Still, you’re pretty enough, I’m sure some nice people would adopt you in a second if you let them.”

“Yeah, sure. Mom thought the same when she was a kid, and guess what? She started working on Camellia street when she was fourteen, but nobody asked her if she wanted to. Because she was pretty enough,” the little seven years old spat with venom, her eyes narrowed. The boy stopped walking, turning toward her with eyes wide, like a deer caught in headlights. “Her best friend wasn’t, but mom said that she had the prettiest green eyes ever. When they found her body, she didn’t have eyes anymore, because some rich person paid to have pretty green eyes.”

“I— I didn’t—” he stuttered, eyes wide. With his scowl gone he looked so much younger, and Mei’s anger subdued. He wasn’t that much older than her, just a couple of years, maybe three or four, after all.

“It’s… okay, I guess. It’s Gotham. I just thought we both would have more chances to survive if we helped each other out. And, ya know, the company wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Whatever,” he mumbled, but when they resumed walking he slowed down enough to let her walk beside him without almost-running.

“Great! So, Annie, where are we going now?” She said with a beaming smile, bursting into laughter at his indignation and protest against the nickname.

(“Can’t you stop calling me Annie already?! I told you my name’s Jason!”

“Nope, Annie.”

“Well, then, that makes you Sandy, doesn't it? Ya do follow me around like a stray puppy.”

“I’m not a dog— wait, hold on a minute! I knew you saw the movie! You liar!”)

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

She was ten when her life was put upside down once again, in the worst of ways.

It took practically no time before Jason “Annie” Todd became her brother in all but blood, it took longer for Jason to admit it, and they spend almost three years surviving together, barring the occasional trip back to the Children's Houses.

Though, they always found each other a couple of days after they escaped from those places.

Sometimes, Jason would plan something that he needed to do alone. Because of course, he did.

(“It’s the best job, my plan is perfect. Don’t worry, it’s gonna be great Sandy!”

“Yeah, and why can’t I come?”

“It’s too dangerous! Plus, you need to stay here and keep our things safe!”

“Yeah, if you say so, Annie.”)

That day was one of those days.

He was gone for less than an hour when they found her.

The Candy Dealers.

Mei paled when she saw them, wearing their nice suits and overly sweet smile. They told her they were social workers, specializing in homeless children, and offered her a lollipop. Social workers in Gotham don’t give candy to the kids, even the nice ones, and she knew from her time in Camellia street that the lollipop was drugged.

(“Never, ever, take candy from a Candy Dealer, Mei. Do you understand me? Never,” her mother told her gravely. “They put bad stuff in them, and if you put it in your mouth, they will take you away from me. I couldn’t live without you in my life, my little flower.”)

She tried to run, even before the first one got his hand totally outstretched toward her. But her panic made her stumble, and she was no match for them.

She tried to kick, and scream, and bite, but soon she felt a pinch in her neck, and everything was black.

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

The next period of her life was one she tried very hard to forget. For months she was moved, her and dozens of other people, from containers to containers, warehouse to warehouse. Twice they were put in a boat, the containers staying closed for so long, the next time she saw the moonlight, it burned her eyes.

She quickly learned that it was pointless to try to escape (and that Jason wouldn’t come and save her).

Then, one night, the place they were at was illuminated with blue and red lights and the police sirens were so loud, they drowned everything else.

She didn’t let herself hope, though. (She did, she hoped so hard her chest hurt.)

They (probably) weren’t in Gotham anymore, but her childhood didn’t instill her much trust in the police.

They did get them out. And she learned that they were in Paris now. In France. (That was a long way from Gotham.)

There were twenty-seven other people with her in the container. Four of which were kids, and only one other was also an orphan. They weren’t placed together, though. Because the kid had family back where he came from. Unlike her. (She had Jason. He was her family, but they didn’t listen.)

The French social workers took a while to know what to do with her exactly, but they didn’t want to send her back to Gotham (why not? She wanted to go back and find Jason!). So, in the meantime, they placed her in a foster family—one without any other kid, as per her therapist's advice. (The therapist didn’t know anything. She said Gotham wasn’t good for her, but Jason was in Gotham.)

Funnily enough, it ended up being a more permanent solution than previously considered, because the foster parents, Tom and Sabine, quickly fell in love with the little girl.

Not before long, Mei Leyton became Marinette Dupain-Cheng. (They changed her name to give her a ‘new beginning’ because her therapist thought it would be good for her. She didn’t want to have a ‘new beginning', she wanted to go back, to find Jason, to be the Sandy to his Annie. She was Mei, the Camellia’s kid, Sandy, the street’s kid and it was enough for her. She didn’t want to be Marinette, the bakers’ kid.)

So, when Mei was first put into the care of the Dupain-Cheng household, she regularly tried to run away. It was unsurprisingly harder than in Gotham, though. Tom and Sabine were way more attentive than Elliot Hall’s staff ever was, and more than a third of her tentatives were folded even before she was past the front door.

It took her three months (and forty-three unsuccessful tentatives) before she finally accepted that there would be no way for her to go back to Gotham. (Not that she had known how she would manage to do that before, her plan never got that far.) It took another six months before Tom and Sabine trusted her enough to let her wander the neighborhood alone.

The first thing she did the day her ‘new parents’ let her go to the library alone was to get to a public computer, and look Jason up. She didn’t really think she would find anything when she typed Jason Todd and Gotham in Google that day (maybe an obituary). She definitely didn't think she would find her best friend (brother) on the covers of so many tabloids declaring that he was Bruce Wayne’s ward.

She didn’t know how she should feel about the fact that he proved her wrong and became some real-life Annie. She wanted to feel angry, or hurt. Even more so when she realised that Wayne adopted him not even a full week after her (kidnapping) departure from Gotham, but…

But seeing Jason in the pictures… He looked so angry. Angrier than she ever saw him. And hurt. There was hurt hidden in his expression. It was well hidden but she could see it. (She did that, she was the one that hurted him. He probably thought she left him. That she wasn’t any better than his deadbeat of a father and abandoned him. What if he hates her now, because she was gone for so long?)

She needed to go back to Gotham, find him, and explain everything. She needed to tell him she didn’t want to leave him behind, that he was her family, and that it would never change. But Tom and Sabine didn’t want to take her back there, not before she was older, because she wasn’t ready yet, they said.

She didn’t care, though. No matter how long it would take her, she was going to go back. So, she slowly started to act like the perfect little girl. She didn’t really change, she just stopped bringing up Gotham so much, started to help more often in the house and at the bakery, and started to call Tom and Sabine Papa and Maman. (It wasn’t real, at first. But then, they just crawled into her heart against her will and became family. They didn’t replace her Mom or Jason, though. Nobody ever will.)

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

She started to heal. Slowly, without even realising. She opened up to a couple of children at her school, made friends with Nino, and sort of Frenemies (more enemy than friend, though) with Chloé Bourgeois. She picked up hobbies like sewing and designing, baking with Tom, or learning various martial arts with Sabine.

But she didn’t forget, going back to Gotham was still her ultimate goal. Until the news reached her, when she was twelve.

Jason Todd was dead.

Her best friend, her brother in everything but blood, her Annie. Dead. Jason was dead.

She felt like a part of her died with him, reading the words but not really processing. She let herself drown in her grief, closing up to everyone around her. Surprisingly, Chloé was the one that made her react. Literally slapping her to make her come back from the dead. (Not entirely, though. Mei, the Gothamite part of her, stayed dead with Jason. Only Marinette, the nice little parisian, came back.)

“I don’t really know what’s up with you, Dupain-Cheng,” she had said while Marinette cradled her sore cheek, her faux-contempt badly hiding her worry. “But you need to put yourself together. Tormenting you is no fun if you don’t react to it, and people are too worried for you to be afraid of me. Don’t make me call daddy on you.”

“I…” She had started, only to stop herself. She had looked back at Nino and Kim, both of whom were looking at her with poorly concealed worry. “Yeah, sorry Chloé.”

She pulled herself out of the worst of it after that, at the obvious relief of the people around her. None of which even knew why she was in this state. She still cried herself to sleep most nights, and sometimes felt like someone gouged out her heart with their bare hands, but she also started to let herself think of the good times. Started to let herself feel the good things happening around her, in the present.

Then, she saved the life of an old man, found magic earrings and a bug-mouse-kwami in her room that told her that she needed to become a hero and save Paris.

She thought of her big brother, of how he would always protect her when someone tried to rob them. Hide her, before even thinking of himself, when the cops would chase them down, trying to bring them back to Elliot's Hall. Give her all the food when they couldn’t get enough for the both of them. How he was a hero. Her Hero. And, really, there was only one thing she could say to that.

“Tikki, spots on!”

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

So. That's it. That was fun. I'm going to sleep now, goodnight.

Btw, Jason's super plan that day was totaly to steal the Batmobile's tires.

#maribat #mlb x dc #gothamite marinette #street kid marinette #platonic jasonette #probably a timari btw #timinette if that's how you call it #4am me decided to post it #2pm me could decide to delete it tho

[obeiii-mee]

Hey! I have a really loud and particular laugh that seems to carry quite literally throughout my house and there have been many times people have bought it up with me (I can’t help it my laugh is just loud & contagious!!). Could I request the bros reaction to MC who quite literally is unable to laugh quietly and ends up being heard through the whole of the house? Thank you!🥰

This is so sweet, geez imma get cavities. I also have a very loud laugh and I startle people a lot when I start laughing so I get what you mean!

These HCs are probably written a lot better because suddenly I’m full energy and motivation-

———————————————

The Brothers with an MC who has a loud and particular laugh:

Lucifer:

-He’ll never admit it but whenever you start laughing or even smiling, he can’t really stop himself from doing it too

-Like, he looks at you as you start cackling about a funny meme Levi just showed you and he’s holding back a smile-

-Because, even though you have such a loud and some would say ‘obnoxious’ laugh, he thinks you just sound so precious

-He really struggles to show that he’s not affected by you as much as he actually is

-Even if you start laughing at an inappropriate time, he’d likely not even tell you off properly

- Would never say anything of the sort to your face, but he low-key admires you

-He thinks it’s amazing that a simple human like you that has experienced so many horrible things every since they arrived in literal hell, can have the ability to laugh so heartily even now

-If you’re in public and start doing your boisterous laugh, he will keep a stoic expression on his face

-There’s a hint of a blush on his cheeks if you look close enough, though I doubt anyone is crazy enough to point it out

-In private though? Appreciate these moments y’all, because it’s one of the few rare times you’ll see him laugh freely

-Even when he’s around his brothers and trying to keep a straight face, you can see his lips threatening to curve upwards

-Basically, he thinks you’re baby and your laugh makes him feel at ease

Mammon:

-I head canon that he also has a very particular laugh because he gives off those kind of vibes

-He probably doesn’t even notice how loud you are when you start wheezing

-Normally, he’d join in and start laughing with you as the rest of the brothers take out their sound blocking ear muffs for the third time that day

-You two are loud ok?

-Poor Lucifer who not only has insomnia and is a workaholic, he also has two idiots giggling to themselves in the middle of the night

-When I said Mammon is trying to get a laugh out of you any hour of the day

-I mean any hour

-He will wake you up to just hear your voice and then proceed to run out as you start yelling at him

-Even if he were to notice it, the worst reaction you’re gonna get out of him is a bit of teasing

-“Ya sound like you’re dyin’ over there human. You alright?”

-When in reality, he’s even more smitten with you because your laugh is just another one of your amazing qualities

-Mammon does the stupidest shit in front of you to make you and hear you laugh because it warms his heart

-Even if he wouldn’t admit it, to you or to himself

-The only time he ‘doesn’t like’ it when you laugh is if you’re poking fun at him with his brothers

-That gets him all huffy puffy and sad

-For a minute, before he’s thrown himself onto you again

-Greedy for money and greedy for affection of course

Levi:

-ohcrapohcrapohcrapohcrap

-“YOU SOUND JUST LIKE THE MAIN CHARACATER’S LOVE INTEREST FROM THIS NEW ANIME I’M WATCHING! IT’S CALLED: PEOPLE KEEP TELLING ME I’M IN LOVE WITH MY BEST FRIEND BUT I’M ACTUALLY NOT, THOUGH WHOA THEY HAVE SUCH A PRETTY LAUGH!”

-Catch him rambling about it for five minutes straight

-Before stopping abruptly, flushing from head to toe and starting to stutter like he forgot how to speak

-This usually has you laughing again, in a more sympathetic and encouraging way and he just...dies

-He doesn’t like his laugh, at all

-He thinks it sounds really awkward and tense

-So he’s low-key jealous about your rather impulsive laugh because it’s so sweet??? And amazing and cute??? Just like you???

-But at the same time, it’s hard for him to be jealous of it when he loves it so much

-Why do you think he keeps coming to you whenever he finds funny memes or compilations online???

-“I don’t expect a normie like you to understand but look at this.”

-He gets a stupidly cute kick out of knowing that he is the one making you laugh

-I suggest trying not to laugh too much while he’s playing video games because your laugh distracts him so much

-And he will throw his headset at you

-Affectionately of course

Satan:

-He doesn’t give much of a reaction besides a quirked eyebrow and a quiet ‘Oh?’

-Sure, he doesn’t really like it when his brothers are being noisy either because they’re laughing too loudly or because they are fighting gladiator style outside his room

-But you’re the exception

-The only person in that household that could get away with interrupting his reading/work is you

-May come as a surprise to some, but sometimes Satan does get worried for you

-If he hasn’t seen you in a while he might start thinking that something is wrong

-But then he’d hear you laughing from downstairs and he’d smile and think “Eh they’re alright.”

-He thinks your laugh sounds so much more endearing than his own psychotic laugh 🥰🥰🥰

-Will throw one of his precious books at any of his brothers if they make fun of the way you laugh

-Basically, he has the biggest heart eyes for you but he’s too good at hiding it

-Laugh with him whenever something embarrassing happens to Lucifer and he will be so pleased and happy for the rest of the day

Asmo:

-“MC my dear, has anyone mentioned what a wonderfully charming laugh you have? And that says something coming from me.”

-Asmo also has a very noticeable laugh

-Not exactly loud but it could be considered obnoxious (to his brothers) and he giggles all the time when he’s very excited

-Having Asmodeous as your partner is basically the same thing as dating your best friend

-Despite being the Avatar of Lust, your relationship with him is super healthy and even he takes comfort in that

-You’d both be chuckling to yourselves in Majolish or something because this bïtch is hilarious if he wants to be

-“Oh my Lord Diavolo! MC, look! I found the perfect outfit for Mammon!!”

-And it’s a Disney princess dress the size of a fuckn toddler

-You guys laughed so hard you got kicked out >:(

-But you ended up buying that dress for Mammon anyway lmaoo

-Spending too much time with Asmo is similar to the whole “I’m trying to be quiet in class but me and my friend keep laughing every time we look at each other”

-The way both of you have to strain yourselves from full on cackling when Lucifer has a go at either of you 😌

-Except you seriously can’t laugh because you will be ✨murdered✨

-“What do you mEAN YOU DON’T LIKE YOUR LAUGH, YOUR LAUGH IS GORGEOUS! NOT AS GORGEOUS AS MINE OBVIOUSLY BUT IT EASILY COMES IN SECOND!”

-That’s the kind of hype he gives you all day every day

Beel:

-The first time he properly heard you laugh was when you started making puns and you were laughing like crazy at your own jokes (samesies)

-And he just loves seeing you this happy because he gets happy and then he doesn’t even want to eat anymore, he just wants to hug you

-“I like your laugh. Do it again for me?”

-Your heart went doki doki

-It’s common for Beel to make you all flustered without meaning to and then you nervously start laughing again because you feel so awkward

-BUT your face brightens up so much when you start laughing or even smiling and he can’t help himself from complimenting you

-Your joyous and loud chuckles always cheer him up

-To the point where he completely forgets how hungry he is

-Took you a while to figure this one out but his mood sort of changes with yours??

-If you’re visibly sadder than usual, he his morale is also surprisingly low and he starts eating more than usual

-In comparison to when you’re all bubbly and doing that beautiful laugh of yours and he gets like these butterflies in his stomach instead of the usual pangs of pain and hunger

-So now he just wants to hear your voice in general on repeat for the rest of eternity

-Im not crying you are

Belphie:

-“You’re too loud dumbass, I’m tryin’ to nap here.”

-Will deadass throw a pillow at your face if you wake him up

-Like hes so rude and for what?

-He loves you and your annoying as fuck laugh, he really does I promise

-It’s a special, unique part of you and all that sappy crap

-But keep it up and you will have a very cranky boyfriend to deal with for the rest of the month

-He can be such an ass at times if he’s in a bad mood

-“I should tape your mouth shut.”

-“Kinky-“

-“Shut up.”

-But as much as he hates being woken up by somebody else, he would much prefer waking up to your voice rather anyone else’s

-You usually wake him up in the mornings to get ready for RAD and you start giggling every time he pulls a face at you and complains that he doesn’t wanna

-“What are you? An alarm clock?”

-And then he just sort of pulls you to him and goes with a completely straight face:

-“You’re annoying but you can be my alarm clock if you want to.”

-He’s either flirting or is so sleepy he’s being unusually soft hELP

—————————-

Thank you for reading! And for all the reblogs and follows. You guys don’t even know how much I appreciate your support. Especially at times when I’m not as motivated to write and now that the fandom has fizzled out a bit.

Also imma have to make a master list soon or something

Al~

#obey me #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me imagines #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me mc #🌸 comfort #⭐️ requests #☂️ demon brothers #💞 protective bois

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

I Melt With You - Bakugou Katsuki

All Parts:

Part 9:

As it turns out, being told there’s an imminent threat on your life, does not lend itself to a relaxing day at work. No, what it lends itself to, is a day of looking over your shoulder, of flipping the lights on in every room- of creeping quietly around furniture, trying to get the jump on whoever is hiding behind it. 

Except, there’s never anyone behind it. There’s never anyone behind anything, and all you have to show for it is a heart beating far too fast. All you have is a ribcage, strung together with dental floss, little bits of string pulled much too far and much too tight. What’s left is a person one surprise from a panic attack, and one loud noise away from a mental breakdown.

It’s the weirdest anxiety you’ve ever felt; a dripping, acrid, paranoia lining your bones with electricity and your muscles with shock. The strangest part of all though? The way you’re counting the minutes. Watching the seconds pass by with each moment, trying to be patient until you could see Bakugou of all people. 

You’re not sure when you started to associate him with safety, but it’s almost a lost cause at this point. His attitude was pretty much irrelevant to the issue, and even if he wasn’t very soft or reassuring, you know he’d rather die than let you get taken. His ego just wouldn’t allow it, and for some odd reason, you think that’s the most comforting part of all.

You walk out the backdoor, dragging your feet and hardly even jumping in surprise when you see him. Bakugou is leaning against the back wall of the alley, disinterest coloring his face. He’s in his hero gear, but thankfully he’s got his mask in his hands- being unable to fully see his eyes made him much harder to read.

“No bruises, scrapes? Blood?” You ask, looking him up and down twice over. You can’t help yourself as you near, eyes squinting as you study him closely. “No injuries, right?”

“No- ‘m fuckin’ fine. Stop fussing, woman.”

You see the red on his cheeks, just barely for a second, before he’s quickly sliding the mask onto his face. So much for seeing his eyes, then- apparently he wanted to keep you guessing all night. Not that you wouldn’t have been anyway. 

"I'm not- actually, yeah, sorry. Maybe I was fussing a little bit." You laugh under you breath, taking a step back. "It's not my fault though, alright? Usually I only see you when you’re exhausted or bleeding out."

"Yeah, because bein' around ya is fuckin' torture, leech. Why the hell would I see you if I didn't have to?"

You turn, balking at him. Under the glow of the streetlamp, something sly and mischievous lines his smile. You watch him glow for a moment, yellow streetlamp luminescence casting his pale skin in shades of glimmering gold. He’s almost unrecognizable like that, unable to help himself when he shakes his head. 

“I told you, leech.” He laughs. “You’re too easy.”

“No- you’re an asshole. You know that? You have to know that, don’t you?”

“I know.”

“And, what, you’re proud of that?”

He just shrugs, kicking off the wall and brushing past you. His shoulder knocks into yours, and you feel a little unsteady at the impact. Bakugou laughs. Then he picks up speed, walking briskly towards the end of the alley, looking behind him to make sure that you’re following. 

“That’s not an answer, you know.” You say, rolling your eyes. “Not even a little bit of an answer.” 

“Who the fuck said I gotta answer all your questions, hah?” He replies, petulance coloring his words. He turns back to look at you, snapping his fingers to urge you on. “Now c’mon. Faster. Pick up the goddamn pace.”

“Jeez, you’re pushy tonight.”

Bakugou doesn’t answer you, just leading you out of the alley, and into the street. He slows suddenly, falling behind you with watchful eyes scanning every shadow. There’s no one out that night, there almost never is at that time, but Bakugou still seems keen on keeping up his vigilance. Turning back to look at him, you’re almost shocked by the concentration on his face.

It’s a look you’re not especially used to seeing on him. You’d never realized how much time he spent just messing with you, but the foreignness of his expression made that apparent. In that moment, all you can wonder is why villians even bothered in the first place- it was obvious they weren’t going to get away with anything under his watch. Not at least if Bakugou’s fists had something to say about it. 

“You look pretty guard-dog-like back there.” You comment with a coy smile. “Super scary.”

“Shut up.”

 “Mhm, that’s what you always say isn’t it.”

 “Fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing.” You say lightly, spinning to look at him for a moment. He’s confused, head tilted slightly to the side. He looks like a dog all over again and you have to hold back a giggle. “Just means you’re short with me all the time. Well- when you’re not being mean that is.” 

“You pickin’ a fight?”

“No. No. I’m not.” You laugh. “I almost never am, or at least not intentionally. You always think so though.” 

Bakugou speeds up then, his strides matching yours. He’s close then, way closer to you than he’d usually walk. You’re not particularly curious about it, but you’re sure that if you reached out, just barely extended your fingers, you’d brush right up against those giant gauntlets of his. And probably get those same fingers blasted right off- but that’s neither here nor there. 

“You look tired.” He gruffs, changing the subject suddenly. He’s looking away, eyes trained down every dark alley you pass. “You somehow sleep worse than me or somethin’?” 

“No. Just lots of people coming in and out today. Lots of patients to see.” 

“Mhm.” He nods. “Any weird injuries?”

“No? Why?”

He just looks at you then, eyes squinting slightly.

“Oh. Those villians you can’t tell me about. I get it.” You say, and Bakugou nods. “But no. Not that I saw- sorry. Strange influx of elderly people, though. But that’s probably just a coincidence. Probably unrelated.”

“It is.”

“Huh? How would you know?”

“Just do.”

You roll your eyes, huffing. “You suck at explaining things, you know- just like, the worst conversationalist.”

He shrugs again, and at the movement you feel the edge of his gauntlets against your arm. The metal is cold, even through the thin material of your jacket, and you shiver.

“Damn, you really that fuckin’ scared of ‘em?” He scoffs, looking at you a little weirdly. “Chill the hell out, leech. ‘m not after you.” 

“No- it’s not- I’m not scared of them. Well, I am, but not of you. Or them.” You rub at your arms, trying to avoid accidentally elbowing him as he walks next to you. “The metal was just cold. Didn’t expect it, is all.” 

He nods, grunting something under his breath. Then he’s side-eyeing you. For way too long to be normal, even for ordinary person standards. Hardly another breath passes before he smirks, jostling his shoulders and pressing the gauntlet directly into your arm. It hits against your jacket, flooding ice through the material and into your skin.

“It’s cold!” You squeal in surprise, almost stumbling as you pull away. You take another step to the side, just to increase the distance between you and him- just to be safe. “I literally just said that! You’re a dick.” 

Bakugou just smothers his laugh in his shoulder. 

“No! Don’t laugh- what you think this is funny? Huh?”

“Yeah.” He chuckles, trying to get you with the gauntlets once more. You flinch away, which just makes him laugh more. “I do actually.”

“It’s not! It’s cold out, you asshole! Don’t make it any worse!”

He just laughs at you, eyes crinkling around the edges. Bakugou doesn’t laugh much, not around you at least, but now you’re sort of wishing he did. His eyes look a lot brighter when he laughs. Happier.

“Okay, okay, chill out already.” He smirks, shushing you like a child. “Won’t happen again.”

“You sound like you’re lying.”

“Nah. ‘m not.”

“I don’t trust you.” You counter, eyeing him with suspicion. “Not at all.”

He just shrugs, like your answer doesn’t surprise him, nor does it make any sort of difference. You suppose that’s about right. Bakugou pretty much only cared about pushing your buttons- making you feel comfortable wasn’t even a thought in his mind.

“You’re such a baby.” He comments, eyes scanning down another dark alley. “Seriously. ‘s not even that fuckin’ cold outside.”

“Says you.”

“I’m right.”

“You’re not.”

“I am.”

“You’re absolutely not.” Drawing your jacket tighter, you fight the shiver that threatens to crawl up your spine. “You know, for a guy who gets so mad about me “picking fights” all the time, you sure do like to argue a lot. You sure you’re not actually the one picking fights?”

“I don’t gotta pick ‘em, I just finish them.”

There’s no way- there’s no way in hell a fully grown hero, a pro hero just opened his mouth and said that to you. It’s inconcievable, or, it should be, but then you look at Bakugou and the absolute sincerity of his expression.

“You’re a barbarian.” You can’t help but laugh, pinching the bridge of your nose with faux annoyance. “Seriously. I just gagged on all the testosterone in that sentence.” 

“So? ‘s not my fuckin’ problem.” 

“It is. It definitely is.” You tell him, hardly restraining your urge to knock him right off the curb. 

From where he is, walking on the outside of the sidewalk and closest to the road, all it would take is a little nudge- he’s walking so very close to the edge.  But knowing him, Bakugou would probably take you with him. So you refrain, changing the subject instead.

 “So, you see any bad guys yet?”

“Bad guys?” He snorts, eyeing you like you’re stupid. “No. I haven’t seen any villains, yet.” 

“Good, just checking. I don’t actually know what I’d do if you did.”

“You don’t do shit. You stay the hell out of it.”

“Okay, but what if you-”

“No. You run the other direction and go fuckin’ hide. That’s what you do.” He orders, seriousness lining his features. “Don’t go tryin’ anything. You’ll only get in the way, leech.”

A part of you bristles all over at that- at his insistence that you’d be nothing but useless weight in a fight. It makes you uncomfortable because as it stands, he’s right. You’d never be able to hold your own, much less defeat anyone.

You felt weak. Vulnerable.

“Don’t be a goddamn baby. I can see you panicking.” He says, kicking at a rock on the sidewalk. “I told you- ‘m not plannin’ to let any of those fuckers get you. ‘s a hypothetical, so don’t go cryin’ over shit that hasn’t even happened yet.”

“It’s not that.”

“Fuck is it then?”

“It’s just- I was thinking, you know, about what I’d do in a fight.” You start, rubbing at your elbow mindlessly. “And you’re right. I’d be entirely useless. I can’t hurt anybody. I don’t think I ever would, even if I had the skills to.”

You hardly see it from the corner of your vision, but Bakugou scrunches his nose. Your words must’ve upset him because then he’s huffing like a bull, curling his fingers closed into a fist.

“Don’t say it like it’s a fuckin’ bad thing. Don’t be an idiot.” He mutters lowly, voice pinched and tight. There’s a flush on his cheeks, just barely visible in the dark. “People getting fuckin’ hurt is never a good thing.”

“No, it’s not. I guess you’re right. But, still, I guess what I’m saying is I wish I was a little less soft, you know? Stronger.”

He cuts his eyes toward you, something guarded lining them. You can hardly tell, and you wish he’d take his mask off, but Bakugou almost looks..... offended?

“Bein’ soft doesn’t mean you’re fuckin’ weak.”

“You’ve literally called me weak before!” 

“Yeah- when you were playin’ all fuckin’ nice when you didn’t mean it.” He flares his nostrils. “That’s weak.” 

“Oh, so you’re saying- actually, no, I have no idea what point you’re trying to get at right now.”

“Jesus, you’re stupid.” He mutters on his breath. “I’m saying, don’t do shit just because you think you have to. That’s stupid. That’s weak.”

“So you’re saying I shouldn’t fight anybody?”

“Do you want to fight anybody?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Then why the hell are we even fuckin’ talking about this?” He asks, simple and plain like it never even mattered to him in the first place. “If you don’t want to fight then don’t fight. It’s that fuckin’ easy.”

“Yeah, but-”

“No buts.” He says, finality lacing his tone. “Besides, it’s not gonna fuckin’ matter anyway. I’ll skin ‘em before they even get anywhere near you.”

Bakugou seems to realize his words- and the weight behind them at the same time you do. Where you’re blushing and looking away, he’s straightening in place next to you. His spine goes ramrod, feet stuttering like the pavement is shooting electric shocks through his heels. 

“That’s- I think that’s the only sort of nice thing you’ve ever said to me.” You utter out, entirely shocked. Then you’re slapping a hand against your mouth, breathing a gasp out between the gaps in your fingers. “That’s- that’s the only nice thing I get? A threat against somebody else? That’s ridiculous!”  

You can’t help the giggle that tumbles out of your mouth then, something small and tiny quickly growing louder. It makes you feel light- weightless on the street, like the pavement below you is bolstering you higher with each step. When you look over, Bakugou’s not laughing, but he’s smiling, something pinched and shy as he looks back at you. A he stares at you, blinking slowly, tipping his head to the side like he doesn’t understand.

“It’s- I’m sorry.” You laugh, biting down on your lip. “It’s just so funny! You being nice isn’t even you being nice- it’s just you being mean to somebody else for once!” 

“If this is what you’re like when I’m fuckin’ nice, then I’ll never be nice to you again.” 

“Don’t grumble.” You smile, trying to cover your smile with an errant palm. “Even if I’m laughing, I’m not necassarily laughing at you, you know? I guess what I”m saying is that it helps with the panic- to know that somebody capable is looking out for me, you know?”

“Yeah, I bet.”

His tone leaves something sour, sarcasm and cynicism left behind on his breath. You look over at him, but his eyes are trained forward, shooting between every dark crevice and shadow. He’s relentless, shoulders constantly drawn forward, stalking and prowling like he’s just waiting for somebody to challenge him.

It makes you wonder who’s looking out for him. If anybody even is- or, more specifically, if he is letting anyone.

“Hey, Bakugou?” You ask suddenly. 

“What?”

“I appreciate it, you know. This. You walking me home.” You find yourself unable to hold his intense gaze any longer. Eyes trained at the ground, you continue. “I know you didn’t have to, and even if it’s not for me, it still makes me feel a lot better. Less scared. So thank you.” 

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t really even react other than straightening a little beside you. It makes you want to take the words back, to fluster, make excuses maybe- but you don’t. You steel yourself and you don’t apologize because you meant it. Meant every word.

“Jesus, you really are soft, huh.” He mutters quietly, voice hardly carrying through the cold air. “Really fuckin’ soft.”

“Yeah. I am.”

He doesn’t say anything else, but he does walk a little closer. From where he is, right up next to you, Bakugou looks a lot different. It might just be the low light, but you could’ve sworn he was all soft angles then; all smooth skin covering a gently sloping nose, delicate lips curled up into the smallest of smiles. You think he’s beautiful then- like somehow, all of his blistering strength had gone molten instead of igniting. 

There’s not much left to say, and you’re out of jokes, so the rest of your walk is spent in silence. It’s a weird kind of quiet, something that sits heavy in your chest, warm and fluid- almost like it’s lulling you to sleep. There’s still a little anxiety rolling in your stomach, but that’s softened now too. You’re sure Bakugou would laugh at you if you told him, but he really did make you feel safe. If only in an belligerent and begrudging sort of way on his end. 

Another few minutes pass and you’re at the entrance to your apartment building. He hovers close behind you as you swipe your keycard, eyes watching the same way they’d done all night. He really is diligent when he wants to be apparently.

“Are you coming in?” You ask, lingering in the door way.

“Nah. I’m on patrol for a few more hours.”  

“Oh- yeah, okay, that makes sense.”

“You scared or somethin’?” He asks, squinting at you. “Go inside already.” 

You curl your fingers a little tighter around the handle, shifting your weight onto your other foot. It frustrates you a little- how he seems to see right through you when you can hardly ever tell what he’s thinking. 

“No- well, yes, but I get it, you’ve got other priorities.” You say, gently. “Go, I’ll be fine. Don’t let my weird paranoia hold you up or anything.” 

He just nods, adjusting the mask on his face as he turns away. Bakugou only makes it a few steps, just barely secluded into the shadows beyond the complex lights, before he’s turning around. Hand itching at the back of his neck, he plants his feet, regarding you with familiar red eyes.

“It’s not weird.” He says. “I’ll be back later. Don’t do anything fuckin’ stupid while I’m gone.” 

Then he’s turning around before you can say anything, his dark costume melting into the shadows. The air somehow feels colder when he leaves, empty almost, and you rush into your apartment complex as a result.

When you’re finally unlocking your door, and quickly relocking it behind you, the exhaustion nearly bulldozes you. You’d been so careful that day, not using your quirk just like Bakugou had advised, but in the end you figured it didn’t really matter- you were scared, absolutely terrified about some villian it didn’t seem like you could even prepare for. That would make anyone tired, weird quirk or not.

Collapsing on your couch with a sigh, you can’t help yourself as sleep quickly takes over.

--/--

You’re jolted awake by the sound of knocking, and, even in your sleep-drunk haze, you know who it is. You’d never known anyone else in your entire life who knocked as loudly as he did. It was like miniature bombs were going off against the glass. 

Bakugou is standing outside in normal clothes, thankfully shucked of both his hero costume and mask. He’s clad in sweatpants and a t-shirt, tapping his foot impatiently as you approach the door. You wonder how he’s not cold, how in the world he’s not freezing his ass off out there. You’d ask, but the exhaustion is still creeping in, piloting your body with hardly a quarter of as much energy as you would normally have.

“You look tired.” He says, taking in your appearance when you slide open the door. He lets himself in, brushing past you when you apparently take too long. “You fall asleep or somethin’?”

“Yeah- yeah, I did, sorry.” You yawn, rubbing away the sleep in your eyes. “Couldn’t help it. Was tired.”

“Oh.”

Bakugou seems a little stilted, hardly even looking at you, and when he does, it’s with a flush on his face. You just shrug his weird behavior off, not having the energy to ask nor the care to even remotely get to the bottom of it. As it was- you were dead tired. His weird mood wasn’t going to trump that apparently.

“You all good?” You yawn again into your hand, then stretch your arms high above your head. “No injuries or anything?”

“Nope.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s good. That’s good.” You trail off, turning away from him to gather your purse and coat off of the couch. “How was it?”

“I didn’t find them yet. If that’s what you’re asking.”

“No- well, that’s sorta- but not really.” You’re fluffing the pillows for him before you realize, gathering a blanket from where it was tucked away too. “I meant- like, everything go alright? Just general checking up stuff.”

“Why- you decide to care now or somethin’?”

“Don’t be difficult. I care. Wouldn’t- wouldn’t ask if I didn’t care to know the answer.”

“Fine.” He grumbles, cheeks going pink once more. “It was boring. Nobody was out tryin’ to pull anything.” 

“Well, that’s nice to hear, actually.”

You continue making up his pseduo bed, spreading the blanket over your cushions and folding it back neatly. It’s almost subconscious, the way your hands move even through your sleep-fog. Bakugou just watches, looking at you a little strangely. His red eyes flicker from you, to the pseduo-bed you’d made up for him, and then back again several times over. 

On the couch, there’s the normal blanket, but this time you’d also sacrificed one of your real pillows too. You figured that if he was going to go through the hassle of making sure you were safe, then the least you could do was spare him a good pillow. Still, the gesture seemed to stump him, and Bakugou just stared blankly at it. Then his eyes flicker back to you, something unsure in them.

You’re not used to seeing him like that. Apprehensive. Almost timid.

“Hope it’s alright.” You tell him, passing him to flick off the bright overhead light. “Thought it was about time for an upgrade. Take it as a show of my appreciation.” 

“Whatever.” He flusters a bit, but shakes it off quickly. “Glad you finally realized how shitty your throw pillows are.”

“Mhm. Sure.”

“You really that tired?”

“Yeah. Sorry. ‘s pretty hard for me to function after I’ve just woken up. ‘s really embarrassing.” 

“No, it’s-”

Bakugou seems to suddenly seize in place half way through his words, spinning the other direction like someone was puppetting his strings. You really start to wonder what had gotten into him in the few hours since you’d seen him last.

“Well, if that’s all,” You say, hiding another large yawn behind your gloves. Then you’re pulling at the material, freeing one of your hands. “Then I’d really like to go back to sleep. So, c’mon, hand out already, yeah?” 

He nods tightly, his whole face red. He won’t look at you, eyes hardly flickering up to yours for a second before he forces them back down. Another loud yawn escapes you, and that only seems to worsen whatever problem he’s having, because then Bakugou is dragging a hand down his face- stretching and pulling and tugging at heated skin like he’s in physical pain. Still, he holds his hand out anyways, refusing to meet your eyes.

That same subtle warmth floods you again, solid and sure where his hand meets yours. It’s muted now, a little softer, but still there. You’re half asleep, barely functioning, and you absentmindedly rub the back of his hand with you thumb, once, twice, and then pat when you let go.

He just looks at you, absolutely bewildered, and honestly- you’re not sure you have an explanation. There is no explanation. All there is, is your bone-deep exhaustion and the apparently uncharacteristic things it makes you do. Like shushing him when he starts to speak, which only seems to stun him more. Then you’re waving him off,  beginning to walk towards your bedroom without hardly letting him get a reaction in edgewise. You’d apologize, but honestly, you’re sure you’d fall asleep half-way through the words. 

“Goodnight.” You say absentmindedly, head lolling over your shoulder to look back at him. “Have a good sleep or whatever. See you tomorrow.”

Then you’re stumbling down the hall, just barely remembering to flick off the overhead lights. You hit the bed, flopping down boneless and sated. 

You’re sure it must take all over 10 seconds until you’re out again. Maybe even less than that.

--

hope u enjoy lovelies :)))

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#bakugou #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x self insert #bakugou fic #bakugou series #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou #mha fic #bnha fic #bakugou fluff #bakugou imagine

[cryinginthebackseat]

you’ve got more poison than sugar - part i

AO3    part ii

Fandom: Call Of Duty 

Pairing: Russell Adler x Bell

Words: 4.009

Summary: Russell Adler should have known better that it wouldn’t take an entire nation or continent to bring him to his knees.

Warnings: just swearings, sexual tension, blood, mentions of past abuse and brainwashing. adler being that manipulative asswipe like usual. 

Author’s note: i don't know what i'm doing. one moment, i was watching the walkthrough of the new call of duty game, found myself curious, acutely curious by that guy with the scars and shades on- a younger, shadier (no pun intended) Robert Redford in Spy Game and oh my... fast forward to 2 weeks later, here we are.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A house somewhere on foreign soil,

Where ageless lovers call,

Is this your goal, your final needs,

Where dogs and vultures eat,

Committed still I turn to go.

I put my trust in you.

A Means To An End - Joy Division (1980)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It's mystifying how little she talks. Or when she does, it's always in fragments. Like a crossword puzzle in your local newspaper, but several letters are missing. He initially thought maybe MK-Ultra fucked her head or worse, if it hasn't worked at all, but the more he watches her, the more he realizes it's just the way she is. And it's ironic because he named her Bell. He expected her to chime like a goddamn goldfinch yet here they are. 

But he won't be fazed. Russell Adler is a man who's stopped at nothing in getting what he wanted before, he sure as hell won't stop now for a close-mouthed science project.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“We've got a job to do, Bell."

It intrigues him, every time, the way the words trigger something deep within her psyche, the way her eyes change, her body stands a little straighter, like a machine ready to function at his disposal. It reminds Adler of one of those cartoons he watched when he was a kid about wizards and magic words, except there are no musical dance numbers playing in the background or a talking cricket perching on his shoulder. This is his power over her, over the USSR, over Perseus. That monstrous filth. It really does take a beast to tame another. 

Although he surmises calling Bell one would be superfluous. 

She barely looks like one, but Adler knows too well than to underestimate her. Just because Bell hasn’t shown her set of claws, that doesn’t mean she’s harmless, delicate, like a miniature China Doll in his breast pocket.

Bell never offered him her reply before, but now, now, she nods, head almost bows, obedient pretty thing, and says:

“Yes, Adler.”

So it goes.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It takes West Berlin for Adler to realize she’s left-handed. 

She wears her watch on her right hand, smokes with that same said hand only when she’s writing or moving her pieces for an impromptu late-night game of chess against Lazar. And she always wears her gloves all the time- leather, black, lined with silk and pretty, small buttons on the cuffs, covering those striking red nails underneath. Whether it is for the theatrics or an old habit of hers, he can't really tell.

He doesn’t know why he begins to take notice of these mundane details about Bell, but rationalizes because he’s never been in the same room with this version of her, post-brainwash Bell, for more than 10 minutes. And for all intents and purposes, there’s still a lot of question marks surrounding her character; who is she? Where did she come from? What is her connection to Perseus? 

Are they in a possession of a walking, breathing bomb about to destroy them all or the West’s only salvation?

He supposes he’ll find out soon enough.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Adler hears Bell from his table, typing busy on the computer- barely blinking- all soaked up in that caffeine-infused energy at 1 am. She's always like that, he learns, when it comes to working, always with that steel determination, pulling out all the stops as long as it gets the job done- that Soviet discipline at it's finest.

Reminds him a little of himself when he's young.

Adler walks up to her. 

“You done for the night?” A shake of her head is her only response. He sighs. “You should go home, Bell.” 

“You go. I’ll lock up behind you,” Bell replies, low and monotone; that youthful stubborn.

If she was any other person, he would probably commend her for such fierce willpower, but she is Bell, the walking conundrum, his ace in the hole. Call him paranoid, but the idea of her having the safehouse for herself does nothing but raises every alarm in his head.

“No, we’re going home,” he says instead, tone brooking no argument and she frowns at the screen, her fingers stop moving then looks up at him with those goddamn empty eyes. "Come on, it's late anyway."

She doesn't say anything. Adler wishes he could read her mind- or crack that lovely skull on the back of her head, dissect her brain, learn its secrets and answers. 

Adler has his gun with him. It wouldn’t take long. A quick, true shot to the heart to keep the brain intact. He’d have Hudson contact one of his people inside BND and he'd deliver the brain himself if he has to. They could do it. He heard they’ve been studying inmates' brains for decades now, anyway. 

Before he has a chance to entertain the idea further, though, Bell nods once and rises up from her seat. 

Bell walks past him. Her scent, like honeysuckle on ice, hits him like an uppercut in the face. Adler inhales, as if against his will. 

He thinks he could get drunk on it.

“Hop in. I’ll drive you back to the hotel,” he says once they’re outside, regretting the decision the moment the words left his lips, but he knows he can’t just leave her on her own at this late hour.

The irony isn’t lost on him, though, considering he just thought about unspooling her brain a few minutes ago.

Bell complies without a protest. Getting inside the passenger seat, wordless still, fingers toying with the radio. An angry, krautrock music comes blaring all over his car. Adler winces, but at least the riot is loud enough to muffle the one's brewing in his head. 

"How's your memory these days?" 

Bell shrugs. "Nihil novi sub sole." There's nothing new under the sun.

Good, he muses. The least she knows about herself the better.

Though that doesn't mean he's out of the woods yet.

"Listen, from now on, I want you to keep me informed if there's any new progress about your memory or if you've developed any new symptoms. I want to know everything." He steals a sidelong glance at her, making sure she is listening (she always does, but Adler needs an excuse)

(An excuse for what?)

"Alright, Bell?"

"Of course," replies the woman in question.

"Good." Adler shifts his attention back to the road. "Good." Taking a long drag, he considers trying to appeal to her sentimental side. It's not something you'd improvise last minute- at least not with someone you brainwashed to believe you are her mentor/confidant for the past decade, but he's itching to know where he stands with her.

"You know, I'm just tryin' to look out for you, kid."

Her lips twitch but the rest of her visage remains impassive and faraway, more like a flick knife than a woman. The correlation is uncanny.

That's when she inches closer. The space between them bridged. He freezes. Hyper-aware of just how dangerous this is, but can’t bring himself to pull back, to look the other way. Not when her hand reaches out to pluck the cigarette from his mouth, eyes still glued to his, and curls her lips around the filter. One heavy pull, and then she rolls down the window and tosses it out on the side of the road.

"Thought I'd reciprocate the sentiment."

And with that, she leans back in her seat before Adler could even process what has just transpired.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Welcome back to the land of the living, kid,” Adler greeted her, about a month ago. 

Park had insisted that he had to be there for her when she woke up (naturally, Adler had balked at the idea, but at the English woman’s fact-of-the-matter explanation, also because it had somewhat dawned on him last minute the logic behind her machinations- “both of you are supposed to have known each other for years now. If she doesn't see you by her side, she’s going to wonder why”- thus, here he was)

“How are you feeling?” 

Bell blinked owlishly and stared at the older man with those bottomless, cat-like eyes that had haunted him since January.

Her gaze eventually softened as recognition flickered across her face.

“Like someone just hit me in the chest with a bulldozer,” she said hoarsely. “Where are we?”

“St. Dismas’ hospital, Pittsburgh.” Adler got up and fetched her a glass of water from the table. “Although not a bulldozer, but bullets did. That, and you hit your head really hard on your way down. Thought we’d lost you there, Bell.”

Bell drank in silence. She’s still watching him, thinking. This was the first time he realized that he couldn’t exactly read her expression and somehow that threw him off.

“What happened?” she asked, one hand mid-air, like she was deciding which to touch first, hesitating and abandoned the idea. 

“You don’t remember?” She shook her head. Adler pretended to look remotely distressed about it. “The doctors warned me about this. It must have been because of the fall- heck, I could even still hear that sickening crunch from here.” He dragged his chair closer towards her bed.

“We were in Amsterdam. Remember Fohler?” she shook her head again. “Well, we’d been tracking this son of a bitch for months, but we were chasing him in Amsterdam. He was running away and climbed up some scaffolding. You were about to go up after him,” he recited the fabricated story he, Park and Hudson had crafted. “He shot you and you fell and hit your head against the pavement.”

Bell looked away first, silent. Her hand gingerly touched the back of her head and winced, albeit only slightly. 

Adler was almost impressed, if not, disarmed by how calm and composed her reaction was to all of this. But then again, after having had witnessed first-hand how the woman barely flinched under any kind of interrogation technique they threw at her- a personality built for wrestling tigers- he really shouldn’t be surprised. 

“Bell, what is the last thing you remember?”

Bell frowned. “Not much. I remember ‘Nam, but-”

“Vietnam? Kid, that was thirteen years ago.” Adler watched the way her throat bopped, like she was swallowing her own blood and the color drained from her face, just like the first time he’d seen her, and proceeded to drop the bomb:

“Bell, the year is 1981.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Bell dear, would you mind taking a look at this?" 

Park's voice sails from across the room. She says it like it's a compound word: Bell-dear. Like the two words belong together. Bell-dear. 2 syllables, 1 word, 9 characters and that just might be the weirdest thing he hears this year and he heard many things.

"Bell dear?" Adler asks much later, his gravel-and-smoke voice reduced to a whisper, when she delivers a document to his table.

Park shrugs as if that explains everything. "What? I like her." 

He's tempted to say you really can't put a term of endearment and someone you brainwashed into submission in the same sentence, but what else is new?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

They wind up in a bar. It’s called Die Stube and the place’s brimmed with artists and all sorts of leather-clad, Bowie-esque dramatic, chromatic blue eyelids young people chattering over a dirty cloud of smoke.

The two of them colonize a lone booth in the back. It’s dark and the quietest. She orders a beer and he, a scotch and they drink in silence. There are moments where her head would twist to the side, as subtle as a needle and survey the phantasmagorical scene before them, like studying something from a petri dish. 

While he’s watching her.

Only to tear his gaze away to the nearest object he can find.

It lands on his watch.

"It’s almost ten. Hudson's contact should be here soon," he announces, if anything to distract himself. She nods mutely in reply, as always, and runs a finger around the rim of her glass.

"The place ain't much of your scene?" 

She shrugs, like it's self-evident. "I didn't know this was a scene, though."

"Well, that’s West Berlin for you. A worry-free playground for the hedonists, hipsters and proto-electro NDW enthusiasts with drugs on tap," Adler says, sipping his drink in practiced nonchalance. "Always makes my head spin."

"I guess I remember it differently," Bell replies, tinged with something akin to begrudging. 

That warrants his full attention. "What do you remember?”

Bell shrugs again and lights a cigarette instead, menthol, one of those long, skinny cigarettes they only market for women; biding her time, making him wait. She lets the smoke flares from her nostrils so her eyes are veiled.

"It’s hard to explain, but I suppose it’s grittier?” she gesticulates, searching for the right word like she’s skim reading the entire Oxford dictionary in her head. “Bizarrely, infinitely grittier and dimmer? Like being in an underground tunnel and there's not much to see."

Interesting. Maybe she’s recalling one of her ops for Perseus or her mind is confusing her with the world on the other side of the wall.

“Maybe you’re remembering one of our clandestine ops here. It was a few years after Vietnam,” Adler supplies, passing over the tale like bait.

She falls for it, hook, line and sinker.

“Ah, I guess that also explains my fluency in German.”

“I taught you that.” It’s only logical, he decides, that she learned from him. She’s supposed to be his protégé after all. 

An elegant brow quirk. "You did?"

"Yeah, though you were already fluent in Latin, Russian, Vietnamese and Portuguese when we first met anyway. You have quite a natural ear, kid.”

She gives him a look. He really can’t categorize it, but it makes it a whole lot harder to fight against her stare.

 “What else did you teach me?” 

If they were anyone else, the lines could have a potential to entice, to seduce, that winsome, catty-eyelashes coquette, but they aren't anyone else and Bell does not voice it like that. Yet the implication behind the question stirs something in the pit of Adler’s stomach anyway, that tight knot of confusion as it is buried with something else and he finds himself, once again, uncharacteristically speechless.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

That particular question of her stays, even hours later, unbidden. Interspersed with her scent and face. 

His emotions are a minefield whenever she’s near now. It evokes that newfound rush of terror within him, like walking on a tightrope or being thrown into the pit to face hundreds of hungry lions, bare hands. It makes Adler questions his every decision, and he can’t have that in his line of work. 

Adler lights his sixth cigarette, contemplating everything, nothing. Anything to distract him from her. It's 4 am and he’s exhausted, but his mind won’t stop whirring. This isn’t like him at all- like he's lost somewhere in a Dali-style labyrinth that is his head and he wonders if this is a byproduct of his fear or fascination or confusion for the young woman.

He fears it is all of them.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(They're only 10 minutes away from East Berlin when he senses it, something akin to burning on his peripheral vision, pulling him like weight.

Bell is staring at him from across the seat.

He cocks his head slightly to the side.

Adler catches the quick, telling quirk of her lips, like she's about to smile but lights a cigarette instead.)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Did you hear that?”

Krauss has just crossed the wall and their soles are slippery from the rain. She's panting. Her breath is white like a fog. Adler muses it must be from the running, until his iris trails down to where her hand is clutching his jacket sleeve, the leather creasing like a modulation signal.

“What is it?” Adler asks, hushed. There are no Stasis here, but even one can't be too careful.

“The TV.” She’s gaping at the broken TV next to them. Adler looks at the said object, frowning, then back to her. “Y-you didn’t hear it?”

"Heard what? Bell, the thing's dead."

Bell withdraws from him. Stepping back until her back meets the walls, her eyes seeing and unseeing, like a lens finding focus in the dark, then she closes them, as if trying to regulate her breathing. Adler has never seen her scared shitless of anything before. The sight confuses as it intrigues him. 

"Bell, what's going on?" Adler steps closer, but he dares not to touch her. 

She shakes her head, dismissive. In just a span of seconds, Bell dons that mask she likes to wear again; deadpan and frustratingly distant. A spike of annoyance drives through him. Just when he thinks he can get through her, there she goes again, retreating behind her palisades.

"Nothing." Bell turns away abruptly and she’s walking again."Let's just go. The others are waiting for us."

He doesn't pry about whatever she heard on the TV- Adler knows better than to beat a dead horse, thank you very much- not even after they save her from Volkov's clutches, after she bashes his head against the steel door and reeks his blood all the way home, it seems superficial at the time.

Until two days later.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The day starts, as it mostly does for the team, with a briefing. 

Fifteen minutes in and something like a gasp pulls his attention to her. 

That’s when he notices it; her hands are shaking, coffee spilling out of the mug over her hand. A shatter follows. Her mug smashes to smithereens at her feet. She’s swaying, near collapse, like a house of cards about to fall, a hand on her nose.

Adler catches her before she tumbles to the floor.

“Bell!” His arm around her waist tightens, trying to keep her steady. Lazar rushes to their side in a flash and helps him move her to a nearby chair. 

"Jesus Christ," he curses, more to himself than to her as he watches blood, a bead of angry red, trickling down her nose. "Sims, get me a washcloth from the bathroom."

He kneels before her once Sims returns with a damp cloth. Nicotine-stained gloved fingers tentatively grasp her chin, holding her still. 

“Kid, you alright?” Adler asks, worry bleeds into his voice without him realizing it. He firmly presses the cloth under her nose, his other thumb touches the pulse at her throat- it's almost sickly affectionate. “Bell, talk to me."

Bell looks at him, discombobulated, like he's a figment of her imagination, then blinks. Again and again until she heaves a deep breath.

"I-" she hisses. One hand flies up to her head. "Fuck. My head.”

Adler’s eyes immediately search for Park’s. A knowing look passes over her face and he knows without saying that she's thinking the same thing, like they're attached to the same brain-wire:

MK-Ultra.

There’s a fraction of pause, then Lazar asks, "Should we give her something?” 

Before Park can voice her answer, Bell beats her to it. "I already took an anticonvulsant this morning. It should have helped.”

“Wait, this has happened before?” Adler asks.

Bell looks away, a hesitating look shadowing her face. He fears the worst.

“Bell…” he tries again, a slight warning to his tone.

She sighs loudly, as if mentally preparing herself before walking into a storm. 

“Yes. Two days ago."

His mind instantly refers to East Berlin, the TV. Trying to connect the dots in his head. It seems far fetched, but now he wonders if she saw something that triggers this. Although he's never read about this on other subjects before, the correlation is just impossible to ignore.

Fuck. He heaves a breath, willing himself to calm down, to think. They can't afford complications at times like these. Not when there's so much at stake right now.

Adler snaps his attention back to Bell when she tries to scramble awkwardly to her feet, swatting his hand away. The hand on her neck immediately reaches for her waist again and pushes her back down onto the chair. His grip's tight enough to leave marks on her skin, but he doesn't care.

"Bell, for fuck's sake, stay still or so help me," he says, exasperated, not letting go of her waist. 

"I feel better now." Stubborn little shit.

He is tempted to scream at her face and grab both of her shoulders and shake. “The hell you’re not. Stop fighting it. You’ll only make things worse.”

Her face sours, if only for a millisecond before it morphs into guilt. “I’m sorry.”

Adler watches her for a long moment. It’s only now that he realizes that he’s still holding her waist and the cloth on her face. 

He backs away from her like he’s been burnt. 

“You should have told me. I thought I made it clear the other night to keep me informed regarding this,” he scolds. 

“I’m sorry,” she utters again and she looks so pliable like this, a blank canvas perfumed with obedience and lethal mind. It makes him almost feel sorry for what he has in plan for her once the shit show is over.

“Look, just go back to the hotel and take a day off.” Her mouth cracks open. He raises a silencing hand. “That’s an order, Bell.” But she merely scowls, looking more like jagged ice than a person. Hudson may have just met his match, after all.

“I told you I’m fine.”

“That’s not how it looks to me.”

“It is. It’s my body and I know what I’m feeling, and I’m telling you, I. Feel. Fine.”

His jaw clenches. “Are you disobeying a direct order, agent?”

Bell doesn’t answer, but her whole face remains challenging and hard. Undeterred.

Adler holds his breath. He feels the whole room collectively does the same. It’s like staring down the barrel of a gun and there’s an awful sort of danger to be found in that. 

Just when he thinks an imaginary bullet would dig itself into his skin, however, Bell utters, “Of course not.”

And so the woman resumes to her normal, docile self at a drop of a hat. Even when Park steps in and whisks her out of her seat, drives her back to her hotel with Lazar on shotgun. 

It doesn’t assuage his worry, though. He’s still restless throughout the day, like a roaring ocean inside a bell jar. She’s never done this before, openly rebels against him. Now, the situation is just bad. Not casually bad or almost-got-shot bad, this is the-entire-Europe-could-turn-into-a-nuclear-wasteland bad, an-armageddon-waiting-to-happen bad. 

What if this is the beginning of her old self trying to scratch her way out of the surface? Adler’s blood goes cold at the thought. He is going to have to keep a close eye on this development.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

West Berlin - 1 am, local time.

“How is she?”

“Stable. I’ve administered another dose of Propranolol before I left the hotel. She should be fit as a fiddle in the morning.”

“Tell me, what do you think happened to her?”

“My theory? Traumatic brain injury. A cumulative product of torture, trauma-based mind control and chronic stress. I've read reports about cases like these before in MI6. None of them is still alive to recount the tale, unfortunately."

Adler grips the phone. 

“How long do you think we have?”

“Theoretically, 2-3 weeks tops.”

“But?”

He hears Park sighs on the other line. “But then again, none of the subjects I’ve encountered before were like her. So, I suppose it’s still a little too premature to determine at this point."

Adler kneads his temple, feeling the start of that familiar Bell-induced headache forms in his head. Can things just be fucking simple for once? 

“We don’t have that much time anyway, Park. And if Hudson gets a wind of this, he’ll want her gone by morning. I can’t let that happen. Not…” he pauses. “Not when we are this close.”

"What are we going to do about her, then?" 

Adler sighs.

"Raise the dosages of her drugs,” he says. “And keep an extra eye on her. I think we may be heading into uncharted waters now.”

Tagging: @mvalentine cause you said to tag you with everything i write so  👁👄👁

#russell adler #russell adler x bell #cod bell #cod #call of duty #call of duty black ops #call of duty cold war #cod cold war #alex mason #frank woods #helen park #lawrence sims #jason hudson #lazar azoulay

[itsdelicaterosi]

You Are In Love is the perfect song to describe Zoyalai

Okay, first of all I'm a huge huge huge YAIL stan so I was so excited when I listened to it again and realized that e v e r y t h i n g in it screams Zoyalai

One look, dark room

Meant just for you

THIS right here!! Both Nikolai and Zoya know more than anyone else all about the fuss and the charades and all the grand public things some people do to either win their favor, in Nikolai's case or try to court them, like in Zoya's. So THIS part that tries to remark that they're not doing it for the show, they are doing it for EACH OTHER and each other ONLY

Time moved too fast

You play it back

Buttons on a coat

Light-hearted joke

No proof, not much

But you saw enough

Do I need to explain this? This whole part is basically Nikolai during the whole two books. It always says that instead of going in deep waters and talking about their feelings, they just always keep it chill teasing each other and if light-hearted joke is not a great summary of 96% of Nikolai's dialogues with Zoya, I don't know what is

Small talk, he drives

Coffee at midnight

Of course they both would drink coffee at midnight and think it's a good idea (they would probably only drink tea because Ravkan babies and work past midnight anyway)

The light reflects

The chain on your neck

He says, "Look up"

And your shoulders brush

No proof, one touch

But you felt enough

I can't remember any mention of a jewelry piece in any of them, BUT if we change the chain on your neck for the dark blue ribbon on your hair that has the unfortunate effect of making him want to untie it

You can hear it in the silence, silence, you

You can feel it on the way home, way home, you

You can see it with the lights out, lights out

You are in love, true love

You are in love

Maybe it's personal, or maybe it's because it is one of my favorite quotes of the whole dang book but Her romance with Nikolai would never be bouquets of flowers and pretty declarations of love. It lived in the quiet they’d found in each other, in the hours of peace they were stringing together one by one is the WHOLE FEELING Taylor is trying to say in the chorus AS IN YOU CAN HEAR IT IN THE SILENCE AKA THE QUIET THEY'D FIND IN EACH OTHER

Morning, his place

Burnt toast, Sunday

You keep his shirt

He keeps his word

Before even admitting romantic feelings, they both had SO much domestic fluff vibes, like Nikolai just casually remembering which horse was Zoya's favorite and why and always making sure she had them

And for once, you let go

Of your fears and your ghosts

One step, not much

But it said enough

This part could be about both of them individually, but I don't why it reminds me more of Zoya. Almost half of her journey on the King Of Scars duology is about "opening the door" or something like, which meant to learn that being vulnerable and loving wouldn't make her weak, and that she didn't have to be perfect all the time. Also, can we talk about how traumatic it'd be to almost being sold off?!?!!! Because I don't see people acknowledging that enough. So in the end we see how she tries go past her fears of getting hurt and letting someone love her

You kiss on sidewalks

You fight and you talk

I can't express enough how important it is to me that before anything Zoya and Nikolai were colleagues, and then friends, and then close friends who have had to work with each other for a long time and they communicate and I know their relationship would be full of healthy communication!!!

One night he wakes

Strange look on his face

Pauses, then says

You're my best friend

And you knew what it was

He is in love

Don't you dare to tell me that after one particular long night of writing letters and reading treaties and traveling in between little towns, they both fell asleep in the table and Nikolai doesn't wake up startled and does this exact same thing DON'T YOU DARE

And so it goes

You two are dancing in a snow globe, 'round and 'round

And he keeps the picture of you in his office downtown

And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars

And why I've spent my whole life tryin' to put it into words

I don't have any proof but neither doubts that in his next years without having to be king and with peace in his country, Nikolai would honor one of his best friends dreams and dedicate his relentless and creative mind to make beautiful things such as an snow globe. Plus obviously he would have a photo or painting of Zoya in his lab just to spite her (although he would really love to see her when they're apart, and even Zoya would be secretly pleased with the whole thing)

And the whole understanding about love would obviously be Zoya realizing that the "that's what love does" saying of her mother couldn't be more wrong, as in [love] was a single, fragile thread, which grew stronger through connection, through shared hardship and honored trust

And thank you for coming to my rant about how Zoyalai and you are in love are perfection :)

#zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #zoyalai #king of scars #rule of wolves #grishaverse #leigh bargudo #taylorswift #taylor swift lyrics #1989 #you are in love #shadow and bone

[yrpreciousmoon]

Morioh Hi-Fi (5/25)

Title: Morioh Hi-Fi (5/25) All Chapters Here Fandom: Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure Pairing: Josuke x Okuyasu; Rohan x Reimi; Koichi x Yukako; more. Rating: T for now Description: In an AU where Part 4 never happened, it seems Stand users are still  drawn to each other.  Rohan Kishibe runs Morioh’s coolest record store,  along with the  world’s okayest employees: Koichi, Yuya, and Okuyasu.  They live happily  in their bubble of obscure music references and  hipster style points  until the fateful day when Josuke Higashikata  enters the picture. AN: Please enjoy the absolutely stunning artwork that Miima created for the fic!!! It is so thematically appropriate for this chapter too!

Track 04 : Spinning

Okuyasu paced up and down the aisle, practically vibrating with excitement as he examined the paper in his hands. “Okay. Okay...” His gruff voice came through the filter of a chewed fingernail. “Right. That makes sense. That makes so much sense!” He finally stopped and looked up at the boy leaning against the brick wall of the store. “Have I told ya you have a way with words?” “You may have mentioned it.” A small smile played on Josuke's lips. “Seriously, man. It's like... it's like poetry sometimes. Is that weird to say?”

“Yes,” remarked Yuya, who was idly flipping through a magazine on the other side of the room.

“Ah shuddup, you of all people know the importance of some pretty words.” Yuya looked up from his reading, considered this for a moment. “Fair.” “Anyway...” Okuyasu returned his attention to Josuke, “What I'm tryin' to say is, I really dig your interpretation, man. It's totally what Bowie was goin' for.” “Yeah?” Josuke shot him another lop-sided grin. “It didn't read too much like a research paper?” An enthusiastic shake of the head. “Nah, bro. Bowie wants you to think about his shit. He wants you to build a fuckin' thesis statement around it.” He reached out and placed a hand on Josuke's shoulder, eyes intense. “Listen, I gotta introduce you to this one friend of mine... He loves 'Ziggy Stardust,' he's obsessed. He'll talk to you about it for hours if you let him, it's like goin' on an acid trip...” “Yeah? Have you ever been on an acid trip?” “No but that's beside the point.” A chuckle. “What is your point?” “Oh, uh...” Okuyasu paused, having momentarily forgotten. “I guess just that... I'm glad you liked it. I was worried I might be leanin' into the foofy stuff a little too hard.” “What?” Josuke tilted his head. “Foofy?” “Like...” Okuyasu tapped his chin. He looked over to Yuya, who was definitely still eavesdropping. Yuya took the cue and shrugged.

“I don't know, man, you always call my sense of style 'foofy,' so I guess it means tasteful and refined.” He pointedly adjusted his black cravat.

Okuyasu clicked his tongue, indicating that there were several other adjectives that came to mind first, though he thought better of using them.

“So you mean 'flowery,' maybe?” Josuke tried, “Err... experimental?”

“Yeah, yeah, you get it! So like, I wasn't sure if I should change directions and go a little more masculine instead. But I'm glad the experimental stuff really did it for ya.”

“I can do masculine too, y'know,” Josuke said with a raised brow, challenging. “Oh yeah?” Okuyasu replied, instantly picking up on his playfully competitive tone. “Okay, then how 'bout I hit you with a one-two punch this week?” He took a boxing stance and Josuke mirrored him without missing a beat. “I'll find ya somethin' more flowery AND somethin' with some big balls.” “Sounds right up my alley,” Josuke said, throwing a pulled punch that Okuyasu easily deflected. “But you're gonna burn through those 'Five Records to Blow My Mind' pretty quick. Are you trying to get rid of me?” “Course not, bro. Just tryin' to sell you some records so Rohan doesn't fire me.” He side-stepped, tried to jab Josuke in the ribs, was too slow.

“Alright, well I can't have you cast out on the streets. Go ahead, show me what you've got.” Josuke tapped his knuckles against the side of Okuyasu's head and was ready to gloat when the other took advantage of the contact, pulled him forward and caught him in a headlock. “Aah! No fair!”

“Yeah, Nijimura always plays dirty,” rang the cool voice from behind them, as Yuya appeared from seemingly nowhere. “Jeeee-zus,” Okuyasu gasped, hopping forward and releasing Josuke. “Toldja not to sneak up on me like that, ya freakin' ninja.” “Oh, get over it. I just wanted to come see which Of Montreal album you're about to recommend.” Okuyasu pursed his lips at this. Yuya flashed a smug grin. “I mean, you were talking about Mikitaka a second ago, right? And experimental music? Not too hard to see where you're going with this.”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm so predictable, losin' my edge, I get it.” Back to Josuke, he added, “Count Dorkula here is actually right. Of Montreal is my buddy Mikitaka's favorite band... they're this American group. Totally insane. I can't exactly say I get 'em, but you might. Experimental – check. Flowery – check.” He nodded his head in the direction of the 'O's and walked both of the other men over.

Josuke's fingers immediately drifted over the various album covers, exploring the chaotic, 1960s-looking psychedelic scenes. “Hmm... 'The Gay Parade?' ” he read aloud.

“You wish,” replied Okuyasu.

“What's that even supposed to–”

“Look, The Beatles already did 'Yellow Submarine,' you don't need to listen to its little sibling.” Okuyasu dismissed the idea with a wave. Josuke simply nodded, as if this statement made any sense at all to him. “Nah, dude... this is what I was lookin' for...” He pulled out a record featuring what appeared to be several women woven together by the locks of their wild hair. Josuke smiled to himself, and Okuyasu knew exactly what was going though his mind. “Looks kinda like Yukako, right?” snickered Okuyasu, and the stare Josuke gave him let him know that his hunch had been dead on.

“Ah... 'Coquelicot,' ” observed Yuya, oblivious to the synchronicity happening between the other two.

“Eh?” asked Josuke.

“ 'Coquelicot Asleep in the Poppies,' ” Okuyasu elaborated, as if this clarified anything. Josuke continued to stare. “Well... technically the full title is 'Coquelicot Asleep in the Poppies: A Variety of Whimsical Verse.' ”

“It's foofy, alright,” Yuya muttered.

“...Man, my English is pretty good, but you may as well be making these words up,” Josuke said, squinting at the album cover.

“Hey, you're the one who's always writin' fancy, big words! Just trust me on this!” Okuyasu blushed fiercely. “I know it sounds weird, but I think you'll get somethin' outta it.”

Josuke shook his head, nudged the other's arm. “C'mon, don't pout... Of course I trust you! You were right about Ziggy Stardust after all.” He snatched the record away to make a point, inspected it some more.

“Hell yeah I was right!” Okuyasu shot a triumphant look over his shoulder at Yuya, who was snickering and retreating. Evidently he'd lost interest in this exercise now that Josuke had agreed to humor Okuyasu's bizarre recommendation. “So here's the thing, Josuke. 'Coquelicot' leans way, way into that weird, like, character stuff. This one's about fairies.”

“Fairies?��

“Yeah. I guess. Look, man, I'm not saying you're gonna like it, but it WILL blow your mind. This is gonna open up a lot of very weird doors for you. A gateway drug. And I'm gonna introduce you to Mikitaka afterwards, and he's gonna take you down the rabbit hole.”

“Uh huh. Okay, you've sold me, now before I change my mind... what's the other one you're sending me home with today?”

“Ahh.” Okuyasu closed his eyes, stood up a little taller. “Now this is a little more up my alley, personally. So if you hate it, don't use those pretty words of yours against me, okay? But I think you'll be into it. ...You better be into it.” He stalked a few rows further down the aisle and quickly plucked out an album with a stark red and black cover.

Josuke leaned in to suss out the writing. “Queens of the Stone Age... This is the album with big balls?”

“The biggest,” Okuyasu confirmed proudly.

“Hm. I think I liked your 'love-making and fucking' analogy better.”

“Yeah, well, this one fucks. It's all sweat and testosterone and muscle cars.”

“You've got a way with words yourself, y'know, Oku.”

The little nickname didn't get past him, and he swelled with the knowledge that Josuke had given it to him. When was the last time he'd gotten a nickname... one that wasn't an insult? “Ah! Flattery won't get you a discount, Josuke...”

“I had to try.”

Okuyasu slapped him hard on the back and, his job as the music guru completed, he promptly started off towards the register. He paused for just a moment to crane his neck and inspect the record that Yuya had picked up in the meantime – letting out an ominous “Hmmm” before continuing on his way. When he finally turned around again, he was struck by the deeply thoughtful look on Josuke's face.

“Um... Everything okay, dude?”

“Yeah.” Josuke shook himself out of it. “I was just thinkin'. I don't have anything to do tonight, so... we could listen to these here, maybe?”

Okuyasu's eyebrows crept up towards his hairline. “Oh? Huh. Yeah, sure! Why not? You're gonna get whiplash listenin' to these two back-to-back though, I'm warnin' ya!”

“We could take a break in-between. You get to take a break, right? We could grab a bite to eat or something. You're buying though, since I'm already pushing it getting these.” He tapped the records in his hand and smiled.

Okuyasu beamed back at him. In truth, he hadn't been too sure if Josuke was really into this budding friendship of theirs but... here he was, specifically asking to spend a couple of hours just hanging out with Okuyasu, shooting the shit about his favorite thing. A cool guy like Josuke – the kind of guy who probably spent most nights crashing parties and wooing the ladies – and he wanted to chill at Dark Pink? Damn. Okuyasu must be doing something right.

“Hey, hang on,” came Yuya's voice, breaking into the thought. “Since when do we get breaks?”

“Since you agreed to cover the store while we go out to eat. Thanks, man!”

Yuya just glared.

.

Ultimately, the two did not take a break, though not for the sake of poor Yuya; instead, they found themselves doing so much laughing and analyzing and waxing philosophical while Coquelicot spun on the turntable that it hardly seemed necessary to discuss it over snacks afterwards. And so with a little bit of coaxing Okuyasu had agreed to put on the second record immediately and ride out this little marathon of theirs.

While the music was infinitely different this time, heavier, the album still evoked the same jokes and back-and-forth-struggling-for-words that the first one had. And likewise remained the quiet, pensive moments where words simply wouldn't do. But that was okay, because somehow just by looking at him, just by being there, Okuyasu knew what Josuke was thinking and yeah, he was totally right. As always.

Sometimes Okuyasu would get especially excited about a particular bassline, grab Josuke's shoulders and tell him to really listen, and though a tiny part of him worried that his new friend might deem this behavior very uncool, he had a feeling Josuke would just get it.

.

At one point near closing time, Rohan had come in to check on something. He stared wordlessly at the two of them splayed out on the floor as he passed. Josuke flashed him a peace sign.

“...Yuya, you can go home early if you want,” Rohan called over his shoulder, “Since apparently Josuke works here now.”

Yuya slammed down the magazine he was perusing. “Yeah – really? That sounds good to me!” He grabbed his jacket and then raced from the store before anyone could argue. “Smell ya later, assholes!” he hollered from the front steps.

Frozen mid-air guitar and still on his back, Okuyasu tipped his head as far back as it would go to catch a glimpse of his boss. “Hey Rohan, umm... you're not mad at us for doin' this or nothin', right?” he called.

Rohan stepped back into the room to study them again. Arms crossed, hip leaning hard into the door frame, he raised a brow and took a long while to reply. “Nah. You two are mostly harmless. Frankly the least of my worries at the moment. But you have to actually do your job if anyone comes in.”

“I have been!” Okuyasu replied, “Honest! And anyway I'm just helpin' a customer here with his purchase.”

Josuke punctuated the statement with a smile and wave.

“Yeah, yeah. Don't forget to lock up.” Rohan disappeared into the office again for a few seconds, returning with a small portfolio that Okuyasu suspected held some unfinished drawings. Rohan rarely let Okuyasu peek at his artwork, and even more rarely appreciated his clumsy feedback about it, but there was no harm in asking, right?

“Hey, whatcha got–”

“If anything gets broken or stolen,” Rohan interrupted, “it's coming out of your paycheck. And Josuke will owe me another round.”

Josuke laughed. “We'll see about that.”

Okuyasu sat up slowly, watching his employer cross the floor to the exit. “Uh. Yeah, sure, man, you got it,” he called, and received only a flick of the wrist as both a reply and farewell. As Rohan vanished into the stairwell, Okuyasu looked over at Josuke. “...You guys went out drinkin' together?” He wasn't sure if he loved this idea or hated it.

Josuke avoided his eyes, suddenly something tense in his expression that Oku couldn't quite put his finger on. “Oh, yeah. We ran into each other the other night. I was sayin' hi to Koichi and Rohan showed up.”

“Oh.” Somehow, that was enough put Okuyasu's mind at ease. “That makes sense. Cool.” He hugged his knees to his chest and turned to look at the turntable that was still diligently spinning. The music quieted, dissolved into some indistinct chatter that indicated a change in songs. “Ooh, hey Josuke, pay attention to this one, okay?”

He closed his eyes, indicating that Josuke should do the same. And then he surrendered to it, the slow and sultry bassline washing over him, followed in short order by the drums and a ferocious guitar melody. When the surprisingly gentle vocals came in, he let out a breath that he'd been holding in. Yoga and meditation had nothing on this.

“You know...” Josuke said quietly from behind him, “I get what you meant earlier when you called this music 'masculine', but – it's really more than that, isn't it?”

“Mm?”

“It's like...” Okuyasu heard the other boy sit up, felt him lean his weight against Oku's back. “...There's a lot of energy. Raw energy. Pent up frustration. Pain. And... strength. It sounds like someone who's been knocked down again and again, but who always gets up and keeps fighting.”

“Yeah...” Oku turned this description over in his mind. “Yeah, dude!"

A moment passed, and Okuyasu could tell Josuke was debating if he should say what he was thinking. “It's just interesting that you said you... identify with it.” Okuyasu felt him shift again. “I mean... Do you feel like–” He paused, let the aggressive music fill the space around them, “–this?”

Okuyasu let his chin rest on his knees. “Sometimes, I guess,” he mumbled.

Josuke hummed softly. Okuyasu had a feeling the other boy knew there was more to it than that, but he didn't press. Instead he said, “You're a pretty cool person. You know that, right, Oku?”

But Okuyasu didn't reply; didn't want to say 'not really' and then get lectured about it. He'd been there enough times with Koichi to know better. So instead the two of them simply sat there together until long after the music had ended and the turntable clicked into its infinite, silent spiral along the inside of the record.

#jjba #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #morioh hi-fi #fanfic #fan fiction #part 4 #diamond is unbreakable

[thiswasinevitableid]

If you are still taking meet ugly prompts, sternclay 22 nsfw???

Here you go!

22: you’re on a date with this awful, awful person who keeps getting under my skin because my friend and I have been eavesdropping all night and your date says something that makes me snap … I thought it was a first date, not a three year relationship.

Note: I interpreted "first date" loosely. Slight content warning for mentions of blackmail, including blackmailing someone into a relationship.

It’s hard to tell where the sting of gin on his tongue ends and the sharpness of the pines through the window begins. The combination would invigorate him were it not for the conversation playing out at the other end of the short bar.

“...Last time, I’m not leaving.” The bartender, a mountain of a man who Joseph would love to climb, has been dealing with a persistent suitor for the better part of an hour. They’re the only people in the place; ski season is far behind them and summer isn’t here yet.

“C’mon, you’ve got no reason to hang around.”

“Yeah, actually, I do.” The bartender finishes cleaning glasses, turns to put them up.

“Don’t you fucking turn your back on me! I’m not through with you, oughta drag you outta here by your hair you cheap, dull-”

The next word is an unkind name for men who, like Joseph, prefer men in their beds. The bartender doesn’t respond, though his hands tighten around the glasses. Damn it, the world did not go for a second war just for him to let everyday evil slide by.

“That’s enough.” Joseph stands, moving to where the other patron wobbles on his stool, “him being uninterested doesn’t give you the right to abuse him.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, pretty boy.”

“I know that if you don’t leave, I’ll escort you out.”

The man throws up his hands, spits at Joseph’s feet before stumbling and stomping for the door, “Three years, Barclay, you’re throwing away three years in one night, and you’re gonna regret it. I’ll make sure you do!”

“Don’t think you will.” Barclay mumbles as the door slams. He’s twisting his dishrag to the point it’s ripping.

“Three years? Good lord, I thought he was just a run-of-the-mill drunk.”

“Nope. If you can call him tracking me down every few months a relationship.”

“I’m sorry.” Joseph pulls out his handkerchief, kneeling to clean up the spit, “still, I apologize for getting in the middle of a, um, lovers quarrel.”

“Please don’t, I’m glad you stepped in. Don’t know what I woulda done if you hadn’t.” His brown eyes study Joseph more closely, “have I seen you here before?”

“Through there.” He indicates the pass-through to the kitchen, “I come here as often as I can since the food can’t be beat.”

“Thanks.” Barclay smiles, starts wiping the counter, “yeah, Dani usually tends bar after the kitchen closes but her wife is down with the flu. Only seemed fair to let her take time to look after her.”

A big heart to go with a big frame? Joseph’s in big trouble.

“You, uh, you up here for the lakes or…” He’s now directly across from Joseph, sliding a fresh gin and tonic in front of him.

“I’m a private detective, a one man operation as of 1949; Kepler’s the optimal spot for me, since it’s between the mountain towns and the eastern edge of the city. That’s a lot of people who might need help. Not to mention lots of the residents closer to the lakes are wealthy, the kind where they’re always looking for someone to trail a straying spouse or track down the pearls their no-good layabout son sold for dope.” He lets a little bit of scorn enter his voice in hopes of letting Barclay know he doesn’t always agree with his clients, but that a man has to make a living.

Barclay rolls his shoulders, then leans forward, “any fun cases so far?”

Joseph pulls off his jacket as he thinks; if Barclay’s really interested, they might be here awhile.

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

He’s an early riser, so the banging on the door to his house (and office) interrupts his breakfast and not his rest. Joseph opens it and then fights to keep it that way.

“Detective Hayes. This is a surprise.” He smiles.

“I’m not here to catch up, Stern. I’m here so you can answer one, simple question: where were you between eleven-thirty and midnight last night?”

“In the dining room at Amnesty Lodge, talking with the bartender. If you need to verify that, just go to the Lodge and ask for Barclay.”

Hayes glowers in a way he recognizes as, “this won’t be an easy case like I assumed” and turns without a word. Two officers follow him. The third, Dewey, hesitates. He’d always been a pal. Joseph shoots him a confused look.

“Guy got shot in the woods near the Lodge last night. His only known contact in town was the bartender, and everyone else we questioned said the two had been arguing for a few days. Hayes thought the cook was a shoo-in to book but, well, his alibi aligns with what you said. Plus, some ranger Owens talked to said he saw Barclay talking to someone in the dining room at the time of the murder. Guess he was walking by the window on his way to-”

“Dewey! Get the hell over here!”

As his informant scurries up the hill to join the others, Joseph steps back inside to finish his toast. He only gets through one piece before the phone rings, summoning him to the managers office at Amnesty Lodge.

Madeline “Mama” Cobb sits behind her desk, whittling with the kind of force that suggests she’s doing this in place of putting her knife to another use.

“Barclay tells me you’re a detective.”

“That’s right, Miss. Cobb.”

“Great. I’m hirin’ you to find out who the hell killed his useless ex and is tryin to frame him for it.”

He sits down, intrigued, “I thought the police were handling the investigation.”

“I ain’t inclined to trust ‘em. Barclay can’t think of someone who’d set him up, and the police don’t think he was. Yet. But I happen to know there were scraps of a shirt Barclay owns on the trees nearby and that the fella who died had this on him.”

She holds a crumpled paper out. He unfolds it, reads, “Come to the old mill at a quarter until midnight. B.” He looks up, “meant to stand for Barclay, one would assume?”

“Yep. Whoever wrote that did a decent job forgin it.”

“How can you be sure it’s fake?”

“Because I got plenty of documents where Barclay describes a time. He just uses numbers, not words like ‘quarter until.”

“Did you suspect a set-up before you lifted this from the body so the cops wouldn’t find it?” Joseph tucks the note into his inside pocket.

“Course I did. You’re new in town, but there ain’t a person here who’d say Barclay is anythin but gentle. He ain’t about to shoot someone in cold blood, even that fucker.” She sighs, takes off her hat and runs a hand through greying hair, “that boy is as good as a brother to me. I know he’s been through some rough shit. He don’t deserve to get caught up in some goddamn murder scheme. So name your price, Mr. Stern; so long as it keeps him outta trouble, I’ll pay it.”

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

He’s elbow-deep in Barclay’s dresser when the cook returns from his shift; he gave Joseph permission to search his room for signs of whoever took his shirt, but still, the other man doesn’t seem pleased with his presence.

“I’m sorry, but I have to be thorough. I’ll be out of here as soon as I can.”

“S’fine.” Barclay slumps down on the bed. After a moment he murmurs, “I know Mama hired you, but is there anyway I can convince you to quit? She, the Lodge doesn’t have much cash to spare this time of year. I don’t want anyone going without on my account and, and maybe this will all blow over if I just lie low, y’know?”

“It might. But until I think that’s the outcome, I’m inclined to agree with Miss. Cobb that we should work to keep you clear of this. And” he watches Barclay stand, moving to the window so he won’t have to see Joseph rifling through his life, “I promise that if it comes down to getting paid or bankrupting the Lodge, I’ll stop taking my fee. This is a good place and, um, it clearly means a lot to you. That makes it worth some belt-tightening on my end.”

“Thanks.” Barclay stares into the woods, then looks over his shoulder, “Joseph, I-”

It’s only because the mirror is above the dresser that he sees the black barrel peek from the trees. With no time to yell, he dives forward, pulling Barclay to the floor as the first bullet makes shards of the window.

“What the fuck?!” Barclay covers his head as another shot flies over them

“I think we just confirmed Miss. Cobb’s theory!” He pops up, fires once, and drops back down. Whoever’s in the trees isn’t expecting someone armed, so in place of another bullet they get breaking branches.

Joseph gives chase, leaping out the window and sprinting into the trees. Were they in downtown L.A, hell, even if he was still in Chicago, he’d have a better chance of staying on his target. But there’s no paths, no short-cuts, and every tree looks the same at this speed, cloaking the shape in the distance. Worst of all, he discovers that instead of dead-ending at a brick wall, he dead ends at a rockface.

Oh, and his hand is bleeding. He must have cut himself jumping out the window.

It looks like his investigation just took on a bodyguard element, and his wish to spend more time with Barclay could end with them both looking like swiss cheese.

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

“You could talk to Duck.” Barclay finishes bandaging the slash on the back of Joseph’s left hand, “he works in the state park near here and knows a ton about the layout of the woods. There, not too tight?” He sits back on his heels as Joseph tests the tightness of the bandage.

“It’s great, big guy. Um, I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from.”

“I don’t mind it” he winks, “pretty boy.”

His visit with Duck the next day, while informative, doesn’t give him much insight into how their assailant disappeared, especially when Duck points out that the rock face he ran across is over a mile long and hard to climb without equipment or a death wish. At least the ranger outfits him with a map with written-in details; most are about trails that are likely to be muddy (and thus hold prints) or spots where a person might be able to hide. And some hike recommendations, just because.

He tries not to think about taking Barclay on the one to a secluded lake and fucking him under the stars.

His schedule alternates between sitting in his office taking and making calls, shadowing Barclay when he’s out on errands or otherwise vulnerable (he’s spent more than a few nights on the floor of his room, that velvety baritone talking to him until they both fall asleep), and scouring the woods for clues.

A jay heckles a squirrel, which surrenders it’s pinecone and scrambles along the rocks. He’s wishing he could be so nimble when it climbs up and then...disappears. Following it, he discovers what he dismissed as endless rock is an optical illusion; the rocks above and behind align with the ones in front and below to make it seem as if it’s a flat face. But when he climbs over the bottom rock, he finds a narrow slot canyon. One big enough for a human.

Fifteen minutes of granite scratching his back later, he’s at the other side of the rocks. Smoke curls up his nose, and he trails the scent to a cabin which, according to Duck, is on a strange pocket of private property, just up a frontage road. Stranger still is the sign out front.

I.C All

Tarot, Palm Reading, and Other Psychic Services.

He knocks as wind chimes sing lazily around him.

“Come in!”

The first room is divided by a curtain, the half he’s in a rather eclectic waiting room. The dining room and kitchen are probably on the other side of the pink and yellow cloth.

Waiting for him in the next room is a man with a distinctly beatnik air about him, from his red glasses down to his brightly colored shawl and shoulder length hair. Laid out before him is a tarot deck, crystal ball, and several black candles. But that’s not what concerns Joseph.

“Before I sit down, can you ask your friend hiding in the bureau to come out?”

“Fuck” the beaura hisses, “uh, I mean, uh, there ain’t, uh, fuck-”

“It’s alright dearest, I suspect we may all benefit from this.” He gestures for Joseph to sit, “Apologies, but my hope was you were either a client I could turn away or one in search of a brief reading that I could perform before returning to more...pleasurable activities.” He grins as none other than Duck Newton steps from the creaky wooden bureau, looking like he’s been wrestling a very amorous tiger.

“Afternoon, Joe.” Duck sits on the nearby couch, “didn’t take you for the fortune tellin’ type.”

“I’m more interested in whether Mr…”

“Cold, but my friends call me Indrid.”

“Whether Indrid has noticed anyone coming and going on his property without permission?”

“I can’t say that I have, though it’s hard to do so; the walkway is guarded by Beacon, our dog, and everything but the walk up to the cabin is fenced off or, well, a massive wall of rock.”

“...Come with me.”

Soon, Duck is studying the slot canyon while Indrid worries his lower lip.

“I had no idea this was here.”

“No one did. It ain’t on any of the maps, and I never heard of anyone findin it on accident.” Duck pulls back, popping his hat on as he turns to Joseph, “this got somethin to do with Barclay?”

“I think whoever shot at us used this to get away. For all we know, the person who killed Mr. Douglas did the same.”

“To think, I encouraged Barclay to come here even more often once he told me his predicament; I thought no one could approach us without me seeing them coming. No, no this will not do at all” he shakes his head, “he needs to go see her.”

“You know he won’t, sugar.”

“He must. It’s the safest place for him. And the last anyone will look.”

Joseph looks between them, but before he can ask Indrid simply says, “You should ask Barclay about the Greenbank House. That story isn’t ours to tell.”

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

“Home sweet home.” Barclay grumbles as he and Joseph step out of the car and into the shadow of a mansion in the most exclusive neighborhood in Lakeshore. It took all of his friends telling him he should go--and Joseph assuring him it’s location meant it wouldn’t look like he was trying to run away from the scene of the murder--for the cook to agree to a stay at his family home.

“What are you afraid of?” Joseph keeps his tone gentle as they climb the front steps. His friend had simply said he had unhappy memories of the house and would rather live in a mausoleum then stay there.

“It’s more dread. You’ll see when we get inside.” He knocks on the front door. It’s opened by the least congruous face imaginable; a man with greying hair and a groundskeepers clothes. When he sees Barclay, a smile bursts across his face.

“Barclay! How are you kiddo?”

“I’m...I’m okay. It’s good to see you Thacker.” He offers a genuine smile as he opens his arms and gathers the older man into a hug. When they separate, Joseph offers his hand and introduces himself. Having an extra guest delights Thacker, and he ushers them in with a promise that he’ll have rooms ready to go in a jiff.

“How’s Maddie doin’?”

“She’s good, and she’ll still slug your arm for that nickname.”

“Good old Maddie.” Thackers cheer falters, “do you wanna go see your ma? If I didn’t know you were comin, gonna guess she didn’t neither.”

“Yeah. Yeah I should go see her. Joseph, you don’t, uh, you don’t need to come with me if you don’t want to.”

“It’s only polite to meet my hostess.”

Barclay leads him up a flight of stairs, then down a hallway where dust substitutes for walllpaper. Waiting for them in a red and orange toned bedroom is a woman with greying, black hair and a face not unlike Barclay’s.

“Dear heart” she rises from her armchair, drawing her son to her, “you came back.”

“Just to visit, Ma. Uh, this, this is Joseph. He’s a friend of mine. He’ll be staying here too.”

She studies him with a critical eye; Joseph thought Hayes had a judgemental gaze, but she could beat him any day.

“Hmm. The more the merrier, as she always said. How long will you stay?”

“A few weeks.”

She nods, regards the photo of another woman above the mantelpiece as if seeking council, “You’re not here for pleasure.”

“No.” Barclay rubs his arm, “I...I got into some trouble. Andrew Douglas was shot the night I broke things off with him. The cops are leaving me alone for now but someone else wants me dead.”

The woman’s face suggests she both recognizes and despises that name, “We will keep you safe.”

With that, she sits once more and picks up her book. Barclay hesitates, then bends to kiss her forehead before pulling Joseph from the room.

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

“How long ago did your mother die?” Joseph kicks his legs up onto the ottoman. Barclay alluded to her passing previously, but never gave details.

“When I was eighteen. Car accident. She went off the Kepler bridge. They, uh, they never found her, and just found part of the wreck.”

He intends to leave it there; they’re on the back porch overlooking the garden (“Thackers pride and joy”), early summer dusk on their skin and their arms occasionally brushing from the edges of their chairs. No need to kill the mood further. He just wanted some kind of context for the house and the widow within it.

“Ma never recovered. She loved mom so much that losing her was like losing a lung; she can get through her days, even enjoy them, but it will always be hard. She tried to keep mom around however she could; the whole goddamn house is the same as it was the day she died, even my room. She wanted me to stay too, but Mama offered me the job and I just...I couldn’t live in a haunted house anymore.”

Joseph tips his hand to the right, extending his fingers into the space between them. Barclay takes it and holds tight.

“I’m so sorry, Barclay. You had every right to leave, to make your own life.”

“I know.” He runs his thumb across Joseph’s knuckles, “okay, pretty boy, my turn for a tough question; why’d you really leave the police force.”

It’s not that tough a question, not when he knows the man he’s confiding in won’t go running to Hayes, “I joined the force because I wanted to solve mysteries and help people. But it turned out there was a lot less seeking justice and a lot more chasing off drunks who just needed a place to sleep off benches and harassing certain neighborhoods. Then I worked out that the chief was taking bribes from all kinds of places and was naive enough to think someone might listen to me and help me when I told them. Instead they threw me off the force. In hindsight, it could have been worse; they could have killed me and covered it up.”

“Jesus.” Barclay polishes off his drink, contemplates the ice, “glad they didn’t. Both because, y’know, world is better with you alive, but, uh, also because if they had we’d never have met.”

Joseph meets his eyes, smiling in a way that makes the other man blush, “that would’ve been a damn shame.”

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

This is turning into one of the stranger cases he’s worked, in good ways and bad. The good is that his work days, when he’s not on the phone or digging through his notes, are spent with Barclay. His friend insists on cooking, has even brought him lunch at his desk, and usually the two of them have dinner with Thacker in the garden. They read or play chess in the study, take walks through the labyrinthine grounds, and even swim in the open air pool. Barclay in his swim trunks is a fine sight indeed. Joseph wonders if he ever brought boyfriends here, ever kissed them in the blue water or let them have their way with him in some hidden patch of lawn.

But it’s not all roses and revelry. The more he roots around in Andrew Douglas’s past, and in Barclay’s, the more questions he has. Why did Andrew come and go? What happened to large portions of Raquel and Sylvia (Barclay’s parents) fortune? And who wants to kill someone with no criminal record, no known enemies, and no heirs? If it’s the same person who murdered Andrew, killing Barclay would remove their fall-guy, so that makes no sense as a move.

His best lead comes when he learns Barclay’s family and Andrew Douglas lived in San Francisco at the same time. A friend in the city agrees to do some sniffing around there for any information that might point towards their killer. Two days later, he calls back and says he’s sending Joseph a “fucking brick” of evidence in the mail.

It’s been several days and he’s still waiting. He dozed off in his room after dinner, intending to cat nap, but it seems he’s overshot; it’s after ten. At least the mail must have come by now.

“Barclay? Did anything come--you have five goddamn seconds to explain yourself.”

His friend stammers from his seat on the bed, surrounded by papers, photo’s, newsprint, and a manila envelope with Joseph’s name on it.

“I, uh, I, it isn’t-”

“This is all evidence collected for the purpose of protecting you, so if you have something you’re afraid of me finding you’d better start talking now.” He snaps, looming over the other man from the edge of the bed.

Wordlessly, Barclay hands him a piece of newspaper. It details a kidnapping, one that ends--happily--with the victim being returned to their family. Four names are mentioned, but none of the perpetrators are the man in front of him.

“I was sixteen. A stupid kid. I had this perfect life and I got a little stir crazy, a little bored, and fell in with some other rich kids who felt the same. It started out harmless. Then James, the guy in charge, decided we should dream bigger. I was so, so fucking in love with him, I didn’t try to stop him. Not right away, anyway. I...I was their look-out for that kidnapping. But I couldn’t let them keep it up.”

“You struck a deal.”

Barclay nods, “Best part is, I managed to do it without either of my parents getting wise. We moved here soon after. I thought I could put it behind me.”

Joseph takes a closer look at the paper. The byline for the article is one A. Douglas.

“He blackmailed you.”

“Not at first. He, he” Barclay takes a shaky breath, “he went to mom first. Asked her how much she’d pay to keep my name out of the papers. James had told him about me and he was going to spread the story. That’s why she was on that fucking bridge in the middle of a fucking storm; she was meeting him.”

“Oh, Barclay.” Evidence crumples under his knees as he sits to comfort his friend.

“Then he came to me; now not only was I paying to keep the story quiet, I was paying to keep him from telling Ma why Mom died.”

“She died because of a blackmailer, wet cement, and a weak guard rail. Not because of you.”

Barclay looks at him, eyes coffee cups of sorrow, and simply shakes his head. Then he crumples forward and Joseph catches him, holds him tight while he finishes his story through his tears.

He paid off Andrew for three years. Ned Chicane, owner of the Kepler Museum of Curiosities, helped him with the family accounts so Raquel wouldn’t notice anything suspicious. Whenever Andrew came around, he demanded Barclay act as his “boyfriend” for the duration of the visit.

“Everyone must think I have terrible taste in men.”

Once they establish that, as far as Barclay is aware, only Ned knows about the blackmail, Joseph cups his face and says, as firmly as gentleness allows, “From now on, I need you to be truthful with me. You said you didn’t want me putting the pieces together because you were ashamed, but all I want is to help you. I can’t do that if there are big things you’re hiding from me. Understand?”

Barclay nods, and apologizes the entire time they’re gathering the strewn pieces back into the envelope.

“Barclay?” Joseph cuts him off and eases him down until he’s on his back, “I forgive you. Now please go to sleep before you pass out from stress.”

The cook smiles at him, eyes already fluttering closed, “You’re the boss, Joseph.”

He ignores all the urges that kickstarts in him and leaves his friend to sleep in peace.

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

“Y’know, kind of wish we’d known each other back then.” Barclay looks up from where he’s helping Joseph sort the new evidence on the floor, “when I was in San Francisco, I mean.”

“It would have taken more than just a change of scene for me; my family does alright, but I’d have been way outside your circles.”

“So? Maybe then I coulda had a boyfriend who was ‘disreputable’ for bullshit reasons instead of real ones.”

“I’ve never once been disreputable.” He looks up from the photos in his hand, “and is that your way of telling me something, big guy.”

“Yes. I, uh, you can tell me to knock it off, but I, uh, I think you’re swell. It’s okay if you don’t feel that way but you said I should be…” he trails off as Joseph leans into his space,”honest.”

He kisses him once, so brief it barely counts but the larger man whimpers and tries to grab him before he pulls away.

“If we’re going to do this, I need you to promise me that you’ll tell me to hit the brakes if you need to; it won’t change my dedication to the case.”

“I promise.” There’s no dishonesty in his face, just boundless hope and affection.

“In that case, big guy” he lunges forward, pinning him to the rug, “you’re all mine.”

An unexpectedly high whine leaves his lover.

“You like when I’m rough?”

“Uh, uh huh, so much, people always want me to be and I don’t want to, wanna be, wanna beAHHHhhnnn” he arches his back as Joseph bites the patch of skin just below his beard.

“You’re so gentle, big guy, I thought you’d go straight to making love but” another bite, another gasp, “I think I’d better fuck you instead.”

“Please.” Barclays hands glide up to cup Joseph’s face and guide him down into another kiss.

Joseph rolls his hips forward and his sleeves up as speaks, “Now that you mention it, I can see how things would’ve gone if we met earlier. I was an obedient son but not beyond sneaking someone into my room when my parents were away” he undoes Barclay’s shirt, keeps grinding against him and licking his lips as he feels him getting hard, “or maybe we met down here, and you’d sneak me into the backyard.”

“Fuck, yes.” Barclays chest heaves as Joseph cards his fingers up through the dark hair to tease his nipples, “god, if how I, fuck, feel now is a clue, I’d have been so fucking mad for you.” He makes a charming groan as Joseph tongues his nippls and then nibbles his way up to his ear.

“It’s funny” Joseph kisses his cheek, “I knew so many guys like you on the force. Not you now, used to hard work and worry, but you then; spoiled and softer than a boiled egg.” He allows himself a moment of savoring their cocks teasing each other through their pants before continuing, “always wanted to discipline them, because it was clear no one ever did.”

“Please show me how.”

“Why?” He grins down at him, toying with his left nipple until it’s bright red.

“Because I wanna be good for you, Joseph. Wanna be every fantasy you ever had.”

“...Lord god almighty how am I supposed to say no to that?” Joseph undoes his suspenders, laughing at Barclay’s triumphant smile, “you’re a dream, big guy.”

He crawls so he’s straddling Barclays face, cock dripping pre-cum onto his lips. Barclays tongue keeps peeking out from between them, but doesn’t go further without permission.

“Since this is disciplinary, you don’t get a say in how it goes. You’ll take my cock as long and as deep as I want it, because I’m superior to you and you’re here to do what I say”

“Fuckyeah” Barclay paws Joseph’s thighs, opens his mouth so he can guide the head in.

“That, ohyes, that being said, if it’s really too much, tap my thigh twice.”

Barclay nods to show he understands, but is already pre-occupied sucking his cock like he’s starving for it.

“A good start, big guy, but if I just wanted my cock wet I’d have gone swimming.” He cups the back of Barclays head in both hands, “I want something to fuck, and your face is it.”

The man beneath him moans, fucks the air uselessly as Joseph pushes further in. He finds the resistance of his throat with a half-inch to go, and decides that’s good enough. He pulls halfway out, pushes back in, repeats the process a few times before finding his rhythm. Weeks of wanting mean it’s hurried and greedy, but the resulting moans suggest Barclay approves.

“You look so good like this, Barclay. God, if you’d been some fresh-faced officer, one look of those doe-eyes is all it, shit, would’ve taken for me to make this the only discipline you ever got. Any time I needed to put you in your place or just, fuck, just needed to let off some steam, I’d do this, get my, my cock in your mouth so often you’d run out of spit and be thankful for my cum in, in it’s place.”

Barclay is groping him again, eyes bright and lips managing some upward curve as his cock forces them apart.

“Then again” he tenderly massages Barclay’s scalp, “there’s no reason I can’t do that in this universe. Oh, ohshit, Barclay-” his words desert him as he cums, the other man swallowing eagerly and sucking him clean before he pulls out.

Joseph glances over his shoulder, “Can I take care of that for you?”

“Fuck, please?”

He rolls off of the cook, stays on his side and slips one arm under his shoulders. Then he sets his palm on the monstrous bulge in Barclay’s jeans and sets to work.

“I, I should unzip-”

“No” he kisses him, “we’re surrounded by evidence that I can’t have you cumming on. Don’t worry, I’ll clean up the mess you make cumming in your pants like a teenager.”

“Promise?” It’s an odd thing to say, but Joseph thinks he understands.

“I promise.” He quickens his pace, Barclay’s grunts growing louder when he does, “I’ll take care of you, big guy. I’ll look after you. You don’t have to lift a finger when I’m around.”

“Joseph.” Is all the reply he gets, Barclay already turning as cum spreads across his fly and clinging to the detective. His breath is hot, stays shaky even as his cock stops pulsing.

“Barclay? Baby, are you alright?”

“So fucking good, babe. I, I uh” he holds him tighter, “this is the first thing to make sense to me in years. Loving you, having you in my life, I get how we fit together so easily. Everything else, the murder, Ma, this person lurking around the last place that feels like home waiting to hurt me or hurt Mama or someone there, all of it, it’s so goddamn tangled I’m worried it’ll never get straight.”

Joseph rests their cheeks together, “We’ll figure it out, big guy. I promise.”

#sternclay #agent stern/ barclay #TAZ amnesty #noir au #detective au

[og-danny-dorito]

[ Favorite BNHA Boys’ Reactions To You Holding Their Face ]

if you’re on bnha/jojo simptok you know EXACTLY where i got this idea from

𝕓𝕒𝕜𝕦𝕘𝕠 𝕜𝕒𝕥𝕤𝕦𝕜𝕚 :

➢ lMAO the first time you touch his face he is SCREAMING KDJFNSKJ-

➢ it’s mostly because he didn't get a warning first of all, and second of all he doesn't really like people touching his face in general anyway so like obviously he’s not for it the first time

➢ if you ask really nicely or try to offer some sort of repayment for it (an example being to do the dishes when it’s his turn if you’re living together or to pay for dinner next time you go out if you’re not) he’ll consider it though, and will begrudgingly comply to your wishes

➢ but, fortunately for you, he ends up liking it a biiiiit more than he thought he would to say the least 😂

➢ as soon as he looks you dead in the eye and says “just get it over with”, your hands are on his face. to his surprise though, he ends up being a little bit less annoyed by it and more... soothed

➢ the feeling of your hands on his cheeks, gently circling your thumb over the softer areas of his skin, the tension in his jaw melts away. his shoulders feel less rigid. his muscles less sore. it’s sort of a subconscious reaction by that point, but regardless of how much his body is telling him that he likes the contact, he’s still going to deny the red that comes up to his cheeks and spreads over his face like wildfire

➢ “No, I’m not blushing- what do you think I am? I’m not soft or anything like that... NO STOP DON’T HUG ME-”

➢ definitely the type to deny that he likes it like the tsundere he is, but gets a little bit pouty when you do take your hands away. won’t ask for affection but definitely gives you subconscious signs that he wants to be Held™

𝕒𝕚𝕫𝕒𝕨𝕒 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕥𝕒 :

➢ the best way to get his attention actually!!!

➢ you see, this walking personification of sleep deprivation is almost CONSISTENTLY wrapped up in his work one way or the other, whether it be subconscious or upfront

➢ he really does try his hardest to not be so focused on work all the time, but he gets consumed by it really easily since he’s a workaholic and runs on the adrenaline of getting as much paperwork done in one night

➢ it’s not uncommon for him to loose focus of the things around him, but having you there with him is good at grounding him so he doesn't start to stress over small details and stuff like that

➢ usually when you walk up and frame your hands around his face, he’s a little bit surprised at first and doesn't know how to react since he doesn't receive such intimate affection (and never really has). he gets used to it eventually though, and it becomes sort of a subconscious habit to just lean into your touch and smile a little bit at you

➢ will occasionally give you a lingering kiss on your palm when you do it, looking into your eyes in a way that makes your stomach feel full of butterflies

➢ probably says something like “What is it, kitten?” or “Hey.” while grasping your hand in his

➢ warning!!! this WILL lead to a cuddle session that you wont be able to get out of. be prepared to be smushed between aizawa and all 3 of his big ol fat cats for the rest of the day/night if neither of you have anything to do

𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕣𝕠 𝕥𝕠𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕥𝕤𝕦 :

➢ YES okay LOOK i fucking love all of the soft shit that ya’ll come up with about my boy Fatgum here and i’m here to fucking contribute because i love him 😤

➢ to fully understand his reaction, you must first know that this man is an absolute sucker fo any kind of affection you give him regardless of the context

➢ he dishes out enough affection to keep you assured that he loves and appreciates you in every way, which will almost always comes with some of the sweetest compliments imaginable

➢ he knows exactly how to make you feel loved since he likes having the same kind of thing done to him, and so when you return it he’s over the moon

➢ it doesn't even catch him off guard when you do it to be honest. he just sweeps you up in his arms and spins you around, telling you how cute you are and how much he loves you. if not that then he nuzzles into your hand and grins, his whole face lighting up at the sensations of warmth radiating between such a small contact area

➢ he’s another one that immediately wants to cuddle after and probably cancels his other plans so he can spend time with you. he’s just SOMFT for the face holding p l s,,, do i t

➢ says somethin along the lines of “I love you, honey bun!” or “You’re so sweet!” cause he LOVES you and i’ll be damned if this man doesn't use food-related nicknames with his lover

➢ 10/10 will do the same to you if permissible and DEFINITELY will find other creative ways to offer you more affection in return

𝕕𝕒𝕓𝕚 / 𝕥𝕠𝕦𝕪𝕒 𝕥𝕠𝕕𝕠𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕚 :

➢ this one is kinda depssing compared to everyone else KJSFNDK LMAO IM SORRY PFF

➢ okay so like,,, mans isnt big on affection for a number of Reasons and so obviously he’s gonna be a little confused, but the reaction itself is kinda what raises some red flags and rings alarm bells considering it’s kinda uncharacteristic of him

➢ the first time you did it was by surprise even though he could clearly see you reach for him. he moves his head back quickly, sucking in a breath and raising his hands a little to block something that wasn’t coming. that’s already kind of alarming by itself, but his expression...

➢ you don’t think that you’ve ever seen dabi scared. not like, alarmed or on guard or anything like that, but genuinely, truly scared. scared like something was coming for him. like he was a little kid again, back in that place-

➢ the best course of action here is to back up and put your hands up, giving him some space to recuperate. he’ll drag his own down his face after that, seeming to let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and avoid making direct eye contact with you

➢ it’s very likely that he’ll jut leave without a word after that and might not come back after a few hours. you’ll have to ask him directly what happened to which he’ll give you some basic details, but he’s not going too into depth since ehe doesn't want to bring all that shit back up after he expertly kept it down for so long

➢ if you really want to do it you need to give him a warning every time you do, and he’s really only in specific moods for it on select days anyway. it’s no offense on you, he’s just not all that affectionate ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

➢ a good alternative is to try to hold his hand when he’s not doing something. he might give you a weird look, but the fact that he’s not pushing you away says that he might actually enjoy it a little bit. he won’t say anything about it though, god forbid he talk about his f e e l i n g s

➢ OKAY jesus christ onto more fluffy shit

𝕜𝕖𝕚𝕘𝕠 𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕒𝕞𝕚 :

➢ oop- touch starved who??

➢ i know that like,,, in canon he doesn't really express much of his bird traits that kind of signify some of the more Feral parts of his brain but like?? i think that there’s very specific traits that he exhibits that can either be shrugged off as normal behavior or are like explicitly bird-like and receiving affection is definitely the latter

➢ now i don’t know that much about birds but i know that when you pet them sometimes they’ll coo or do that trilling thing so i’m thinking that he would probably do the same thing if given the chance

➢ cuddling with him is probably the way you found out about it though, so it’s no surprise that when you gently cup his face with your hands and stroke his cheek with your thumb he makes a low vibrating noise that comes out on instinct

➢ he gets super embarrassed and has to explain himself through endless stuttering, but after you tell him that “It’s alright, I think it’s kind of cute actually.” he feels a little bit more comfortable with sharing intimate moments like that

➢ being raised to be a weapon means that he didn’t really receive the affection that he should've when he was young, so he might be a little awkward at first, but after like a week of doing it he kind of just rolls with it

➢ like aizawa, it’s a great way to get his eyes off of work and on you instead, but he pretends to be aggravated with it just for the sake of eliciting pointless banter between you two

➢ says something like “You tryin to get my attention, baby bird?” or “What, am I not paying enough attention to you?” just to seem like he’s indifferent but definitely gets pouty and grabs you by the waist if you take your hands off of him

[ ~Thank You For Reading! And If You Have Any Requests, Be Sure To Contact Me!~ ]

#bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #bakugo headcanon #bakugo headcanons #bakugo imagine #bakugo imagines #mha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugō #mha bakugou #bnha bakugo #bnha bakugo x reader #bnha bakugō #bnha fluff #mha fluff #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha aizawa #bnha aizawa #aizawa shouta #aizawa headcanon #aizawa imagine #aizawa headcanons #aizawa imagines #aizawa x you #aizawa x reader #bakugo x you #mha taishiro #bnha taishiro #taishiro toyomitsu #fatgum

[bffsoobin]

Dulce Periculum

➤ Halloween!au, highschool!au, (vague)80s!au, punk!yeonjun x reader, general horror, ghosts, fluff, angst

↳ when yeonjun’s best friend dares the two of you to spend Halloween night camping in the abandoned old school your whole city thought was haunted; you think nothing of it. After all, there was no way the rumors of spirits that would follow you home were true, and you really wanted the prize from winning the bet.

Warnings: general horror themes, breaking and entering, underage drinking and smoking, mentions of drug use, ghosts, mentions of blood, hauntings, creepy shit in general so don’t read if you’re sensitive/not a fan.

Word Count: 4,994

A/N: I hope no one is surprised that I wrote an actually scary Halloween fic 💀 this was so much fun and totally captured all of the things I really love the most! It also felt so good to write another long fic for Yeonjun since I definitely don’t do that enough. As always, I didn’t proof read or edit this, but I hope you all enjoy it anyway! (also pretend this gif is dark hair Yeonjun for the vibes)

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

“Seriously?” Yeonjun lifted a dark eyebrow as he popped a potato chip into his mouth. You held out your hand to silently ask for one that he set in your hand with no hesitation. Your usually populated lunch table was eerily empty today, and even inside the walls of your high school, the chill of the October air had you leaning into Yeonjun’s body to soak up his perpetual warmth. Across the table, Johnny sat on the top of a chair, exaggerating his already insane height as he spoke down to the two of you. 

“Seriously, man! The place is haunted. My cousin went there once a few years ago and-”

A laugh bubbled out of your throat at the sight of tough looking Johnny; donning his classic black leather jacket and silver belt chains, a half burnt cigarette glowing eerily orange at the end with a thin streak of smoke leading it’s way to the ceiling, visibly frightened over the idea of a haunted old school. 

“You’re losing it if you think the place is actually haunted. Johnny. It’s just a town legend for gods sake. People just go there and get high and fuck. It’s called Grave Academy. You think that shit is for real?” You spat, disbelief soaking every edge of your voice. You loved a good horror story just as much as the next fucked up teenager, but there was no fucking way that half burnt building was actually haunted. Beside you, your boyfriend had reduced himself into a fit of giggles, draping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you until you were almost sitting in his lap. He pressed a kiss to your cheek, the cool metal of his lip piercing making your nose crinkle. 

“I love when you act like that,” he whispered, gently biting at the lobe of your ear before laughing even more at the gagging noise Johnny had begun to project into the air. Yeonjun backed away just as suddenly as he had descended on you, taking his scent of mint and smoke with him.

“What’s your point, Johnny? Just tryin to scare us?” Yeonjun asked, balancing his chin on his palms as he stared lazily across the table again.

“The point is a dare,” Johnny began, leaning forward as if he were about to tell a secret only your ears could hear. “I dare you to spend Halloween night at Grave Academy. Then you’ll see how haunted that place actually is.” He took a long drag off of his cigarette, ignoring the pointed throat clearing of a cafeteria worker you knew for a fact smoked at least three a day while sitting in the parking lot. Johnny waved her off and reached into one of his jacket pockets, producing the worn leather wallet that he kept on him like a religious talisman. From its folds he produced a crisp, wonderfully green 50 dollar bill and held it between his fingers. Your eyes widened at the bill, and if it weren’t for Yeonjun’s hand on your thigh stalling you, you would have been launching yourself across the table to snatch it from Johnny. “I bet you,” his voice was muffled around the cigarette, “this 50 dollar bill and a six pack that the two of you couldn’t spend a whole night there without getting spooked.”

You and Yeonjun exchanged incredulous looks as Johnny continued to watch over the two of you. 

“Well, yeah,” Yeonjun announced, standing so abruptly that the chair he had once occupied was sent skidding awkwardly against the tiled floor. He extended a paled, jewelry decorated hand across the table and waited for Johnny to meet it in the middle. As soon as their hands connected, the smirk on Yeonjun’s face widened. “It’s a deal.”

-----

Halloween of ‘87 brought along frigid whipping winds that cut to the bone. You and Yeonjun had layered up in all your warmest clothing but he still had to crank up the heat in his old car as the two of you drove to the abandoned school to meet up with Johnny. With your hands tucked underneath your legs, you grumbled, “it’s way too cold for this shit, Jun.” Still focused on the road, Yeonjun hummed in acknowledgement.

“Got another idea for how to make 50 bucks and get a free case of beer?” He finally glanced over to you, eyebrow arched in question as you pouted. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll warm you up when we get there.” Despite the chill of the air, a warm blush sprouted on your cheeks that Yeonjun only smiled at as he made the final turn before crunching the gravel of the parking lot under the tires. Johnny was already there, leaning against the side of his car with a freshly lit cigarette balanced between gloved fingers. Seconds after Yeonjun parked the car, Johnny was next to it in two large strides, leaning down and knocking on the driver’s side window. Yeonjun pushed the door open, forcing Johnny to step back instead of getting nailed in the legs with the heavy metal. 

“Hello to you too,” Johnny grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest like a scolded child. “Nice of you to finally fucking show up.” Yeonjun laughed as he rounded the car to pop the trunk and haul out the copious amounts of blankets and pillows you had insisted on bringing. 

“What, Johnny? Afraid out here all by yourself?” Your boyfriend teased as you scooped a pile of blankets into your arms. Johnny exhaled through his nose, throwing his hands in the air. 

“Well fuck, Yeonjun. I don’t know, is it wrong of me to be afraid of the ghost of the little kid who literally got possessed and killed all of his classmates? Or the fact that all the kid’s spirits are stuck here? Plus, it’s Halloween so you know...the dead walk among us and shit.” He was shifting on his feet, taking intermittent drags from his cigarette as he spoke. You snickered to yourself, the weight of the blankets in your arms making your muscles a bit sore. 

“Can we just get this over with?” You ask loudly. 

“I would love to,” Johnny nods, patting Yeonjun on the shoulder and gently shoving him toward the old, slightly crumbling building. After the initial fire, the lot had been bought and rebuilt as a halfway house for troubled youth. The company ended up going bankrupt and the building was left to rot. 

“If you two make it out alive, my money and beer are yours.” Yeonjun nodded as a gust of wind ripped through the lot, sending a complaint flying from your mouth as you glared pointedly toward your boyfriend. He took the hint easily, maneuvering his blankets under one arm and placing the other at the small of your back. 

“See ya tomorrow, Johnny,” he waved him off easily, pushing you forward through the rusted, overgrown gate. You heard Johnny peel out of the parking lot just as you and Yeonjun stepped onto the first cement block of steps. An old sign hung at the top of the entrance, paint chipped off in large strips that have disintegrated with time. For a moment, you hesitated, your chunky black boots seemingly stuck to the surface under you. 

“C’mon,” Yeonjun encouraged, walking up the next four steps until he wrapped his free hand around the tarnished iron handle. “Aren’t you cold?” He asked, prompting your feet to move behind him. You wouldn’t admit it to Yeonjun, but a slight feeling of anxiety was beginning to make your palms sweat. Producing a flashlight out of his pocket, Yeonjun readied himself to step into the building. 

The door opened with a high groan, it’s hinges crackling underneath the weight of Yeonjun’s push. From your spot just outside the door, it was hard to understand the layout of what was once considered a grand building. Hiding slightly behind your boyfriend’s broad shoulders, all you could see was part of a staircase which surely had steps rotted away from years of disuse. A sudden fear for the integrity of the floorboards shot through you, and if you had had a free hand, you would have clutched it into the soft material of Yeonjun’s jacket. 

Forever fearless, he took the first step inside the building and hummed thoughtfully. 

“Well,” his dark mass of hair swished around as he looked side to side, “no ghosts that I can see.” You knew he was joking for the sake of your comfort, but you couldn’t bring yourself to rally back as you took a tentative step inside. From this point, you could see the interior of the entry hall in its full glory. 

Wallpaper, which you assumed was once a gentle cream color, was peeling in jagged, messy strips to expose the inner structure of the house. A more recent addition, the various colors of spray paint from other visitors, struck a stark contrast with  Above you, a dangerously loose looking chandelier hung. It was small enough, but still obviously made with a tough metal that had begun to fall down with the water-logged sagging and cracking of the plaster ceiling. The image of it falling down had your stomach churning. Maybe Johnny had been right. 

Slowly, the two of you made your way inside, surveying the floors through the measly yellow light of the flashlight until you found a good spot to place your blankets. Although it was “good” in the sense that there were no massive holes in the wall or ceiling to expose you to the cold, you still felt uneasy. As you set to work laying down a thick patch of blankets to protect you, Yeonjun took a lap around the room to see what he could find. This room, like all of the others, had streaks of spray paint on almost every surface. Most of it was harmless, and it almost gave you comfort to know that so many other people before you had come here and made it back out alive. Not that anyone would miss you or Yeonjun if you didn’t. Another shiver, this one not borne from the cold, ran down your back. Once you’d made a successful little nest, you found the will to walk over to Yeonjun again. 

He was slouched a bit, studying something with a surprising intensity. When you walked up behind him and slipped your hands under his jacket-mostly to warm your hands- he startled a bit. 

“Did I scare you?” You teased, pushing your face into his back as you nuzzled up closer. 

“No, just surprised. Can I steal the flashlight?” Pouting, you handed it over and resumed your snuggling in hopes that he would finally catch the hint. If you were going to be stuck in this creepy house all night you might as well have some fun. The vague thought of stealing a cigarette from Yeonjun’s back pocket crossed your mind, and your hand was well on it’s way until he muttered under his breath. 

“What?” 

“Just- look at this,” his voice was higher pitched, bordering a bit too close on surprised for your liking. Your mind buzzed as you slid to his side to lean into the point of interest. While you were making up the blankets, Yeonjun had been messing with what seemed to be an inconspicuous old blackboard, shut tightly due to years and years of misuse. Somehow, he had managed to slide it open, revealing a second layer of blackboard underneath. For a second, you were going to make a joke about skipping school and forgetting what a blackboard looked like- until you saw the writing. 

Inside the ring of light casted by the flashlight, a sentence made of slightly messy, too close together letters stood. 

“Don’t let him catch you.” 

Neither you or Yeonjun moved as you processed the words. 

“Jun,” your voice was wavering, choked over the tears building in the back of your eyes. “Maybe we should-”

“No, I’m sure it was just someone here before who messed with it. It wasn’t even that hard to push and there were obviously other kids here before us.” He turned on his heel quickly, putting your backs to the wall and taking your hands in his calloused palms. His nose and cheeks were red from the cold, but he still looked the image of perfection. 

“Still cold?” He asked, eyebrow cocked as he leaned imperceptibly closer to you. All thoughts of fear vanished, replaced quickly by the heat that swamped you upon seeing the gleam in his honeyed eyes. You couldn’t ignore the way the black metal of his lip ring glinted in the low lighting. 

“Y-yeah,” you confirmed quickly, tearing your eyes away from his lips just long enough to get the message across. Swiftly, he pressed his lips against your own, the cold brush of his nose skimming against yours making you giggle. He laughed back, using his hands tangled in your hair to keep you steady as he walked you backwards in a direction only he could see, deepening the kiss until you forgot that you were deep in the heart of Grave Academy. 

----

Morning came surprisingly fast after you and Yeonjun had worn yourselves out to your heart’s content. When you woke up, it was to the soft sound of the fall breeze rustling what was left of the leaves on a nearby maple tree. In the stark daylight, the building felt like much less of a scare than it did last night. As you laid on Yeonjun’s chest, blankets piled high over your body for insulation, you almost felt at peace. Even the once ominous looking spray paint on the wall now made you chuckle as you read the curse words and artist tags that overlapped in a rainbow of colors. The movement stirred Yeonjun awake, his eyes blinking slowly until he finally adjusted to the daylight. 

“Hey,” he croaked, voice thick and full with a surprisingly restful night of sleep. “Feel up to a beer later? Celebrate our survival?”

You smacked his chest playfully out of reflex, silently reveling in just how easy this bet with Johnny had turned out to be. Your pile of protective blankets slipped down your back, exposing you to a rush of cold that made you frown. 

“How about we get going? I’m starving.” 

Yeonjun took no more convincing than that, fully motivated by the idea of food. It took almost no time at all to fold up all the blankets and make sure you hadn’t left anything behind. 

“Oh, the flashlight!” You stomped your way back over to the blackboard where you’d left it, feeling much bolder in the sunlight. You pocketed the flashlight easily, tucking it away in the jacket that used to belong to your father. As you straightened back up, you came face to face with the same board that had almost sent you straight home last night, only to see that there was nothing written on it. 

The blackboard stared back at you, totally blank. The cramped, messy words from yesterday night had completely vanished. Not even a trace of wiped off chalk stayed behind to suggest that Yeonjun may have erased the words without you noticing. A sick feeling washed over you, nervousness balling in the pit of your stomach until you felt like you could pass out. 

“Y/N?” Yeonjun called, whining as the blankets weighed him down and his stomach growled. His voice snapped you out of your stupor as you quickly turned, striding toward him in confident steps to assume him- and yourself- that everything was just fine. 

----

“Yeonjun,” you hissed, leaning across your desk to better catch his attention. He turned lazily, half asleep as a result of the 20 year old projector video. “Did you steal my pencil?” You accused, slightly annoyed that he would have the nerve to take one of the very few school supplies you still bothered to bring, even if just for show. His eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head. 

“No, why the hell would I take your pencil? I stopped taking notes in sophomore year. Are you sure you didn’t just drop it?” 

Violently, you shook your head. 

“I already looked, Jun! It’s gone! I literally just had it!” Anger bubbled in your chest as you abandoned all reserve. Yeonjun’s eyes went wide with concern as the teacher turned toward you and shushed loudly. 

You spent the rest of the day in an angered stupor, having to borrow a pencil from the nerdy kid who salivated over you every day in biology. It bothered you much more than it probably should have, but losing the pencil seemed to set off an odd emotion within you. You were many things, but you were never disorganized or forgetful. There was no way you simply lost the pencil. 

----

Senior year crawled by and your missed days of school stacked up quick. You and Yeonjun wasted the days away, sharing cigarettes and liquor bottles until the day was over. On one surprisingly nice winter afternoon, the two of you went for a walk. The route was innately familiar, as you’d been walking it since you were both young children. As you curbed the corner near Mrs. Berger’s house, Yeonjun stopped dead in his tracks. 

“Did you see that?” He asked, grasping at your forearm and making you slip a little on a patch of ice. 

“Did I see what?” 

“That- over there!” Yeonjun pointed toward a patch of bare trees laced with snow. There was nothing odd among them, but he was clearly convinced. “You don’t see that?” He hissed, an edge of fear in his voice that made you glance around for possible threat. 

“No, I don’t. Yeonjun, are you okay?” 

“Seriously, Y/N, now is not the time to fuck with me,” he pleaded, pulling on your arm harder. He was scared. 

“Yeonjun, let’s go, let’s just go back to your house, please, you’re scaring me-”

“SHIT, go go go!” Suddenly he yanked you into the snow covered yard to your right to avoid the slip of ice as the two of you sprinted, hand in hand, not stopping for a second until you reached his home. 

Chests heaving, you sunk to the floor with tears in your eyes. Yeonjun slumped into the couch, hand resting on his stomach as he tried to calm himself. 

“It was-” he gasped loudly, “a little boy. He was wearing like-like a fuckin’ school uniform? Just standing there like a- a little demon. And then he started to walk, and when I realized he was coming near us I just fucking panicked.”

If you weren’t already breathless, the words would have sucked the air right from your lungs. 

Don’t let him catch you.

----

You and Yeonjun had made a vow to never speak of that day again. Silently, you both had an inkling of what was going on, but neither of you wanted to admit it. Who would? 

Two days later, the two of you sat in the parking lot of a fast food joint, passing a cigarette back and forth. Neither of you had slept more than a few hours, and you were starting to feel it as the pull of another tension headache came to wreak havoc. Yeonjun said nothing as you closed your eyes for a few seconds, allowing yourself to succumb to a comforting darkness. The pain began to subside as you let yourself tire, the steady sound of Yeonjun’s breathing lulling you even further. 

Just as sleep began to invade the edges of your mind, a faint whisper sounded. You couldn’t quite make it out, so you just assumed maybe it was the way the wind whipped or your mind filling in some gaps. Just as you relaxed again, the whisper reignited, louder this time. You couldn’t make out the words, but the voice was childish and made your heart race. In a panic, you tried to open your eyes, but they wouldn’t budge. 

“Y/N, why won’t you play with me?” The voice asked. “You came to visit and then you just...left me.” Fear wracked your body the longer you fought against the voice. You knew that you hadn’t fallen asleep. This was not a dream. 

Suddenly, the face of a wide-eyed little boy crowded your vision. His eyes were piercing, upturned nose charming enough to distract you for half a second. But it didn’t take long to register the streaks of blood running from his hairline down to his chin, dripping off in thick drops. It was almost like you could feel them falling down, landing with a wet plop every time. A sick grin split his face, revealing a mouthful of blood just as dark and thick as the stuff running down his face. Your heart was hammering loudly, threatening to burst right out of your chest. Hot tears streamed down your face as you fought against whatever was ailing you. 

“Don’t you want to play?”

Suddenly, like coming up for air from underwater, you were back to reality. The sunlight burned your already sore eyes, washing out your vision so much that you almost didn’t see Yeonjun hovering over you as best as he could within the confines of the car. 

“Holy shit,” he gasped, gathering you into a tight hug as your body shook. “Did you have a nightmare?” He asked, wiping at the tears on your cheeks. 

“I-I wasn’t asleep,” you sobbed, grabbing at his arms desperately. “It was him,” you choked out, shuddering at the thought of that demonic little boy whispering to you. Yeonjun swallowed harshly, slumping back into his seat with a shake in his limbs. 

----

That night, you both skipped sleep. Yeonjun turned on all the lights in his bedroom and made sure that every single door to the outside was locked before you laid down together. On the small screened television a late night program played nonsense that provided welcome white noise. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t forget the image of the little boy dripping with blood. How he called you by your name and implored you to play. 

“I think it’s the same,” Yeonjun finally said. 

“The same?”

“Yeah, the same...the same kid. The one I saw outside, the one you saw. I think it’s the boy who-”

“Please don’t even say it,” you whined, burying your face into his shoulder. Deep down, you knew exactly what he meant. It was a million times scarier to hear it out loud. 

The sound of the talk show host suddenly quieted, television shut off suddenly with a crackle of light. 

“What the fuck,” Yeonjun groaned, getting up to check the outlet he had the unit plugged into. The plug was still secure in the outlet, giving no answer to the sudden end of your background noise. “Maybe the cable went out,” he suggested, dropping the subject as quickly as he began it. He wasn’t much for late night television anyway. On a normal night, he would have tried to make idle chit chat, or maybe even bite a few bruises into the column of your neck; but today he simply laid next to you and played with your hair. 

In what first seemed like a stroke of luck, the television set roared back to life. Both of you sat up in alarm, confused at the sudden change, but you had almost no time to ponder it as the rest of the lights in the room cut, plunging you into a sick darkness. Immediately you cried out, indescribable anxiety crawling up your throat and leaving you speechless. Yeonjun tensed, selflessly guarding your body with his as the television flickered static patterns at you. A high pitched whine emitted from the speakers, prompting you to search the sheets for the remote until the sound stalled. 

With all other sources of light drained, the television seemed to glow as bright as a full moon as scrolls of distorted text began to roll across the screen. They were a bit hard to make out, pixelated and cramped at first, but soon became clear as day in their full form:

YEonJuN, Y/n

WhY wON’t you PLAy WiTH ME? 

YOU CaMe tO visiT mE, BuT yOu DIDN’t StaY. 

I aM LOnEly. 

i KILled aLl OF mY FriENDS.  

Too stunned to react, you simply clutched onto Yeonjun’s shirt for dear life and squeezed your eyes shut in hopes this really all was some awful dream. 

“Holy shit, Y/N, Y/N!” Yeonjun yelled, forcing your eyes open just to witness the sight of the same horrificaly thick and deep red blood you’d seen earlier begin seeping from the top of Yeonjun’s bedroom walls. Everywhere you looked, streams of blood stained his walls red, ruining the collection of poster you’d memorized. The room smelled so strongly of iron that it made you gag, the threat of puking right at the back of your tongue. The television began whining again, high and shrieking until morphing into the sickly sweet voice of a young boy. 

“Don’t you want to play? I promise I’m nice.” 

Upon recieving nothing for a response from either of you, the voice let out a sigh. 

“Fine. I guess I’ll just have to force you to play with me.” 

The television fizzled out again, plunging the room into temporary darkness as both you and Yeonjun shake with fear. As if nothing had even happened, the lights resumed their warm yellowy glow, exposing completely clean walls. 

----

“You two look like shit,” Johnny laughed, picking at the soggy tater tots on his plastic lunch tray. He had recently dyed his hair a deep black, and the dye was still staining the sides of his neck and his hands. “On a bender?” 

Yeonjun gave a noncommittal laugh, eyes downcast as you shrugged loosely. 

“Jesus, some bad cocaine? Did you buy from Taehyung? I told you he’s the worst to-”

“Stop, please,” you groaned, a tension headache permeating from the base of your neck to the top of your head. “You wouldn’t even believe us if we told you.” 

“Try me. I’ve gotten blow from all of Bangtan, they aren’t the most trustworthy all the time, especially that Namjoon guy. He charms you into thinking it’s good and then-”

“We did not buy blow from Bangtan!” Yeonjun exploded, drawing the attention of a few passersby. 

“Oh.” Johnny blinked, shocked by his best friend’s sudden loss of temper. “What’s wrong?”

“Grave Academy,” you mumbled, laying your head on the cold tabletop as Yeonjun rested a steady hand on your back. 

“Huh? You were there months ago.” 

“Yeah, that’s the issue. We were there months ago and we’re both still,” Yeonjun paused, unsure of what to even say. “We’re still getting haunted.” 

“You what?” The hurried scrape of his chair had you looking up again just as he crossed the distance until he was right next to Yeonjun. “My cousin...he- he had the same thing happen.” A sudden edge of sadness overtook his voice and your eyes widened. 

“Really? D’you think this happens to everyone?” Desperation spilled out alongside your words although you tried to stop it. 

“I think...I think that I’m definitely fucking with you.” Johnny laughed, standing back up to his full height as both you and Yeonjun deflated. “My cousin is literally insane. Always has been. So it was no surprise to us when he started ‘seeing ghosts’ and finally got himself carted away.” 

“Fuck you, Johnny.” Yeonjun snorted, pulling you up with him as he left the lunch room in a hurry and waltzed straight out of the school. 

----

“What do we do?” Yeonjun’s eyes were bloodshot, for once a side effect of nothing but lack of sleep. 

“We can run.” You suggested weakly, picking at a loose thread on your sweatshirt. “If we stay here we’ll either get send to the looney bin or murdered. And no one will miss us here, anyway.” Yeonjun knew you were right, but the thought plagued him still. Would running away even help? 

“I guess you have a point.” He surmised, glancing around the home that he had come to run basically on his own. Since the death of his mother, his dad had been reckless and absent, only sending enough money for basics in a manila envelope every few months. If he left, the house would be reclaimed by the town and no one would be any wiser to why the two of you left. Just your run of the mill high school dropouts. 

“I’d rather run away with you than die here.” You added, shrugging again as you imagined some kind of perfectly twisted life traveling the country with Yeonjun, living day to day. “Maybe you can finally start that band and I can be your groupie,” you joked, running your hands through his greasy locks and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll start packing a bag.” 

The next morning, you and Yeonjun said what little goodbyes you had to make. You visited Johnny, telling him an abbreviated lie about a cross-country trip that he bought well enough. If he suspected anything when Yeonjun hugged him for longer than he had in their entire friendship, he didn’t say much. 

The two of you made a stop at the cemetery, bidding farewell to your respective parents, before climbing back into his old Chevy. It was kind of hard to believe that all of your belongings fit snugly into his trunk, but it made escaping that much easier in the end. 

The town you’d grown up in disappeared in the rearview mirror, and as you held Yeonjun’s hand tightly between your own, you hoped that your misfortune would disappear too. 

You would never tell Yeonjun, but even as you drove miles and miles away from Grave Academy, you could still hear the little boy whispering every time you closed your eyes. 

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[bthump]

I saw in the tag of your last reblog that you have « a whole missing scene where Griffith teach Guts how to dance » and this is such a cute idea ! How do you think this would happen ? You often talk about how they have difficulties in the acceptation of their feelings for each other so this type of scene would be so full of mutual pinning and unspoken feelings, it could have so much potential ! I really want to hear your take on this

tyvm for your interest!

lol okay so like, I have this written down actually as a memory in a half-baked fic idea I had ages ago where they all stay in Elfhelm a little while longer, which is probably not going to fit into canon anymore lol. I’ll post the scene because I really have no idea what I was doing with the fic and I’m never going to finish it properly anyway, but I re-read it after getting your ask and I do still kinda like this bit.

Griffith’s palm felt warm against his. It wasn’t the first time Griffith had taken his hand, but those were brief moments, like helping him to his feet after a battle, not… this.

“Ready to try again?”

Guts scowled. Should his hand be firmer against Griffith’s back? He was supposed to be pushing him around, right? But he kept to his tentative brush of fingers and nodded. Griffith began counting a very slow rhythm. 

One, two, three; one, two, three; one, two, three.

He took two steps and Griffith started laughing.

“What?”

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he accused with a grin once he’d caught hold of himself. “You can’t be this hopeless - I’ve seen how graceful you are with a sword in your hand.”

“Then I’ll put my sword in a dress and practice with that instead.”

With a smirk Griffith said, “Would it help if I put on a dress?” and all Guts did was laugh.

“Maybe. We could head into the city, spend the day tryin’ on clothes instead.”

“Never thought you of all people would be so reluctant to learn a new skill.” Griffith stuck his tongue out like a kid, pouting exaggeratedly. “There’s more to life than war, you know.”

“All right, all right, let’s try it again. Which foot do I start with?”

Neither of them had moved their hands in that time. Three little points of contact, like the beats Griffith was counting again, like the years he’d spent with him, like the days until the ball Griffith was trying in vain to convince him to attend.

Griffith’s hair had shone like gold in the sun.

The elves were having another party. Something seasonal, something to do with being in the middle of summer. They celebrated nothing so often that it was like being back in Midland during wartime. He smiled wistfully at the thought. Nothing would ever really feel like that again. 

Roderick, Magnifico, and the children were most likely down in the thick of it and Casca was with Farnese, nowhere near ready to brave a crowd, or so he’d heard, so Serpico probably wasn’t far from them. That left Guts with only his sword for company. He was sitting on a hill away from the crowds and watching the sunset, close enough to hear the music, far enough to avoid polite hellos.

The song lilted in a slow one-two-three rhythm, and Guts couldn’t seem to refocus his mind elsewhere. They’d spent the rest of the afternoon dancing and stumbling and teasing each other. Guts had picked it up fairly easily after all, though he’d exaggerated his clumsiness to draw out the learning process. To make Griffith laugh.

Once he’d managed to smoothly twirl Griffith two different ways, flinging his hair around his head like a halo, the sun was nearly below the horizon and they’d called it a day. 

He hadn’t bothered to show up to that ball anyway. He wondered, now, if Griffith had missed him. But then, two weeks after that, nothing and everything changed, and he’d been well on his way to making the biggest mistake of his life. One night in a thousand didn’t really matter.

Looking back, there was something about that period of only a little over a month, after they’d met Zodd for the first time and before Guts had overheard those world-changing words, that felt unreal. Dream-like. Surely he hadn’t been as happy as he remembered. Surely it wasn’t possible for him to feel as… at home as he thought he’d felt then. 

After all, if he had felt so damn cozy with the Hawks why had nothing more than a few words made him feel so lost and out of place? But then - hadn’t it been only a few words that had planted that contentment in his chest? 

For your sake.

After their final attempt Guts had suddenly dipped Griffith as deeply as he could, just to get a reaction - a gasp, wide eyes, a mock glare - and instead Griffith had closed his eyes and gone where Guts’ hands took him easily, kicking up a foot for added flair and trusting Guts to take all of his weight.

His rose-coloured lips were parted slightly and bent in a tiny smile.

And Guts hadn’t even considered kissing them, back then.

It seemed absurd in hindsight. He’d spent hours dancing with the most beautiful man he or anyone else had ever known, and never once had the thought crossed his mind. And now, four years later, he couldn’t drive the thought away.

What would it have felt like, to close those last few inches of distance? Griffith’s lips had always looked so soft. Guts had noticed that, even though he’d never connected it to the possibility of kissing them. He’d noticed his lips, his eyes the colour of a winter sky, his gently curling hair that fell over his shoulders like the foam of a waterfall, his lithe body, his long legs, his wiry arms and the diamond muscle under his shoulder blades.

Would it have changed anything?

If he'd done it, if he’d kissed Griffith, maybe that day when he’d learned how to dance, or maybe after an early morning sparring session, as they sat together, leaning against each other and catching their breaths, or maybe during a celebratory night of drinks, one of those times when the stars shone bright above them and they found themselves wandering away from the rest, to a quiet corner or empty tent, just to relax and talk and enjoy each others’ company - if Guts had kissed him, and if Griffith had kissed him back, wouldn't he have stayed?

Guts slammed his fist against the tree at his back.

What the hell did any of it matter? Griffith was gone. All that was left was an empty shell. Maybe, maybe - maybe it would’ve changed everything, or maybe it would’ve changed nothing. Maybe he was deluding himself, working his brain into pointless tangles and it didn’t matter because Casca was wrong and Griffith never wanted him like that. Maybe he would’ve been the one to change his mind and push Griffith away. Maybe they would’ve started fucking and Guts still would’ve overheard that damn conversation with Charlotte and decided to leave.

Maybe he’d be right here, right now anyway, and the only difference would be a memory to go with his insistent imagination.

#ask #b #headcanons #missing scene #fic #sorta #ship: griffguts #this is all guts pov so no griffith feelings other than what you can infer #i feel like there's enough repression and pining though to be a decent answer for this ask lol #Anonymous

[spookysanta]

The TA. - one. (c.e, h.c.)

Summary: she just wants to make a good impression. clearly, she’s made more of an impression on the two of them.

Pairings: Professor!Chris Evans x Black!Reader, student!Henry Cavill x Black!Reader

WARNINGS: swearing

updates will be sporadic because it’s a wip, but here’s part one! enjoy! :)

UNEDITED

****

 To Whom it May Concern:

Good morning. My name is Dr. Christopher R. Evans and I’ll be your supervising professor for section D346-0 of Chemistry class for the Fall semester. I’m sending you this e-mail to introduce myself as well as get to know you a bit before classes start next week. Would you be willing to meet me in my office (Franklin Hall, 3210) this Wednesday at around 3 p.m.? I’d like to go over the syllabus as well as your requirements as my TA.

Please let me know if that time works well for you.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Warm regards,

Dr. Christopher R. Evans, D. Sc.

[phone]

  *** 

Professor Evans:

Good morning! It’s nice to hear from you. I was in the process of getting your contact information to introduce myself. Thank you for taking me on as your TA, also—I appreciate that you’re giving me a chance. I’ll avail myself on Wednesday to meet with you at 3 p.m., I don’t want to change your schedule on my behalf. I can also provide you with my class schedule if you’d like so that you have my availability when you need to meet with me.

I’m excited to be working with you this semester!.

 Best,

(Y/N) (Y/L/N)

  ***

“Hi, my name’s (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Is Dr. Evans around?” She entered the lecture hall, approaching the podium where another professor was packing up her things. “I’m his new TA.”

“Yes, his office is through that door. Go in, make a left, and it should be the first door on your right.” The professor instructed, “He should be in there.”

“Okay. Thank you, ma’am!” she hurried across the room and pushed through the door, following the professor’s instructions and finding his classroom much easier than she had initially. She knocked on the door to his office. “Dr. Evans?”

“Come in.”

She opened the door slowly. She found him at his desk, typing on a computer. He paused for a moment, looking up toward the doorway with a small smile.

“Hi. You must be (Y/N).” he stood and crossed the small room stalking over to her and offering his hand for her to shake. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Great to meet you as well, Dr. Evans.” She shook his hand eagerly. This was her first professional job, and well…it’s helpful to have him as her boss.

Mainly to look at, but that’s beside the point.

“Oh, please. You can call me Chris.” He waved her off politely. “It’s just you and I here.”

She cleared her throat. “Okay.”

He made his way back to his seat behind the desk. “Please, have a seat.” He gestured to the chair that sat on the opposite side of the desk.

She sat down tightly with her hands flattened under her thighs—she’s a picker.

“What’s wrong?”

She shook her head tightly. “Nothing.”

He noticed that her face read differently than her words were saying. She looked almost uncomfortable, unsettled. “Are you sure?”

“This is just my first TA job so I’m a bit nervous,” She was almost hesitant to tell him the truth. She rushed out, “hopefully that doesn’t compromise my position.”

“Not at all! In fact, I think this is one of the easier classes to TA for, but maybe I’m biased.” He chuckled. “So, with that said, let’s go over your requirements. Hopefully I can put your mind at ease, okay?”

“Okay.” She smiled politely, trying to make herself relax but failing because Dr. Evans—Chris—was quite different that was she thought he would be. He was tall, built, and had the prettiest eyes she’d ever seen.

She’d assumed that he would look like Ebenezer Scrooge from the way her friends said he ran his class. By their record, he was a strict guy—very unwavering with deadlines and course policies, sticks to his syllabus schedule, assigns a ton of work, and has an even stricter attendance policy.

But they also said he was nice, which was hard to come by with professors in this field. They could tell he was a good person deep down and liked what he taught but he was a hard ass.

And by her analyzation, that was true.

His desk was quite neat and polished; it smelled of air freshener in the room; there weren’t any papers scattered about—which she was thankful for, because she cannot work with people who were unorganized—and, most notably, there weren’t any kind of photos hanging up. It was hard for her to determine whether he was a bachelor, or a married father that just kept things private.

Not that it mattered…but she wanted to know.

“So,” he turned one of his monitors to face her so that she could see his screen. “here’s the syllabus. It seems like a lot, but I swear, it isn’t.” he chuckled.

She hummed in response, beginning to read the lengthy document in her head as he spoke.

“Basically, your job will be to help me grade quizzes, labs, exams, and other assignments. You’ll also be required to proctor exams; I have another TA, Henry—he’s a graduate student—that will come in on exam days and proctor with you.”

She thought for a moment. “So, if I may ask, what will you do?”

“Teach the class.”

“Well, I know that. I just meant…it seems like a lot for me to do, and I’ve heard about some professors on campus having their TAs run the class.”

“Oh! Definitely not. Look, you seem great, and I have a feeling we’d get on well, but there’s a specific way I want my material taught so that’s not something you’d have to worry about.” He reassured her, noticing her body begin to relax. “What I will say, is there is a lot of content in my class, but the major graded assignments are few and far between, if that makes you feel better.”

She cocked an eyebrow.

“The class is mostly lab-based. You’ll be grading lab prep work, mostly—then comes the occasional homework or quiz, and exams.”

“Oh, okay. That makes more sense.”

He nodded. “Good.”

He scrolled down further into the document, showing his class policies.

“Now, these, I can’t break on.” He sighed. “I’m sure you’ve heard that I’m a strict guy.”

“What?” she replied incredulously. “No!”

He wanted to laugh. He could tell she was analyzing him, and she had to have heard something about him before the two of them met. “Well, it’s because a lot of the precautions are for the safety of us and the students.”

She scanned a random sentence on the page that read:

Students are required to be fully clothed on lab days—no t-shirts, ripped clothing, or closed-toed shoes.

10 points will be deducted for wearing clothing that does not meet the above dress requirement. More than one violation on the lab dress requirement will result in a deduction from the LAB grade.

Yikes, she thought, he’s not joking around.

She found it understandable nonetheless—she imagines it would be difficult to have a completely safe lab in a stuffy room while it’s still hot outside.

And she’s heard that a lot of the laboratories on his side of campus don’t have air conditioning, which was quite unfortunate this time of year.

“The dress policy is the most heavily enforced one.” He shrugged. “I can’t be held liable for students’ recklessness during labs.”

“Has the dress code been an issue previously?” she asked.

“Not for me, but I know it’s been one for the department, so I’m just tryin’ to keep my name off the “injury list”.”

She nodded in understanding.

“I think that’s pretty much it as far as the basics are concerned. I’ll send you a copy of my syllabus and calendar for the semester, as well as your contract.” He turned the monitor to face him again, typing quickly on his keyboard. “Oh! And I should send you Henry’s information, too.”

“Who’s Henry again?”

“Henry is a graduate TA. I’ve had him in my classes for a couple of years, and he’s a great student. I think he worked in the library over the summer, so you may know him.”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t.”

“Well, he’s a great person to know, not just for my class, but for your upper-level math and science classes.” He gushed. Clearly, he really liked having this “Henry” as an assistant.

“Okay, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

“Great. And if you have any questions, shoot me an e-mail or a text and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

“Alright.” She replied simply.

He stood, holding out his hand again. “I’m looking forward to working with you this semester, (Y/N).”

She took his hand, this time relishing in the softness of his skin and the firmness in his grip. “I am, too.”

**

Later that day, after she’d completed the last assignments for her summer math class, she checked her e-mail’s inbox and found two messages from Chris and another from Henry, the godsend of a grad student.

***

 From: Dr. Christopher R. Evans, D. Sc.

Miss (Y/L/N)—

I hope this message finds you well.

Attached is my syllabus and class calendar, as well as your contract.

Please read through all of these. Sign the contract when you’re ready and e-mail it back to me at your earliest convenience.

Regards,

Chris

***

 From: Dr. Christopher R. Evans, D. Sc

Miss (Y/L/N)—

I meant to send you Henry’s information as well:

                Henry W. D. Cavill

                Phone: [phone]

                E-mail: [email protected]

Please message him at your earliest convenience. Like I said, he’s a great person to know!

Regards,

Chris

**

 She replied a quick “thank you” before continuing through her inbox.

***

From: Henry W. D. Cavill

Hi, (Y/N)! It’s nice to “meet” you, I’m Henry.

Chris has told me that you’re the new undergrad TA! That’s pretty impressive, honestly—you’re one of four undergraduate TAs in the entire Sciences department. Anyway, I just wanted to send you this e-mail to introduce myself and let you know that if you need anything, I’m always available. I worked in the school’s library over the summer so if you need me immediately, that’s usually where I spend my free time nowadays.

I’m excited to work with you this semester! Maybe we could grab coffee and get to know each other better before classes start next week? Let me know.

Hope to hear from you soon!

Best wishes,

Cav

**

“Cav?” she read aloud in disgust, “What the hell kind of a nickname is “Cav”?” She hoped that he didn’t expect her to call him that because that was stupid.

At any rate, she could tell that he was much more laid back than Chris, which she was bound to enjoy. As nice as Chris was, she could tell that he was a bit…uptight. Henry, on the other hand, seemed more laid back if she used “Cav” as a form of evidence.

She could tell that he was a bookworm, too, because no-one—no-one she knew, at least—stays in the library unless they had to, or just liked reading.

Clearly he was a different breed.  

She opened a new message to send a quick reply to his.

**

 To: Henry W.D. Cavill

Hi, Henry.

It’s nice to hear from you as well. I’ve heard nothing but good things about you!

I’m free tomorrow afternoon if you want to meet at The Bistro for coffee.

Let me know if that works for you.

Best,

(Y/N)

**

 There. Sweet and simple.

Don’t be confused, either—she wanted this position. It would open some doors for her down the line, especially if she can get on Chris’ good side like Henry clearly has. She just hated formalities. The emails, the “talk to you soon! ”s, the “hope you’re well! ”s… it was too high-strung for her.

She is, though, determined to start everything on a good foot. So she’ll be polite, she’ll wish them well, whatever—she just wanted to ensure that her success as an undergrad student wouldn’t be hindered or jeopardized by her desire to be casual with who’s really her boss and co-worker.

**

The next day, she mustered up the courage to throw on clothes and meet Henry at The Bistro, a café in the main square of the campus. She decided to dress nice, not entirely sure who she was meeting and wanting to make a good impression. Because “Cav” seemed like a decent guy, but you never know.

Honestly, she wanted to cancel but she knew that wouldn’t look good.

She stepped through The Bistro’s doors, the cold air practically smacking her in the face. Normally she would despise the cold, especially on a day like this where it wasn’t too hot and not at all humid; but today, she was grateful for the cold air that enwrapped her frame that was dressed in a black blazer and matching slacks.

She sent a message to Henry letting her know that she was there and sat at a table by the window.

Then she waited.

Ten minutes, then twenty, then thirty.

After forty minutes passed, she gathered her tote, phone, and keys, and made her way to the front door.

Before she could get to the door, a figure bumped into her, her body colliding with his hard chest. “Oh, shit, sorry!” the mass of flesh exclaimed, “I’m running late for a meeting and I didn’t watch where I was going.”

Her eyes met his as she took a step back. He was tall. His long brown hair was brushed behind one ear, cheeks flushed and pale, brown eyes wide.

He was cute.

“Wait,” she replied, “are you Henry?”

“Yeah…so?”

“So?” she glared at him. “I’m (Y/N).”

His eyes widened even more, as if that were possible. “Oh! I’m so sorry I’m late. My car broke down and I ended up having to walk here.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But listen, if you’re still free, I’d love to still talk with you.”

She didn’t have anywhere to be, so why not? “Sure.”

He let out a breath. “Thank you.”

The two of them sat down at the table she picked, him slugging his shoulder bag off his body and onto the floor next to him. He folded his hands on the table and looked at her, watching as she fumbled through her bag for her planner and a pen.

“So,” he started, “it’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

“You, too.” She replied, her eyes not looking up.

“I’m usually the only TA in Chris’ class, so it’s really cool to have someone else around. I can’t tell you how frustrating it is to be the only one proctoring an exam in a class of three-hundred people.”

“Three-hundred people?”

“Yeah. Sometimes it’s less, but that’s the average. It’s full of freshmen, too.”

She finally found her planner and a pen in the depths of her bag. “Are freshmen bad?”

He shook his head, “Not really, they’re just…odd.” He shrugged. “Some of them want to learn, some don’t, and you can tell right away. The ones that want to learn don’t want help—it’s always the procrastinators, the slackers, the ones that don’t care that need you.”

“How is that odd?”

“It’s strange to me, honestly. I didn’t really care either way my freshman year. I wanted to learn but I didn’t care enough to actually try.”

“So what changed? Chris made you seem like you were some mythical being.”

He laughed. She’ll admit, she was lost in his smile for a second. The glint in his eyes and the crinkle in his nose made her smile. “A mythical being?” he repeated. “I’m far from mythical. I think he gushes about me because I take over his office hours for him most days.”

That made her laugh. “Well, he seems to be appreciative of having you around. Hopefully I can be helpful.”

“I’m sure you can be,” he waved her off, “he probably told you that his class wasn’t that bad, but he’s totally lying. My first year helping him was rough—too much shit to do, and not enough time for it to get done.”

That sounded more accurate compared to what Chris told her yesterday. “I figured.”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s a great professor, and an awesome mentor to have—but sometimes he downplays stuff. He’ll say it’s “no big deal”, and it’ll be like Armageddon for us.”

She nodded slowly. “Any advice for getting on his good side?”

He chuckled. “If he likes you, you’ll know. And if he likes you, he’ll help you out. He’s not at all unreasonable, either; so just tell him what’s up when you have a problem, or if you’re overwhelmed, and he’ll do what he can to help.”

“That’s not what I heard.” She mumbled.

“Well, his students from last year will say he’s a dick, but—and you can’t tell anyone I told you this—” he leaned in closer, whispering, “he went through a nasty divorce last fall.”

So he isn’t married.

“Oh, wow.”

“Yeah. He wasn’t in the best place, but I’ll admit he’s eased up quite a bit so you should be fine.”

“Okay, cool.”

“Anything else you want to know?”

She thought for a moment. “Not really, no.”

He smiled again, “Alright. Well it was great talking with you, and I’m sorry again for being late.”

She shrugged, “Shit happens.”

“You’re exactly right. The meter maids are probably having a field day giving me tickets.” He stood from the table, putting his bag over his shoulder that was covered in a dark green jacket, brushing his hair behind his ears and away from his face.

She stood shortly after he did. “Good luck with that.”

“Oh, trust me, it wouldn’t be anything new for me to have a ticket by now. I’ve gotten five since May.”

Her eyes widened this time. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. The parking on campus is shit, you get in where you can. Open parking spaces are scarce, especially by Franklin Hall…so sometimes I park on the street.”

Street parking is decal only. By the number of tickets he’d obtained, she deduced that he most likely had no decal. “Hence all the tickets.” She finalized.

“Yeah.”

“Criminal.” She shook her head jokingly.

“Guilty as charged.” He held out his wrists to her as if she was putting him in handcuffs. “See you around, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Then he turned and left, moving quickly down the pavement.

—

Tags (dm to be removed): @lady-x-red @justtwhst @lokisbitch27 @boundtomyfate @cyberdoshee @liquorlaughslove @heroine-of-color

#The Ta #henry cavill x black reader #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x black woman #henry cavill x black woman #the ta fic

[thebookwormfairy]

Captain The Retired Police Dog Part 6 (Final)

BookwormFairy: Sorry for taking so long, but I'm here with the final part of Captain the Retired Police Dog. I just wanted to thank everyone who've read, like, reblogged, commented, and wrote their own stuff with Captain. When I first started this I had no idea how big ot would get. I will be doing more stuff with Captain, but this is the end of this story. Thank y'all so much for accepting both me and Captain into the fandom.

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

The rest of the trip was like a dream for Marinette

Every chance they got Marinette and Damian would spend time with eachother

And after Ace met Captain she would come along on all of their outings as well

Damian would take Marinette every where in Gotham

From the fashion district to the zoo Damian made sure Marinette didn't miss out on anything

They couldn't explain it, but something just clicked with them

It was like they were meant to be

Damian even met Marinette's parents

Kinda

He video chatted with them and was actually invited over during the summer

Which he whole heartedly accepted but warned the bakers that his family might "unexpectedly" show up with him.

Only to be told that they would be more then happy to meet them as well

Basically Damian took up all of Marinette's free time

Though sometimes, much to Damian's annoyance, the other batboys would come and "kidnap" Marinette and Captain and take them back to the manor.

Marinette didn't mind it so much, except when they didn't even wait for her to get back to the hotel

When the class was done touring Luxcorp, Jason rode up on his motorcycle and took Marinette and Captain

Jason picking up Marinette and grabbing Captain's leash: Hey French people I'm taking her and her dog. Bye

Ms. Bustier: Are you okay with that Marinette?

Marinette: Yeah I know him

Ms. Bustier: Okay have fun

Jason was less then impressed with the teacher's response but took the duo anyway

Another time Tim hacked into the schedule and change the bus route to drop Marinette off at Wayne Tower

Then Dick feeling left out did the responsible (and legal) way and called Marinette's parents to get their permission to take Marinette back to the manor.

Damian was not impressed with his brothers

Neither was Bruce

On the outside at least

On the inside he was so happy to see Marinette and Captain again

Captain wasn't sure how to respond to these strange new people in his and his girl's lives

After a couple of days they did grow on him

But he still didn't let Jason pet him

Mostly because Captain found the older boy's attempts hilarious

And his girl seemed to blossom in this new pack

Captain could see that the spark that he brought back into his girl's eye turn into a whole galaxy

She was almost always smiling and laughing now

To top it all off Alix and Kim finally pulled up their big kid briches and tried to reconnect with Marinette

At first Marinette was very weary of them

And Captain out right growled at them

But slowly they were able to earn Marinette's trust back

Not enough to be able to come on Marinette's adventures with her, but enough so that Marinette would seek them out when stuck with the class

And they would seek her out

Not even Lila could bring her down

And she tried

On this trip alone Lila has stolen several of Marinette's projects, tried to get her sent home with no success, has tried to get Captain detained, and has even tried to lock Marinette in several closets throughout the city, but Marinette somehow always got out.

All in all Lila was harmless

Until the last night of the trip when Lila went too far

Damian had tagged along with the class on their finally outing in Gotham

They went to a teens club somewhere near crime alley

Which is why Damian was with them

They made sure to leave the dogs with Alfred so he could take them back to the manor.

The night was going great

Marinette spent the night dancing with Damian, Alix, and Kim

But mostly Damian

Everything was perfect

So of course Lila had to open her big fat mouth

Lila: Oh yeah I've helped super heroes all over the world. I've even helped Batman put away a few rogues.

Villian kid (Edwin) near by: Oh really who?

Lila: You know all the big guys the Riddler, the Penguin, Two-Face,

Edwin: Hm, the Riddler.....

Lila: Yeah he's not so tough.

Lila continue to bad mouth the Riddler as Edwin called his dad to tell him all about this little, french goody goody who helped but him in Jail.

Riddler over the phone: What an interesting development, I wonder if she would like to play a game? *evil laugh*

Marinette slow dancing with Damian: This has been a great night

Damian: I have to agree with you there Angel. *Damian nuzzles Marinette's hair* I don't know what I'm going to do when you leave.

Marinette: I don't either, but I know I never want this to end.

Damian: Even with my annoying brothers

Marinette: Partially because of your annoying brothers. You know I'm an only child, but I always wished I had siblings, so they're like the brothers I never had.

Damian chuckling: don't let them hear you say that. You'll never get rid of them.

Marinette: Who said I would want to. Especially with how close Captain, Ace, and Titus has become. We'll have to fly out to eachother just so they can see eachother again.

Damian smirking: oh most definitely we be terrible pet owners if we didn't

Marinette catching on: You are so right. You'll be coming to Paris during the summer so I guess I'll be coming back to Gotham during the winter.

Damian pulling Marinette closer even though it didn't seem possible: That's not soon enough.

Alix: Hey love birds you do realize that the slow song ended 2 songs ago right?

Damian glared at the pink hair girl as Marinette backed up slightly blushing

Kim: I don't think they did Alix. How cute?

Damian: Yeah yeah let's go get something to drink.

As the small group made their way towards the bar

But before they could reach it chaos erupted in the club

Teenagers were running towards the exit trying to get away from something the group couldn't see

Somehow in the made dash out Marinette was separated from Alix, Kim, and Damian as they got pushed out of the club, but Marinette was pushed further in the club and gets corralled by a group of minions dressed in green

She scanned around the group of teens that were left seeing that all her classmates made it out except for Lila who was standing in the front of the group, but was trying to get behind the frightened teens

Marinette ended up standing next to her facing on of the famous rogues of Gotham the Riddler

Riddler: Hello kitties so sorry to interrupt your night out, but I heard one of you tattletells are the reason I was thrown back in that hellhole we call a prison so I'll give the little pest a chance to step up and we'll play a little game if they win you will all be let go and the pest will die, if they lose, well you all die. Either way that person dies so come on speak up or should I just kill everybody right now.

Lila without a second thought: It was her Marinette!

Marinette: What?!?!

Lila: Yeah it is all her she was the one who was bad mouthing you.

Marinette whispering to Lila: I knew you were mean Lila, but this is just pure evil

Lila smirking at Marinette: Why so shocked Dupen-Cheng? I know you, you wouldn't put innocent lives in danger so there's no way you'll deny it and this way I can get rid of you for good.

Marinette continued to glare at the evil girl as she was pulled up towards the Riddler

Riddler: Well aren't you a little cutie. Is what the loud mouth said true are you to person who helped put me in jail?

Marinette through clenched teeth: Yes

Riddler: Well here's the game goody goody I'm going to tell you a riddle and if you answer correctly we're going to play a game of Russian rullet *Riddler holds up an old revolver* you might get killed, you might not, but if you get on wrong then you get shot with this *Riddler holds up a newer hand gun* instant death. Are you ready?

Marinette trying to hide her fear: Yes

Riddler: Oh what a brave little girl. What is full of holes. But still holds water?

Marinette a little surprised by how easy the riddle was: A spongue

Riddler holding the old gun to Marinette's forehead: Correct

Riddler pulls the trigger as Marinette flinches but only a click is heard

Riddler: Well you live for another riddle. What can you break without picking it up or touching it?

Marinette: A promise

Riddler : Correct again

Riddler repeated the process and got the same result

This process continued for another 10 minutes and both Marinette and the Riddler were starting to get annoyed

Marinette because the riddles were to easy and Riddler because she wasn't dead yet

It should be impossible for her to be still alive

The gun did not have this many rounds

Riddler growling: Okay, Jim and Kate go to the zoo and get eaten by the sea lions but nobody freaks out, why?

Marinette rolling her eyes: Now you just stealing riddles from TheOdd1sout. They're both fish.

As Marinette answers she hears a loud crashing sound

Riddler and his goons look up at the noice and Marinette takes the opportunity to escape

She swiftly pulls Riddler's belt off him causing his pants to fall

She then uses the belt to knock both the guns out of his hands the wrapping the belt around of one of his hands flips over his shoulder grabs his other arm and tie them behind his back using the belt

To add insult to injury she kicks him in the back of his knees bringing him completely down

As Marinette looks up she sees the goons being tied up by Batman and his sidekicks all with shocked looks on their faces

In fact everybody was completely shocked by what Marinette just did

Though unnoticed by her Robin's shocked faced soon turned into a lovesick smile

That's his girl

Batman walking up to Marinette: Good job civilian, we'll take it from here, there are some people waiting outside for you.

Marinette: Thank you Batman

Marinette and the rest of the captured teenagers ran out of the club as soon as possible

They were so busy trying to get away from the trauma they just experienced nobody notice Robin slipping away trying to meet his Angel up front

As Marinette made it out she was bombarded by police officers and camera flashes from reporters

Gordan: Okay boys break it up I'll take this one

Gordon wrapped his arm around the young girl who reminded him of his daughter

Gordon: I know you've been through a lot tonight but can you please tell me what happened?

Marinette nodded her head going over everything that happened including what Lila said to her

Gordon was shocked by what Marinette told him both about how she took down the Riddler and how Lila basically tried to kill her

Gordon: Okay thank you, you go over to your friends while me and my officers gather more information.

Gordon pointed her towards Alix and Kim

As she runs towards her friends she was engulfed in a group hug

Marinette pulling back from the hug: Are you guys okay? You're not hurt are you? Where's Damian? Is he okay?

Kim chuckling: Classic Marinette worrying about others instead of her self

Alix: We're fine Marinette. We got out pretty quickly but we got separated from Damian in the mad rush

Marinette got a worried look on her face as she started twisting around searching for the man she loved

Damian bursting through the crowd: ANGEL!

Marinette running towards Damian: DAMI!

The young lovers ran to eachother embracing eachother in a long hug

Marinette buried her head in his chest letting out a sob as everything caught up with her.

Damian burying his face in her hair: Shh Angel everything's okay now. I'm so sorry I couldn't be there for you. I should have never let go of you

Marinette sniffling into Damian's chest: It's not your fault Damian you had no control of our separation

Damian: I still should have tried harder to stay with you.

The two stayed together refusing to let eachother go afraid that if they did so the other would be lost

They stood there for 30 minutes just hugging eachother as Kim and Alix joined them trying to cheer Marinette up

Gordon walking up to the small group: Several other people collaborated with your story. Ms. Rossi will be takened to the French embassy to be held until your classes flight back to Paris tomorrow we just need to know if you want to press charges?

Damian angry: Of course she'll want to press charges! That girl tried to have her killed!

Marinette softly: I'll handle this Damian. *Marinette turns around to face Comissioner Gordon with Damian's arms still wrapped around her* I would like to press charges Mr. Gordon this has gone on too long, I would also like to look into getting a restraining order on her.

Gordon: of course, we'll make sure that Paris police force understand what happened and your request.

Marinette: Thank you

Ms. Bustier yelling: Okay everybody time to head back to the hotel.

Gordon: Wait one moment Miss but Ms. Rossi is going to be retained at the French embassy for attempted manslaughter of Ms. Dupen-Cheng

Alya: What? Is that what Marinette told you? You shouldn't listen to her she's nothing but a liar.

Gordon: Actually we're doing that not only on Ms. Dupen-Cheng's testimony of events but several other witnesses who heard and saw Ms. Rossi threaten and admit she was trying to get Marinette killed and we also have video from the security cameras showing the same thing. Boys take her away!

Lila most certainly did not go quietly she was yelling all the way to the police cruiser threatening that as soon as she was back in Paris she will be Akumatize and finish the job that Riddler couldn't

Marinette watched terrified as Lila was taken away knowing very well that she would keep her promise if given the chance

Damian tightened his hold on Marinette trying to comfort her: Dont worry Angel I won't let her do anything to you

Marinette pressed herself to Damian trying to get as much comfort from him as possible.

Ms. Bustier grabbing Marinette's arm: Come on Marinette it's time to go.

Marinette looked over at her classmates seeing the murderous glares directed towards her from some of Lila's more dedicated followers

Marinette: I don't want to go back to the hotel Ms. Bustier

Ms. Bustier sighing: Please don't be difficult Marinette. You've already caused enough trouble tonight just get on the bus before you ruin the night for everybody else

Damian: EXCUSE ME! ARE YOU-

Marinette: I'VE CAUSED ENOUGH PROBLEMS?!?!? ALL I'VE BEEN TRYING TO DO IS NOT CAUSE PROBLEMS!! AND IT'S NEVER ENOUGH! WELL I'M TIRED OF BEING YOUR PERFECT EXAMPLE! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH PRESSURE THAT PUTS ON MY SHOULDERS! IT'S YOUR JOB TO TEACH YOUR STUDENTS TO BE BETTER PEOPLE NOT MINE! AS SOON AS WE'RE BACK IN PARIS I'M DONE! I'M TRANSFERING FROM YOU CLASS HELL I'M GOING TO TRANSFER TO A DIFFERENT SCHOOL IF I CAN BECAUSE I AM SO DONE! I'M DONE WITH THE BULLYING, I'M DONE WITH THE PRESSURE, AND MOST OF ALL I'M DONE WITH YOUR PACIFIST BULLSHIT!

Marinette was huffing from her outburst finally letting everything out after such a long time.

Marinette could her some clapping throughout the crowd but ignored it turning her attention to Damian.

Marinette: Do you mind if I stay at the Manor tonight?

Damian: Of course Marinette let me call Alfred to come get us and I'll escort you to your hotel room so you can gather your stuff

Marinette: Thank you

After a couple of minutes not only did Alfred show up, but so does Tim, Jason, and Dick

All ready to to kick ass and take names of anybody who even dare look at her the wrong way.

When they got to the hotel they surrounded her like a wall blocking her from reporters and classmates

Marinette gathered her stuff as fast as she could thanking herself for being smart and packing ahead of time

Once they got back to the Manor Captain tackled Marinette

Licking and cuddling into her trying to comfort his girl

He couldn't believe he let her be put in so much danger

He should have never let her out of his sight while is such a dangerous city

Captain let out a whimper trying to convey how sorry he was

Marinette: It's okay Captain I'm fine, I'm safe and everything is going to be fine better than before even.

Captain still stayed close to her side

Titus and Ace did also sensing the distress rolling of the girl followed her

As Marinette slipped into the bathroom she was finally able to comfort and thank Tikki for saving her life by using her power to make sure the bullet never got shot

And also promised to slip some cookies to her as soon as she could

After getting a good hug from each of the Wayne's and Marinette grabbing some cookies for Tikki she made her way to her guest room just wanting this night to be over.

When the Batfam was sure Marinette was in for the night they made their way down to the batcave to discuss what happened

Damian: Father if you think I'm going to let Marinette out of my sight after what happened tonight you're crazy

Bruce: Think this through Damian smothering isn't going to make her any safer it's just going to make her resent you.

Jason: I dont like it anymore than you do Demon Spawn but he's right. You can't hover over Marinette her whole life, but we do need to look into what's going on in Paris more.

Dick: You're right Jason, Rossi was saying something about being Akumatized and killing Marinette that can't be good.

Bruce: Your right Dick. So when Damian goes to Paris in a couple of weeks we'll come along and assess the situation and see if we need to step in

Damian: If Marinette gets even a scratch on her I'm going to do more than just step in I'm going to find whoever responsible and dual them to the pain

Tim: Did you just quote Princess Bride

Damian: I watched it with Marinette a couple of days ago

The rest of the batfam: Awwww

Dick, Jason, and Tim giving Brice a weird look

Bruce: Don't judge me

Marinette tried her best to fall asleep that night cuddling up to Captain but she jus couldn't

When the clock showed it was 1am Marinette decided to seek out Damian

Marinette: Captain? *perked up and looked at his girl* Can you please help me find Damian?

Captain jumped off the bed and headed to the door

Before Marinette opened the door she turned towards Tikki

Marinette: Tikki I'm going to go see if I can sleep with Damian do you want to come with or stay here?

Tikki: I'll stay here Marinette. I don't want you stressing about keeping me hidden tonight

Marinette: Okay Tikki good night.

Marinette followed Captain down a couple of doors before they stopped in front of the door

Marinette knocked on the door and after a couple of minutes Damian opened the door looking a little ruffled from sleep

Marinette: Sorry to wake you Damian, but can I please sleep with you tonight

Damian: Of course Angel come on

Damian and Marinette settled into Damian's bed seeming to fit together perfectly as Marinette rested her head on Damian's chest and he wraps his arms around her keeping her close

Captain made himself comfortable next to Titus but also lays across the young couple's legs

The next day Lila was sent on a later flight back the Fance to a town outside of Paris so that she wouldn't be akumatized by Hawkmoth and she can face the consequences of her crimes

Marinette shared a long goodbye with the Wayne's in the airport

They were nice enough to upgrade Marinette's seat to first class and even got Captain a seat so he didn't have to stay in the cargo hold

And as Marinette said her goodbyes to the people who've became her second (or third is you count Jagged, Penny, and Clara) family Captain was saying goodbye to Titus and Ace

Captain: I'm going to miss you guys so much you have become my pack and I wish I could take you with me

Titus: And I wish you could stay, I love you

Titus gave Captain a big lick to the side of his face

Captain: Thanks Titus, I... love you too

Titus: I'm going to cry

Ace giggling: Thanks for that Titus

Ace nuzzling Captain's neck: I love you Captain I wish we can stay together.

Captain nuzzling her back: I wish I could to your my mate and I hate to be away from you for so long, but my girl needs me, but I heard our humans talking and they do plan to visit eachother again so we will be together again. One day permanently I can tell.

As the girl and her dog boarded the plane they may be leaving their loves behind today but it won't be forever

Thanks to this trip Marinette is a stronger person, and Captain learned to be a little softer

As Kim pass he tried to give Captain a pat on the head only for Captain to give him a little growl before he could

Like I said he learned to be a LITTLE softer

Bonus

2 weeks after returning from Paris Marinette recieved a very interesting call from Damian

Damian: Hey Angel weird question but is Captain fixed

Marinette: Oh no, after everything that happened to him it just seemed cruel to do that to him too. Why?

Damian: Because Ace is pregnant Captain is the only one who could be the father

Marinette shocked: What?

Marinette looking at Captain: You little hound dog.

Captain: What?

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#captain the Retired police dog #Captain the Retired Police Dog #maribat #daminette #Damain x Marinette #pet headcanon