#which. FINE like again i was never opposed to it ever i’m not an idiot or selfish i get it

[ragingbookdragon]

Friends To Arranged Marriage To...Wait, How Many Kids?

Bruce Wayne x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 3K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: Y'all ever write a self-indulgent Friends To Lovers fic? 'Cause that's what this is. Enjoy! -Thorne

It wasn’t unusual for her to suddenly appear in his office. She did it most days. Okay, it was more like every day but that’s not important. The fact is, she showed up and he wasn’t at all the least bit surprised when she barged through the office door and slammed it behind her.

“Morning,” he murmured, taking his eyes off the screen but a moment to lock them with hers.

“Good morning, Bruce,” she responded with a polite smile. “We need to talk.”

That wasn’t unusual either. When she came to the office it was because she wanted to either complain about something going on or because she was bored and didn’t have anything to do, so badgering her best friend seemed like the best option. It wasn’t, but he wasn’t going to tell her that.

“What do we need to talk about?” Bruce questioned, clicking at the mouse until his screen loaded.

“Something important. Something especially important.” She replied and with one hand reached behind her and flipped the lock on his door.

Now that was unusual. And Bruce saw this going one of two ways and he hoped it wasn’t the first way that involved her pulling a gun.

“Okay,” he said and watched her out of the corner of his eye as waltzed around his desk and perched herself on the corner. “Am I in trouble, (Y/N)?”

“If you disagree with me, you will be,” she retorted and she started fumbling in her tote.

“You sound serious,” Bruce noted.

(Y/N) harrumphed. “I am quite possibly the most serious I’ve been in years.” She pulled out three manila folders and handed them to him, watching as he opened the first and started reading through it.

He didn’t say anything as he opened the others and read them but frowned when he set them aside and went back to his computer.

“I’ve already planned on a new secretary, (Y/N).”

She watched him with careful eyes and explained, “Those aren’t secretary files, Bruce. They’re marriage candidates.”

At that, his entire body went rigid and ever so slowly he drew his gaze from the screen back to her, staring her straight in the eyes.

“I…beg your pardon?” he asked as if not understanding what she’d just said.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and picked up the files. “Each of these women are successful elites from either Metropolis, Star, or Central City. You have arranged marriage meetings with them Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday to decide which one you want to marry.”

This was happening way too fast, and he still didn’t know what “this” was.

“I’m not opposed to marriage, (Y/N), but why?”

She pointed to the picture on his desk, and he briefly glanced at it. Him, Dick, and Alfred on Christmas morning last year.

“Dick needs a mother.” She was never one to mince her words. “A father can raise a son, but the boy needs a mother’s love too, Bruce.”

“I think you’re a bit out of line here.” He remarked, brows pulling together. “We’re fine at the manor.”

“Bruce…please don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re not a soft man. You’re hard edges and firmness, and while that isn’t a bad thing, Dick needs a mother who can be the parent that isn’t firm. He needs a mother’s guiding hand.”

She handed him the files again. “I’ve met each of these women. They’re good women who will make wonderful wives and even better mothers.” She stared at him. “You should know how important it is for a boy to have a mother.”

Bruce was on his feet in an instant, in front of her, eyes narrowed into a glare as he bit out, “(Y/N), now you’re out of line.”

“Really?” she challenged, not at all threatened by his towering figure. “Look my in the eye and tell me which parent you miss more. Thomas…or Martha?”

“I miss both of my parents. Every day.”

“And I don’t doubt that. But I know you miss Martha the most. Isn’t she the one you promised to save Gotham for?” (Y/N) questioned and his mouth snapped shut, jaw clenching tightly as he averted his eyes because he knew she was right.

She reached out and rested a hand on his forearm, forcing his eyes to hers once more; her gaze softened and she murmured, “You miss your mother more than the world, Bruce. How do you think Dick feels every night when he goes to sleep? Fathers are the protectors for their children, but mothers are the comforters—there are going to be things that you can’t help him with, but a woman can.”

(Y/N) gazed at him and pulled her hand away. “At least go and meet them,” she requested and when he didn’t say anything, she sighed and picked up her tote, making her way to the door.

She flipped the lock and paused, glancing over her shoulder to say, “At least think about what I’ve said, Bruce. For Dick…and for you.” He met her eyes and she added, “I think getting married would be good for you too.”

He nodded, and since that was all they could hope for, she left the office and Bruce collapsed into his chair, turning around to stare out the window.

***

His theory that she would show up Friday evening proved true when she waltzed into his office and took a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of his desk, delicately crossing one of her legs over the other.

“How’d the interviews go?” she asked, not even bothering to ask him how his day was or how his week had been.

“My day was great, (Y/N), thanks for asking,” he mocked with a glare and she waved it off.

“Interviews, Bruce. How’d they go.”

He let out a sigh. “They went well. Each of them was polite and kind.”

“And?” (Y/N) gestured for him to continue.

“And nothing. That’s it.”

She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Seriously? You just met them for a singular purpose and all you’ve got it, they’re polite and kind?” She glared at him. “What’d you talk about?”

Bruce sighed again and reclined in his office chair. “Humanitarian works, college days, high society—you know, the usual.”

(Y/N) gave him an unamused look. “Did any ask for a second date?”

“All of them in fact.”

“Did you agree?”

“No.”

Her head lolled back, and she glared at the ceiling. “Did you even think about what I talked about a few days ago?”

“I still am.”

“Then why didn’t you agree to see one of them again?”

“Because there wasn’t anything we had in common.”

“Most people who have arranged marriages don’t, Bruce. That’s why you go on dates and get to know them.” Her eyes were still on the ceiling. “What’s the real reason you said no?” She always knew when he’d lied to her.

After a moment, he murmured, “…I didn’t think any of them would be suitable to be Dick’s adoptive mother.”

“I guess that’s…fair,” she agreed and they both fell silent.

A couple minutes later, he said, “I’ve been thinking about what you said though, (Y/N). About finding a wife who would be a good mother for Dick.”

“Uh huh.”

“I think you’re right. I do offer Dick everything a father could. Support, protection, guidance…but he is missing that love only a mother can give a son.”

“And how’s that making you feel?” she questioned softly.

His voice got quiet. “Like how I was when I was growing up without mother. (Y/N), I…I don’t want Dick to feel that way.”

At that, she drew her gaze from the ceiling to his eyes and she reasoned, “Then I think you should call one of the girls back and agree to a second date. You won’t find perfection in one day, even with how intuitive you are.”

Bruce shrugged. “I just want to find someone closer to Gotham. Someone who is familiar with us already.”

(Y/N) grunted. “I purposely moved away from Gotham because no one is.”

“That’s fair,” Bruce chuckled, and they fell into a silence again.

Suddenly, a thought flashed across her mind and she sat up. “Us.” She blurted out and he looked at her.

“What?”

(Y/N) gestured between them. “Us, Bruce. You and me.”

“I don’t follow,” he replied with a confused expression and she huffed, rolling her eyes.

“You’re an idiot,” she griped, then she stood and planted her hands on his desk, leaning over to get in his face. “You and I are the closest to Gotham as you’ll get, and I’m familiar with you and Dick.” She smiled. “Marry me.”

She could count on one hand how many times she’d ever stunned her best friend silent and that was number two because his jaw went slack and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline, steel blue eyes wide.

(Y/N) frowned. “Oh, come on, you can’t tell me the thought didn’t cross your mind at least once.” Silence. “Oh my God, are you serious? You didn’t even think about it at all? Like ever?”

He shook his head, mouth still hanging open.

“Oh, for God’s sakes, close your mouth and wipe that stupid look off your face. It’s not a completely inconceivable idea, you moron.” (Y/N) held a hand up, counting off her fingers, “I’m of acceptable status, I dress well, I’m thoroughly educated, I do humanitarian work all over the world, I love your son, and I’m probably the one woman that doesn’t make you wanna stab yourself in the eye with a fork.”

She grinned at him. “You’re not going to find anyone better than me here in Gotham, Brucie-boy. Besides, I think (Y/N) Wayne has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

Finally, he managed to make himself speak and he blurted out, “I stopped thinking like five minutes ago. I’m not even sure how to do that anymore.”

(Y/N) pulled a face and griped, “You’re an idiot.”

“I am not,” he retorted with a glare. “You can’t just propose to your best friend out of the blue and expect them to function like it’s normal!”

“You’re Batman,” she whispered. “Figure it out.” (Y/N) pointed at him. “There’s another plus on my side! I already know your deepest secrets! See, aren’t I a catch?”

“Was this your plan all along?” Bruce suddenly questioned and she gaped at him for a second before shaking her head.

“…No.”

“(Y/N),” he drawled, and she sighed.

“Alright, it crossed my mind a couple times but that’s why I started with the other women first. I was kinda hoping you’d pick one of them.” (Y/N) looked at him. “I really don’t see anything wrong with us getting married though. We’ve been friends since we were babies, we have a lot of the same interests, and we both care for Dick.”

She shrugged. “I mean we might not be in love, but our marriage doesn’t have to be. We’re stepping up for a greater good. For a young boy who deserves to have two parents.” (Y/N) reached out and held out her hand. “So? What do you say?”

Bruce gazed at her for a long time, longer than she was comfortable with because she knew he was mentally pulling her mind apart. After a few moments he stood and walked around the desk to stand in front of her.

She pulled her hand back in and gave a curious look. “Bruce?” His hands gently took hold of her cheeks and he leaned forward, even as her eyes went wide and she whispered, “Bruce, what—”

He softly brushed his lips against hers and (Y/N) all but melted against him, her hands pressed flat against his chest. They pulled away a moment later and he rested his forehead to hers.

“I think we can make it work, (Y/N).”

She couldn’t fight the giddy smile that came over her face. “Yeah?”

Bruce matched her smile. “Yeah.”

***

“So, you’re tellin’ me,” he started dubiously, looking at him. “That you and Ma only got together because you guys wanted to make sure Golden-boy had two parents instead of just you?”

Bruce didn’t even take his eyes off the screen as he responded absentmindedly, “That pretty much covers it.”

Jason threw his hands in the air. “There’s no way! There’s no way that shit was arranged! You two make googly eyes at one another when you think no one is watching and you kiss Ma before you go to work every day!” he looked at his brothers. “Y’all know what I’m sayin’ right?”

Tim nodded. “Jay’s got a point, dad. For an arranged marriage, the two of you are really in love.”

Dick placed a hand over his heart and smugly admitted, “You’re welcome everyone, for bringing mom and dad together in real love.”

A chorus of “Fuck you’s” echoed from Jason and Tim, and Damian placed his hands on his hips.

“When did you know you loved Umi, Father?”

Finally, he pulled his gaze from the Batcomputer, and even behind his cowl, they could see the love he had in his eyes and in his voice as he said, “Your mother and I dated for a year before we married, but the night of our wedding, we spent it at the manor and Dick crawled into our bed and spent the night wrapped in our arms.”

Bruce smiled. “I woke up early that morning and saw him curled in (Y/N)’s arms and all I could think was that I’d never loved a woman more than that moment then.” His eyes shifted to all of his sons. “And I’ve only fallen deeper in love with her with each of you that’s come into our home. You make us better parents every day and I wouldn’t change what I was given for anything in the world.”

He barely had time to breathe before all four of his sons were crashing into him, squeezing him as tears spilled down their cheeks.

Bruce huffed a quiet laugh and took a moment to brush a hand through each of his sons’ hair. “I love you, boys.”

A chorus of “I love you too’s” came back at him and before anyone could speak, they heard someone coo, “Aww, that’s so sweet!”

They spun around to see (Y/N) with her phone out, a mile-wide smile on her face, eyes shining with tears.

“Ma…what are you doing?” Jason questioned and she clicked something on her phone.

“Oh, nothing, my sweet boy,” she smiled, and all of her sons started pulling away from Bruce.

“Did you just record that?” Tim asked and she took a step back.

“I would never!” and she stared them down for a split second before spinning on her heel and hauling off towards the stairs. Her sons sprinted after her and she let out a squeal as she skipped the steps two at a time to get away from them.

“Ma come back here!” Jason shouted.

“Umi! Our dignity is on that phone!”

“I dunno, I think it’s sweet!”

“It’s not going to be sweet when she sends it to the group chat that every superhero is in, Dick! We have reputations!”

“Oh…that’s a good point, Tim. Mom! Come back here!”

(Y/N) gasped as someone’s arms wrapped around her waist and she came face to face with Bruce—well, Batman, and she yelped when he pulled her phone out of her pocket.

“Bruuuuuuce!” she whined. “Please don’t delete it!” (Y/N) reached for the phone and he held it out of reach. “Darling, my sweet darling, Bruce, please,” she plead. “If you love your wife and mother of your children, you won’t do that.”

His gaze darted to hers and she pouted, sticking her bottom lip out in the way that she knew he’d crack. “Please, my heart. Let me have a reminder of my beautiful boys.”

“You won’t send it to the chats?” he asked, and she crossed a finger over her heart.

“Cross my heart, darling.” He handed her back the phone and she smiled, leaning up to peck the corner of his mouth. “Thank you, Bruce.”

He cupped her cheek with his gloved hand, thumb brushing over her cheekbone and he pulled her into a real kiss, ignoring the exaggerated gags behind him.

“I love you,” he murmured as he pulled away from her lips. “More than you know.”

(Y/N) hummed, her eyes still closed, and she whispered, “You might love me more, but I love you most.” She opened her eyes and gazed at him. “All my boys.”

Suddenly, her phone started dinging like crazy and he stared at her, his Batman voice coming out as he surmised, “You sent it to the chat, didn’t you?”

She gave him an innocent smile and giggled, “I might’ve.”

“You’re going to pay for all the teasing that Hal and Barry are going to give me, (Y/N) Wayne,” he warned, and she scoffed.

“Oh, boo hoo, I’m so scared of what the big bad Bat is go—” a gasp escaped her when he hauled her up against his body and she stared at him with wide eyes.

A siren went off down in the cave and he looked towards the boys. “Go.” They all hurried off, complaining about the various texts they were all getting.

Bruce looked back at her, voice lowering as he growled, “After patrol I’m coming up to the bedroom and you’d better be ready, because I’m not going to stop ravishing you until you’re begging me for release.”

Something hot, tight, and fierce shot through (Y/N)’s gut and she could only flounder like a fish as he pulled her into another searing kiss before he spun on his heel and descended into the cave.

She gathered herself and called out after him, “You can’t just say something like that and then leave! That’s not fair, Bruce! Bruce, are you listening to me!”

Only his laughter echoed from below.

“Bruce!”

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x reader imagines #bruce wayne x reader imagine #bruce wayne imagines #bruce wayne imagine #batfamily x reader #batfamily x reader imagines #batfamily x reader imagine #batfamily imagines #batfamily imagine #batmom x batfamily #batmom imagines #batmom imagine #batmom #batfamily #bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #damian wayne #robin #dc comics #dc #dc imagines #dc imagine

[sugamamacustard]

Feral Animal

Pairing:  Alpha! Kentarou Kyoutani x Omega! Reader

Genre: Fluff

Request:  Hi! I love your abo blog! I was wondering if you could write about Alpha!Kyotani with an Omega!Reader, where their first encounter catches everyone by surprise? Like, Reader has a traditionally alpha scent (like burning/smokey wood) and can usually get away with being mistaken as an alpha at first glance? It’s fine if you’re asks are full or you don’t want to do this but thanks for your time 😊 —Sno

Summary:  You just wanted to get the boys to practice on time. You weren’t prepared to deal with this.  Good thing you had a gaurdian angel- or should we say, dog. 

Author’s Note: I love Kyoutani so much. Like he’s in my top three people I simp for. 

Requests: Open!

Kentarou Kyoutani

➵ No one gathered in your way when walked down the hall. You smelt strong enough to put them on edge. 

➵ Peoples hackles were constantly raised when you were around, and truthfully, you didn’t know why. 

➵ You were still you. You were still an omega. 

➵ You still ached to reach out for touch, to scent someone, to just have the smallest bit of attention from anyone that wasn’t Iwaizumi.

➵  You and he had met when you were young, and he took to being your personal guardian—since he was a year older than you.

➵  You were thankful for him and his friendship, but that was all it would ever be. You both tried dating in your first year of middle school (Dating being a loose term), but it was obvious you were better off as friends. 

➵ You both still hung out constantly though, and eventually he grew to be an older brother to you.

➵  When you got to high school though, you quickly realized that with Iwaizumi came Oikawa. You had known him just as you had known Iwaizumi, but the other male seemed to keep his distance from you.

➵ It didn’t take a genius to figure out why he was keeping his distance with you. When you and Iwaizumi explained to him there was nothing between the two of you, nor would there ever be, he calmed down. 

➵ The fellow omega (Oikawa is an omega ass bottom change my mind. Unless it comes to requests. Then he’s an alpha for you :D) grew to be close with you as well and if one or the other was being idiotic you stepped in as the shoulder to cry on. 

➵ You were happy for them, truly, but you knew sooner or later you were going to be out of the picture.

➵  They were third years, and you were a second year. They had a relationship that ran deeper than any thing you could offer them.

➵ And that was okay.

➵ Facing the obvious, it’s clear that, because your best friends are those two dorks, you’re into volleyball. Or in the very least, know of it and how to play. Because of this, you’re elected manager.

➵  No more choice. 

➵ You don’t fawn over Oikawa constantly, you can handle Iwaizumi’s outbursts, you were calm with the first years, and you don’t put up with any fan girl’s bullshit. 

➵ You didn’t get the chance to refuse honestly.

➵ “I’m sorry, but unfortunately, Oikawa-Senpai is busy at the moment- “

➵ “Please, just- Let me see him! I won’t be long!” The Alpha pleaded, trying to appease to your sense of empathy. Unfortunately for her, that was dried up before the second girl even looked at you to ask the very same thing. 

➵ You were tired of girls, obviously not getting the hint, trying to confess their undying love to Oikawa every other day. How did they not see he was an Omega? 

➵ Yeah, he had suppressants out the wahzoo but, good golly, his mannerisms were all Omega.  

➵ Apparently this alpha though her and Oikawa would be the ultimate power couple.

➵ “Like I said before, he is busy. Any time you take up is time wasted.” You snorted, turning tail and shutting the gym door, ignoring the screech of anger behind it. You were used to it.

➵  Most times you locked them out, they’d throw a bitch-fit, turn and bad-mouth you to their friends for a few days. 

➵ They’d tease you for your scent—which was a, frankly lovely, pinewood and amber scent—and poke fun at you, saying how ‘you’ll never get an alpha smelling stronger than them” with a sneer. You’ve learned to ignore those types of girls.

➵ What you didn’t expect however, was for her to scream some more, banging on the metal door.

➵  It was ripped open in your moment of shock, making you turn on your heel to face her. 

➵ Her hair, though still relatively upkept, was frizzy with fly-a way’s running out occasionally, but her eyes were what scared you. 

➵ They were constricted to ball point bulbs that were locked onto you, fangs poking out as she snarled at you.

➵ Of course. Because why wouldn’t a feral Alpha be part of your day today?

➵ You growled yourself, trying to reign in your scent but it was getting harder and harder as she stalked closer.

➵ No one else was in the gym, as they were changing in the club room, but you figured you could handle her.

➵ You hoped at least.

➵ She tried pouncing on you, your arms quickly crossing in front of your face to shield yourself, but instead of an angry alpha trying to claw your eyes out, you merely got a gust of wind.

➵   Peeking open an eye—you couldn’t recall closing them, but whatever—you frowned at the face staring back at you.

➵  You hadn’t talked to him, personally, but you knew who he was. Kentarou Kyoutani. 

➵ He was incredibly strong, a worthy advisory, and worst of all…

➵ A ticking time-bomb of an alpha.

➵ He had the resting bitch face to end all resting bitch faces, and the attitude to go with it. He had only said one word to you ever and it was ‘move’. His voice was gruff and angry when he said it, but his eyes softened when you looked up at him. 

➵ He waited patiently for you to gather your things before moving. That was the first, and what you thought, last time you’d ever see the alpha. He entranced you though, so you wouldn’t ever necessarily be opposed to seeing him again. 

➵ Just maybe not in this circumstance.

➵ Kyoutani held the alpha by the collar of her shirt, his lips poked up in a snarl with his canines gleaming dangerously in the sunlight

➵ . Contrary to popular belief, he’d only ever gone feral once in his life. His stepfather, an awful, awful, excuse for an alpha had raised a hand to his Mama.

➵  He refused to let anyone ever raise a hand to omega that day and stuck to his grits with it.

➵  Many people often feared him because of his careful eye and quick reflexes. 

➵ They claimed he was close to going feral because they never cared to admit they were planning on hurting someone. He didn’t care.

➵ At least he didn’t. When he saw you simply turn and close the gym door, he felt his heart skip a beat. 

➵ Maybe it was just the fact that you didn’t relent, or maybe it was the fact that you didn’t care or bend or submiss in the absolute slightest, or maybe it was the waft of the most calming scent he’s ever smelt before.

➵  He knew the other alpha’s scent, as she had practically reeked all over him while asking him for things Oikawa liked before he snapped on her, so this was all you. And he…liked it. 

➵ He hated scents that were too sweet or too ‘exciting’ in a way, but this? This was calming and euphoric all in one and he wanted to straight up bathe in it.  It smelt that good.

➵ He watched the alpha screech, stomping her foot—he could guess she was the very definition of daddy’s girl with her reaction to being told ‘no’—and before he could growl at her to leave, she was forcing open the door and snarling. 

➵ So, he dropped his bag and ran to make sure you were okay. His alpha pawing at him to hurry up. 

➵ He had felt the very same as they day he ran his stepfather out of his life, but this time…This time, he would be sure not to go feral. That would scare you and he couldn’t, wouldn’t risk that.

➵ When he got there, the alpha lunged and he had barely enough time to grab her. You looked shocked to see him, or maybe it was residue from when she broke into the gym, but you didn’t say anything.

➵  He took that as a good sign, turning tail and dragging her to where he dropped his bag. He grabbed it quickly, instead dropping her and rushing back to the gym.

➵  You closed the door behind him, Iwaizumi and Matsukawa quickly locking it. In the time, between Kyoutani dragging out the feral alpha you had the chance to text Iwaizumi, sending choppy and shaky, but succinct, messages to let him know what was going on.

➵  The rest of the team were on their way anyway, so they merely hurried their steps. When they turned to lock the door, you stopped them, crying for them to just wait for a minute.

➵ Kyoutani had run in seconds after your plea and the door was quickly shut. 

➵ Scents were going insane in the gym, but his was most discernible to you. He smelt scared.

➵  Before anyone had a chance to mention it though, he was turning to you and reaching for your face.

➵ you flinched but that didn’t stop him. His fingers were gentle, more so than you could expect from him, and he was so soft while turning your face to observe the damage. Iwaizumi tried to get close, but he was growled at as you were held to Kyoutani’s chest. 

➵  The team could only watch, flabbergasted, as you were hugged and scented by their mad dog. Even more so when you began laughing and purring, placing your hands around his neck.

➵  You whispered something (They were ‘Thank you’ and appreciation whispers) into his ear, making his shoulders visibly relax. No one could really understand what had happened, but they weren’t sure if they wanted to question it just yet.

➵ Well, most of team didn’t at least.

➵ “Aw, Mad dog-Chan! How do you know our little Chibi-chan?” Oikawa laughed, leaning off Iwaizumi as he spun a volleyball on his pointer finger.  

➵ Kyoutani grunted, abruptly pulling away, only to growl and pull you back when his alpha snarled. “Don’t.”

➵ “Wait- wait, wait. Hold on.” Hanamaki snorted, holding his hands up. “So you, Mad dog, most vicious alpha this side of the equator, just decided fuck it, and chose to not only save an omega you’ve never met, but then hog her? I don’t know, Mattsun, seems kind of sus to me.”

➵ “Very sus.” Matsukawa agreed, snickering. He yelped however, when Kyoutani turned to snarl at him, only for you to hold him back. Matsukawa had never felt more scared for his life in that very moment, and he owed you a whole ass chapel.

➵ It stayed like that for the rest of the practice, with you calming Kyoutani down ever time he needed a ‘time out’ and over time he got much better at controlling his anger.

➵ No one was surprised when you walked in two weeks later, a small, thin leather choker clipped on around your neck with a hand-made moon charm hanging from it.

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu #alpha/beta/omega #alpha/beta/omega AU #alpha/beta/omega verse #A/B/O verse #a/b/o haikyuu #haikyuu omegaverse #custard writes #kyoutani x reader #kentarou x reader #alpha Kyoutani x reader #Alpha Kyoutani x omega reader #Alpha Kentarou Kyoutani x Omega Reader #kentarou Kyoutani x omega reader #kyoutani x you #maddog x reader #i'm so tired #but i loved this so much

[chudleycanonficfest]

Day 29, Story #1 is by @floreatcastellumposts

Title: In Vino Veritas Author/Artist: Floreatcastellum Pairing: Gen (Harry - Molly platonic/parent-child) Prompt: In Vino Veritas Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): Heavy alcohol consumption, mild language.  Molly Weasley was not stupid, and was well aware that young men enjoyed going out and getting drunk. She was not even particularly opposed to it - in principle - and she had to admit that she was very relieved to see George so excited about something. He hadn’t been excited in several long months.

‘Just don’t be too silly,’ she told him.

‘Us? Silly?’ he said, affronted.

‘I mean it, things might be safer but you’re all still targets - especially Harry, he needs to be particularly aware-’

‘I think he is more than aware that people out there want him dead. What he needs is a lot of alcohol to forget that.’

‘No, George.’

She knew he was winding her up, but she also knew that they were planning a big night out, because Ron and Harry had never really had one before, and in all honesty as much as she couldn’t help her disapproval, she did also feel that it was a shame they had missed out on such a rite of passage.

All the same, since George had let it slip, she knew she was going to worry, and her way of coping with that twisting, maternal anxiety was to insist that after their night out they returned, not to the flat in Diagon Alley they shared, but to the Burrow so that she could make them a full English in the morning.

She had also intended to stay up waiting for them, and to call the Law Enforcement Patrol if they were not back by half one to go and search for them, just in case something terrible had happened. But it was an awfully cold Halloween, and so she had got into bed next to Arthur so that she could have the warmth of the duvet, propped herself up against the headboard, and started knitting. The next thing she knew, she was being woken by an almighty crash.

‘Oh, fuck!’

‘Wahey!’

Both Molly and Arthur had already grabbed their wands in a panic before they heard their son’s exasperated voice.

‘Get up - get up, you idiot - George, hold him - oh for crying out loud-’

‘RON-’

‘Ssh! Don’t shout-’

‘Get him some water-’

‘He needs more than water - ahhh I have a brilliant idea-’

‘No, you don’t, whatever it is, abandon it-’

‘HEY, WOW, LOOK AT-’

‘SSH!’

‘That’ll be the boys back, then,’ said Arthur, turning on the bedside lamp and giving her a wry smile. The clock on the table said that it was approaching three in the morning.

‘Sounds like it, what on earth is all the shouting about?’ she asked, pulling on her dressing gown. Tying the cord tightly about her waist and slipping her feet into slippers, she listened to the commotion echoing up the stairs, and tried to figure out what exactly they were doing.

She could hear snorting laughter as she descended the creaking stairs, and Ron’s voice again, sounding remarkably grown up, saying, ‘don’t encourage him, stop it - put that down-’

She could hear saucepans clattering and tins falling, and the hissing spit of the gas; she looked over her shoulder to exchange a bewildered look with Arthur. ‘Are they cooking?’ she whispered, though there was no need, because there was no chance of them hearing her above the noise of George hooting.

‘Beans on toast, beans on toast!’

‘BEANS ON TOAST!’ came Harry’s echo.

‘Shut up, shut up, shut up, both of you, shut-’

‘BEANS ON TOAST!’

Molly had heard enough; she threw open the kitchen door so violently that George jumped and threw an open tin of baked beans several feet into the air. They landed with an impressive splatter across the slate floor. Harry, meanwhile, reached for his wand, but had instead seized a loaf of bread which he now brandished threateningly as he leaned against the counter. Ron had frozen in the middle of filling a glass of water, which now flowed over his hand. All three of them were still streaked with smears of paint from what she assumed were their Halloween costumes.

‘What on earth is going on in here?’ she demanded loudly.

Ron gave a heavy, exaggerated sigh. ‘You woke Mum and Dad,’ he told George and Harry pointlessly.

Harry lowered the bread, and held it sheepishly in both hands, like a child with a toy. George, in a carrying, apologetic whisper, said, ‘...sorry. We’re a bit drunk. Go back to bed.’

‘We can see that,’ said Arthur. ‘Harry,’ he added sharply. ‘What’s wrong with your foot?’

‘Oh, I… I fell on it. It doesn’t matter.’

‘He was dancing on a table!’ exclaimed George, with an accusatory point.

‘I wasn’t dancing, I was standing-’

‘Look at the state of you all!’ she said furiously, as Arthur calmly went over to Harry and guided him, hobbling, to a kitchen chair. ‘So irresponsible-’

‘I’m not that bad!’ said Ron defensively, and in truth Molly was rather surprised and a little proud at how he was being the responsible adult of the group, but there was no denying the heavy slurring, and the slight sway as he towered above her.

'You're not going to lose your bones,' she could hear Arthur saying reassuringly.

‘Mum,’ George was saying urgently, ‘Mum, can you make us beans on toast?’

‘No I will not make you beans on flipping toast! I’ll make you breakfast at a reasonable hour, right now you need to-’

‘Molly,’ Arthur called, ‘Molly, I think we’ll need some Skele-gro-’

‘Noooo - no, Mr Weasley, it’s fine, look, I can-’

Arthur gave a horrified yelp. ‘Don’t do that!’

‘I’ll get it,’ said Ron loudly, and, weaving erratically, he crossed the room to the Healing kit on top of the cupboards.

‘Mum,’ George continued, ‘if I hover up those beans, they’ll be all right, won’t they? Ten second rule, and if I let them boil for a bit?’

In short, it was chaos. Noisy, drunken chaos. In truth, she found it rather amusing, though it was still equally easy to frown and scowl at them. Somehow, and she could not muddle through the boys drunken logic, rooms were assigned and she found herself - and, again, she could not quite see how she had ended up in this situation, guiding Harry into Ron’s attic room and trying to help him into pyjamas. She had noticed before that Harry was a little more open, a little more affectionate, when he’d had a drink, but she had never quite seen him drunk before, and though the first time he had stopped her on the way up the stairs so he could hug her had been rather endearing, by this point she was getting rather fed up.

‘Mrs Weasley,’ said Harry loudly. ‘Mrs Weasley - I-’

‘Come on, dear,’ she said, more grumpily than she had ever spoken to him before.

‘I love you so much, Mrs Weasley-’

Her heart melted in an instant, she tried very hard to hide her smile, continuing to hold out the pyjama top. ‘You need to get into bed, dear.’

‘I love this whole family-’

‘That’s very sweet, Harry,’ she said patiently.

‘Bes’ family in the world-'

‘All right…’

‘Sorry, sorry,’ he slurred, and, though he was usually a very shy boy, he pulled his shirt off over his head, knocking his glasses half off in the process.

She looked politely away, but a few muttered swearwords made her look back, and, with a tut, she proceeded to help him untangle himself from the twisted shirt. ‘Hold still - this arm this way- that’s it-’

She had never realised just how covered in scars he was. On his chest, his arm…

The shirt fell to the floor, and she caught his glasses as they tumbled off his ear, and set them on the windowsill. When she turned back, he had one arm in the pyjama shirt, but was missing the other arm and twisting dramatically to try and get at it.

‘Silly boy, here you are,’ she said, helping him, and he started telling her thank you, over and over and over again. When it came to the pyjama bottoms, he seemed to realise that she was there, and gain a sense of shame, and he loudly asked her to turn away and not look, but when she went to the door to leave him to it, he shouted again.

‘No - no wait - Mrs Weasley don’t go, just don’t look - hang on-’

Finally, after the sounds of heavy, staggering hopping and a few more muttered swear words, she said, ‘can I look now?’ and he mumbled an agreement.

‘Oh, no, where are are my glasses?’ he asked, as she guided him to the bed. He sounded very worried.

‘They’re on the windowsill, and look-’ She pointed her wand at the bedside table, and a large jug of water and a glass appeared. ‘You’ve got water, and in a few hours you’ll have some food too, you just need to sleep some of this off. All right, dear?’

He collapsed heavily onto the bed. ‘You’re like the mum I never had,’ he mumbled into the mattress. ‘Mrs Weasley. My aunt never was this kind. Wish I’d been here all ‘long.’

She swallowed, and perched on the bed beside him, and reached out to brusy back his messy hair. ‘I wish you had too,’ she said quietly. ‘But you’re part of the family now, aren’t you? For good. I love you too, we all do.’

'I'm sorry,' he whispered suddenly, rolling onto his side with what must have been considerable effort.

'It's all right, you're just a bit drunk, you know I play the grumpy Mum act up a bit.'

'No. I… I’m sorry for everything I put you and your family through.'

She placed her hand against his face, and looked into his bright eyes. ‘I’d do it all again,’ she told him. ‘In a heartbeat.’

���Would you?’ he asked quietly. ‘If you knew? If you knew everything that would happen?’

‘I absolutely would still talk to the little boy alone in Kings Cross,’ she said firmly. ‘In fact, I think I would probably go looking for him.’

His eyelids drooped, he sighed heavily. ‘Kings Cross… Thank you.’

Within seconds, she was sure that he was asleep, gone to the world, utterly unwakeable. She smiled, kissed him on the temple, and left the room. From the sounds of it, Arthur was still arguing with George about beans on toast.

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #canon fest platonic #submission #tw: mild language #tw: heavy alcohol consumption

[lameghost]

Scream blue murder.

Bonten! x yakuza! leader [part 3]

word count - 2,538

💿 - deathwish by poutyface, to the bone by j.t machinima

Warnings❕- angst + fluff+ suggestive. Mentions of death, sewer slide, drugs, physical and mental abuse.(slight hints of ptsd) Mentions of Izana x reader and others. Spoilers! Bonten arc. Blood and gore. (pinky cutting and mentions of gas poisoning, mass murder.) reader goes berserk! putting a knife in each other's throat? reader is freaky fugg. and also apparently, an expert at chemistry.

[part 1] [part 2]

“So, 12 years… You were gone, just like that and you aren’t gonna say anything, huh? Saying ‘I love you’ like that, ain’t fucking fair, y/n. I missed you for all those years. I searched for you like a madman. Fuck, you didn’t even come by to look for me or shit. You know how fucking miserable I was, after Izana was gone and you too!” Everyone flinched at the sight of the usually calm Kakucho raising his voice. You were surprised too, but you kept on an indifferent facade as you looked down, guilt overwhelmed you.

Kakucho takes a few steps towards you, “I wanna hate you for it but I can’t. You’re too fucking precious to me. The last one I have here, and I thought you were fucking dead.” You did no such attempt to avoid the slap which landed on your face as tears flowed down Kakucho’s face. You heard the faint gasp from all the executives of Bonten. You just kept quiet.

“Hug me, god fucking damn it. I missed you.” With no hesitation, you engulfed him in a hug, basking in his warmth which came into contact with your bare skin. You smiled, relishing the memories of your childhood.

“Fucking hell that was touching as shit.” Sanzu fake cries, deep down he still felt bad since he knew that you were as important to Kakucho as Mikey was to him. Losing you would have meant losing his entire world. In reply, you lifted your middle finger, sticking out your pierced tongue at the pink-haired male. He chuckles slowly.

“Holy shit, yer got piercings, that’s hot, dude.” You nodded at Rindou’s question .

“Show us, I mean your tattoos and piercings.”

“That’s a pretty specific kink you have, Sir Mikey. I mean, I know I look hot as shit but.” He snickered, signalling that he only wants your full identification.

“If you insist, your honour.” You fake sighed as you turned around and began explaining your tattoos.

“29 piercings and last I checked, around 18 or 19 tattoos. Got my first tattoo at 13, illegally. Thank god I didn’t die of infection or some shit. Dude was a nice guy, he even taught me how to take care of a  new tat.” They all gasped, ‘doesn’t that shit hurt you?’. Ran and Rindou who were basically half covered in tattoos were also surprised by your ability to withstand the pain.

“Which one hurt the most though? Your tits or sumn?” Sanzu bluntly asks as he touches the tattoo on your left arm.

“Oh well, yer wanna see? Better pay money though.” You smirked and sent him a wink as you gave him a slight teaser of your tattoo, he blushed. Welp, you broke the dope peddler.

“You’re quite a mystery, aren’t you?” Mikey says, his voice dark and screechy, almost like he has been straining it.

“Your back. That ain’t a tattoo. Someone carved those characters into you.” He traces the Chinese characters on your back. You slightly flinched at the sudden cold touch of his finger. “Only the top brass of Yakuza has this, yeah? Which means, you’re the current hidden leader of the Yakuza. Working for them quietly backstage, is that fun? Don’t you wanna take the credit?” He was inches away from your face, you tilted your head slightly at his demise.

“Take credit? Pftt. Observant but dumb aren’t yer, pretty boy?” You cupped his jaw between your gloved fingers. “I fucking love it when people worship me, bow to me and praise me for all my work but I wouldn’t want my pets to go unrecognised do I? Plus, isn’t it harder to keep myself lowkey from the police that way? I have my plans, baby and I don’t like it when people question me.” You smiled and let go of his jaw, never in his life has he been this stunned by someone’s actions and indifference. This was a first.

“This carving was done by my dad. I was the only child who was able to take over the family business so, here I am. Healthier than ever!” You smiled, highlighting the dimples which brightened your eyes even more under the light which shone above you.

“So, you’ve taken a blood oath?” Kokonoi asks, curious.

“Oh that’s fucken bullshit. We don’t do those. We’re just old delinquents who don’t wanna follow laws, we don’t sacrifice ourselves. I mean that does sound cool though. The most we do is cut our pinky. I’ve cut 12 as of this week,” You sat back down, nonchalantly telling them. You put your suit back on, adjusting the tie.

Bang! A loud gunshot was heard from behind you, in one swift movement, you swooped Ran and Sanzu who were directly in front of you. ‘Top criminal organisers but can’t see a bullet coming their way? Great, fucking idiots.’ You looked down, the bullet grazed by your shoulder slightly. Thank god for that. You picked up the shell and the bullet which landed not far from it. You analysed the bullet, standing up immediately after recognising it. ‘Mauser C96. 0.45 ACP. Made in Germany. Oh fuck, why are they here?’

“Oi, you twinks. Came here to save me or something?” One by one, your members peeked their heads out from behind the oil tanks. Number 2, Tanaka Ryu. This kid has been behind you since juvie days. Once he got out, he looked for you and followed you till the very end even if it meant jumping into hellfire for you.

“If I couldn’t fight, I would have died to these hot dudes, you know? Do we need to practice again? Should I drill it into your brains?” All the members, a good 25 of them, stood at attention, weapons dropped to the floor with their hands behind their back.

“No, your honour!” In unison, their voices echoed one another. Bonten was too stunned to say a thing. Their mouths merely shut tight as your dominant aura overflowed through the entire warehouse.

“Good, and Tanaka, don’t mind, okay? Small mistake. I’m fine, n’ways.”

“Apologies, your honour. Take my pin-” You shushed him as you signalled everyone to get down and ready their weapons. Bonten, who was behind you, followed your command. You gestured for Mikey to come to your side, he slowly strides towards you.

“Mikey, listen. Now, your turf is being infiltrated. You heard that gunshot? Nagant M1895. That strong shit is only used by the Yakuza traitors. Those fuckers have been on my back for the last few months and I need a few extra hands so that I can alert my turf. After that, I’ll help yer. There should be at least 230 of them. 2 top heads and the other 8 executives. The rest are all their lackeys, bad fighting skills but good spirits. Now, we separate, I’ll alert your members too.”

You and Mikey, the leaders, moved into positions immediately. Working together for the first time but it almost seemed as if you’ve worked together for the past 10 years. You stationed Sanzu and your number 3, Haruto, right in front of you. These two are wild and have a few screws loose in their brains, so they make a good pair. They can slaughter some while you make a few alerts to your guards in your territories. You wanted to get it over and done with fast even if it meant, murder. So, you analysed whatever you had in your reach.

“Y/n-chan. What are you doing? I wanna smoke.” Sanzu said, questioning what you were looking at.

“Shush, let me think of a way to get rid of evidence fast and simple.” Haruto drags Sanzu back to their station as they both chat away, swinging the bloodied weapons in their hands. Psychos, I swear.

‘Benzoyl peroxide, TNT, fire extinguisher, bleach, ammonia and diesel.’ Fucking hell, they were making this a bit too easy isn’t it? You called Sanzu and Haruto over to help you. You took the empty tank, putting on your mask before starting and gesturing the two males to do the same. You poured the bleach into the empty tank followed by ammonia.

‘Do you think what you’re doing is right?’ The tiny voice in your head asks. ‘Well these people mass murdered 226 of the Yakuza members, isn’t it only fair?, ‘Of course, but can’t the police punish them?’. ‘What. They hurt me, not the police, I’ll make them save me a seat in hell. Especially that blabbermouth oldie.’, ‘I guess there’s no stopping you, y/n l/n. You’re a murderer after all.’ Wait, what the fuck? I’m not! They did it first, why is it me? Why am I to blame? Fuck, fuck you. ‘You’re a murderer by nature, y/n. That’s why your Mom and Dad passed this onto you.’ Shut up. They’re dead, they are just ashes, seeping into earth or maybe being swallowed by maggots. Those 2 are dead to me. ‘Your mom isn’t dead. Not yet.’ Well, I want her dead. ‘You gonna kill her, too? Like what you did to your old man? You’re naive, a pretty soul, one that I would kill to dirty but you already did it yourself.’

You halted your movements, Sanzu and Haruto stared wide-eyed at your face. Your face contorted with rage, aura screaming murder at them. This brings Sanzu back to 12 years ago when- nevermind. “Earth to y/n, we gonna continue?”

“Haruchiyo. Katana. Haruto, pass him your pistol, I’ll be right back.” ‘You’re gonna regret it, y/n.’

“SHUT UP! HOLY FUCK SHUT THE FUCK UP! UGH!” You let out an indignant roar, making Kakucho and Mikey halt their movements as they continued throwing punches to the opposing team. Kakucho ran towards you, covered in blood which did not belong to him.

“Hey, y/n. Hey, look at me.” You looked at him, tears of anger welling up in your eyes. (You can only cry when you’re angry but not when you’re sad.) He pats your back, telling you to kick some ass to relieve your anger. Well, that was your green light.

You swung the Katana out from your back which had a strap, tailor made for you to store katanas. As always, pecking the handle beforehand, showing respect. ‘About 104 left, gonna be easy.’ The rest of your members and Bonten members along with the executives gathered, wanting to watch you fight. It was almost like a playback of 12 years ago.

You dropped the katana to the floor, jumping onto the first person you see, hanging from the shoulder. You swung around, possibly breaking his spine and picked up two other men by their collars. Swinging them towards the tower of diesel tanks, you made your way to your next victims.

“So, pick yer death.” You smirked, but your eyes were empty and lifeless. Your bloodthirsty aura engulfed the entire warehouse, stripping the audience off any form of excitement. The male approached you, in a split second, he was inches from your face.

“HAHAHAAHA, you’re fast but you lack experience, sweetheart.” You caressed his face, voice coated full of sinister but in his ears, it was like honey. It gave his brain whiplash how contrasting your voice was to your actions. Without batting an eye or even giving him room to recover from your touch, your left leg flew forward. Landing directly onto the wound of his temple, plunging onto the floor. You took the chance to take a seat on his back.

You rummaged through his pockets, stopping when you found his phone. You dialed a number, the others stared at you curious. “I need about, uhh, 7, no, 8 ambulances, for the Shibuya area. The warehouse down the second turn. Thank yer!” You smiled and threw the phone across the room.

“Now, there’s only… let me see… 3 of you left. Rock, paper, scissors. Winner gets to pick the lucky one.” You signaled them to start playing, with trembling figures, the 3 males began playing. You placed the lit cigarette in between your lip, enjoying others misery.

“She’s kinda hot, though.” You heard Sanzu whistling and howling from behind you as you exhaled the smoke and took off your blazer, rolling up your sleeves. You sent a kiss his way as you made your way to the poor male - a prisoner of his own bad luck.

“Hey, mister. Long time no see. I’m bigger now, if you can’t clearly see.” You subtly flaunt, towering over the male before you. You bent lower so you could make direct eye contact with him. The eye contact sent cold shivers down his spine which made him froze, his lips quivered as you moved your gloved finger, gliding down his tattooed back.

“Oi, mister. I’m talking to you, it’s rude to not reply to your master, y’know? It kinda hurts my feelings,” You faked your sadness, pretending to sob into his shoulders. If he wasn’t already stiff, he is now officially the statue of liberty.

“Y-yes, your honour!”

“Good pet. Now, let me get my work done. You know what happens to traitors, don’t you? Perverted old man.” You removed the kunai which was secured tightly in the pocketed garter which hung from your thigh. You simpered, looking pleased at the amount of fear you could elicit from the pathetic man.

“AHHHHHHHH!” He writhed in pain, screaming blue murder.

“Okay, that was the last one! 12 plus 10 equals 22! 22 pinkies!” You giggled, cracking a smile from your scarred mouth. A horrifying sight, it was.

“Fuck, didn’t know you were capable of such cruel shit.” Ran sends a surprised look, scanning you up and down as you wiped the blood off your gloves and chuckled.

“Born and bred to do this shit.”

You knew you were done but there was some unsettling feeling that irked your senses, but what was it? Could it be you forgot something-

“We’ll take over from here, as an apology and a thank you for not murdering us.” Mikey said, a small smile on his face.

“Oh no, it was great working with you, Sir Mikey.”

“Don’t call me that, on god, I’ll put a knife in your throat.”

“Do it then, it’s not a threat Mikey. ” Your little bicker was put to a stop when Kokonoi seemingly  ‘cleared his throat’ loudly.

“So, you’re a professional torturer, a sugar mommy, free show stripper, yakuza leader, a mass murderer, chemist and now, a hooker. What else do we not know about you?” Kokonoi asked, voice laced with curiosity. His eyebrows raised as his eyes searched for answers in yours.

“Oh darling, I’m a walking unsolved mystery. Yer wanna find out? Yer gotta dig deep into the layers of this earth. Yer wanna solve me still?”

“Yeah, I do.” The short, purple haired spoke up. (You forgot his name.)

“Oh then, put on a raincoat. This year’s theme is bloody halloween. Wouldn’t want blood staining yer expensive suits.” You stuck out your tongue, making a move as sirens filled the quiet warehouse. 

‘Roppongi, Don Quijote, 31st October, 9 P.M. Be there or else you owe me candy.’ The boys chuckled, making a run as the police broke in.

#tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev smut #tokyo revengers fic #bonten #toman #kakucho x you #izana #tokyo revengers angst #ran haitani #tokyo revengers rindou #mikey #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokyo revengers x you smut #sanzu haruchiyo #akashi takeomi #kokonoi x you #bonten kakucho #bonten kokonoi #bonten sanzu #bonten ran #bonten rindou #bonten mikey #izana headcanons #mikey x you #tokyo revengers scenarios

[shotorozu]

hellolololo!¡! so i recently saw this video where their

s/o goes on to omegle and the other person from omegle like goes “hi ur cute” or “u have snap?” and then their boyfriend just enters the frame,, can u do that to todobakudeku separately :3

if u dont understand u can check this out 😭 https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSJdEqc7V/ tyy ❤️❤️

“ur kinda cute” on omegle

(tiktok prank)

character(s) : todoroki shouto, bakugou katsuki, midoriya izuku (bnha)

part two — part three

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns used, quirk not mentioned

headcanon type : fluff, crack — ‘x reader’

note(s) : i love these types of requests 🤩 so i plan on making 3 parts with this (oh and don’t worry, i’ll finish the other tiktok prank series i have going on at the moment)

also, there’s no proofread on this so if there’s any typos or mistakes, sorry! i’ll be editing them in the morning

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

todoroki shouto

okay so, the entire tiktok idea was planned— but the part where shouto came in surely wasn’t staged

so, being a curious young person— you wanted to make a tiktok, where you went on omegle just to speak to people for fun

and inside of your head, you’re kinda thinking that “this is dumb, omg im going to get flashed on there.” also while you were setting up your laptop

but you just used the appropriate tags and !! you were set off for an adventure

you set your phone aside, and you filmed most of the experience— cutting out the not so interesting encounters out of your tiktok

and then came on a dude, who had a,, unique reaction. he didn’t seem all that fishy— until he asked you for your snap (your social medias, essentially)

“you’re kinda cute, y’know. how did i not see you before?”

you shake your head, “oh no no! i appreciate your compliment, but i’m very much taken!” your mind immediately flashing back to the image of your icyhot boyfriend

“nahh you’re lying! i don’t see any dude back there”

oh,, and that was because shouto was out getting snacks 🧎 “no really dude, i appreciate it! i’m very much taken and being disloyal is out of the question!”

this dude just kept insisting and insisting, and due to the struggle— you weren’t able to hear the door knob jiggle

it seemed to be that his advances came to an end, and your lover made an entrance— a mop of red and white peaked out from the door frame

and the dude literally got scared and ended the conversation 💀 because you really weren’t lying!

you also figured that it was time to end your omegle shenanigans, and finish the tiktok— because your boyfriend was already there “hi love, who were you talking to?”

you closed your laptop, and offered him a smile “i was on omegle for a tiktok! i’m glad you’re back.” you discard your phone, wrapping your arms around his torso (and also making sure you don’t delete the draft)

shouto doesn’t say a lot, but he immediately accepts your touch, setting the groceries aside.

he doesn’t question the fact that you were on omegle because well,, he had to get used to your shenanigans on tiktok SOMEHOW

a few hours later, you posted the tiktok— and almost immediately, the tiktok gains a lot of attention

“i love how your boyfriend drove the last dude away 💀💀” “man the last dude didn’t take the hint 🗿” “your boyfriend indirectly protected you! we need more guys like him.”

you snicker at the comments, which ultimately gathered shouto’s attention “what’s up, love?”

you show him the tiktok, “the tiktok did well.” he’ll comment calmly, but shouto’s lowkey MAD ?? that a dude had the audacity. but he’s just glad that you’re happy just maybe,, don’t go on omegle anymore 💀

“love— next time, let me in on your tiktoks.” he says, running a thumb along your cheek lightly. because he was actually quite entertained, putting everything aside

bakugou katsuki

as if bakugou katsuki would let you go on OMEGLE, a place that’s known for having the sketchiest people to ever exist— but make it virtual

but being with you made him realize that well,, if you want to do something, you’ll go through lengths just to do it.

even the great bakugou katsuki can’t really stop you. whatever makes you happy— but oh, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t highly discourage it

which lead you to go on omegle for a tiktok in the other room, while bakugou exercised in the very next room.

when you told him that you wanted to film a tiktok, bakugou only shrugged— “don’t do overly dumb shit.” was what he only told you and he left the door open too

you then set up your phone and laptop, applied the appropriate tags— and went off to make your tiktok

you only filmed the interesting encounters, and the people you met on there were very diverse in personality and just,, in general.

after the 4th encounter, then came a rather interesting dude. he didn’t seem all that ordinary but he wasn’t spectacular. he was just nice

and the conversation was rather normal— until he started asking for your socials “putting everything aside, do you have social media? you’re really cute.”

you reject immediately, “oh no, i appreciate your words but— i already have a boyfriend.”

you just have to hope that he noticed bakugou walking back and forth with equipment, but with his next words— that doesn’t seem to be the case

“i didn’t see anyone back there, a simple no would’ve been sufficient instead.” uh oh

“no really, i—” and before things escalated, katsuki’s head peaked through the door frame, freshly out of the shower “are you almost done, idiot?”

the dude literally looked behind you, and thought “oh shit, their boyfriend is bakugou fucking katsuki.” because bakugou is famous for,, multiple different reasons

the dude’s camera shakes in terror, “oh uhm,, it was nice meeting you!” not long before he dips from of the conversation, never to be seen again.

closing your laptop— you end the tiktok while bursting into laughter, and this action just confused katsuki ever further. he heard you speaking to someone, and when he looked, the person was nowhere to be seen

“what are you laughing at??”

“nothing katsuki, i was laughing at the tiktok i just made.”

then— you figured that it would be best to tell katsuki now that you were on omegle (long story short, he wasn’t pleased)

he scolded you that you shouldn’t be on omegle, but let’s be honest, he couldn’t stay mad at you— so he just cuddles the frustration away

when you upload the tiktok the following hours, it blows up pretty quickly—with comments like “LOL IS THAT BAKUGOU KATSUKI??” “he had guts until he saw bakugou katsuki 💀” “tbh i’d be scared too”

and when you report the news the katsuki, he smirks— “as he should be.”

midoriya izuku

at this point, izuku is very much used to your shenanigans on tiktok. he’s very supportive of whatever you do all in all

but, about omegle,,, yeah,, as much as he trusts you— he does not trust omegle. he’s aware that it’s a shady place, and he doesn’t advise that you do go on that website bc he cares

so when you brought up the tiktok idea, he proposed that he’d be there, right beside you just to monitor if anyone’s being weird :)

and that’s great! because you also wanted to ask if he wanted to be a reoccuring guest in your tiktok— and of course, what kind of boyfriend would he be if he opposed?

he helps you set up your laptop and phone— all of that sort of stuff, and then you guys were off to make an interesting tiktok

oh, but izuku did apply the appropriate tags because he didn’t want you to see odd things he was secretly nervous but,, you were very ethusiastic, so he was too.

the first several people were interesting in their own way— especially with their reactions to your boyfriend appearing on screen

usually, they’d back off with, and comment on how cute your boyfriend is— wishing the both of you well before calmly leaving to meet new people,

that was how it was, until you met this person in particular.

he sounded very,, egotistical— i wouldn’t say that because you’ve just met the dude, but he acted like everyone wanted him or it sounded like that

then he says, “you definitely have a phone number, right? you’re cute, just my type.” wkdksmd this is awkward since izuku’s right beside you, but he’s just outside of the frame

then, izuku pops out of the frame— in all his cute ass glory, he gives a small wave to the not so pleased stranger

“please, that’s your boyfriend?” he scoffs, “with those arms, he looks like he could be your little brother! now let me ask again—”

it’s really weird?? because have you seen izuku’s gainz?? and this dude’s audacity is extraordinary.

but little did this guy know, he’s looking at midoriya izuku— and,, you’ve seen his performance in the sports festival.

the dude takes another glance at your boyfriend, who’s sitting there right beside you— and he realizes who he was talking to

“oh shit, you’re—” and before the both of you could realize it, he nopes out of the conversation.

after that encounter, you burst into a fit of laughter— the look on izuku’s face being priceless. “you should’ve seen your reaction!”

“haha, i guess he knew who i was,” he says bashfully, cheeks warming up. because it registered in his mind that people actually knew who he was. “can you,, upload the tiktok later? i want to hug you— i mean! if that’s fine.”

of course it’s fine! you oblige, and give him all the hugs he could ever need

after cuddling with izuku, you do upload the tiktok— and an hour later, your tiktok notifications blow up

the tiktok all in all gathered 1M views, 780K likes, and over 1,500 comments— most of them saying stuff like

“your boyfriend’s reaction was so cute?? i know he looked like he was going to punch him through the screen but 👀” “last dude was just not it.” “LMAO HE REALLY TRIED IT” “is your boyfriend IZUKU MIDORIYA??”

when you excitingly showed him the tiktok’s results, he was certainly pleased— because most of the comments were positive, and also because the tiktok’s results made you happy

“i’m glad that it did well!” he’ll sigh in relief, pressing a kiss against your temple, let’s just not go on there ever again

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

#bnha imagines #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha imagines #bnha x y/n #bnha fluff #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki imagines #todoroki x y/n #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou imagines #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x y/n #todoroki shouto x y/n #bakugou x y/n #midoriya x you #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya imagines #midoriya x y/n #midoriya x reader #midoriya headcanons #todoroki headcanons #bakugou headcanons #todoroki x you #bakugou x you

[shishu-writes]

hi! your inarizaki manager headcanons were super cute so i was wondering if I could request headcanons or a scenario idm! of inarizaki maybe accidentally making their smol manager cry? 🥺

𝐈𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐤𝐢 𝐀𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐫𝐲

Warnings: Language, Atsumu being mean

WC: 1.5k

Genre: Angst if you squint, fluffy ending

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this one! Thank you for the awesome req anon 💞

It had been a long day for everyone, the summer camp was grueling. The first two days of the week-long camp had been going alright, however the boys had lost a lot more games than they had originally anticipated. They just couldn’t seem to get into the groove of it, and it was putting everybody in a slump.

 The night of the second day of camp really put everyone on edge. Kita had called everyone, including you to the room they had been staying in to talk over why they have been in this slump and maybe find a solution. Opposing views on why the team was lacking during the past few days surfaced and Atsumus pessimistic attitude set something off in Suna, which resulted in the boys arguing.

Osamus bad habit of instigating emerged, which escalated the argument to a point where Kitas yelling would only fuel the argument more, which, in turn, made Aran try to calm Kita down, that then led to the two of them also arguing. Hitoshi had enough and left the room for a walk around the building, not even wanting to risk getting involved. Michinari and Ren sat with you in the corner, in silence, Michinari chose to stay purely for entertainment purposes, and Ren just wanted to sleep. 

As you turned to spark conversation with Ren a loud slap echoed through the room. Quickly your head snapped back to the group of boys. It took a couple of seconds to register what was happening. Everyone stood in silence and shock as Suna held his fist, Atsumu gripping his cheek. 

He glared at Suna before reeling back his arm to throw a punch towards him, Kita quickly grabbed his fist and shoved him against the wall, Aran dragged Suna outside, and Ren quickly scrambled up to follow the two boys. 

“I don’t know what the fuck you two think you’re doing but I will absolutely not hesitate to tell coach and get you both kicked off of this fucking team! We aren’t fucking middle schoolers Atsumu! When we have a problem we talk it out like adults we don’t start throwing fucking punches ESPECIALLY when you two are fucking teammates!” Kita yells, barely taking a breath between words. 

“If this shit continues the rest of camp you are both off the team. And you...we will have words.” Kita hisses, directing his final words at Osamu. Kita exits the room, leaving only The Miyas, you, and Michinari. 

Quietly, you shuffle towards Atsumu, who had slumped himself against the wall, sitting on the floor while cupping his cheek. “A-Atsumu…” you whisper, slowly sitting down in front of him while Osamu stands behind you. Slowly you reach your hand out, “Can I...take a look at your cheek for you..? I should bandage it before it starts bruising..” 

Gently you move to place your hand over his and right as the pads of your fingers touch his hand he slaps it away, scattering onto his feet. “Don’t fucking touch me. Get the fuck away from me..” He hisses at you, glaring down at you from above “I just-” “You just what? You’re only here because no other fucking club wanted you around! You thrive on the attention we give you in exchange for what? You nagging at us all hours of the fucking day? Give me a break, you have to be the most annoying girl I've ever met.” 

It takes him a couple seconds to realize what he said, both him and Osamu are silent. Michinar had been slowly making his way out of the room, the door slightly ajar, but he, too, was now frozen in shock. Tears brimmed the corner of your eyes until they overflowed. 

Quickly you stood up, running out of the half open door to be faced with the rest of the team who seemingly heard the whole thing. Too ashamed to look up at them you ran past, leaving the building. “I'll get her.” Aran spoke up, running in the direction you left while the rest of the team filed back into the room. 

Atsumu stood, dejected, arms hanging by his sides with a look of regret on his face. “I didn't mean it..” He whispers. Kita sighs, running a hand through his hair. “We know that. She's the only person that could truly ever put up with you...but she doesn’t. And you know how she is. She's going to take it to heart, because it's coming from someone she looks up to.” he whispers.

 Atsumu runs his hands over his face, sitting back on the ground. “Let's give her time...Let Aran work his magic.” Hitoshi says lightheartedly, sitting back on his mat.

-

The next day the team gets a very harsh scolding from their coach, the majority were issued warnings and went on their way. During the first couple hours of practice you were nowhere to be seen. After lunch the coach had called the boys for another meeting back in their room. He sat on the floor, placing his hands on his lap. “Can someone explain to me why Y/n just let me know that after the camp ends she will be resigning from her position?”

Almost immediately everyones heart simultaneously dropped, pure shock riddled with everyone's features. “Sh-she what?” Kita stutters out. “She told me today at lunch that she didn’t feel as though she was the correct person for the job, and that the team needed someone better. She offered me a list of potential new managers, however I feel like this has something to do with the fight that happened last night..” 

The boys all looked at Atsumu and he quickly got up, exiting the room before running to the managers quarters. When he got there he knocked twice, opening it quickly to find you sitting alone on your mat, looking through a list of potential club options. “Y/n!” “A-ah...Atsumu, good afternoon..” you mutter, looking up at him then quickly looking back down. 

“Why are you leaving the club? You know we need you-w-we’d be a mess if you didn’t take care of us like you do..” he stutters. Walking towards you slowly and sitting in front of you on the mat “You guys will be alright, it's not like I do much anyways...I gave a list of some really talented first years to the coach that should be an even better replacement.” “We want you! Y/n I know I said some really...really terrible things but I promise you I didn’t mean a word of it. I was just angry and I had been bottling it all up since we got here and I took it out on you and it wasn't fair. You take such good care of us...You make us each feel cared for and you do everything we ask of you and go above and beyond..You hold us together and.. We will never have a manager that could even compare to you...you’re also...our friend...and i’d hate to see you leave because I was acting like a fucking idiot. Please forgive me.” 

Stifling a sob, you nod. Atsumu wasn't one to show vulnerability to people, you and Osamu were the exception. His words were genuine, and you knew it by the way he looked you in the eyes when he spoke. 

He pulls you in for a tight hug, letting out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. “So you'll stay with the team?” he whispers. “I couldn't just leave my family like that..” you whisper. “If you say some stupid shit like that to Y/n again I wont hesitate to break your nose next time.” A voice speaks up that you immediately identified as Sunas. 

As you looked up, the team was standing at the door, half smiles resting on their lips. “Don't think about leaving us like that again..i'd hate to have those sleepovers at my place monthly if you weren't helping me keep an eye on these idiots.” Kita speaks up, earning a giggle from you. 

You wave the boys over and they all shuffle in, sitting with you. “Let's work really hard the rest of the camp okay? Afterwards I think we need some serious bonding time so I say...Weekend road trip to the beach?” “Fine by me if Kita and Samu drive!” “That was the plan Michinari, you'd kill us halfway there..” “We have to split the Miyas up-” “I call Y/n in my car!” “rock paper scissors over her!” “I'm going in Kita’s car-” “Can we please resume practice now?” the coaches voice calls out through the room, his tone light, a smile adorning his features as you all turn to look at him. 

The team nods, still holding their conversation about seating on the trip down to the beach, and over the next few days they were able to get it back together, surprising the other teams there with the sudden difference in skill. 

You really were the thing that held these boys together.

and they couldn’t ask for a better manager, or a more reliable friend.

#inarizaki x reader #inarizaki #inarizaki haikyuu #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu insert #haikyuu scenarios #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #kita shinsuke #suna rintarou #haikyuu imagines

[saturnsummer]

helpless.

han joon hwi does all he can to save kang sol a. kang sol a, for the first time, realises she’s not alone.

ao3 link

notes: this has been manifesting in me ever since i saw the scene of sol a fainting. i’m sorry it’s so long, but i hope the law school fans like it! it’s my first time, but i’m open to request and improvements. do share with your fellow solhwi fans if you like it! any grammar mistakes and all will be taken fully responsible by me.

edit: this is written by @inactiverat , which is MY secondary account. i did not copy this from someone else. both accounts belong to ME. i am republishing this on my primary blog to better manage.

words: 4130 words.

it’s been a terrible day for sol.

forget about a terrible day, it has been a week of horror.

she can’t remember the last time she laid her head on the pillow of her clean sheets and mattress. with her semester test coming on friday, she has spent the entire weekend cramming for her test. she has opted to sleep at her desk for no more than 10 minutes at a time. her eyes sting from the roll-on muscle relief ointment that she rolls on every few hours under her eyes. her head pounds and the only things she has eaten are ramyeon and black coffee. (no sugar, extra shots.)

sol sighs as she fixes another highlighter in her top bun. she’s been staring at the same question for hours. she looks over her desk, hoping to find peace by seeing a sleeping sol b, but only remembers that she went home. her tiger mom’s orders, since “she shouldn’t study with her roommate, who is at the bottom of the cohort.”

sol visibly frowned as she thought of that sentence. she doesn't need to be reminded every minute and second of her life that she’s the worst. that whenever she fails a test, the smarty pants are cheering due to the bell curve. that she barely scrapes through every class. that she blubbers and mutters answers like an idiot in every lecture.

that’s why she works so hard. to show that she doesn't need money or connections to succeed in this school. that a single parented girl, making enough to get by, holding a part time job can be like the rest. for her mom, she tolerated years of violent abuse, yet still being so strong for her children. for dan, who she so desperately misses and wants to find, even though she knows dan may never want to see her. for byeol, the reason why she decided to study law; the only human she loves in this lawless world.

sol knows she’s pushing herself too hard. yeseul made an effort to remind her to sleep via text. bokgi teased her once during a study group after mentioning she looks like a disheveled panda. even professor kim pulled her out of lecture to give her a talk to remind her to eat.

but joon hwi hasn't.

she internally scoffs. she doesn’t expect him to. (what does a second round judicial exam passer want to know about the worst student?) and maybe, she doesn't want him to. she wants to show him she can do it on her own. she can’t count the number of times he helped her with her grades and cases. studying alone without help was the smallest thing she can do to show him her independence.

thus, she found every moment to stay away. well, from him, in particular. she only came to lectures on time, sat at the back (as opposed to next to him) and left immediately. she returns to her dorm to study (ditching study groups with him in it) and only leaves in the odd hours to get drinks and food when she’s absolutely starving. she hears the buzzes and rings from yeseul and joonhwi, but only smiles when they ask about her inactivity. (“it was dead. i must have forgotten to charge it again.”)

she sighs in frustration and stands from her chair, grabbing her phone and keys out to the pantry area. she needed more caffeine, if she was going to survive this night.

what she doesn't expect to see, is han joon hwi, devouring his late night snack of ramyeon at the table. the shuffling of her furry slippers raises his head from his precious bowl.

“you’re still up?” he asks.

it’s too late to turn around and pretend she didn’t see him. so instead, sol just nods silently as opposed to her defensive remarks. joon hwi stops slurping his noodles and sets the bowl aside. preparing to walk to the staircase, his next question freezes sol in her steps.

“why have you been avoiding me?”

his voice is gentle and nowhere near angry. but concerned and fearful, as if he’s done something wrong to upset her. for a moment, sol feels like she’s in her first lecture with professor yang and is left speechless. (only now, there is no where to hide.)

joon hwi wasn’t blind to her actions. he noticed her absence when she didn’t sit next to him in lectures. he noticed that whenever he was there for a study group session, she wouldn’t; but when he would ask the others, they would say she was there for the ones he wasn’t. joon hwi was certain that sol was avoiding him.

and he couldn’t understand why.

until now.

joon hwi’s eyes examine the young woman in front of him. he’s certain that a middle school student could figure this out; kang sol a is overworked. her dark eye circles are prominent, puffy and her bloodshot eyes do nothing but intensify her lack of sleep. he noticed just how pale her lips look, as he walks over to her. how has she gotten skinnier too?

joon hwi’s certain that she’s avoiding him not because of something he said that annoyed her. but because he knows that she doesn’t want him to see her in this state. his eyes soften and heart aches from the amount of effort she's putting in to her tests.

for sol, he knows how much the tests meant. it was like her entire life depended on it. that’s why he always wanted to help her. he didn’t want to see such a talented person fall behind. she has already proven herself worthy with all the cases she has participated in. but joon hwi knows that no matter how many times yeseul or bokgi or him say how smart and talented and how she’s doing great, she will never be satisfied in this cold, competitive prestigious school. she will always think she’s the worst and has no potential.

“sol.” his voice firm and serious. sol swears she felt a chill run down. she mentally braces herself for this conversation that she has tried all means to avoid. only one person dares address her as just ‘sol’.

“when did you last sleep? or eat proper food?” his eyes are serious, yet soft and glassy. his voice is gentle and soothing. she closes her eyes and lets out a silent sigh. she is nowhere the mock court, yet she feels like she has taken the witness stand and the oath. lying is perjury, she hears herself say.

“i’m doing fine. i just need to do well on this test.” she lies through her teeth. well, it’s a half true and a half lie. it’s just up to him to pick out which is the lie and truth. joon hwi isn’t an idiot, and can read her emotions with just a single look. it’s an utter lie.

“i’m getting coffee.” she mutters to herself. it was the whole reason she came out, anyways. her sleeve is caught by him but she yanks it away forcefully. she doesn’t even know why she’s being so harsh and angry to him. all he’s done is just ask how she’s doing.

“you need sleep. not caffeine.” he spins her around by her shoulders, his eyes serious and almost frustrated. she fails to meet his eyes, afraid of falling apart before him.

“joon, just let me be.” she says harshly and pushes his hands off before running to get that extra potent coffee. it was the first time she has ever called him that, and it falls out just as naturally as the word ‘sol’ does out of his. sol doesn’t notice how wet her eyes are until she’s downstairs, grabbing cans of coffee from the vending machine. (pathetic, she thinks, getting teary because of lying to her best friend.)

joon hwi doesn't follow. and sol isn't one bit affected.

not. at. all.

-----

the next time sol sees joon hwi is in the morning. he’s carrying his books and has his backpack slung over his shoulder, leaning against the wall. sol braces herself. she knows joon hwi to be protective and caring. but for him to be waiting at the entrance of their dorm was downright surprising.

sol’s not doing any better. when the caffeine and sugar stopped her from staying late, she resorted to stabbing her hand to keep herself awake. when her hand got too red and bloody, she switched to another spot on her arm. underneath her hoodie is her arm with dried blood and bruises all over. she’s surprised she hasn’t had blood poisoning yet.

sol flashes the most natural smile she can on her face, pretending as if her argument with him did not happen a few hours ago. her head was numb, but hanging on with the ointment she applied at her temples. she needed to act okay. just so he would stop worrying and leave her alone.

“sol.” joon hwi’s voice calls, going forward and grabbing her arm to support her. sol is about to create a joke, laugh it off and pretend everything is okay, hopefully convincing him she’s doing better (even if she’s far from it.). but what she doesn’t anticipate is his hand accidentally squeezing the sore wound of hers,

she hisses as his fingers dig into her wound and he immediately lets go. joon hwi’s eyes well in concern, not knowing what he’s done that caused her so much pain. sol’s eyes meet his, uncertain and afraid, as if a secret has been exposed. she pulls her sleeve down and is almost regretting that when joon hwi gently lifts her arm and lifts her sleeve up slightly to expose her arm and hand.

joon hwi takes her good hand in his and drags her to an empty staircase not far from where they were. joon hwi notes the dried blood on her hand and gives a disapproving sigh. just what was she doing to herself? she draws her hand back and pulls her sleeve down, hiding it away.

“sol, you need to take care of yourself.”

“joon, i’m doing okay, i promise. it’s not a big deal.” her voice upbeat and slightly more energetic. joon hwi is about to call her out from lying, but she flashes a smile. “come on, how can an exam defeat me?”

“i’m going to be late.” she says and runs ahead of him, joining yeseul and yebeom in front. sol feels a gnawing guilt in her heart for lying, but she momentarily forgets about it as yebeom sweeps them into a conversation.

i’m sorry, joon. i really am. but i’m not going to burden you any further.

joon hwi is left, helpless and broken, watching the back of the woman he loves stray further.

-----

it isn’t a secret that joon hwi and sol a are good friends. everyone on campus is always shocked. joon hwi, the school’s top student. sol a, the school’s worst student. everyone would have expected sol b when they heard ‘kang sol’. after all, it made sense, didn’t it? the two best students in school.

but what would be even more shocking is that han joon hwi, second round judicial exam passer, is deep in love with kang sol, the klutz with the top bun.

joon hwi couldn’t deny the joy he felt whenever sol was around. it started with study group and tutoring and messages about school. then it became lunches every moment they could. now, he couldn’t go a day without seeing her, hearing her voice or even a simple text. he can’t remember the moment he started falling for the clumsy woman, but when he realised it, he knew it was too late. he was in, deep.

and that's why he can’t bear to see her suffer. that’s why he spends late nights studying with her even though he doesn't need to. that’s why he insist walking her home, even though he installed the camera. (“i miss byeol! that smart cookie...” would always be his excuse.) that’s why he calls her ‘sol’, and he lets her call him ‘joon’, even though no one calls him that anymore.

sol locks herself in her room and buries herself under multiple books after her lectures. sol admits it, she’s tired. she can barely keep herself together and her body is so weak she doesn’t know how she managed to survive the week with less than two hours of sleep combined per day. she can’t remember the last nap she had that lasted more than half an hour.

the guilt from lying is eating her inside. when she closes her eyes, she can only see how hurt joon hwi’s face looks when he saw her arm. taking a shaky breath in, she doesn’t notice the tear running down her cheek. what was she even crying about? lying? hurting her best friend? fatigue? she slams her head against her books, shaking her thoughts out. it’s already 3am, and she doesn’t have much time left.

“kang sol a, you need to do this exam, you hear me? if you want to pass out, do it later on in the afternoon! you have 9 hours till the test.” she scolds herself out loud. stabbing her arm once again, she jerks herself awake and writes her notes over and over. just 9 more hours.

later on in the day, sol finds herself seated next to joon hwi. but she doesn’t notice him. her eyes are too out of focus to concentrate on anything but the paper and pen she holds. when the teaching assistant makes an announcement to start, she races against time and scribbles furiously. her head throbs, but she clings on to her last ounce of sanity keeping herself awake.

-----

she’s worse. joon hwi thinks. much, much worse. her skin is paler than normal and her eyes are fluttery. with her sleeve pulled up slightly, he notices the wound on her hand more bloody than it was. he visibly winces. but it’s nothing to the hurt in his heart. he knows that he should be busy scribbling, but his eyes are slightly glassy and all he can think of is her bloody hand.

all he wants to do is to drag her away. to take her far from this school. he wants to hold her small body in his arms and cradle her as he tends to her wounds. he wants to tuck her into a soft bed and stroke her brown hair. he wants to tell her how he feels, how she’s perfect, smart and beautiful in his eyes. how sol has already had his validation, and no matter how many kang sols there are, he will only have one in his heart.

as the clock leaves a minute or so to the end, sol struggles to keep her head from falling. she just needs to finish the last sentence. her eyes are blurred and her head has never felt more tight and woozy. her ramyeon from 4am is threatening to make an appearance.

“sol, you’re bleeding.” she hears an familiar echoed voice say next to her. instinctively, she brings a hand up to her nose, and wipes it, revealing the bright red blood. she can’t care for her jacket sleeve and carelessly wipes even though her arm aches. just a bit more, she tells herself.

the voices around her blur as she feels hands on her shoulder stopping her. she pushes them off weakly as she finishes the last word on her paper. she lets out a breath of relief and pushes her paper away from her. she’s finally done. she can finally breathe and have that nap. someone calls her name, but she’s too tired to respond.

then her eyes rolls back and she crashes into oblivion.

joon hwi manages to catch her head before it hits the table as she slumps sideways. he scribbles his name on his paper before chucking his paper and hers towards the teaching assistant. yeseul passes a tissue over to joon hwi and shakes her, eyes getting teary. he gently blots her nose, soaking up the blood. the other students leave unbothered, with only their study group crowding around them.

the next hour is a mad rush in joon hwi’s head. they are frantic for an ambulance, but joon hwi just cradles her body in his arms and runs outside. “it’s faster to run.” he says before taking off. she’s light, way too light for her frame, even with the layered coats that she’s wearing. when he reaches the hospital, she’s laid on a stretcher and sent for checks while the nurses ask him to wait for short while outside.

and for the third time, he stands outside, clutching to a bloody tissue, helpless.

-----

joon hwi wants to beat himself over and over. he should have been more forceful with her. heck, he should have done more than just watch silently. he should have sent packed lunches, compiled his notes, offered to stay up with her. even after when he knows how much sol is suffering, he only stood by.

his eyes are teary when he is allowed to see her. she looks so small under those white sheets. the doctor mentions that they had to take her hoodie off to patch her wounds and insert her IV drip. “dehydrated on caffeine, lack of nutrients and fatigue.” the doctor tells him. he only nods as the doctor leaves him.

his group chat is pinging with endless messages and he takes a moment to update them. he sends a quick text that he’ll let them know when she’s awake. his hand brushes the stray hairs out of her eyes and as best as he can, arranges her bangs the way she likes. his touch is as light as a butterfly as he lets his fingers brush pass her bandages.

with the curtain closed around him, joon hwi lets himself crumble silently, as tears run down his face, hands gripping sol’s stained hoodie sleeve. he wishes he could do something then just watch sol lie on the bed. he knows she is okay, but knowing that he could have prevented this worse case scenario from happening makes him upset. he gives himself a few minutes to compose himself before taking his own hoodie and layering it on her.

and for hours, joon hwi sits by her bed in his own thoughts, once again helpless.

-----

when she wakes up, her head pounds worse than the time she got the worse hangover in school. her eyes flutter, drawing the attention of joon hwi. her mind is cloudy as she starts registering the antiseptic smell and bright lights. her eyes come into focus as she turns over to find a pair of warm brown eyes looking at her.

“joon hwi...?” she says with barely any energy.

“you’re awake.” joon hwi lets himself sigh in relief knowing that she’s awake. it’s already 6pm. the others should be on their way over soon. he sends a quick “she’s awake” to the chat and shuts his phone.

“i... finished my exam right?” the words come tumbling out of sol’s mouth.

“that’s all you are thinking of now?” the anger in joon hwi’s voice catches her by surprise. she lowers her hand and avoids his eyes. she’s really done it, then. she’s really pissed him off.

“aren’t you one bit concerned about your health? you could have literally died being so overworked.” his eyes are glassy. realising that he’s frightening her, he lets a sigh out. joon hwi helps her sit up and props a pillow for her. her fingers fiddle with the thin blanket of the bed. there’s no point being strong in front of him now, after all this.

“you know how much every test means to me.” she mutters in a voice so soft, it’s unlike her to be so...small. joon hwi knows under that strong woman with a fiery passion for justice, there’s a vulnerable little girl, insecure and uncertain. but this was the first time, he realised, that she’s opening up herself.

“i’m so tired, joon. i’m so tired of running this stupid rat race that i’ll never win. i’m so sick of putting everything into my grades and not receiving anything back.” her voice so small, staring at the bandages on her hand. was the pain worth it? she’s not sure now.

joon hwi doesn’t say anything back. how could he? this man was born for this system, to bring law back to the country. he can’t compare to her, who spends countless nights studying, while taking care of her family. all he can do is sit by her bed and provide comfort.

“my head hurts. my body aches all over. yet, i can’t seem to do well in my exams. tell me, joon. just how long must i suffer?” his heart is pierced with every word she says. she’s so broken. joon hwi then notices the small pearls of tears dripping down her face.

his hand reaches out and his thumb rubs away her tears on her cheeks. he doesn’t know what prompted this, but sol doesn’t swat his hand away. she lets him as her hand wipes her remaining tears away.

“i’m here now. you can rely on me.” he says softly to her. suddenly, he takes her small hand in his and squeezes it in comfort. sol’s slightly taken aback, but she doesn’t know why she feels fuzzy inside. she feels warm and for the first time, she feels her burden lifted. with much courage, she gives a small smile.

“noona!” they hear a familiar panicked voice ring and they instinctively draw away from each other. if joon hwi’s face is slightly red, sol doesn't notice. sol is swept away into arguing with bokgi with her health and a teary eyed yeseul. even jiho and sol b came, but stood by silently. (jiho notices joon hwi’s flushed cheeks and his too-bright smile that he finally realises is meant for kang sol a. he makes a mental note about it.)

joon hwi leans back as he watches yeseul and bokgi fuss with sol’s health. he suppresses a smile as he looks at sol’s light laugh, knowing how her burdens are slowly fading and lifted. that he’s finally managed to reach out for his soulmate as she sinks further. it was going to be a journey, but joon hwi will drag her, his sol, out from her darkness every time.

i’m going to be there, no matter what, kang sol. you will not fight alone. i will stay with you, even when you think you don’t deserve it. it doesn't matter if you feel the same towards me or not. if i can see you smile and laugh, it’s enough for me. your happiness is all that matters.

because kang sol, i just love you so damm much.

-----

sol doesn’t notice the switch in her jacket. when she leaves about an hour later with her friends to eat jjajangmyeon (extra pickles, she orders.), she assumes the jacket she has by her bed is hers. she doesn't notice the sandalwood and jasmine smell, as opposed to her pine scented fabrics. when joon hwi teases her and she argues back in annoyance, she’s carefree and light.

when joon hwi smiles at her with his sweet smile, she can’t help but think she’s so lucky that she has him, of all people, by her side. her heart skips a beat, and she’s certain that she feels more than friends towards him. that all this time, she has finally fallen for the cheeky and charming joon hwi behind his intellect.

she smiles back, teeth bared and eyes crinkled as they walk back.

after all, who is to stand against her now, when she has him by her side?

joon hwi, thank you for finding me no matter how much i try to hide away. thank you for believing in me when everyone didn’t. i know you like someone else, and it’s okay. because whoever that is will be so damm lucky to have you. to see you smile your charming smile is enough to put me at ease.

because han joon hwi, i admit, i have fallen for you. i’m in love with you.

-----

bonus:

“noona, they like each other, don’t they?” bokgi watches as sol a barks at joon hwi. joon hwi only runs ahead and buries his hands in his hoodie pockets while letting out light laughs and continues teasing.

“oh, they are so whipped for each other.” yeseul triumphantly says as she walks with the rest behind the not-so-obvious lovebirds.

well, this would be an interesting relationship to see unfold.

#jtbc law school #law school #law school kdrama #law school jtbc #jtbc drama #jtbc #kang sol a #kang sol b #kang sol a x han joon hwi #ryu hye young #kim beom #kim bum #han joon hwi #joonsola #solhwi #jo ye beom #seo ji ho #jeon yeseul #min bok gi #original by akinosakiya #solhwi by aki

[blackspoon99]

The Sign of Three Pt. 2

Sherlock x Female! Reader

TW: Mention of Blood and Near Death, Spoilers to Season 3!

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

You took your seat at the head table and found yourself relieved that you were sat in between Janine and Sherlock. You felt immediate guilt at that thought. Dinner was slightly tense and awkward. Possibly only for you. For the most part, you made small talk with Janine while Sherlock read over his stack of index cards. Little boughs of anxiety kept creeping in the back of your mind as you replayed Sherlock and Janine’s conversation over and over. You peeked over at Sherlock to your right and took a healthy sip of champagne. You decided you would try your best to be present. This day wasn’t about you, after all. Your attention was pulled to the center of the room when a waiter tapped a spoon against a champagne glass.

“Pray silence for the best man”

This was it. You can do it, Sherlock. You watched Sherlock rise from his seat and stiffly fasten one of the buttons on his blazer. He looked unbelievably uncomfortable. You smiled when you noticed Sherlock adjusting the flower you placed in his blazer pocket. The wedding guests applauded and waited for Sherlock to begin.

“Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends ... and ... erm ... others.” Sherlock blinked several times.

“Er ... w...” Another awkward pause. “…Also”

You looked over at John then at Molly and Greg. They wore the same concerned look on their faces.

“Telegrams” John whispered to Sherlock

“Right, uhm…” Sherlock patted the pockets of his blazer and pants then finally noticed them on the table near his place setting. “First things first. Telegrams.” He lifted up the pile and inspected the first one. “Well, they’re not actually telegrams. We just call them telegrams. I don’t know why. Wedding tradition,” Sherlock muttered quickly. “Because we don’t have enough of that already, apparently.”

You saw John narrow his eyes and turn to Mary. You nervously looked down at your hands in your lap. Sherlock read the first note.

“To Mr. and Mrs. Watson. So sorry I’m unable to be with you on your special day. Good luck and best wishes, Mike Stamford.”

“Oh, Mike,” John said, smiling.

“To John and Mary. All good wishes for your special day. With love and many big ...” Sherlock paused and suddenly looked like he had swallowed a lemon. “... big squishy cuddles, from Stella and Ted.” He looked up at the ceiling, blinking repeatedly again. You tried to suppress your laughter. “Mary – lots of love, ...” Yet another pause. “…Poppet” He finished, popping the “t” at the end. Mary snickered.

Sherlock straightened his back and took the next card. “Don’t bugger it up, Sher—” he abruptly cleared his throat and looked straight at you. You tried to hide your laughter. He’d finally gotten to the note you slipped in with the telegrams. Everyone would have heard it was actually quite a nice note if Sherlock had read the entire thing out loud. It read: Don’t bugger it up, Sherlock. Only kidding. You’re doing great. X, y/n.

“Um, special day” Sherlock threw a telegram over his shoulder. “Very special day” He then proceeded to toss each telegram straight behind him. “Love, love, love, love. Bit of a theme – you get the general gist. People are basically fond.” The wedding guests laughed, interpreting it as a joke. Sherlock looked confused, then picked up the other stack of index cards. He began to shuffle through them, clearly trying to find his place.

“Done that. ... Done that ... Done that bit ... Done that bit ... Done that bit ... Hmm ...”

You anxiously looked up at him, feeling the awkward tension in the room.

“I’m afraid, John, I can’t congratulate you.”

Your eyes snapped over to John who looked as shocked as you felt.

“All emotions, and in particular love, stand opposed to the pure, cold reason I hold above all things. A wedding is, in my considered opinion, nothing short of a celebration of all that is false and specious and irrational and sentimental in this ailing and morally compromised world.”

You looked around the room at all the wedding guests as some of them began to murmur. Greg and Molly had the same horrified look on their faces. Sherlock continued on.

“Today we honor the death-watch beetle that is the doom of our society and, in time – one feels certain – our entire species.”

You placed your head in your hands. You knew you should have made Sherlock let you read over his speech. You hadn’t wanted to make him feel nervous or like you didn’t trust him.

“But anyway ... let’s talk about John.”

“Yeah, good idea” you hissed up at Sherlock. He ignored you.

“If I burden myself with a little help-mate during my adventures, it is not out of sentiment or caprice – it is that he has many fine qualities of his own that he has overlooked in his obsession with me.”

You heard Greg snort across the room. This was going south fast. You couldn’t believe Sherlock was insulting John on his wedding day. He must be spiraling. There had to be something you could do to save this. Fake an emergency, maybe? You could at least buy some time that way.

“Indeed, any reputation I have for mental acuity and sharpness comes, in truth, from the extraordinary contrast John so selflessly provides. It is a fact, I believe, that brides tend to favor exceptionally plain bridesmaids for their big day. There is a certain analogy there, I feel.”

Ouch. You tried so hard not to look at Sherlock as you felt your ears burning with embarrassment. You adverted your gaze and focused on not allowing yourself to be hurt by what he’d just said.

Somehow, Sherlock continued. “And contrast is, after all, God’s own plan to enhance the beauty of his creation ... or it would be if God were not a ludicrous fantasy designed to provide a career opportunity for the family idiot.”

Oh boy. Now Sherlock was going straight to insulting the vicar. The murmuring began to pick up again. You looked over at John, who was now hiding his face in his hands while Mary frowned.

“The point I’m trying to make is that I am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant and all-around obnoxious arsehole that anyone could possibly have the misfortune to meet.”

You looked up at Sherlock in genuine surprise.

“I am dismissive of the virtuous ...” He looked to the vicar. “... unaware of the beautiful ...” Your heart stopped when he looked straight at you. Or maybe in your general direction? You looked over your shoulder at Janine, who was smiling. He could have just as easily been looking at her.

Sherlock finally turned to John and Mary “... and uncomprehending in the face of the happy. So if I didn’t understand I was being asked to be best man, it is because I never expected to be anybody’s best friend. Certainly not the best friend of the bravest and kindest and wisest human being I have ever had the good fortune of knowing.”

Just when you’d started to doubt him, Sherlock had surpassed all your expectations. He always managed to surprise you, every time.

“John, I am a ridiculous man ... redeemed only by the warmth and constancy of your friendship. But, as I’m apparently your best friend, I cannot congratulate you on your choice of companion. Actually, now I can.” Sherlock turned to Mary. “Mary, when I say you deserve this man, it is the highest compliment of which I am capable. John, you have endured war, and injury, and tragic loss... so sorry again about that last one.” John laughed. Sherlock leaned back over to you and winked. You smiled and rolled your eyes.

“So know this: today you sit between the woman you have made your wife and the man you have saved. And I know I speak for Mary as well when I say we will never let you down, and we have a lifetime ahead to prove that.”

You found yourself fighting tears. You were not alone. “What’s wrong? What happened? Why are you all doing that? John?” Sherlock again looked rather confused. He turned to look at you. “Did I do it wrong?”

“Oh, Sherlock,” you said quietly.

John stood up and pulled Sherlock into a hug. The crowd applauded. “I haven’t finished yet,” Sherlock said as John released him.

“Yes, I know,” said John

“So, on to some funny stories ...” Sherlock attempted to yell over the applause.

“Can you – can you wait ’til I sit down?” John asked.

“So, on to some funny stories about John,” Sherlock continued as the noise died down. “So, for funny stories, one has to look no further than John’s blog.” Sherlock pulled out his phone. “The record of our time together. We’ve tackled some strange cases, some frustrating cases, and ‘touching’ cases. But we want something ... very particular for this special day, don’t we? The Bloody Guardsman.”

You remembered this case. It was only a few weeks ago,

You, John, Mary, and Sherlock sat in the living room of Sherlock’s flat, completely surrounded by lists, items, and menus for the wedding. You’d initially been surprised at Sherlock’s dedication to wedding planning. The back wall above the couch was a perfectly organized record of everything that needed to be done in the next few weeks down to all the potential fonts for the place cards. Sherlock had even created a to-scale model of the reception venue sometime during his fits of mania. You were no psychologist, but if you were you’d say that Sherlock’s meticulous efforts were all in an attempt to force some control into a daunting situation.

John and Mary were seated at the table near the windows looking over the bridesmaids’ dress options. Sherlock stood studying the guest list on the monstrous wall of wedding planning. You were sitting in John’s chair with your legs hanging over one of the arms, flipping through catering menus.

“Need to work on your half of the church, Mary. Looking a bit thin.” Sherlock spoke from across the room.

Mary forced a smile. “Ah, orphan’s lot. Friends – that’s all I have. Lots of friends.”

You didn’t know anything about Mary’s family except that for unknown reasons, she didn’t have one. She kept her cards so close to the vest, you doubted John knew anything either. “And your friends adore you, Mary,” you said, attempting to cheer her up.

“Schedule the organ music to begin at precisely 11:48,” Sherlock spoke over you. “Sherlock,” you groaned. He didn’t turn around from the wall and continued to fiddle with the clippings.

“Or maybe 11:55, with allowed time for delays,”

“Sherlock,” you tried again. “The rehearsal’s not for another two weeks. Just calm down”

He whipped around to face you. “Calm? I am calm. I’m extremely calm.”

“Yes, I can see that,” you said sarcastically, noting the wild look in his eyes.

“Let’s get back to the reception, come on,” Mary said from across the room, diffusing the tension. “John’s cousin. Top table?”

Sherlock rose to join John and Mary at the table. “Hmm. Hates you. Can’t even bear to think about you.”

You rolled your eyes. You tossed the catering menus to the side and walked over to the table to look over Mary’s shoulder.

“Seriously?” Mary asked, shocked

“Second class post, cheap card bought at a petrol station. Look at the stamp: three attempts at licking. She’s obviously unconsciously retaining saliva.”

“Don’t worry Mary, I’ve met her and she’s the worst. Let’s stick her by the bogs,” you interjected.

“Oh yes,” Mary agreed.

“Pretending I didn’t hear that,” John said, looking down at his phone.

“Who else hates me?” Mary asked Sherlock. He turned around and handed her a handwritten list. “Oh great – thanks,” Mary said unenthusiastically.

“Priceless painting nicked. Looks interesting,” John announced. He’d been looking through inquiries for cases on the blog. It was only a little annoying that he wasn’t helping. “How about this: ‘My husband is three people’? It’s interesting. Says he has three distinct patterns of moles on his skin.”

“Identical triplets – one in half a million births. Solved it without leaving the flat. Now, serviettes.” Sherlock bent down and pulled a tray out from under the coffee table that had two different elaborately folded napkins. “Swan or Sydney Opera House?”

“Wow…” you said flatly. He’s lost it. You bit your lip in concern and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Where’d you learn to do that?!” Mary asked, impressed.

“Many unexpected skills required in the field of criminal investigation ...”

“You’re lying, Sherlock,” you said, teasing.

“I once broke an alibi by demonstrating the exact severity of ...”

“Sherlock, out with it.” You pressed him further.

“Okay – I learned it on YouTube.”

“Well then, Sydney Opera House, please,” Mary said with a smile.

You turned away, thinking. “Hey, Mary? Can I show you what I was thinking for my bridesmaid dress?”

“Uh, sure,” She replied.

“Great!” you said and grabbed her wrist. You pulled her into the kitchen and closed the door. “Mary, we have to do the thing. Right now.”

“Are you sure, he seems okay-ish?” She said skeptically.

“Okay-ish?! Mary, he’s watching YouTube videos on napkin folding. He’s terrified.”

“Right. You’re right. Okay, you speak with Sherlock while I get John.”

You opened the doors to the living room to see Sherlock sitting on the floor, surrounded by at least 15 napkins folded in the opera house shape.

“That just sort of ... happened,” he said dropping his hands to his side.

“Did you just do that now?” John asked, finally looking up from his phone.

“Okay. John?” Mary started. “I’m about to give Beth a call, she’ll want to talk to you as well.” Mary held her phone up and gestured to the kitchen.

“Oh Beth, that’s right. We’ve been meaning to call her.” John got up and followed her.

You walked over to Sherlock and took a seat on the floor next to him. He reached under the table for more napkins, but you caught his hand and shook your head.

“I think we have enough for now. I actually need to talk to you about something, Sherlock. I’m worried about John.” He looked over at you, listening intently. You lowered your voice and inched closer. “I think all the wedding planning is getting to him. He needs to get out for a bit, I can tell.” Sherlock nodded along with you. “I can’t say anything because he won’t listen to me. He’s just going to think I’m worrying too much. Could you please find him a case, any case? For me?”  

“Yes, yes, of course. You can count on me.” Sherlock whispered. He stood up and carefully smoothed out his suit. John walked back into the room. You got up and silently joined Mary into the kitchen. A few moments later, Sherlock and John walked into the kitchen.

“Er, we’re just going to ... I need, um, Sherlock to help me choose some, er, socks.” John awkwardly fumbled over his words.

“Ties,” Sherlock interjected.

“Let’s go with socks,” Mary said.

“Could be a while,” John said. “We’ve got to make sure they match my—”

“Tie” Sherlock interrupted. John looked back at him, exasperated.

“My coat in there?” John cleared his throat. Mary nodded and John turned the corner. Sherlock leaned in and lowered his voice.

“Just going to take him out for a bit – run him.”

“Good work, Sherlock,” you said with a smile. Sherlock winked at you and walked out of the door. When they were out of sight, you turned to Mary.

“Do you fancy a drink?”

“Let’s go,” She replied.

That had been the end of your involvement in the case of the Bloody Guardsman. You had heard the rest of the story from John. Sherlock hadn’t particularly felt like sharing. Probably because he never solved it. You listened to Sherlock lay out his chosen details in his speech all the way up to Sherlock and John finding Stephen Bainbridge bleeding out in a shower in the barracks.

“Private Bainbridge had just come off guard duty. He’d stood there for hours, plenty of people watching, nothing apparently wrong. He came off duty and within minutes was nearly dead from a wound in his stomach, but there was no weapon. Where did it go? Ladies and gentlemen, I invite you to consider this: a murderer who can walk through walls, a weapon that can vanish – but in all of this, there is only one element which can be said to be truly remarkable. Would anyone like to make a guess?”

You rolled your eyes. Of course, Sherlock was challenging people to solve a case on the spot that he didn’t even figure out himself. You pitied whoever he chose to humiliate.

“Scotland Yard.” Greg looked up from his drink. “Have you got a theory?” Greg stared blankly at Sherlock. “Yeah, you. You’re a detective – broadly speaking. Got a theory?”

This was going to be bad.

“Er, um, if the, uh, if the if-if-if, if the blade was, er, propelled through the, um ... grating in the air vent ... maybe a-a ballista or a – or a – or a catapult. Erm, somebody tiny could … could crawl in there.” Molly cringed. “So, yeah, we’re loo... we’re looking for a-a-a-a dwarf.”

“Brilliant,” said Sherlock

“Really?” Greg replied immediately

“No,” Sherlock said coldly. Ruthless. Greg lowered his head back into his drink. Across the room, you saw Tom whispering something into Molly’s ear.

“Hello? Who was that?” Sherlock asked and looked around the room before settling on Tom. “Tom. Got a theory?” Tom slowly stood up across the room.

Poor Tom looked uneasy. He shifted around for a bit before reluctantly giving his opinion. “Um ... attempted suicide, with a blade made of compacted blood and bone that broke after piercing his abdomen ... like a meat ... dagger.”

Molly wore a look of uncomprehending embarrassment. You looked to Sherlock. He had a look on his face that was a strange mix of smugness and disbelief. “A meat dagger.” He stated.

“Yes,” Tom said, awkwardly.

“Sit down.” Molly hissed. She reached up and yanked Tom down to his seat by his sleeve.

“No,” said Sherlock plainly. “There was one feature, and only one feature, of interest in the whole of this baffling case, and quite frankly it was the usual. John Watson: who, while I was trying to solve the murder, instead saved a life.”

You smiled at John’s proud expression. So that was the point of Sherlock’s roundabout story. It surprised you because when they’d initially came home that day, all Sherlock could focus on was how the attempted murderer did it and why he couldn’t figure it out. It was nice to see he had developed a new perspective.

“The case itself remains the most ingenious and brilliantly-planned murder – or attempted murder – I’ve ever had the pleasure to encounter; the most perfect locked-room mystery of which I am aware. However, I’m not just here to praise John – I’m also here to embarrass him, so let’s move on to some ...”

“No-no, wait, so how was it ... how was it done?” Lestrade interrupted.

Now Sherlock would have to admit he didn’t solve the case. You smirked. That’s what you get for insisting on embarrassing Greg and Tom.  

“How was what done?” Sherlock asked, attempting to deflect

“The stabbing,” Lestrade clarified.

Sherlock looked down for a moment, then reluctantly continued. “I’m afraid I don’t know. I didn’t solve that one. That’s ... It can happen sometimes. It’s very ... very disappointing.” He looked down for a moment as if contemplating then continued. “Embarrassment leads me on to the stag night.”

A/N: So sorry this is so late! I haven’t forgotten about this series, I promise! I just moved into a new apartment in college and it’s already been nuts!

taglist: @the-chaotic-cow @amoeebaa @sad-bitch-h0ur @scorpios-echos

If you want to be added to the taglist for future updates, go like the post I made earlier about it!

#bbc sherlock #Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock #sherlock imagine #sherlockxreader #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x you #Sherlock Holmes x Reader #sherlock x you #sherlock x y/n #the sign of three #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock x you

[dadsbongos]

Red Scare

Movie/Game/Show: Marvel Dynamic: Peter Parker/Reader Warnings: some au where everyone’s in the compound and happy because :), i wrote out a russian accent for pronunciation purposes (it’s then quickly wrote out but hey), “slowburn” written by someone impatient, fem pronouns Summary: Peter just really wants to hold your hand and gets embarrassed by Nat and Tony to do it. Word Count: 3.5K ~~~

Steve was the one who’d found you originally. Well, fought you - to be accurate. The super soldier was a target you’d been put on as a Widow when Natasha found you both and broke the fight up. She’d just barely managed to convince Steve to keep you around - insisting that she could help defect you from Widowing and mold you into a new Avenger. It’d worked for her, surely, it’d work for you too - she just needed time. Time that, while hesitant to do so, Steve eventually granted.

Natasha graciously took you under her wing and began teaching you about American culture and how to blend in for more than spy work.

Now, Natasha watches with furrowed brows as Wanda approaches you. She had her arms crossed tensely as you two came to a meet in the middle of the room. She watches you, her dear student, reach out, hesitating before softly taking Wanda by the shoulders and leaning in to gently kiss her left cheek, then right, then left again.

“Okay,” Natasha put up her hands, signaling the two to stop, “so, ученик, you see where you went wrong there? If Wanda’s a stranger, you wouldn’t kiss her on the cheeks, right?”

“Vanda is friend, no?” you gestured between you and the other woman.

“She is,” Natasha nodded before jabbing your forehead with her index finger, “but you need to pretend she isn’t, just for right now.”

Throwing your hands up in defeat, you huffed, “Vhat? I’m bad guy because zis is ridiculous?”

“No one’s trying to say you’re the bad guy,” Wanda gave you a smile and pat on the shoulder, “Just in need of a little more practice.”

“We should start working with accents,” Bucky pitches in for the first time since ‘American etiquette’ lessons began that day, “Her’s is a dead giveaway.”

Natasha nodded before glancing over at the clock, “I’m sure you’d love to do that one, big guy.”

“Why me?” Bucky sat up straighter - he was no good with one-on-one interactions unless they were fights, and with your upbringing in the Red Room, Bucky was certain you didn’t need any combat training.

“I’ve got a mission to get to with Wanda,” the assassin pat the man’s arm with a teasing grin, “So, unless you wanna see who else is available for that, just sit tight till we’re back.”

The two redheads were out before Bucky could even reply, a sigh leaving his lips at the new awkwardness of the situation. It wasn’t even his idea to be involved - he just got looped in because of his time with HYDRA. Which, in his opinion, was unfair - Natasha and Wanda were at least actually Eastern European, he was lumped in by association. He stood, beginning out of the common room with a nod for you to follow, muttering under his breath.

“If I may,” you interject, nearly rushing to keep up with Bucky’s hurried strides, “zat eh, Spider. Spider boy. Is only one home. Stark, maybe. But Spider, definitely”

“Parker…” the man takes a glance at you, trying to shove his disdain for the boy back, “Sure. He should be in the lab.”

It doesn’t take long to find Peter with Tony, Bucky knocking on the doorframe to catch both of their attention, “We need help teaching accents.”

“And articles,” Tony interjects, pushing a stool beside Peter’s and motioning for you to sit, “Unfortunately for you, lavalantula, it’s hard to take you seriously when you say things like ‘get in house’ like a cavewoman.”

“Mr. Stark- “

Before Peter has the chance to defend you, you’re quirking a brow at the man and putting your own two cents into his take, “In fairness, vhat idiot vould get in different house?”

“Accent and articles!” Peter claps, a forced smile bright on his lips, “Will do, Mr. Barnes, you can trust me.”

“I really don’t,” Bucky glares at the poor boy all while he leaves, “If she starts making references to your movies, I’ll personally bring you harm.”

“Opposed to what?” Peter murmured, “Impersonal harm?”

That brought a small laugh from between your lips, causing Peter to perk up once again at the positive attention. It isn’t every day he gets to make a former Russian assassin laugh, he supposes he should take it as a compliment.

He cleared his throat as Tony went about the lab, “Alright, I think that first we should start with articles.”

“Sounds pointless.”

“They kind of are, but we use them here, so…” he scratches at the back of his head, “How about we try making the ‘th’ sound first, sound good?”

“Not really.”

It was a few days with learning from Peter, but you’d felt as though so much progress was made towards the lessening of a Russian accent. Or maybe the praise that slipped from Peter’s lips just made the most minor step forward seem like a leap. The praise brought a new bubble of joy in your chest, one that was never there when Wanda, or the ever rare Natasha, complimented your work. Maybe it’s because Peter was born and raised in America that made it seem more valid - maybe it was his buzz and excitement at teaching. Maybe it was just him.

“Why don’t you try telling me about your day, to get used to speaking with what you learned so far?”

“Uh,” you fumbled, trying to translate the events in your head before speaking, “I woke up. I trained v- with Thor. Then he left for mission,” you paused, realizing your mistake and sighing.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Peter was quick to jump in when he assumed self-doubts were bubbling up, “You’ve got a lot of time to learn, don’t beat yourself up over a mistake. English is a pain in the ass to learn, you should be proud of yourself for picking it up so fast.”

“Yeah?” he could sense the hesitant disbelief in your voice.

Even so, he didn’t let up, giving a confident nod, “Yeah. Just start over whenever. You were doing really well.”

You took a moment to plan out the response in your head, running through it internally a few times before giving Peter a verbal run through, “I woke up. I trained with Thor. Then he left for a mission. I went to the lab. Now I’m here - with you.”

“See? You’re already doing so well, you should be proud. We can work on elongating sentences later down the line, but this is already pretty great!”

You take a moment, planning the pronunciation in your head before responding, “Thank you, Parker.”

“Peter,” he jumps to say, shrinking back slightly at his own eagerness, “Peter is fine, if you wanna call me that.”

“Piter,” you try the name on your tongue.

“I don’t think we’re saying it the same way,” he nods curtly, “but that’s okay! Doesn’t have to be perfect the first time.”

“I would like to try again,” you whisper his name to yourself a few times before repeating it aloud, “Peter…”

“Right! Wow, you’re so good at this already,” Peter turns to Tony, who’s doing a poor job of pretending he wasn’t listening to the pair, “Isn’t she smart, Mr. Stark?”

“Coming from you, kid? That’s a big compliment.”

“I think it’s well-deserved,” he gives you a chuckle, “I really mean it, you’re good at this and this is just a few days into working on your accent.”

“You think so?” there’s a wave of sheepishness that comes with Peter’s attention, with his wide-eyed, all-believing stares that leads you to scratch at the back of your neck, “Good. I would not enjoy to be a bother for long.”

“Not a bother, at all. I like spending time with you, even if it’s just to teach you about American accents.”

Tony closes his eyes and shakes his head, honestly not believing the words as they come out of his mouth, “You two live together, you could hang out whenever you want, kid.”

“Oh, yeah, huh?” Peter’s eyes seem to come alive again, “We should, then. Hang out, I mean. Outside of these accent lessons, unless you don’t want to.”

“No, no,” you feel a small, unfamiliar smile stretch over your own lips, “I vou- would. I would like that, very much.”

“Yep,” Tony slaps a stack of papers on the desk before beginning to make his exit, “Definitely have to work on those sentence frames, Captain Ivan.”

For the duration of Natasha’s absence, you’ve stopped coming to Bucky for lessons on Americanization. Sneaking off with Peter to the kitchen when you can.

"I used to think that melancholy was a vegetable."

"You're genius enough to catch Stark's attention, but thought melancholy was the name of vegetable?"

"Doesn't it sound like it though? Can you really tell me I'm wrong?"

"No, no, I can see it. Like celery and the uh, the one fruit. They had a baby."

"The one fruit?"

"The one, I forgot the word. Don't you have a word for дыня?"

"You do realize I have no idea what you just said, right?"

Sometimes to either of your rooms, or walking together around the perimeter of the building, or traversing through the little garden Wanda had been working hard on.

"Would you like some food? I'm ordering."

"I don't have any money, sorry."

"I did not ask if you had money, Peter. Do you want food or not?"

"But I can't pay you back and then I feel all icky on the inside part."

"Think of it as gift then, no paying back needed. Gift for being a good friend."

"Aw, you think I'm a good friend?"

"If I had to have a first friend, then I'm glad it was you. You're a good person, Peter. I'm glad we met."

"I'm really glad we met, too."

Little times set apart to spend time together that always begin as lessons.

"You ever heard of solipsism?"

"Maybe, what is it?"

"Uh, the belief that everything around you was created in your mind."

"Then yes, why, Peter?"

"Well, I just was thinking… You know, if everything around me is imaginary then you're the best thing I've ever come up with."

"Peter…"

"I'm sorry, was that too cheesy?"

"No, I just- it was really nice, actually. Thank you."

"Well, don't thank me, it's true."

Times that quickly morphed into discussions on Peter’s favorite movies or what little parts you miss of home.

"Would you ever go back? Like, to Russia?"

"Only if I had to. Too many poor memories there."

"What would be 'having to'?"

"If someone I really cared about needed me to. You or Natasha, mostly."

"You'd go back for me?"

"If you were in need of saving and I had to return to Russia to do it, yes, I'd go back."

"That's the sweetest thing I've ever heard."

"Peter, it is quite actually the bare minimum in terms of saving you."

Nobody expected it to last longer than the time that Natasha was gone - she was like a big sister to you, a safeplace when the Tower felt cold. So, when she came home and you didn’t re-glue yourself to her hip - people were quick to notice.

“I didn’t think Parker could get worse,” Sam noted under his breath, “But there he is, digging underneath the bar.”

Truly, Sam could’ve just looked away - but it was hard to do that when he was watching Peter fucking Parker, the littlest Avenger, try to win a game of footsies with you at the kitchen island. It’d be a cute sight if Sam weren’t the one having to see it.

“I’m staying out of it,” Bucky shook his head, staring down at the table as he pushed his food around his plate, “I haven’t been hungry since they got in here.”

Suddenly, Peter stands, “You’re low on coffee,” he points down at your mug before moving around the counter to the pot, “Do you want more? Just, while I’m up and here.”

“I hate that kid,” Sam shook his head, standing up and starting out of the kitchen, “I hope she rejects his ass.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Steve muttered, “In a way only an ex-Widow could manage.”

“She would’ve eaten him alive on the field, you know?” Bucky shook his head as he watched Peter contently refill your coffee and you give a rare smile only he and Natasha ever really knew, “I miss those days.”

“You try so hard to content me…” you begin, unaware of the conversation behind you, and tap your fingers on the counter’s marble, “Why?”

“You seem nice,” he shrugs, deflating when all you shoot him with in return is a skeptical look, “You do - you are. I like spending time with you.”

Before he can scold himself, you’re smiling again, patting his shoulder, “Thanks, Peter, you’re reassuring. I will be training with Nat if you need me.”

Peter expected a lot of things in his life - joint pain when he’s old, to be an Avenger with Mr. Stark, for missions to not always go perfectly, but gaining a crush on a girl who, admittedly, kind of intimidated him, wasn’t one of those things. But, also admittedly, it wasn’t entirely unwelcome, he’s noticed. He waits for Steve to make his exit before turning in his stool to face the only other man left in the room.

“Hey, Mr. Barnes?”

“Oh my- what?”

“You know Miss Romanoff, right?”

“Nat?”

“No, that’s Ms. Romanoff.”

“You mean ученик?”

“Sure, yeah, that’s what you guys call her.”

“Why are you calling her ‘Romanoff’, that’s not her last name at all.”

“No, but she’s like Ms. Romanoff's sister, or daughter, or something, so it fit. Anyway, do you know her?”

“Yes, Parker, obviously I know her.”

“Well, I think I may or may not like her like more than a friend, a lot, and I was wondering if you knew what she was into? Like date-wise… or gift-wise… or hey, even partner-wise, if she talks about that, ever.”

“She doesn’t and please don’t involve me in this. Go ask Nat.”

And so, Peter does ask Nat.

He makes up an excuse about wanting to be more agile on the field to drag her away from you before popping the question, “Do you think she likes me?”

Natasha doesn’t need clarification, she’s seen the way Peter looks at you whenever you’re around each other. It’s sweet. It’s like he’s seeing a full moon for the first time. He’s so attentive and soft towards you. Sure, the dynamic of a gentle-natured superhero from Queens and a Russian ex-Widow, current Avenger-in-training is a little strange, but she’s all for it if it means you’re happy. You’re like the little sister she so desperately wants back.

“She might,” the redhead shrugs, “Poor ученик isn’t so open with her feelings, kid. I can barely get her to open up about what she thought about dinner let alone her feelings towards the others,” when the boy’s face drops, she tilts him by the chin to meet her eyes, “That being said, I’ll talk to her. She’s a lot nicer to you than she is with the rest of the team so I wouldn’t kill that hope so fast.”

Peter barely manages to smother down a smile before nodding, giving an awkward thumbs up, and racing back down the hall, a “Thanks, Ms. Romanoff!” echoing after him.

Nat purses her lips in thought of who could be able to help her. Who was nosy enough and bothersome enough to try and set up two teenagers?

“Hey,” Tony pointed to the group of Natasha, Wanda, Bucky, and yourself on the couch, “Red Scare, in the training room.”

“Vh- Which one of us are you referring to?”

The man simply tapped the door frame with a nod, “Five minutes or I’m docking your missions.”

“He can’t do that,” Bucky shook his head, eyes narrowing as realization sat in, “Can he?”

And so, in under five minutes, the quartet found themselves in the training room with Tony.

“Underoos needs some training with fighting tactics known to HYDRA - so, who here wants to be the helpful little hero to do that?”

You look between the others, quirking a brow and shaking your head, “HYDRA is not a hub of top secret fighting techniques, it would be like pairing Peter with anybody else.”

“Sounds like you need to get familiar with other fighting styles then,” Natasha tuts, “I’ve let you off too easy just training with me.”

“I literally fight Steve and Thor all the time, there isn’t much difference just because he’s American,” you narrow your eyes at the woman, “If you both are up to something just admit it now.”

“No, no, there’s definitely a difference,” Bucky pitches in - though clearly not content with being roped into the mess of getting Parker a girlfriend, “He’s all in-your-face and forceful, you’re more like sneak-and-stab.”

“Because I am spy and he is fighter!” you shout, looking to Wanda with wide eyes, “Am I being the specific one? I feel as though I am not being the specific one.”

Wanda feels guilt run through her veins as she shrugs, actively knowing she’s aiding in tricking you, “You should give it a try. For comparison reasons.”

“You’re all making me feel crazy and I do not like it, I am at least a little certain this is a form of manipulation.”

“You’re a spy, you should be able to tell,” Bucky pats your back, “Anyway, I’m busy - you have to fight the kid.”

“Vision and I had a dinner reservation,” Wanda ducks out of the room quickly.

Tony points at you with raised brows, “You got it then, Xenia Onatopp?”

“I- “ you sigh and throw your hands up in defeat, “I suppose I do.”

A few minutes later, Peter is shoved into the training room while you stuff on a pair of gloves - eyes sliding over to the doorway to look at his jumpy form. You scoff, “They are up to something and I feel like I know what.”

“What? What - what do you mean?” Peter nervously crosses his arms and tilts his head, “Up to what?”

“Peter,” you raise a brow at him in question, “do you expect me to believe you are dumb? They are making us spend time together like this, what could that possibly mean?”

His mouth opens and closes, eyes avoiding your gaze like it’s deadly, “Who knows, honestly?”

Shaking your head, you begin removing your gloves, “Okay then, do not talk to me until you are ready to tell the truth.”

“Wait!” Peter latches onto your hand as you pass him by the doorway, “Wait, wait, wait… I- I’m sorry. I just really like you and so I asked Ms. Romanoff for help and I didn't think that she’d team up with Mr. Stark because nothing really good comes from Mr. Stark meddling in things other than tech and saving the world, but she did and they did this. I would’ve said something but you’re just really cool and I was scared you wouldn’t like me back so I tried to see if Ms. Romanoff could test the waters for me.”

“You see where that was a mistake, right?” you reach up, brushing your hand through Peter’s bangs, “I do like you, Peter. A lot. So I would appreciate you being upfront with me rather than looking through Natasha for answers.”

“Right, and I’m sorry- “

“Was honest mistake, Peter, do not worry any longer.”

“Are you sure?”

“Would not have said so if I wasn’t. I do not like your worry.”

Peter wrought his hands together, lips pursed, "Can we not pretend to train and just hang out then?"

"Are you certain you do not want me to kick your ass?"

“Well, now that you said that I feel pressure to prove that you won’t,” Peter shook his head and sighed, “I’m okay with taking a loss today.”

“You didn’t even try, didn’t even initiate.”

“So I’m the bad guy cuz I don’t wanna get my ass kicked, okay,” the boy sarcastically muttered before laying his back against the wall and sliding down to the floor, “Hey, you’re bilingual, right?” at your nod of confirmation, he continued, “What language do you think in? Russian?”

You pondered the question before shrugging, “I’m not even sure I think.”

---

“So,” Natasha looks between the two, “how was the training?”

“Awful,” Peter shakes his head, “Hated it.”

“Right… and you, ученик?”

You look over to Peter, his subtle grin and fidgety movements, before shrugging, “He’s a child,” you sigh, “Terrible.”

“Oh, is that so?” Natasha squints between the two of you.

You both nod in unison, “Definitely.”

“Anyway,” you cut in quickly, “we are off to ask Thor to let us try and lift Mjolnir. Please, don’t meddle in teenagers who have will-they-won’t-they scenarios, just let us be awkward about it.”

“What she said,” Peter grinned broadly before gently tapping his finger against your hand and withholding a small cheer when you intertwined your hand with his and led him through the halls to find Thor.

He was almost scared how much he enjoyed the feeling of your hand in his, something so small and inconsequential and yet it made his heart flutter all the same.

“This is nice,” he lifts up your hands briefly.

“I would hope so,” you tease, “I like it, though, is cute, no?”

“It is. Definitely is. I think so.”

“I do, too. We should do it more often.”

#peter parker x y/n #peter parker fic #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #peter x you #peter x reader #idk if the length of this gives it away #but i really like the idea of peter and his russian murder girlfriend

[twstedbeauty]

Just found your blog, and I love it! May i ask for headcannons of Riddle, Vil, Malleus and Idia watching their designated Disney movie with their s/o?(akin Vil, Snow White, Riddle Alice in Wonderland, Malleus, sleeping beauty)

I’m going to assume that they would have the movies in this world since they canonly have The Little Mermaid adaksdjaksdjas

Riddle Rosehearts 

Riddle is still getting used to relaxing and having fun, so watching movies is still rather new to him. 

He sits rather stiffly on the couch at first, not really sure how he should sit, but he’ll slowly relax once you join him. 

 On the whole, I think Riddle would actually really enjoy Alice in Wonderland. It’s very colorful and whimsical and there’s something about it that gives him an almost nostalgic feeling. 

He’d appreciate Alice as a protagonist, but I do think he’d find her a little annoying with how she thinks and does things at times. 

“Who in their right mind just chases after a rabbit into a hole in the ground?” You hear him mutter and you can’t help but smile to yourself. 

The Cheshire Cat immediately reminds him of Che’nya. 

Riddle is immediately impressed by the Queen of Hearts entrance. She comes on screen and has this air of intimidation and power. 

He points out some parts of the movie that reflect real life Heartslabyul rules! Like the rule about painting the roses, the rule about no cats at parties.

I think the part with the court scene he would find a little silly and quite exaggerated, however. 

"So, it was all just a dream?" Riddle watched the credits roll with a rather confused look. "That wasn't satisfying at all!" You couldn't help but giggle at that.

"It's explained at the beginning! She wanted a world of her own, so she made one up herself~" Riddle just blinks owlishly at you at that, which just makes you laugh again.

He'll have to go and have some time to himself, probably having a mental crisis over what is real and what isn't.

Vil Schoenheit 

Vil loves watching movies, so when you suggest watching a movie from your world, of course he’s all for it. 

Knowing him, he’s no doubt seen the movie already, but he’s not opposed to watching it with you. 

The Beautiful Queen summoning the spirit of the Dark Mirror scene makes a proud smirk come to Vil's face. He can't help but feel a bit of pride for his dorm watching it.

But immediately after, when Snow White comes on screen, his face drops into a scowl and he rolls his eyes.

Right off the bat, he comments about how annoying Snow White is. 

“I just don’t understand why they gave her such a grating voice...” He grumbles, shaking his head. “It’s so irritating.” 

Vil would point out how Snow White's dress and makeup, along with the Beautiful Queen's, is a reflection of the fashion from the period when the movie was made. (And if you pointed it out to him first, he'd be VERY pleased and impressed with you~)

"Oh, so THAT'S why they gave the Beautiful Queen pencil thin eyebrows?" You teased and Vil shoots you an unamused look.

"Of course. She's a product of her time, a staple for beauty and fashion from that era."

The dwarves do amuse him when they come on screen. He'd never tell you, but Dopey is his favorite.

He voices his admiration during the Queen's transformation scene.

"The lengths that she was willing to go is truly admirable..." He watches as she dips the apple into the poison. "But even the greats are capable of making mistakes. She should have ensured that Snow White could never be revived from the sleeping death."

He doesn't have much to say towards the ending, but he does look a little put out by Snow White being revived and getting a happily ever after.

"Such is the fate of villains..." He sighs. "Destined to die in the shadows while the heroes get their happy endings."

"Or is this case, getting struck by lightning and falling off a cliff." You remarked, grinning at the deadpan expression he gives you in response.

His rating for the movie is 9/10. The only reason it's not 10/10 is because of Snow White and the ending.

Idia Shroud 

(I apologize in advance, Idia is one of the characters I'm still trying to get a handle on writing ;v;)

I feel like Idia and Ortho watched the Hercules movie as children and it was Ortho's favorite movie.

So watching it again with you was something nostalgic for him, even if he remarks on it being a kids movie. (You can argue that some of the anime he watches is also for kids, but that will upset him and he'll go sulk under his covers and you'll never finish the movie.)

"Uwehehehe...what a clumsy idiot." He's got that sharp smile on his face as he watches Hercules swing the column around and basically destroy his entire village.

Honestly, he's not really interested in Hercules' tale and he's not really a fan of musicals. The only parts that interest him are when Hades comes on screen.

The only commentary that he gives is to make fun of Hercules.

"It's not possible for people to get THAT muscular in such a little amount of time..." He mutters as he watches the training montage with a bored expression. "It's not scientifically possible." You shrug in response.

"He's part god, so maybe that's part of it?" Idia just snickers with a sharp smile.

"He looks like a car test dummy in a toga."

Idia admires how confident Hades is and how fast he can negotiate things. I think he secretly wishes he had that confidence too.

How does he feel about Megara? Mmmm, I don't think he's interested in her character either. She's the main hero's girlfriend and a pawn to Hades, that's it.

If Ortho is watching with you guys, he's really the only one that enjoys it besides you. Idia goes right back to what he was doing before you suggested watching the movie as soon as the credits roll.

Malleus Draconia

Of course, Malleus knew that there was a movie made about the Thorn Witch. He and Lilia showed it to Silver and Sebek when they were children. (Lilia had thought it would be good for them to learn the history behind the tale!) So when you bring up watching it with him, of course he wants to. He loves spending time with you and the fact you want to learn a bit about his culture warms his heart.

He does like the aesthetic of this movie. He finds the music and the hand-painted backgrounds to be charming.

He can't say he understands how animation works, but it's nice to look at nonetheless.

Malleus likes the three good fairies. He finds their antics and the way Flora and Merryweather butt heads to be rather amusing.

"You know, I've always wondered what the third gift would have been if the Witch of Thorns hadn't come in when she did," He muses as Maleficent makes her entrance. You hum in thought.

"Some people theorize it would have been eternal happiness." You look over at him with a slight smile. "You know....never needing to feel blue?" That makes him chuckle.

"Eternal happines....Yes, I quite like that idea for a gift."

If you remark on Maleficent being petty for cursing an infant, Malleus is going to pout.

"Well, quite frankly, I understand how she feels. It's rather hurtful not being invited to events." You look over at him and raise an eyebrow.

"Fine! Then curse the people who didn't invite you. Don't curse the infant child who had nothing to do with whether or not she was invited." Malleus just hurumphs and crosses his arms.

"In a roundabout way, the king and queen DID suffer for their actions. Having their baby cursed to die." A slight smirk breaks across his face. "I'm sure they'll think twice next time."

He doesn't say it, but he quite likes Aurora as a character and he loves the sound of her singing. He finds it very enchanting and relaxing to listen to.

Flora and Merryweather fighting over the dress color reminds him a lot of Silver and Sebek. Fauna's baking strongly reminds him of Lilia's cooking.

During the part where Aurora is being hypnotized, you suddenly gasping and clamping your hand on his arm startles Malleus. "OH MY GOD. I JUST REALIZED THAT THE CREEPY NOISE IS ACTUALLY SAYING HER NAME."

You both pause and listen again as the eerie note that played in between the music stings creepily called "Auuuroooraaa~" in a beckoning manner. Malleus blinked in surprise.

"Oh my. That would explain her expression as she walks up the stairs." He mused, putting a finger to his chin. "How clever. I've watched this film plenty of times and I never noticed that."

The part where Maleficent casts the thorns around Stephen's castle and turns into a dragon are Malleus' favorite parts.

"None of the other members of the Great Seven can do what she can do." He says with a prideful smirk. "She is truly supreme in her ranking."

Watching Maleficent back Prince Phillip onto a cliff and trap him with no protection is VERY satisfying for Malleus. But once the fairies bless the Sword of Truth, he pouts again.

"If it weren't for them, he wouldn't have been able to defeat her." He says. "It wasn't a fair fight." You raise an eyebrow at him at that.

"She turned into a huge, fire-breathing dragon. You call THAT fair?" His little pout in response just makes you laugh.

Overall, Malleus enjoys watching the movie with you and he'll gladly watch it with you again whenever you want to.

#ish-shutter-island #twisted wonderland #riddle rosehearts #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #malleus draconia #disney twisted wonderland #twst #twsted wonderland #headcanons

[nat-20s]

Wonderful! Au Part 7! (also on ao3 here) another episode only installment, and obnoxiously fluffy! Have fun!

~*~

Martin, tired: Hello everybody! Welcome, or welcome back, to a very low energy episode. We have had, as the kids say, A Week Tm.

Jon, equally tired, but fond: Is that as the kids say?

Martin: I don't know, and perhaps worse, I don't really care. I guess I could ask Jeremiah next time he's over, but I'm not sure if that would actually help.

Jon: Shockingly, I don't think two year olds have their finger on the beating pulse of youth culture.

Martin: Hmm, maybe not. Speaking of Jeremiah, he's part of why the format of this episode is gonna be a bit different than our regular. On top of me dealing with a frankly obscene amount of inventory management, and Jon being swamped with grant writing-

Jon: I never want to look at proposal guidelines again-

Martin: we were on babysitting duty for our favourite neighborhood hellion-

Jon: Hey, Jeremiah is a very sweet kid! I know he's a toddler, but we shouldn't be slandering him anyway.

Martin: One, we're not even using his real name, I don't think that counts as slander, and two, exactly, he's a toddler, he's by default a hellion.

Jon, teasing: This coming from the person that actually wants one?

Martin: I..look, if anything, the last few days have shown we should not be permanent parents.

Jon: But?

Martin:...There's no but.

Jon: I don't believe you! Are you lying for my benefit or the audience's? Because someone spent the last five days wearing one of the largest grins I've ever seen, exhausted as it may have been.

Martin: Okay! Fine, I admit, I liked having a kid around. I still think it would be a bad idea to do it full time, but I dunno. I wish we weren't both only children or something. We would make such good uncles.

Jon: Should I should have taken that teaching job after all?

Martin: Perhaps. After all,

Martin, singsong: An English teacher, is really someone!

Jon and Martin, singing together: If only you, had be-come one!

Jon: Honestly, though, I was considerably underqualified. I'm much more suited to my current job, even if it doesn't have quite the same impact on the "shaping of the next generation" or whatnot.

Martin: Wait, you actually care about qualifications now? When did that change?

Jon: This coming from Mister "master's degree in parapsychology"? And it was probably around the time that the world ended from taking on a workload I was ill-suited for.

Jon:...

Jon: Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Martin: Oh, of course. Definitely nothing literally apocalyptic in our pasts, no siree, nothing to see or speculate about or make weirdly involved forums for here. Uh, anyway, long introduction not so short: Both of us have been averaging about 4 hours of sleep, so any sort of actual research was not on the table.

Jon: If any of you are wondering why we didn't just say that we're both very much worn out and thus we'll be taking a week off, it's because we're both deeply, deeply stubborn.

Martin: It's one of our best shared qualities that has never caused any conflict between us, ever.

Jon: In fairness, sheer stubbornness does account for, what, 75% of the reason that either of us are still alive? And it hasn't caused a major conflict between us in a good three years.

Martin: That's true. We've become a deeply boring, relatively conflict free couple. Which fucking rules, by the way. To all the couples out there: I highly recommend being boring. It is so nice. We've gotten to go to the farmer's market so many times.

Jon: You do love the farmer's market. I would say that it's the access to fresh produce, but I think you just like the attention that one yarn seller gives you. Can't believe you would take advantage of a crush to get discounts on wool. How did I marry such an opportunist?

Martin: Ollie does not have a crush on me. They're just friendly to everyone.

Jon: Bullshit. I certainly never get an extra skein or stitch markers or delicate fabric cleaner tossed in my bag. Actually, I think I've been charged more for committing the crime of having married you before they could.

Martin: I'm..70% sure that's not true, but every sentence we speak, we stray further from even pretending to be on topic. So, to everybody listening, this is the itty bitty episode! Basically, we're only doing small wonders and user submissions. If you want details or backstory for things we like, too bad, come back next week. Jon, I believe you're first this week?

Jon: Oh, right. My first small wonder is cat names.

Martin: Delightful, but unsurprising. Though, I would've expected either more or less specificity. Why cat names as opposed to pet's names in general, or, like, military title names?

Jon: Well that's simple enough. I've simply never met a misnamed cat, even if the name itself wasn't to my personal tastes, and I think that speaks to the wonderful universality of cats.

Martin: This, of course, implies that you have met animals that were misnamed.

Jon: Oh, I have. I once met a papillion dog named Meatball.

Martin: Now I know you don't like food names in general for pets, but are you sure that Meatball didn't suit the dogs personality? I've known some "Meatballs" in my lifetime.

Jon, only half-mock offended: Of course it didn't fit, Martin. She was a lady. A nervous, jittery lady, but a lady nonetheless.

Martin, laughing: And what, you've never met a dignified cat with an undignified name, or vice versa? Would you be okay with our cat being named Meatball?

Jon: I would be upset if our cat was named Meatball, because we named her and we're above that sort of thing, but, technically speaking, she could have been Meatball in another lifetime and it wouldn't have been wrong. You see, all cats are a mix of both extremely austere and little baby idiot.

Martin: Oh, is that the scientific terminology?

Jon: It is. Now, while there's probably some amount of, er, normative determinism or confirmation bias or something that results in a cat with a more dignified name seeming to possess more of that austerity, as all cats have both, any name can, potentially, fit. Hence why it's wonderful.

Martin: I..accept your proposal for now, but I think more research needs to be done. Maybe we should visit the shelter this weekend and test your hypothesis.

Jon: Hmm. I think we may need to visit multiple shelters, actually. A large sample size is necessary for any sort of veracity, obviously.

Martin, imitating Jon tone: Obviously.

Jon: Glad you agree. What's your first small wonder?

Martin: Tofu!

Jon: I..didn't realize you liked that much?

Martin: Well, I don't get it very often since I know you can't stand the texture, even though it is not like 'worse scrambled eggs', and you're a horrible food thief-

Jon: Lies and slander. We readily share. If I'm a horrible food thief, you have committed the exact same, if not worse, crime as myself.

Martin: Well, we are thick as thieves.

Jon, groaning: You're thick as something alright

Martin: Rude! My beloved husband-

Jon: -uh huh-

Martin: whom I love and trust with my most tender of hearts-

Jon: -an oddly cannibalistic turn of phrase-

Martin, badly suppressing laughter: Oh, my god. I want a divorce, then I can put tofu in as many dishes as I like. I'll triple my protein intake.

Jon: It'd never go through. I'll burn the papers. No, wait, I'll burn down the legal offices where the papers are kept.

Martin: Hmm. While my experiences with it have been, uh, varied to say the least, I do have to admit that arson is one of the more attractive crimes of passion. I suppose I'll take you back.

Jon, flat: I'm so very grateful.

Jon, genuine: You do have yet to actually tell me why you think tofu is wonderful, love.

Martin: It's just a good food! It's neutral enough that you can toss it in pretty much anything with a sauce, you can bake it, you can fry it, whatever. Plus it's what? two? Three quid? I spent many years of my life living off the cheapest, saltiest approximation of noodles you could imagine, and half a pack of tofu, a little bit of sesame oil, and some green onions went a long way to both making it more filling and less sad. 

Martin: Plus, I feel like it often gets decried for being something it's not? It's so often viewed as a meat substitute or the vegan alternative option, and so when people try it, they often go in with a false preconceived notion of what it's going to be like, and then end up disappointed. They're all like, 'ugh, this doesn't taste like turkey!' and yeah, of course it doesn't. It's the oatmeal raisin cookie of the protein world, a perfectly good and tasty treat on its own, but if you want chocolate chip, it's not gonna work.

Jon: Martin you don't even like oatmeal raisin. I'm the only one that ever eats them out of the multipacks.

Martin: Well, yeah, but I don't like oatmeal raisin because of its flavor, not because I think it should be chocolate chip and fails. It illustrates my point. Also, just for balance, is your next small wonder oatmeal raisin cookies?

Jon: No, though, maybe one of these weeks. They are good. But no, um, my next small wonder is being married.

Martin, let out a high bark of a laugh: Being married is a small wonder?!

Jon: Small wonders doesn't mean a lack of importance! Or even significance in our lives. Half the time we even end up spending just as much time chattering on about them as the things we actually research. But, yes, I didn't feel like researching the concept of being married. For one, a lot of the history of it is depressing and patriarchal, and for two, it's not something I really feel any need to elaborate on. Being married. I very much enjoy it. I recommend it for anybody that's found someone that they want to marry, and who wants to marry them. I really recommend being married to Martin Blackwood, I think I would enjoy it significantly less if it was to anybody else, but one: we typically try to make the wonderful things in this show  applicable to more than just ourselves, and two: I got there first, so I believe the appropriate thing to say here would be; neener neener and/or everyone else can go suck it, Ollie.

Martin: Well...

Jon: Well, what?

Martin: Saying you got there first is technically not true-

Jon: What?!

Martin, laughing like a bastard: Sorry, sorry! Couldn't resist! Jon, you already know that you're my first real realationship, how would be married before fit that?

Jon: Hence my surprise at the notion! I cannot believe you! I give you my trust, my earnestness, and belief-

Martin [only laughs harder]

Jon: and you throw it in my face for a bit. I take back everything, being married is a nightmare, because sometimes your partner thinks he a fucking comedian and you just have to put up with him because you love him and want to live the rest of your life with him or some such nonsense. Not worth it, if you ask me. My turn to ask for the divorce.

Martin: Babe, hate to break it to you, but both of us are guilty of doing bits that the other doesn't like, it's an integral part of  a healthy marriage, and secondly, you knew who I was long before I proposed. You should've said no when you had the chance.

Jon: Hang on, you proposed?

Martin: Yeah? This isn't part of a bit, of course I proposed. I'm even pretty sure you were there. The whole visit back to Scotland trip? I finally made you a sweater and said it was because we would now be immune to the boyfriend curse?

Jon: No, no, I remember all that, but it wasn't the proposal. It was a reaffirmation of the proposal. We had already decided to get married.

Martin: Well, yeah,, I wasn't just gonna spring that on you, we had had conversations beforehand-

Jon:  No, I mean, I had already proposed. I asked you to marry me a good three years earlier, and you said yes, which is a proposal by any definition that I know.

Martin: Jon, love, darling, apple of my eye, fire of my soul, I mean this in the nicest way possible, what the everloving fuck are you talking about?

Jon: In the ambulance ride when we, uh, moved here. It was the thing I said to you the second I saw your eyes were open.

[An audible pause is left in the recording.]

Martin: That does not count.

Jon: How does it not count?! I asked you to marry me, you very emphatically said yes, that's the de facto definition of an accepted marriage proposal!

Martin: It doesn't count because you were half-delirious with blood-loss, and I had a traumatic brain injury that the hospital was very surprised I made a full recovery from. No court in the world would consider anything we said then more than pain driven ramblings, let alone, I dunno, contractually binding.

Jon: Well, I knew what I was saying well and clear. Just because it was desperate doesn't mean it wasn't sincere. I didn't realize that you weren't as cognizant when you accepted.

Martin, snorting: Yeah, didn't really need to be cognizant to say yes. I've wanted to marry you since the train ride to Scotland.

Jon: Wait, really? Martin, we hadn't even been on a date.

Martin: And yet we were on the lamb together, which I honestly think is more romantic than sitting in some restaurant somewhere trying to get through icebreakers. Also, back up, from your perspective we've been engaged since 2019? What did you think we were doing in the interim?

Jon: Uhh..

Martin: Yes?

Jon: There are people that have long engagement periods, and it's not exactly like we were in any sort of position to get married for awhile. Especially not that first year.

Martin: Okay? And?

Jon: And..I sort of thought you had changed your mind. For awhile. Was rather surprised that you kept living with me, considering that, on the worst nights, I was convinced you were going to storm off and leave me forever any minute now. Hence why your proposal was rather relieving.

Martin: Oh, Jon, love. That is so very ridiculous, and so very you, and so very close to many of my own fears and doubts. Do you have any idea how terrified I was to float the idea of marriage to you? Half the time I was convinced I was just meant to keep you company until you found someone better. And, Christ, we'd, from your perspective, been engaged the whole damn time. Fuck.

[Jon, after a beat, starts laughing. It has a slightly hysterical edge to it. Martin joins in. It takes a minute for the laughter to subside enough for them to speak again.]

Jon: I'm rapidly realizing that our entire romantic relationship would've been, if not more successful, a hell of a lot faster if we weren't both complete fools.

Martin: You're realizing that now? I think I've known that since the CV incident. I've definitely known it since the Lonely.

Jon, with a slightly tired chuckle:Yes, yes, something probably should've tipped me off earlier. Shockingly, observation of our own personal romantic trends is not always a strong suit of mine.

Jon: Anyway, please tell me you have another small wonder, this has gotten wildly of track.

Martin: Since we're talking about marriage anyway, I think my next small wonder is having a shared reference in your wedding vows. Our friends had "I have been, and always shall be, your friend" in theirs, and I made Jon cry with a slightly altered Lord of the Rings quote in ours.

Jon: First off, we were both openly weeping long before that point, secondly, I defy anybody to have been through half of what we have and then have the love of their life look them in the eyes and tell them "Leave you? I never intend to. I am going with you, if you climb to the moon" without at least tearing up.

Martin: There wasn't a dry eye in the audience, either. Granted, the audience was only 20 people, but that was also literally the only time I've seen Eloise show a strong emotion, so I'm pretty smug about it.

Martin, soft: I still feel exactly the same, you know. If you're climbing to the moon, I'll make sure the rope is strong enough for two.

Jon, soft: I know, love.

Jon: Though, to be fair, the moon is also significantly more pleasant than many places we've been.

Martin: God, I hate how much that's true. Look at this barren, oxygenless rock, at least it's not actively trying to kill us. Practically a honeymoon location.

[Martin sighs]

Martin: I am so tired. Let's do the user submissions then take a very long nap.

Jon: Please.

Martin: So, first submission is from Josie; They find it wonderful getting cards from their friends. They say they're lucky to have so much love in their life and have friends that care enough to send them things. That is wonderful Josie! We have a drawer in our house dedicated to every loving card we've ever received since the move, and they're always such a nice reminder of the people in our lives.

Jon: We should really organize that drawer, but, yes, agree with the sentiment. Even the cards from people that are no longer in our lives are lovely, I think. Those connections are very much meaningful for both of us, whether they're active or not.

Martin: That's very true.  Next submission is from Lys, who submits the sound of leaves crunching under your feet in the fall. Ah, that's a classic.

Jon: I just felt myself relax imagining it. I wish it was autumn.

Martin: Don't we all? Alright, for the last submissions, I'm grouping them together as they follow a similar theme. Jadwiga submits the feeling of waking up well into the morning with the sun shining through the window and your cat laying next to you, and Oran submits when a dog falls asleep with its head in your lap.

Jon: I can heartily recommend at least one of those, considering that's how we try to wake up most mornings. The Duchess is a dutiful darling girl who spends every night with us, and she's usually still there when us humans rise.

Martin: I bet you'll agree with the other when I finally convince you to get me a dog for my birthday.

Jon: It hasn't happened yet, so I wouldn't hold your breath.

Martin: But you don't even dislike dogs! You're just as happy to pet them when they pass by as I am.

Jon: Being fine with an animal isn't the same thing as wanting to adopt one for yourself! We don't even know if The Duchess would put up with a dog.

Martin: I bet she would. I bet we could get a big senior dog who's the calmest animal you've ever met with those soft eyes and a little grey on the muzzle and she would cuddle up in an instant. And we did say we should visit a shelter or three this weekend..

Jon: I think you're rather callously taking advantage of my exhausted state, but I suppose we can look. 

Martin: Hell fuckin yeah. So, I think that'll close out the episode, and as we always say at the end, uh, go take a nap and get a dog. Not necessarily in that order.

#wonderful! au #jonmartin #tma #jon sims #martin blackwood #my fic #thank you to everyone that submitted!!! #also; i am offically out of ideas for installments #more may come later but i make no promises!

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE BLOOD Vol.2: Mukami Kou [Track 7+8]

Original title: 堕落した証 & いらいらする

Source: Diabolik Lovers More, Blood Vol. 2: Mukami Kou [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Kimura Ryouhei

Translator’s note: Oh boy oh boy. I should have kept my mouth shut during the last few tracks because these two tracks had me wriggle around in my seat as my stomach turned upside down. > < Those of you who have been around since last year might recall how I struggled with Shuu’s D-S Kyuuketsu CD because of the ‘bodily gore’ noises when he cuts the MC with a knife and then stirs his fingers around in the open wounds. KOU DOES THE EXACT SAME THING GDI. I had to pause several times because I got nauseous. :’’) Please no more of this Rejet. 

Track 1+2 ll Track 3+4 ll Track 5+6 ll Track 7+8 ll Track 9+10

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

Track 7: Proof of Corruption

“Well then, where should I bite you next...~? Both your neck and arm are already dyed a bright crimson from your blood. Fufu~ While I’m at it, I guess I should make you even more red...Perhaps that’ll improve your looks a little.”

*Rustle*

[00:25] “Hmー Such slender wrists...Fufu, I could probably twist them with ease. If I were to plunge my fangs in, they might just pierce right through, don’t you think? Come on, show me your hand.”

*Rustle*

“Hm...These marks are still fresh. Hmー They weren’t left behind by me, which means they belong to one of those guys? Heeeh...Now what a lovely decoration you have here. You really are a maso-kitty, aren’t you? I sort of get now that you’re not doing all of this on purpose. Which means...is someone controlling you behind the scenes?”

*Rustle rustle*

[01:18] “Take flowers, for example. They don’t particularly wish to bloom beautifully, do they? However, some larger force in nature is ordering them to do so to lure in birds and insects. So perhaps you were put together by someone with the specific goal to seduce us Vampires? If not, a plain girl such as yourself couldn’t even dream of having someone like me suck you, not even out of pity. Fufufu...~”

*Rustle rustle*

He digs his finger inside your skin.

[01:59] “Ah-aaah...Since the wound hadn’t fully healed yet, my finger sank in the moment I pressed down. Does it hurt? Fufu~ I’m digging my nail into the open wound after all~ I bet it hurts...Then suffer more...Scream...! Nobody will hear you here. This place has been equipped to ensure that they won’t find you.”

*Rustle*

“But...Well...If they did know you were here, I wonder if they would come and get you? These guys who seem to be oh-so obsessed with you, I mean~”

Kou continues to stir up the wound with his nails.

“Are you writhing in pain? Ah-aaah...Your ugly face only became even more hideous. Should I say it has a certain charm to it? I’m incapable of loving you while you look like that though. However...”

*Rustle*

[02:57] “In regards to these wounds, I feel a strange sense of attachment. I wonder why? Perhaps it’s just fun to compete with other Vampires over a prey such as yourself? Hahaha...But in that case, I have to leave behind my own marks as well or it’s no fun, right? ...I’ll leave my mark on top of these wounds, as if to overwrite them. It’ll be perfect proof of how thoroughly corrupted you’ve become.”

*Rustle*

Kou bites you.

*Gulp*

“Mmh...*

*Gulp gulp*

“ーーHah!”

*Gulp*

[03:50] “Mmh...Haah...I can smell them from here...It pisses me off...Hahn...”

*Gulp gulp*

“Hah, haah...It makes me want to just rip up your whole arm with my fangs...”

*Gulp*

“Fufu...This must be the taste of hatred...~ Exactly...I can’t forgive them...Never! That’s whyーー”

*Gulp gulp*

“Haah...Haah...”

*Rustle*

[04:38] “I won’t return you to them. You’re basically mine now. Offer both your body and soul to me...And go mad. Fufu...Damn~ What’s wrong with me? Am I being spurred on by you? Uwaah...This is a first for me. Fufu~ I truly got my hands on a nifty toy. I was just going to have a little taste before handing you over to Ruki...but I might not want to let you go again.”

*Rustle*

[05:22] “Haah...Let me suck more...Your blood is messing with my head...as I find myself wishing you would offer more of that delicious blood pumping through your veins to me and me only.”

*Rustle*

“Oi. I bet you have other marks left behind by them as well, don’t you? Tell me. I’ll make you go through those painful memories again. Come on, hurry up and fess up.”

*Rustle*

[06:00] “Hey? Are you listening? If you space out like that, I’ll do something much, much more painful and rough?”

You muster a response.

“Hm? Your belly? Eeeh~? Now where could they be...~?”

*Rustle rustle*

“Ah, you must be talking about these. Marks spotted~ They really don’t hold back when devouring you, do they?”

He licks the marks.

“Oh, this one smells different. So, tell me. Did you have them bite you from head to toe? Hah! What a slut you are.”

You protest.

[06:46] “Hm? You didn’t wish for any of this to happen? ...Che. Why are you giving me that defiant look? Do I have to repeat myself a million times before your idiotic brain gets it? I was reminded once more the moment I sucked your blood. You’ve been tampered with in some way to lure in Vampires. I wonder who could be behind it...~? Fufu...Somehow that piques my interest...”

*Rustle*

“But for now, I’ll cover you with my marks. So I’ll thrust my fangs inside these wounds as well...”

Kou digs his nails into your skin once more as you flinch.

[07:31] “Aren’t you happy? I’m the one saying these things after all. ..Aaah-aah, such filthy marks. I’ll erase them right away.”

He bites you again.

“Hahn...”

*Gulp gulp*

“Hah...”

*Gulp gulp*

“Haah...Haah...”

*Sluuuuurp*

“Haah...This stench is persistent...It won’t disappear...Ugh, it pisses me off. If I can’t get rid of it with my fangs...It just makes me want to mess you up as a whole...”

*Rustle*

“Haah...Guess I’ll just have to sink them in deeper and deeper...Like thisーー!”

*Gulp gulp*

“Hah...Nnh...”

You cry out.

[08:41] “Ah...It hurts? Look at you gushing blood all over the place. You really have no shame, do you? But you shouldn’t be able to feel the pain, you know? My fangs have already made it so you perceive everything as pleasure. Fufufu...”

*Rustle*

“I can tell you want me, so try and voice it out loud? Beg for me with a cute tone. Come on, hurry...Ask me to make you feel ever better~”

You whimper.

[09:24] “Hmm~~? I can’t hear you...~ You’re going to have to speak a little louder. Also, don’t forget to sound cute, okay?”

You repeat it.

“Fufu...~ Exactly, like that. Just be honest with yourself...Perhaps then I’ll be able to feel a little affection for someone as ugly as yourself.”

You beg again. 

“Mm~ Good. You managed to beg for it cutely, so I’ll love on you in return. ...With these fangs of mine, that is.”

Kou bites you again.

*Gulp gulp gulp*

“Hahn...Mmh...”

*Sluuuuurp*

[10:14] “...Hah...! ...Hm? ...’More’? ...You can crave it more. I kind of like it when people yearn for me. ...I’ll plunge them inside even deeper than before...”

*Gulp gulp*

“Haah, haah...Ugh...Haah...I guess the smell is starting to fade a little?”

You moan.

“Fufu...Seems like you’re feeling rather good as well. Your body has completely given in to the pleasure, it feels as if your blood has become sweeter as well.”

Track 8: Irritation

Kou inspects your body.

*Rustle*

“Where else have they bitten you...? ー Ah, don’t tell me. I’ll try finding it myself this time...~ After the stomach, it has to be...The legs, right~?”

*Rustle*

[00:18] “Yes, I got it right! ...They sure love going for the risqué spots, don’t they? Hah! Right near your crotch (1) ...How lewd. On top of that, you can tell they’ve sucked from here repeatedly...Very dirty! I wonder what kind of expression you made as they sucked from here? Perhaps you didn’t realize it yourself, but they pretty much got a full view of aaaall your embarrassing places.”

You squeak.

“How embarrassing, gosh! ...But I’m sure you love that sorta stuff, don’t you? After all, I can see a glint of anticipation in your eyes. Or am I just imagining things? Is it because I’m the one doing this to you? ...Well, I guess I’ll figure out the answer to my own question once I bite you. Well then...”

*Rustle*

“Where should I leave my mark? ...Right here. I’ve settled on this spot.”

He bites you again.

*Gulp*

[01:28] “Mmh...Hah...Haha! What a lovely view...Fufu...”

*Gulp gulp*

“Seems like it’s making you weak as well...Look at you twist and turn your body like that...What a dirty girl you are.”

*Gulp gulp gulp*

“ ーーHah! We’re still nowhere near done...Let me suck more and more...Hahn...”

*Gulp gulp*

“Hah...Hah...”

*Gulp*

[02:11] “Haah...Fuck...Could this be a trap of some sorts...? Fufu...I feel as if your blood is leading me straight to my own demise...Well, I guess that’s fine. As long as it feels good...whether it’s a trap or whatever, I’m not scared. Perhaps the person who set you up this way predicted this all along? ...Say.”

*Rustle*

[02:44] “I bet they knew that we would try and snatch you away like that. Guess we’re being mocked, huh? That pisses me off. ...You seem to be feigning ignorance but you’re part of the whole scheme, aren’t you? ...If you think this will all pass as long as you just obediently spread your legs, you’re gravely mistaken. I’ll give you something much, much, much more painful, you’d find yourself wishing you’d be dead instead...!”

*Thud*

Your eyes widen in horror.

“Hehe...”

*Gulp gulp*

[03:26] “...Heh. Does it feel good? Lucky you! I think you might be the first human who has gotten the honor to receive this much pleasure from me. Well, under normal circumstances, one bite is plenty to make any human ascend to Heaven, but in your case, the more I have, the more delicious your blood becomes and on top of that...You dare oppose me. It pisses me off. ...Mmh...”

*Gulp*

“...Hm? There’s marks on your thighs as well!”

*Rustle rustle*

[04:06] “I have to engrave my own mark here as well. ...Geez, I wonder what they find so appealing about these stick legs? I can’t relate, but I don’t like the idea of there being marks from someone other than me. ...Mmh..”

*Gulp*

“Nnh...”

*Gulp gulp*

[04:37] “...Hah...Ah...Haah...~ I feel sluggish for some reason...Have I been numbed? In that case, your blood is to blame. ...This is bad...Fufufu~ I just don’t understand how I want to keep an ugly girl such as yourself all to myself...Makes no sense, does it? I feel irritated by it myself but...I also just can’t help it. This strong desire for you keeps on welling up inside of me...What is happening to me? Geez...Honestly, it pisses me off! I’ve never felt this strongly attached to anything or anyone before!?”

*Rustle*

“Hahn...”

*Gulp gulp gulp*

“...ー Hah!”

*Gulp gulp gulp*

“Mmh...Haah, haah...I can’t get enough...Do you want me more? ...So do I.”

*Gulp gulp*

[05:57] “Hah...Yearn for me more and more...You just need to keep your eyes on me. ...You belong to me now. Happy? Of course you are. If you continue to writhe around like that, I’ll give you never-ending pleasure.”

*Rustle*

“Mmh...Haahn...”

*Gulp gulp*

“Mmh...Nnh...”

*Gulp*

“Haah, haah...!”

*Gulp*

[06:37] “Haah...! I can’t...I still haven’t had enough...Hm. I still refuse to give you up. I’ll make you forget about those other guys in no time. I’m obsessing over you, so it only makes sense. ...Unlike those guys, I won’t call you prey either. You’re mine after all. ...Doesn’t that make you happy? I’m a gentleman after all~ I know how to make a girl happy. I’m sure you didn’t like being degraded by having them call you ‘prey’ either, right? Fufu...~”

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー 

Translation notes

(1) 足の付け根 or ‘ashi no tsukene’ is the root/base of the leg where it connects to the hips. 

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #kou mukami #diabolik lovers translation #diabolik lovers more blood #diabolik lovers drama cd #drama cd

[tellmealovestory]

Planning

Summary: Planning for the wedding has begun with choosing a color palette. 

Notes: Also posted on my ao3. Part of Something More

I know that it’s been awhile since I’ve last posted and even longer since I’ve updated this and for that I am so sorry. The past few months have been rough and I’ve been struggling to write anything, but I’m trying which is what counts I guess. 

I haven’t forgotten about Something New - there’s for sure one more part, possibly two, but for now here’s something and again I am so sorry for how long it’s been taking me to get these posted. 

Warnings: Surprisingly none - unless you count idiots in love falling more in love.

"Black and yellow?"

"No."

"Purple, orange and black?"

"No."

"Red, white and blue?"

"Bucky, no!" Laughing at his suggestions you playfully shoved his shoulder as he shot you a grin full of mischief. “Besides, I think those are more Steve's colors."

“You opposed to pastels?" His grin only widened when you wrinkled your nose in distaste. "Red and pink?"

“Red and pink isn't the worst idea you've had," you mused, a thought working its way into your mind as you eyed the mess that surrounded you.

“Sweetheart-,” he started, but you silenced him with a look.

Reaching for a bridal magazine, one of many that laid scattered across the floor of the living room where you were both currently seated you flipped through it while Bucky continued to rattle off suggestions. Frowning, you pushed it aside before grabbing another one. Finding what you were looking for you showed him a spread with dark reds and pinks and a gold that had the barest hint of a shimmer. It was for a Valentine’s Day wedding and while you weren’t getting married on that date you still thought it was pretty.

One look at his face told he wasn’t impressed.

"Neons would be better,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders, his fingers flicking a brightly colored post it note that was sticking out from the magazine.

"Please tell me you're joking."

"Maybe."  

“James!”

And this time he was the first to laugh, the richness of his voice filling up the room and drowning out the sitcom dialogue that drifted from the television a few feet in front of you.

He made it difficult at times like these to get and stay annoyed at him, but nevertheless you made an attempt with a glare shot in his direction. It was useless though when he was looking at you like that. All bright blue eyes shining with a love that still managed to steal your breath anytime he glanced at you. Laugh lines around his mouth and before you had a chance to warn him that he was seconds away from not having any say in your wedding colors he was tilting his body towards yours, lips landing on the side of your head. An innocent kiss, but it sent your heart spiraling.

Almost as much as when he murmured against your skin with breath that was warm and smelled of the chocolate ice cream you’d been sharing, “Alright, show me what you were thinking.”

Waking up your sleeping laptop that rested on the coffee table you expertly navigated the rabbit hole of Pinterest. Scrolling past boards you had created for flowers and centerpiece ideas, dresses and cakes you found the one titled colors.

A sea of palettes stared back at you; turquoises, magentas, oranges and yellows. Mints and whites. Pastel purples and soft pinks, creams and pale blues that screamed romantic. Greens and blushes. Purple and grays.

And finally, towards the bottom of the board a mix of navy blues, grays and burgundy. Burnt oranges and peaches. Sunflower yellows and dusty blues.

A  collection of colors that reminded you of him.

“Something like this I thought.” Chewing on your lower lip you glanced from Bucky to the screen and back again. Anticipation thrummed through your veins as you waited for him to say something.

“It’s a lot of blues.”

“You look good in blue.”

“All the burgundy?”

“You also look really good in burgundy.”

“You really picking colors based on how I look in them?”

“No,” you scoffed with a quick roll of your eyes that he saw right through. “Okay, fine, but it’s not the only reason.”

“You gonna share those other reasons?” He asked, leaning forward to take a closer look.

"Um... I... like those colors?" Even to your own ears the words rang false. "And they're a better choice than the random ones you were shouting out." There another reason added to your list.

"Y/N," Bucky said, amusement dripped from his voice and he bit back a smile as he pushed the laptop towards the middle of the coffee table.

For a moment the only sound in the apartment was that of a commercial advertising pizza.

Turning to you he cradled your face in his hands. "You know no ones gonna be looking at me," he said softly, the pad of his thumb brushed across your cheekbone. "They're all gonna be looking at you and how beautiful you are."

"I haven't found something to wear yet."

"Doesn't matter, sweetheart."

Biting your lip your eyes danced between his and you couldn't help asking, "What if I get a really poofy dress and I end up looking like a cupcake again?"

It was a struggle for Bucky not to laugh at the mention of a cupcake. A million memories ago, but he could still remember that night. Your fathers wedding to his new, younger bride, the hideous pink dress she had made you to wear, the endless teasing you had endured from him, the new nickname he had bestowed upon you before you banned him from ever calling you that again. In his mind it didn't matter if when your wedding came you wore a dress that made you look like a cupcake, drenched in pink that looked as if it came from a jumbo sized bottle of pepto-bismol you'd still be beautiful in his eyes.

Dipping his head down he brushed his lips against yours in a kiss sweeter than any cupcake he had ever tasted.

"Doesn't matter," he whispered again, his mouth moving over yours slowly. "You’re still gonna be the most beautiful person in the room, cupcake."

It was hard to kiss him back when your lips were curling up into a smile, a laugh bubbling to the surface followed by a rush of memories at the mention of cupcake. He hadn’t called you that in years and though you still hated it you didn’t have it in you right now to tell him to shove it.

“Is that your way of telling me you hate my choices?” You asked, breathless from the feeling of his lips against yours. “No,” he laughed, stealing another kiss. “It’s my way of saying you should really give my suggestions another chance.”

“Buc-,”

“I’m kidding!”

Another kiss, this one to your forehead as the commercial ended and the sitcom returned. Turning your attentions back to the screen at the same time you rested your head on his shoulder, eyes scanning through the options again, his for the second time and yours for what felt like the hundredth since first compiling the list.

“I really do like these colors. Especially this one,” you said, bringing up a palette with dusty and navy blues, marigold and a hint of dark green.

No matter how many options you had looked at you kept going back to it. It was pretty and it was an added bonus that he looked in most of those colors.

“That the one you want?”

Biting your lip you switched back to your second choice. Navy blue, maroon and gray. More colors he looked good in, more colors that you had been drawn to, but in your heart you knew which one you wanted.

“Yeah, but what do you think?”

“I like it,” he said.

“You agreed to that awfully quick.” Your tone was light and you couldn’t help asking, “Are you only saying that cause you’re tired of looking?”

“No. ‘M saying it cause you like it.” His eyes darted down to the shiny engagement ring that sat pretty on your ring finger. Lifting his gaze up he continued, “And cause I don’t care about the colors.”

No sooner did the words leave his mouth and he was left scrambling to explain when he saw your widened eyes.

“Sweetheart.” His hand slid along your cheek. “Whatever colors you choose are gonna be fine, but I’m not gonna be paying attention to them. Our friends and family might, but the only thing I’m gonna be paying attention to is you and how I’m finally marrying the woman of my dreams.”

His words sunk in amid the closing credits of a sitcom and as tears welled in your eyes and your laptop drifted off to sleep the only words you could manage were a breathless, “Oh, Bucky.”

You had never thought planning your wedding would be so emotional.

You kissed him softly, savoring the way his lips moved against yours in a practiced ease that still made your stomach fill with butterflies. Just as he was about to deepen the kiss you pulled back with a start and a flurry of questions.

“Wait, if you don’t care about this why did we spend two hours looking and why did you offer such awful suggestions?”

Bucky swallowed, his cheeks flushing deep pink. “You asked me to,” he said simply, before adding on as his cheeks turned even darker, “Maybe I wanted to make you laugh a bit.”

Mission accomplished.

Parting your lips to speak he beat you to it saying, “I also wanted to spend time with you and I know how much planning this means to you.”

It felt as if your heart was going to burst right out of your chest. You didn’t know anyone who would willingly want to spend that much time going over colors, debating between two shades that were nearly identical when they could have been doing something they enjoyed.

Searching for the words to tell him all of that you came up empty, settling with a simple, but true, "I love you, Bucky."

Which you followed up with another sweet kiss, once again marveling at how lucky you were to be marrying him.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x reader #my writing

[damianosismyking]

from the prompt list: 3 or 6 for lamen :) love your writing sm!

Hello dear anon! Thank you so much for the prompts and kind words <3 Unfortunately, this turned out a little long. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

|Prompts chosen from this list! |

#3: “Come with me to the other room” – “We are not going to talk about this now.”

#6: “Here, take my jacket” – “I told you I’m not cold” *shivering*

~~

[1,9K words]

It had everything to be the perfect night, but of course, fucking Aimeric would ruin it.

Laurent had been impossible to convince, deadly opposed to getting out of the house unless it was indispensable, and more so getting out of the house to be somewhere loud and crowded.

In the end, Damen managed to convince Laurent through bargain: if he came with him to this one party his friend was throwing, just this time, then Damen would spend the next three months giving Laurent as many back rubs as he wished without complaint.

More than anything, Damen was just happy to get Laurent out of the house. It did him well to be around people that weren’t Damen or his coworkers for a change. To talk about things that didn’t include slide presentations and spreadsheets and whatever he saw on the TV or read on some site. Shake things up a little.

And it worked wonders. Laurent had found a clever girl with whom he connected and had been chatting for a while. He even allowed himself a soft drink (which didn’t have enough alcohol to qualify as an alcoholic beverage). Damen’s heart lurched as Laurent smiled politely, very obviously entertained.

Convinced that Laurent was fine on his own, Damen left the room to witness a drinking competition unfolding in the backyard. He fully intended to take part in it when the lightweight college boy on the left inevitably passed out.

It couldn’t have been more than five minutes. It was just enough time for Damen to step out to the backyard and see the college boy hurl his insides on the grass, and Laurent was poking Damen’s back with a brutal force.

The light quality that had been on Laurent’s face a moment ago had vanished. His jaw was locked, and Laurent seemed angry like Damen hadn’t seen in a while.

“What happened?” Damen asked, but as soon as the words were out, the reason materialized into the backyard.

Aimeric. Fucking Aimeric.

He came hand in hand with an older guy who was not Jord but might as well have been, greying beard, receding hairline and all. Aimeric’s hair had grown long enough to tie up into a bun since the last time Damen saw him. He greeted and smiled a very politician smile at some folks by the pool, making his way to them.

“What are you doing?” Laurent clutched the front of Damen’s shirt. His eyes on Damen were piercing, and Damen knew it was in an attempt to not let them travel east, to the last person any of them expected to see there.

If only Damen had known, he’d never have invited Laurent along. “Let’s go home,” he suggested.

“No,” Laurent replied steadfastly. “I want to see what you’re doing.”

Damen pulled Laurent to his side, a protective arm swung over his shoulders to keep him from view. The issue was that even trying to keep Laurent from harm, the harm had already reached him. Before Damen had a say in it, Laurent was stepping into the place emptied by the college kid, asking the host to explain the rules for the game.

Calling after him resulted in nothing. A second after, Laurent’s hands were tied back, and he was bending over shot glasses placed at the table, grabbing them with his mouth and tossing his head back to drink. He dropped the glass unceremoniously at the table to mouth the next one and the next one, down the line like it was water.

Laurent won, finishing his shots first. The next opponent took the place of the girl Laurent beat. Once again, Laurent won. He was getting ready for a third round when Damen stepped in.

“Come here.” Damen pulled Laurent closer reaching behind him to untie the hands.

“I was playing a game,” Laurent protested but ultimately allowed himself to be untied and dragged away.

Damen returned inside the house, guiding Laurent by the hand. The shots hadn’t hit him yet, but they would soon. Finally, they made it to the kitchen in search of water.

And there was Aimeric too, like a bad presage. In his heart, Damen prayed Laurent would overlook Aimeric with the back pressed to the stove talking to some guy who very evidently drooled over him.

Of course, Damen wouldn’t be so lucky, and Laurent would gulp his water while burying Aimeric with a deadly glare. It certainly didn’t help that Aimeric met the gaze and leaned into not-Jord’s ear to whisper something and giggle.

It certainly didn’t help that it happened again and again. One too many times.

If it bothered Damen, who objectively had nothing against Aimeric, he could only imagine what it did to Laurent to see his ex-friend magically pop up at every location they ran to and very conveniently start whispering to the nearest drooling idiot.

Laurent’s pupils were blown wide already and his lids heavy. It would get worse, and when it did, it was for the best if Aimeric wasn’t anywhere within Laurent’s sight.

“Come with me to the other room,” Damen whispered into Laurent’s ear.

“We are not going to talk about this now,” Laurent’s groggy response. He didn’t even bother masking that he was intently staring at Aimeric, who laughed carefree with not-Jord’s hand in his back pocket.

“Who said anything about talking?”

Laurent tagged along with Damen, wavering behind him. They crossed the restriction rope to make it upstairs, to the room area Pallas may get angry at him for invading.

But Damen knew the place, and he knew that in Pallas’ parents’ room, there was a nice balcony with a bench where he had sat more than once to get high with his friends throughout high school. It opened to the view of the sleeping neighborhood and blocked the noises from the party happening downstairs.

The night was chilly, even for late Autumn. It ruffled the tops of the trees and shifted strands of Laurent’s hair.

Damen started to remove his jacket, but Laurent rose a hand to his face. “I’m not cold.”

Laurent walked right past the bench and propped himself up to sit at the balcony with a leg hanging off each side. Damen went to stand beside him, in case Laurent lost balance.

Laurent breathed in deeply, his head lolling against a column. “I hate drinking,” he said, squeezing his eyes.

“Do you need more water?”

“No. I need to be sober.”

“Water could help you with that,” Damen pointed.

Laurent shook his head lazily. He swayed until his head hit Damen’s chest. “No.”

Damen tilted Laurent’s chin up to peck at his lips. Laurent’s mouth tasted disgusting, but he leaned in with a soft sigh, and Damen kissed him deeper. It went on for some time. When Damen pulled back, Laurent shivered.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Damen offered, tucking a strand of hair behind Laurent’s ear.

“About what?” Laurent said. His speech was even more dragged than before, but he knew precisely what Damen had referred to. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Laurent.”

“There is nothing to talk about.” Damen recognized a sign to drop the subject when he saw one.

He knew, however, that the fallout with Aimeric was still a sore spot for Laurent. And that regardless of his claims, he missed his friend. Aimeric had been one of the few people Laurent trusted enough to befriend, and after the blown-out fight that resulted in them never speaking again, Aimeric changed drastically into the role of one of Laurent’s fiercer – if not to say most dedicated – antagonists.

Laurent had been telling Damen for months that Aimeric fed people lies about him and twisted his secrets to tarnish Laurent’s image all around. Damen had thought it was the paranoia speaking, the way sometimes Laurent thought people were looking at him a certain way or laughing behind his back. But, as it turned out, Laurent had been right. The realization curled Damen’s stomach and boiled his blood.

“Are you going to tell Nicaise?” Damen asked, running his fingernails lightly up and down Laurent’s nape.

Laurent smiled. “I don’t want him to kill Aimeric.”

“Wise.”

Laurent’s eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment. His pupils were so wide his irises were reduced to little blue bands. He shivered, losing a battle against his trembling jaw. “Here,” Damen said, “Take my jacket.”

“I told you, I’m not cold.” A strong shiver followed the statement.

Damen wrapped his leather jacket around Laurent and pulled him close, resting his chin at the top of Laurent’s head, blond strands tickling his neck. There was a good chance Laurent may fall asleep like that, and Damen would have a tough time getting him off the balcony. “Are you going to throw up?”

“No. I think.”

Damen laughed into Laurent’s hair. “Come lay down.”

“I’m not in the mood tonight, Damen,” Laurent frowned.

“I meant actually lay down. You’re barely awake as it is.”

“I’m awake,” Laurent said, but he swung his leg over the balcony and hopped off, staggering on his feet.

It was an easy task to take off Laurent’s sneakers and tuck him in bed, always so impossibly pliable when he had a little too much to drink. He was reaching the worse of his drunkenness, barely capable of keeping his eyes open anymore.

“Please tell me if you need to throw up,” Damen said, sitting at his bedside just to look at him. Even poorly illuminated and wholly wasted, Laurent managed to be the most beautiful thing Damen’s ever laid eyes on.

“Lay with me,” Laurent whined.

“In a minute,” Damen said. He planned to go back downstairs once he was sure Laurent had blacked out, to explain the situation to Pallas and try to save face, but Laurent didn’t need to know that.

“You think Ric is going to hate me forever?” Laurent’s eyes were closed, face going lax. The chances he’d remember that conversation after he woke up were minimum.

Damen ran a finger down Laurent’s cheek. His face was flushed red and warm. “Will you?”

Laurent nuzzled Damen’s hand, pinning it in place with his own. “Probably.”

Laurent’s breathing evened out. He didn’t stir when Damen pulled his hand from under his or when Damen stood. To make sure, Damen whispered, “I’ll be back in a minute,” into Laurent’s ear just to see if he’d react. When Laurent remained the way he was, without a muscle on his face twitching to indicate any part of his subconscious remained awake, Damen snuck out with silent steps.

He’d bring a bucket up with him when he came back. And a bottle of water.

Before that, though, he may have a thing or two to solve with a certain brunette.

#My Writing #Drabble #Captive Prince #Fic #Laurent of Vere #Damianos of Akielos #Aimeric of Fortaine #Damen #Laurent #Aimeric #Friends-to-enemies #Laurent & Aimeric #Lamen #Laurent x Damen #established relationship #feel free to request any prompts <3 #I had way too much fun writing this #Thank you so much dear anon #Anon #ask

[highpope]

Silver Keys - Ch. 6

JJ Maybank x OC x Topper Thorton Soulmate AU

warnings: none :) Lmk if there are ever any

notes: I can't even apologize for the lack of updates, this is what we're rolling with lately. comments and reblogs are encouraged and appreciated!!!

silver keys masterlist

JJ never realizes how much of a mess everything is until June is gone for more than a day. Without her, Kie gets too annoyed at the rest of them (mainly John B and him) and there’s no one to settle the arguments between the four pogues. It’s like something shifts with the universe. And that is why the last two days have been a mess.

June left for her recital Thursday night all set to perform on Friday. There were two rounds of competition, from what JJ understood. The main event is on Friday and the second round is on Saturday. So it was up in the air when she would be back.

As for the rest of them, John B said some stupid shit to Kie and she stormed off. She texted in the group later only to say she wasn’t coming to the boneyard for the party Saturday night.

Which left John B, JJ, and Pope to their own devices. Which went pretty much just how JJ expected it to: he was high and slightly tipsy and JB was doing that weird thing where he pretends he hasn’t drunk that much but is totally gone. Pope was probably hating his life, wishing he hadn’t pulled the shortest straw (or in their case the shortest pasta noodle) and gotten stuck as DD. JJ did feel slightly bad about that, but no one wanted him to drive anyway.

Now, it was about halfway through the party and JJ couldn’t find any of his friends let alone people he liked enough to talk to. He had quit beer pong when a member of the opposing team threw up on her shoes. Pretty much the whole scene shut down after that. He noticed a few groups sectioned off in foldout chairs, some around various bonfires.

JJ wasn’t sure how much time had passed after that. Probably enough that Pope was ready to go home. So, he stumbled his way through the small circles of people, laughing and dancing in a gentle sort of way. It was almost melodic, the way everyone navigated through the sand. JJ had stopped when he saw Topper and Kelce leaning against a tree arguing.

It was more than obvious that JJ didn’t like Topper. He was a rich, stuck-up kook. He didn’t give a shit about anyone else and JJ didn’t understand how June had been with him for so long and it was frustrating that he couldn’t give her better. But she was happy, the happiest he had seen her in a while. He could be civil with Topper, hell he’d even be nice because JJ would do anything to make sure June was happy.

“You don’t think this has gone a little too far?” JJ heard Kelce say.

“No, dude. And what’s the harm anyway? It’s not like June is ever going to know I’m not her real soulmate. She believes me.” topper replied.

JJ felt his stomach drop. It took him a few seconds to process what he was hearing, but when he did the rage took over his body instantly.

“Well, I don’t know. She very obviously has a soulmate. Real songs are getting stuck in her head. You’re just lying and saying that they’re yours.”

“I’m not lying!” Topper yelled, his voice getting harsher the closer he got to Kelce, “I don’t have one, okay? I don’t fucking hear anything. And it’s not fair. So why can’t I just pick someone?”

Without a second thought, JJ rushed forward, slamming topper to the ground.

“What the hell did you just say?” He yells, looking down at Topper. He didn’t care if he was causing a scene, he didn’t care about anything. He could only picture June’s face when she inevitably found out and that was enough to make his blood boil.

“This is none of your business, pogue.”

Topper pulled himself up from the sand and swung at him, catching JJ’s cheek. He couldn’t help himself, he launched himself at Topper. He punched his nose, fast and hard. He looks down at his own hands, already bruising and covered in someone else’s blood.

“Tell her.” he spits at him “or I fucking will.” He kicks at the sand and turns away. JJ isn’t sure why he’s letting him off like this. Maybe, in the long run, this will hurt less for June.

June. That’s all that matters. Not topper and not some stupid soulmate. And if not kicking Topper’s teeth in and letting him save face will help her then that’s what he’ll do.

He took a deep breath and knocked on her window. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say, he wasn’t sure if he was going to say anything. If she asked why he was there, he wouldn’t have an answer.

JJ heard some rustling and moments later was met with June opening the window and pulling him inside.

“J, what the hell? You scared me.”

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to.” She looked tired but happy and his heart hurt a little.

“You could’ve come to the front door. My parents would have let you in.”

“I just. I couldn’t-” He didn’t know what to say. He could hear Topper’s confession ringing in his ears.

June grabbed his chin and turned his head to look at her, “God, what happened to your face? Please tell m-”

“It’s nothing, I just. I have to lay low for a little, okay?”

“Are you-” she pressed.

“June, please”

“Okay, but you have to tell me what happened.”

He hesitated, “It was some kook okay? It’s over, done-zo”

“who” He hesitated again. She searched his eyes and it took everything in him not to tell her. He tried to get her to stop.

“You didn’t catch his name? Ya know before he gave you a black eye”

“We didn’t swap phone numbers, fuck, June”

“You don’t just punch people for no reason JJ. You can’t just”

“June” he pleaded

“Okay, fine… I just want to make sure it wasn’t your-”

“It wasn’t. okay?”

“I just wanna make sure you’re okay. Don’t be an asshole about it”

He did feel like an asshole. She was only trying to make sure his dad didn’t show back up at the chateau and he was yelling at her.

“I’m going to get you ice,” June said without looking back.

When she returned she tossed him a frozen bag of peas and told him to ice.

“This isn’t my first black eye, Moto”

“Yeah, yeah, Maybank,” She sighs, “I know.”

“Hey,” he says softly, “I’m fine, I promise. Just a little black eye. You should see the other guy.” He joked.

She didn’t say anything, just looked at him anxiously. When she finally did speak it came out a whisper, “I just worry about you, idiot.”

He nods, “I know, I’m sorry.”

JJ lays back to rest his back against her wall and stretches his legs. June is sitting across from him, leaning against her bed.

“Tell me about the recital, I wanna hear about how you kicked ass.”

“That’s not how it works, J.”

“C’mon,” he pleaded.

She sighed and her face relaxed, “it was really good. Like, the environment and everyone there. I played really well, too. I don’t think I missed a single note.”

“Play it for me,”

“No, no. It’s okay.”

“C’mon JuJu,” he nudged her foot with his.

She sighed again, moving towards her keyboard.

“Don’t look at me.”

“What?” JJ laughed.

“Turn around,” she urged.

“Fine.”

He did as he was told, turning around so that their backs were practically touching. He could hear June crack her knuckles and take a deep breath before beginning to play. He listened as she began softly, telling a story through the music. It sounded familiar, something he’d probably heard her hum before. But there was more to it than that. It was the feeling of waking up from a nightmare and realizing that you were at home, safe in your bed.

“I like when you play,” he was looking at her now, his full attention on the way her hands glided over the keys and her curled up when she was focusing. He noticed the freckles on her nose and her chipped nail polish like he was looking at her for the first time.

She smiled when he said this and JJ felt the familiar comforting feeling June often brings. She played for a few more moments before stopping, her eyes closed, concentrated.

“Keep going,” JJ urged.

“That’s it.” She said with a sad shrug, “my mom used to play it for us when we couldn’t sleep at night. She wrote it in college I guess. But, she never finished it. So… that’s it.”

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

She met his eyes, “yeah it is isn’t it?”

He nodded sincerely, looking from her eyes to her lips, “yeah.”

They stayed like that for a moment, concentrating on only each other. JJ knew he was falling, knew he had been falling for some time now and he was desperate to know if his best friend was falling for him too.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x oc #jj obx #obx #outer banks #obx fic #outer banks fic #outer banks soulmate #soulmate au #topper thornton #topper thorton x reader #topper thorton x oc #silver keys masterlist #silverkeys #highpope fics

[robininthelabyrinth]

sequel to A Sick Thought (aka the Mo Xuanyu & Wei Wuxi-cat fic)

-

“Did I do something to make Hanguang-jun not like me?” Mo Xuanyu asked.

Jiang Cheng wasn’t expecting the question, so he reacted as usual – incredulous glare with a side order of ‘who are you to dare talk to me directly?!’ – which to nobody’s surprise was massive overkill for a shrinking violet like Mo Xuanyu, who quailed at once.

“I’m sure he likes you fine,” Jiang Cheng said hastily, trying to make up for it. He hadn’t had much practice at trying to be not scary in years. “What makes you say that?”

He wasn’t really good at making conversation, either, but he was the only one here right now. They’d all been taking shifts to support Mo Xuanyu with spiritual energy per the doctor’s recommendation for treating the mercury poison that was still affecting his mind, and Jiang Cheng usually volunteered to take the late night-early morning shift because Lans simply weren’t properly functional at those hours until their official wake-up time hit.

Also, it was the one time he could generally guarantee Wei Wuxian would be either busy or napping and he wouldn’t have to deal with – any of that.

He knew he’d eventually have to deal with Wei Wuxian, but…not yet.

Right now, he turned to look at Mo Xuanyu, who was lying very still, covered in acupuncture needles to the point that he resembled a pincushion; he had very large eyes that suggested trembling even when he wasn’t, and that irked Jiang Cheng, somehow, when he’d already made an effort not to be scary.

“He doesn’t seem happy when I’m around,” Mo Xuanyu explained.

“That’s not about you,” Jiang Cheng said gruffly. “Hanguang-jun just doesn’t like anyone. You wouldn’t believe it based on his righteous reputation, but he can be a real ass to people.”

Jiang Cheng supposed that the ice-block must like someone, given how often jokes were made about him looking as though his wife had died, but he’d never seen it in person. When they were young, Lan Wangji had already been stern and cold, with occasional bouts of being snappish – especially towards Wei Wuxian. There’d been a few months during the Sunshot Campaign when he’d been a little softer, during the time they were looking for Wei Wuxian together, but he’d gone straight back to asshole right after, sticking his nose into everyone’s business and harassing Wei Wuxian for his demonic cultivation. And once Wei Wuxian had died, he’d gone into seclusion for years on end, only to come back as his current glacial self –

“No, that’s mostly just to you, I think,” Mo Xuanyu said. “He’s very polite to all the juniors, everyone in the Lan sect…even Jin Ling.”

Jiang Cheng really hated that his first thought was at least I’m unique because being the only man Hanguang-jun is consistently rude to was a stupid prize to be happy to win and he knew it. He didn’t even like Hanguang-jun enough to care what the man thought!

“But I really do think it’s something about me in particular. Recently I’ve noticed that he seems to scowl when I’m around –”

“There’s a time when he’s not scowling?”

“…I mean, actually scowl, as opposed to being expressionless?”

Jiang Cheng tilted his head to the side, reviewing instances in which he’d observed the two of them, then nodded. “That might be the case, actually.”

Mo Xuanyu sighed, sounding almost relieved by the confirmation. “I don’t know why! I didn’t think I behaved all that badly when we first met, and I never met him at Koi Tower before –”

Jiang Cheng didn’t like to think of Mo Xuanyu and Koi Tower.

He’d only ever seen Mo Xuanyu distantly, a wallflower even when decked out in Lanling gold, and Jiang Cheng hadn’t been in Lanling for very many visits during the short time Mo Xuanyu had been there – a few years, maybe, half a decade at most, and most of that time Jiang Cheng had been focused on his sect or his nephew to the exclusion of everything else.

Still, his first up-close view had been truly disturbing.

All the more so because Jin Ling clearly hadn’t realize that it was so disturbing, because Jin Ling – his Jin Ling – thought it was somehow normal for what had once been a perfectly ordinary, if shy, man to suddenly become a lunatic, raving with fits and terrified of everyone dressed in yellow…

(He’d have to have words with Jin Guangyao about it, whenever he found the time. Had they done something wrong in raising Jin Ling? And who was it that had so tormented Mo Xuanyu while he was there? Surely Jin Guangyao would know something…)

It was all extremely uncomfortable, and doubly complicated by the fact that Jiang Cheng himself had been driven to the edge of a nervous breakdown when he heard Wei Wuxian’s voice again after all these years. He’d dreamed of his shixiong coming back, back the way he used to be before the war had ruined everything; he’d had nightmares of him coming back, too – not again I don’t want to have to kill him again please no – but somehow the idea that he’d come back as a cat had just been…too much.

They said only the worst sort of people reincarnated as animals.

Later, of course, he learned about the body sacrificing array (he’d nearly been sick at the thought of Wei Wuxian’s familiar gaze looking out at him from Mo Xuanyu’s big trembling eyes, the actual man’s soul gone who-knows-where), and the fact that someone had taught that and only that to Mo Xuanyu, intending on squeezing him dry and then discarding him to use the shell…

It was sickening.

He should have paid more attention.

“- and anyway I can’t figure out what it might be.”

“Well, think over what the instances that you saw him scowling were, and figure out what there was in common,” Jiang Cheng said. Circulating spiritual energy into another person was tiring, but not necessarily mentally stimulating – it wouldn’t be too much to devote some time into the puzzle of the mysteriously scowling Hanguang-jun. “Were you at a particular location?”

“No. Once I was at the dining hall, once walking through the field, a few times in here…”

“Were you doing anything in specific?”

“I don’t think so? I don’t really – do anything.”

That was certainly true. Maybe they should be encouraging Mo Xuanyu to pick up a hobby.

Jiang Cheng thought about it a bit more. “Would you say Hanguang-jun scowls at me?” he asked.

Mo Xuanyu was caught by surprise and failed to hide his smile – it was a surprisingly cute smile, broader and more full-fledged that Jiang Cheng would have expected from such a shy person. It transformed his whole face: his eyes crinkling at the sides, his cheeks dimpling, his nose scrunching up.

Really, surprisingly cute.

Was that what Mo Xuanyu would have been like, if it wasn’t for the poison and the abuse?

“Yes, Sandu Shengshou,” Mo Xuanyu said, his eyes twinkling a little in his amusement. “Hanguang-jun always scowls at you.”

Jiang Cheng felt a stupid little spike of pleasure, which, damnit, he does not care. Stupid prizes were not worth winning – he just had to keep reminding himself of that.

“Well, that’s something, then,” he said, deciding not to think about it. Much like he was not thinking about Wei Wuxian: very purposefully. “That means it’s not you he doesn’t like, because then he’d scowl every time, instead of just sometimes. Is there anyone with you during those times?”

Mo Xuanyu pursed his lips when he thought. “I don’t think so?” he said doubtfully. “It’s usually just me and Wei Wuxian…it couldn’t possibly be Wei Wuxian, though. They like each other.”

“You think so?” Jiang Cheng asked, surprised. “Why?”

“Well, I mean, they’re always together, aren’t they? Unless Wei Wuxian’s with me, Hanguang-jun is always keeping him company – in the library pavilion, in the dining hall, in the cold spring…”

Jiang Cheng was starting to get flashbacks to his teenage days. “Surely you mean that Wei Wuxian is the one keeping Hanguang-jun company?” he said, because that sounded much more likely. “Or, well, pestering him?”

Mo Xuanyu shook his head. “Hanguang-jun brought him a little bit of meat from the town outside,” he said. “He must have gone there especially to get it, since there’s no meat in the dining hall here. And he even let him have a jar of some wine.”

That – did not sound right. Whether from the perspective of what Jiang Cheng knew about Lan Wangji, or about Lan sect rules, or even, well, general guidelines for what was appropriate to feed to a cat.

“You’re sure?”

“Mm. Here, come to the window, I’ll show you.”

Somehow Jiang Cheng found himself on the bed next to Mo Xuanyu, shuffling around carefully so that he could look out the window without being too obvious about it.

Just across the way, Lan Wangji was standing guard at one of the central areas of the Cloud Recesses – judging the time, he would have just finished up the last leg of his patrols, having presumably utilized his considerable willpower to stay awake until this hour. As they watched, a faint wind picked up, ruffling Lan Wangji’s hair and causing the ends of his forehead ribbon to gently flutter.

The picture would have been one of the classic cultivator, lonely but righteous, standing sentinel on behalf of others, except for the fact that Wei Wuxian was crouched right behind him, red ribbon and black tail and all, trying his level best to leap up high enough to catch the ribbon.

Jiang Cheng briefly closed his eyes. “That idiot.”

Mo Xuanyu elbowed him lightly. “Open your eyes, you’ll miss it!”

Jiang Cheng felt absurdly proud over the fact that Mo Xuanyu had apparently gotten over his fright well enough to do as much as that, and opened his eyes.

His eyebrows went up as he watched Lan Wangji – still stone-faced as always, but (and it was perhaps a trick of the light) a little softer than usual – lean down to rub behind Wei Wuxian’s ears, and to pull out a bit of dried fish from his sleeve where he’d clearly been keeping a stash.

He even crouched down to better speak to him, taking in account that Wei Wuxian was, while moderately porcine for a cat, now much smaller than him.

There was a great deal of staring happening.

It took nearly the length of two incense sticks for Jiang Cheng to actually process what he was seeing.

“Hanguang-jun likes…cats?”

“No,” Mo Xuanyu said, his lips twitching. “He likes Wei Wuxian. Isn’t it obvious?”

It was, in fact, a little obvious.

“When you say like –”

Mo Xuanyu reached out his own paw and patted Jiang Cheng’s arm in sympathy. “Trust one cutsleeve to know another,” he said, and then he left his hand on Jiang Cheng’s arm.

“But when did they even start?” Jiang Cheng asked, honestly bemused. “They were always at each other’s throats before! And – and he’s a cat now. Don’t tell me that Hanguang-jun has some sort of – some strange – I’ve heard things about catboys –”

Mo Xuanyu burst out into giggles. “Where did you hear about that?”

“An old acquaintance with bad taste and a penchant for sharing it,” Jiang Cheng said, since obviously Mo Xuanyu wouldn’t know who Nie Huaisang was. “It’s not that, though, is it? They must have – before.”

That would explain Lan Wangji’s decade-long mourning for a dead wife, he supposed. Also his seemingly inexplicable resentment of both the Jin sect and Jiang Cheng personally.

“I think so.”

Jiang Cheng was going to murder Wei Wuxian for not telling him that he’d apparently run off to have a whirlwind romance with Lan Wangji during the time he’d been the Yiling Patriarch – that was the only time when it was possible, since Jiang Cheng had been there all the other times, and he was pretty sure they didn’t get together before that.

If only because Wei Wuxian wouldn’t have been able to resist boasting about it.

In fact, it was a little strange that he hadn’t done so now, cat or no cat – it wasn’t as if everyone didn’t know he was planning to cultivate towards a human form as quickly as possible, so why wouldn’t he –

A horrible thought crossed Jiang Cheng’s mind. “Does Wei Wuxian know? Does he – does he like him back?”

Mo Xuanyu pursed his lips. “You know, I’m not sure?”

“I thought you said cutsleeves could tell.”

“Well, the whole cat thing has been throwing me off a bit.”

Jiang Cheng covered his eyes with a hand. “I don’t think I can deal with this. The cat thing was bad enough…at least it explains your issue.”

Mo Xuanyu, who’d finally removed his hand, blinked. “What?”

“Wei Wuxian is a perpetual headache that exists for the sole purpose of tormenting me,” Jiang Cheng explained because really it was the only logical conclusion at this point. He wished that he loved the man (cat) a little bit less; it would make every bit of it much less agonizingly personal. “But apparently Hanguang-jun like that sort of thing, so whenever Wei Wuxian is spending time with you...”

“…you think he’s been drinking vinegar? About me? Hanguang-jun?”

“Why not? You’re open about the fact that you cut your sleeve, Wei Wuxian is already protective of you, and it’s not as if you’re not cute – it make sense that he’d be worried, especially if he’s been pining all these years.”

Mo Xuanyu had turned pink. “Cute,” he said dazedly, reaching up and pressing his hands to his cheeks as if that would help cool them down. “Uh –”

“Don’t do that,” Jiang Cheng said irritably, reaching up and catching his hands. “You’re covered in needles that you really shouldn’t be moving around – here, lie back down already.”

Mo Xuanyu obediently shuffled back into place, and Jiang Cheng returned to his previous place as well.

“I’ll need to talk to Wei Wuxian about it,” he said mournfully. Even after everything that had happened between them, it was his duty as Wei Wuxian’s only living relative to make sure the idiot wasn’t getting involved in something he shouldn’t. “I don’t want to talk to Wei Wuxian. He doesn’t even like me anymore.”

That was the problem, too.

“Uh, Sandu Shengshou –”

“Just call me Jiang Cheng. Everyone else does.” He was pretty sure he hadn’t even heard his courtesy name without a heavy dose of sarcasm or cringe-inducing toadying at any point in the last five years, and his title was far too formal if the goal was to be less intimidating. “What, do you have an idea on how to make it easier?”

“It’s just a thought.”

It couldn’t be worse than any of Jiang Cheng’s. “I’m listening. What is it?”

“Have you considered…catnip?”

#mdzs #jiang cheng #mo xuanyu #wangxian #lan wangji #wei wuxian #my fic #my fics #jiang cheng is the king of mixed signals and obliviousness #having no idea if someone is trying to flirt with you is the number 1 trait of yunmeng #a sick thought #wei wuxicat