#And he's not even 'faking' as a thug

[okawarihappylife]

i am once again thinking abt the lost potential that is hypmic.

[buryustogether]

lilac - chapter 2

miguel o’hara x f!reader

summary: a pre-work visit to the bank goes horribly wrong.

wc: 4.7k

tags/warnings: unhappy relationship, gun violence, bank robbery, blood, scars, stripping, pole dancing, sexual fantasy, semi-public sex, praise

author’s note: yeah he got me fucked up

They called him Spiderman.

He appeared seemingly from thin air overnight - specifically, the night you’d stayed late at the school to watch Gabriella O’Hara until her father could pick her up. They were hailing him a vigilante, a hero, an aggressor. No one could quite seem to agree on just what he was other than supernatural. Like the multiple self-titled supervillains who had taken over your city without someone to stop them, he possessed abilities no regular human was capable of. Shooting webs from his wrists, climbing walls, moving and propelling himself at unimaginable speeds. He was something unimaginable.

People theorized, over the week since his city-wide premier on shaky cellphone footage and breaking news coverings that interrupted regular shows, that he had escaped from a cage in Alchemax. How else could they explain his powers? They couldn’t. Others said he was an alien. Some said he was a fake, said that the clips that captured him beating the absolute shit out of car thieves and back alley thugs and would-be kidnappers, were all photoshopped with a fancy computer and an advanced program.

Either way, no matter where he’d come from or what he was, whether he was a do-gooder or another villain searching for glory, no one could deny that what he did was incredible.

It was too bad some people were out to get him despite what he was doing for your city.

“He’s a menace!” shouted the anchor of the news show playing in the bank’s lobby. J. Jonah Jameson’s voice brought a migraine to the front of your head, one that wouldn’t go away with just simple ibuprofen. You tried to block him out as you waited in line for a teller, attempting to focus instead on the story your boyfriend was barking in your ear on your phone. Your attempt was unsuccessful. “He’s just another villain trying to have his five minutes of glory in the sun. He’ll burn out just like all the others; Doc Ock, Kraven, the Vulture… Please, people! Wake up and take a deep breath of reality! He’s not helping the citizens of New York - he’s getting in the way of our police!” He fixed the camera with a hard, stony stare that made you look away when you saw one of his eyes twitch. What in fuck did that dude put in his cereal every morning? “Spiderman is just another villain. Give him another week, and see where he ends up.”

You felt your lips tug down as you turned away from the television and moved up in line. What a sad, pathetic city you lived in, where someone attempted to use whatever powers they had to do good and got blasted for it instead of praise. God knew New York needed all the help it could get. With the highest crime rate in the country, who would turn their nose up at what little help was offered to them?

Dickwipes, that was who.

“Hello?” shouted the voice on the other end of the phone you held up to your face. You jumped slightly and pulled it from your ear, earning yourself a few strange looks from the other people in line. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Sorry, babe,” you exhaled into the speaker. Blocking out the television and the rest of the distractions in the bank, you upped the volume on your phone. “Just kind of busy at the moment. I’m in line at the bank, and then I’ve got to catch a taxi in this fucking traffic and haul ass to work before class starts, and -”

From his end, Ferris released one of those breathy sighs that he did when he wanted you to stop speaking so that he could talk what was on his mind. You knew the sound well - well enough to shut your mouth and swallow thick. “Could’ve just said it was a bad time,” he grunted, then made the noises of switching his phone to his other ear. You recognized the sounds of his deft fingers fiddling with his guitar strings. God, it seemed like he never put that fucking thing down. A part of you suspected that if your apartment was on fire, he would run to save his instrument before you. “Listen, I’ve got practice here in a while. I’ll let you get back to whatever’s so important.”

Ignoring the pang that resounded like a thunderclap through your ribcage, you nodded your head despite knowing he couldn’t see you. “Uhm, okay.” You hesitated, then added, “Oh, before you go to practice -” you heard him sniff - “could you put away the dishes in the sink? I started the cycle this morning before I left, so it should be -”

“Yeah,” he said quickly. “Bye.”

“Oh, okay, bye. Lo-” Before you could finish, you heard the familiar click of the other line being hung up. You stood still for a moment, feeling a little numb at your fingers, before slowly pulling your phone from your face and pressing that bright red button to hang up your end. Trying to keep your expression neutral, you stepped forward in line as it moved.

Maybe once upon a time, you and Ferris had been happy together. Maybe… satisfied was the right word. Settled. There to fill the void when you needed someone. Saying ‘I love you’ was never a column to lean upon in your relationship; it was only mumbled under breaths during sex and rare moments when both of you were in the mood to not be so completely alone. But that wasn’t often. He was too busy with his band, spending whatever money from his gigs that he received at whatever bars he trolled when he claimed he was cleaning up after shows. You were too busy teaching your kids during the day and teasing and smiling desperate souls at night, putting lousy paychecks and crumpled tips toward keeping your rent paid and food in the pantry.

The girls at The Menagerie asked you why you didn’t leave him, kick him out of your apartment and change the locks. You couldn’t ever come up with a good reason. Maybe it was because if you did, six months of your life would be down the drain. Maybe it was because if you did, you’d be more alone than you ever had in your life.

You didn’t have anyone besides Ferris. Your parents, shit - they were a lost cause. The girls at the club all had separate lives. And your kids at the school - you had to let them go every afternoon, walk out that door without a glance back.

If you let Ferris go, you would have no one.

Stuffing your phone back into your purse, you held your head high, refusing to let anyone else here see just how deep the cracks in your foundations were. At last, you were called up to the next available teller.

Your heels clicked and clacked along the polished tile floor, the bright yellow dress that you’d bought for yourself for a school spirit day swishing about your ankles. You felt like a sore thumb in this dull, brown-and-white building that was just aching to be updated. Old, vintage chandeliers hung from the high-arched ceilings, illuminating the golden bars the tellers sat behind. Benches with creaky leather occupied the center of the lobby, accented by matching chairs and little desks that bankers in starched collars met with clients at. It was all black and white, neutrals and dark tones.

Greeting the teller behind the gate with as bright a smile as you could muster, you opened your mouth to say hello. Yet just when you began to push the syllables past your lips, your world shattered like porcelain meeting concrete.

Sunlight like a torch in a dark tunnel flooded the bank as a small line of figures crowded into the bank. At first, no one paid them any mind. Then shots like the deafening cracks of fireworks right beside your ear sounded from sleek black rifles into the ceiling, and screams filled the echoey chambers of the building. You immediately dropped and covered your head, breath leaving your lungs like the air had been slammed from your chest by a sledgehammer. People cowered behind the cushions and desks, scrambling for cover as another round went through the roof.

“Everyone put your hands on your heads and take a seat on the ground,” came a booming voice from the figure at the head of the group. There were four of them, a small team who wore identical kabuki masks and black tactical gear fit to be seen on military personnel. “This is a robbery. Not a killing spree, not a kidnapping - a robbery. We ain’t looking to hurt anyone today, unless someone tries to be a hero. No sudden moves. You all follow directions, and you’ll be home in time for lunch.”

Unable to pull in a new breath, you slid to the ground and placed your hands on top of your head. You watched, eyes wide and fingers trembling slightly as the men began to make their rounds to the tellers, plopping wide, fat bags on the counters and demanding money from beneath the desks be placed inside. One took up a stance just beside you, forcefully shoving his bag to the man behind the bars and commanding him to pull out the stacked bills. The teller at once complied, dropping thousands of dollars as sweat began to bead at his temples.

Holy goddamn fucking shit. Holy fuck. You knew this city was dangerous - hell, you’d sit back night after night at home and watch on the news as cars were jacked and people were taken hostage. You’d just never thought it would happen to you; of all the millions of people in this city, you’d never thought it would be you. And yet here you were, hunkered down against a countertop as your bank was robbed with you at the throbbing heart of it all.

And you were all alone.

The man in the mask beside you took a glance down when your trembling brushed up against his leg, his head tilting slightly in a demented way that made his mask look haunted. You were suddenly reminded of your own mask that you wore for work, of the ones the other girls wore, and you were struck with the realization that, perhaps, you and he were not so different. You both wore masks to hide your faces, holding out your hands and moving to a particular kind of dance in order to snatch money right out of pockets without batting a damn eye.

Then again, when you danced, you didn’t hold an automatic rifle strapped to your shoulder.

“Give it to me,” said the man above you. You were barely able to understand his words through his mask.

Your heart skipped yet another few beats as you tried to register what he was saying. Give it to him? Give him what? “What?” you managed to say over the lead in your throat.

He nodded his head to the space beside you, and you whipped around. Your purse lay on its side next to your thigh. He wanted your purse; your wallet. Your money. Everything you had - which still wasn’t much. But you couldn’t give it up.

You looked back up at him while he switched his gaze between you and the teller, who was still busy filling the bag with cash. “No,” you said, and when he snapped his gaze to yours, you added, “please. I don’t have much, I don’t have anything compared to this place.”

The man in the mask turned away from the teller to grip his rifle tighter, tilting it slightly so that it was level with your leg curled up against your chest. “I’m not going to ask again, lady.”

Just as your hand began to scrabble for the purse laying beside you, knocking around a few papers and loose change that had fallen out, the man was struck in the face with a mass of white substance that clung to his mask. He cried out and dropped his rifle, hands flying up in an attempt to pull the stuff from his eye holes. You watched, frozen in place, as another masked man across the lobby was stuck to a countertop by his hand with another mass that appeared from seemingly nowhere.

Before anyone else could react, a dark, sinewy figure dropped from the arched ceilings overhead and kneeled on the tile just a few feet from where you huddled. When they stood up straight, your breath hitched in your throat. It was a man, donned head to toe in a blue and red suit that popped with color here in this bleak interior - like your yellow dress. His face was covered with a mask, the only indication of an expression beneath that surface retractable eye lenses that narrowed as he took a glance around the ceiling.

Spiderman exhaled a nearly inaudible huff. “Some things never change.”

From that moment, the bank was painted into a picture of chaos. The masked vigilante expelled a pair of webs from his wrist to slingshot himself across the lobby, landing a jaw-cracking blow to one of the robbers who tried to raise his rifle. The fourth, the last one still able to move, cracked off a number of shots that sent people scrambling and wailing out. The blue and red suit shot off tiny sparks as lead collided with its bulletproof material, nothing but pebbles against a mountain.

Spiderman huffed again, a breathy little chuckle this time. “Cute.”

In the next second, that fourth gunman was sent flying into a marble wall, sliding down onto his face to reveal the large crack his spine had put in its surface. The last two men were taken down quicker than you could have blinked. The second, his hand still stuck to the countertop, didn’t stand much of a chance when webs ripped his own rifle from his grasp and struck him across the forehead with a sickening crack. And the man who had demanded your purse - he’d only just gotten the white mass of sticky stuff off his mask before the vigilante slung across the room, grabbed him by his vest, and raised a gloved hand capped with three-inch long claws. “It’s impolite to threaten pretty ladies,” he growled in a voice that, for some reason, despite the situation, made your stomach churn a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. He swung the robber toward you where you sat on the ground, that clawed hand gripping his jaw to force him to keep your eyes. “Apologize - like a gentleman. And maybe I’ll think about letting you keep your trigger finger in one piece.”

By now, with the gunmen either unconscious or being held against their will, almost everyone else in the bank had gotten to their feet and bolted out the front doors. In the distance, sirens wailed and tires screeched. And yet you remained where you were, staring up at Spiderman as he tightened his grip on the man’s jaw. His claws drew tiny dots of blood along his skin. “We’re waiting,” he said in a breathy murmur.

The gunman inhaled a high-pitched, shaky breath and turned his eyes to you from behind his mask. “M’sorry,” he stuttered over his own terror.

The vigilante leaned closer, his eye lenses narrowing. “Sorry for what?”

“M’sorry for threatening you,” came the pathetic cry in response that almost made you pity him. Almost. “It - it won’t happen again, I swear.”

For a short moment, the two men stared at you. One was praying that you accepted the apology, prayed you were going to call off your savior in spandex. The other was waiting for your decision, waiting to see if you accepted such a sorry excuse for a ‘sorry.’ Swallowing the large lump in your throat, you wordlessly bobbed your head in a nod.

Spiderman hummed and turned his head so that his mouth would be close to the robber’s ear. “Seems the lady’s feeling generous today. Consider yourself lucky.”

He spun the man around with those claws of his, and the robber’s gloved hand reached out in a blind panic and grabbed onto the vigilante’s suit just where his neck met his broad shoulders. He dragged the spandex down accidentally as his head was slammed against the marble countertops, giving you perhaps a one second-long glimpse of dark, tan skin and a small scar across his collarbone. Then the man’s grip relaxed as he dropped to the floor and he released the material of the suit, allowing it to snap back into place.

You jumped slightly as the would-be robber collapsed in a heap of limbs and tactical gear beside you, your dress riding up on your thighs slightly from how you sat with your knees huddled to your chest. Before you could think to do much else in this mind-boggling moment, Spiderman was standing before you and offering a hand to help you to your feet. His claws had shrunk back into his glove - or, perhaps his own nails - and his upturned palm suddenly looked oh so inviting. It floored you in the most alluring, gut-clenching way how those very hands had just brought four men within an inch of their life, and yet now they were softer than empty promises just for you.

“You alright?” he asked as you took his hand and stood. “Sorry you had to get caught up in all this.”

He talked to you in such a casual way, like the pair of you had met before, that you could do nothing but stare and clutch your hands to your stomach as he scooped up the fallen items from your purse, dropped them back in, and handed your bag to you. Numbly, you accepted it.

“You’re safe to walk outside now,” he assured, towering over you like a damn stone column. Fuck, his voice was sexy. Low and tipped with a rolling accent. You wondered, in that moment, why it sounded so familiar. “The police should be arriving any time. They’ll just ask you a few questions and send you on your way.” As if he understood that you were frozen in place, he touched your back, turned you around, and urged you toward the front doors that were now flooded with red and blue lights from the squad cars outside. “Take care of yourself, alright?”

You had just barely mumbled a barely-audible ‘okay’ before he was gently guiding you out the doors, and then suddenly you were alone, facing down three dozen cops and a truckload of SWAT soldiers.

They asked you exactly what happened in that bank. They asked what you were doing there, what time the incident occurred, who in the hell could single handedly take down four aggressors with automatic rifles and bulletproof vests? They knew the answer, and so did you. But you told them anyway.

“It was Spiderman.”

And no matter how fucking hard you tried, how much you urged yourself to forget about them and focus on the here and now, you were unable to get that masked vigilante out of your head. You thought about him on the rest of the way to the school, because god knew there were far too few teachers in this city and you couldn’t have gotten a substitute even if you tried. You thought about him while your coworkers, the other teachers, all gathered around you in the breakroom and demanded answers and stories from your little incident that morning. You thought about him while you planned out your day with numb fingers and toes, and while you stood out front and welcomed kids in, and even when Miguel O’Hara appeared to drop off Gabriella safely at your side.

It took a few words out of his mouth, past those gorgeous full lips of his, a quirk of one of those thick brows, to finally bring you out of your stupor. “I’m sorry?” you said when you realized he had asked you a question. You felt your cheeks warm and your palms become sweaty as you begged his pardon.

To your relief, Miguel only smiled slightly and placed a hand on his jutted hip like he did. God, why did he have to do that? Draw attention to the perfect ratio of his body, a beautiful slope from his wide shoulders to his trimmed waist? “Just asking if you were alright,” he repeated himself, and you could have sworn his eyes flitted over you while he spoke. “Heard you were caught up in that robbery down on Fifth.”

“Oh… right.” You cleared your throat and watched as Gabriella spotted a few friends and dashed into the school to meet them, her backpack wagging behind her. “Yeah, I’m alright. Now that it’s over, I realize it didn’t even last that long. Maybe five minutes or so before… before Spiderman showed up.”

“Yeah?” He reached up his other hand to scratch at the underside of his chin, where the delicate skin of his throat was. Your eyes followed his movements like they were a magnet and you had no choice but to watch. Even if you did have a choice, you would have watched, anyway.

You nodded your head once, clasping your clipboard with your kids’ names on it to your thighs over your dress. A breeze blew over Washington Elementary, letting the yellow fabric dance and blow up to your knees. They were scuffed from kneeling on the hard tile floor this morning. “Mmm-hmm. He’s… not like I imagined him,” you admitted, then realized just what you were doing; talking to Miguel O’Hara, the main star in every single one of your late-night fantasies, about the man who had quite literally swooped in and saved your ass. “But, anyhow… No one got hurt. That’s what matters.”

The corners of Miguel’s lips quirked upward ever so slightly, showing off a tiny flash of his white teeth. It then occurred to you that you’d never seen him smile fully - only with a closed mouth. “Well,” he said, and lifted his hand an inch or two, almost like he was going to touch your arm, then stopped himself and lowered it back down. “I’m glad you’re safe.” There came a fraction of a second of tense, charged silence between the pair of you before he added, “Don’t know what we would do if something happened to Bri’s favorite teacher.”

Bri - you’d never heard him call her that before. It was always a full ‘Gabriella.’

Behind you, in the school, the bell rang, signaling the final five minutes before class started. You glanced over your shoulder, feeling your heart sink slightly at the realization that you would have to leave the conversation. “I’d better -” You allowed your sentence to fall away as a number of squad cars came rounding the corner across from the school, sirens wailing and tires squealing on the tarmac. Other vehicles on the road pulled over to let them pass as they blew through a red light; whatever was happening, it must have been serious. But wasn’t it always.

“Heh,” you chuckled gently as you began to turn back to Miguel. “Always something happening, ri-”

He was gone. Vanished, seemingly, into nothingness. No car to watch pull out of the lot, because he walked his daughter to school, and no trace of his hulking, towering form down the sidewalk outside the wrought iron gates that surrounded the building. He’d completely and totally disappeared.

Damn, you thought as you blinked a few times, gripping your clipboard, and entered the school. What an enigma he was.

That night at work, as you spun yourself around and around on the pole center stage in various twisted shapes and contortments, you found yourself divulging in yet another one of your little fantasies. You shut your eyes as you tensed your leg and gripped the pole to send yourself around in a tight, flashing circle that made the train - that your boss had specifically instructed you to wear while you were in the spotlight - flutter and whip like golden water pulled across a current.

You pictured Miguel seated in the leather chair closest to the stage, his chin propped on his forearms where they rested across the edge of your runway. You imagined the neon lights playing tricks and dirty, filthy, irresistable illusions in the gleam of his eyes, following your movements around and around because no matter how many times you did the same cheap trick, he would still watch it as if it were his first time seeing it. You thought of kneeling down in front of him even though it was against the rules to get too friendly with customers if they weren’t going to pay to see you up close, and of gently taking the point of his chin in between your fingers so that he was tilting his head up to look at you.

Fuck, you thought of him taking you on that fucking stage after the place was closed, hovering over you with your legs locked around his hips and your hands gripping the wrists pinned beside your head so tight your knuckles paled. You swore that, even in your little scenario, you could feel his breath fanning across your face as he leaned down to murmur in your ear through his huffs and lustful, breathy sighs.

“Such a good girl, takin’ it all f’me. Pretty girl, pretty baby. All mine. All mine.”

You opened your eyes and forced yourself to return to reality when you felt yourself being watched. Of course you were being watched - there were dozens upon dozens of eyes surrounding your stage, watching from behind the porcelain gaps in their animalistic masks. But there was another sensation of being stared at that didn’t quite fit in with the rest of them, one that sent a certain kind of shiver down your spine. Keeping in time with your routine and the music thrumming through the floorboards of the club, you peered deep into the wide atrium in search of whoever was fixing you with such a gaze.

You found it.

He was standing nearly in the shadows where the lights couldn’t reach him, arms crossed tight over his chest and stance firm so that everyone who looked at him knew to never even think of invading the space he’d claimed for himself. The man was tall and sinewy with muscle, but you had to squint to see his frame clearly through the dark and the dress jacket he wore. Over his face, the edges obscured by the slicked-back mess of dark hair atop his head, he wore the club’s one and only spider mask.

It was a specialty disguise, one that only the top rollers and highest bidders of the evening bribed their way to at the front room. It usually signified that whoever was behind the porcelain wanted attention, wanted drinks to come nonstop to their side tables, wanted every girl in the damn house on their lap and at their feet. And yet, this evening’s spider was nothing like that. He clung to the shadows, to the perimeter of the room, like he didn’t want anyone to know he was there. He took up no more space than necessary. He was practically a no one, despite the delicate, fractured-looking design he wore over his features.

And he was watching you dance like he was mesmerized, like if the doors were chained shut and the place was burning down around him, he’d be content to stay where he was and keep his eyes focused on your body.

When the man realized you had spotted him, that you were staring right back at him through the gaps of your monarch mask, he moved. You nearly wanted to cry out, to tell him to wait, that you weren’t done. But you couldn’t.

So instead you continued to dance, continued to watch him as he flowed through the other patrons toward the exit. Yet when he turned in just a particular way to avoid bumping into a server, you saw it; through the unbuttoned top pair of buttons of his dress shirt, you spotted it, you were able to catch a glimpse of a pale, raised scar running along his collarbone.

The very same you’d seen on Spiderman.

tags: @mooomeadows @twentysomethingwereyote @screamforyani @fangirlreice7 @axdjelx @ornamentalnecromancy @faust-pda @ilikethemoon28 @mrm-pachypoda @wadafrick

(strike through means your blog could not be tagged.)

[indulgentdaydream]

Hello!

Can you do Jason todd x reader where he's crushing on the newest vigilante in Gotham?

Thank you

New in Town

Jason Todd x Reader || Fluff || Word Count: 1,185

Warnings: profanity (swearing), death mention, violence, low-key stalking but not really??

Wrote half of the fic. Was nearly finished. It didn’t save. 😩 the ONE time i decide to write outside of the notes app

I love the idea of Jason crushing on someone like a teenage boy because he never actually GOT that chance as a teenager so he never learned how to cope with those kind of feelings, so I sprinkled that in here.

I feel like this is poorly written forgive me 🙏

He hadn’t heard of you until six months ago. He hadn’t cared then, either. You kept to the other side of the city, you didn’t pose a threat, and he was already preoccupied with his own things to deal with. You weren’t that important to him.

Jason was walking across rooftops. Two weeks, roughly, since he had caught wind of the new name, aligned with the rest of the bats.

It was a night where the rain had let up for once. It wasn’t perfect, though. Never was. The clouds still too thick to see the bright moon and stars.

He was looking for an address, one that seemingly didn’t exist. He landed on another rooftop of a short apartment building. Jason could hear the sounds of two people fighting down in the alley below him.

He walked to the edge, looked down, and there you were. Dressed up in your vigilante gear, fighting some thug.

He crouched, watching. This was much more entertaining then his fake address.

The thug was much bigger than you, but you handled yourself well. The thug lurched forward. You planted a hard, flat, kick to his stomach. He stumbled back. You got in a good punch, a right hook. The thug went with it. He bashed his back off the corner of a dumpster before crumbling to the ground.

Jason nodded once in approval. You didn’t play.

You both saw it at the same time. The clouds parted for a moment behind Jason, the light of the moon shining down over Gotham for just a moment.

The shadow of the top of the apartment split the alleyway below in half, with Jason’s crouched form’s shadow landing right in front of the thug.

He stood up and stepped back from the edge just as you started to look up. He was out of sight before you could see him. At most, you saw the glint of his helmet, but nothing else.

He walked away. He didn’t want to deal with this.

Three weeks later, Jason’s standing on a catwalk in one of Gotham’s many abandoned warehouses. He’s high enough up, hidden within a shadow, that they couldn’t see him even if they had the brains to check up instead of around.

He’s holding his AR-15, pointed down below at the drug dealers he’s been following all week. His aim is steady, mind going over the motions of the possibilities.

“Psst.”

Jason whipped his head up. He aimed the rifle in front of him. There, on the other catwalk, ten feet away from him, was you.

You were leaning on the railing, smiling. Jason didn’t like how his first thought was the realization that this was the closest he had ever been to you.

“Want some help?” You whispered loudly, your smile pulling into a grin.

He looked back down, fixing his aim, “No.”

You leaned further over the railing, exposing nearly half your body to the drug dealers below if they so happened to look up. You whispered your name. Your vigilante name, that is. He didn’t respond.

“Rude,” he heard you mutter. You stayed silent for just a moment as he watched the dealers walk around their table, complaining about their business not showing up. The business that Jason had left dead in an alleyway an hour ago.

Silent treatment wasn’t going to work. You spoke up again, “Why didn’t you say hello? When you saw me in the alley?”

“Maybe I didn’t want to.” Except he had wanted to, just not like that. And not like this.

It was your turn to stay silent. Jason looked up without moving. With his helmet, you couldn’t tell if he was, or was watching the men below.

Standing up straight again, your head was turned away a little, obviously listening to somebody babble away in your ear.

He looked back down before you turned your head back, “Welp, should’ve accepted my offer. I gotta go.”

“Buh-bye,” Jason said dryly before you were walking off down the catwalk.

What can he say? He was intrigued after that. He’d watch you fight from hidden corners, never daring to step out. He waited for the right opportunity to talk to you again. He… did it for too long. A couple months too long.

It wasn’t stalking. That’s what he told himself. He hadn’t pushed to discover your identity, hadn’t learned your exact schedule. He just… kept looking for a chance to talk.

Jason hated it. Hated that he couldn’t come up with a way to approach you. Hated how he got tongue tied thinking about it. How his palms got damp. What could he say?

He ran into Dick one night. They sat on the edge of a building and talked. Which turned to bickering for a while, before it came into a “Who had the worst Bruce experience” argument.

He shut up the second you landed on the roof behind them, “I could hear you two from an entire street over.”

Dick clapped his hands together, a smile breaking out at the sight of you. Jason turned to watch. He walked over, happily calling your name. He got to you, pointing at Jason as he slipped an arm around your shoulders, “Tell this guy he’s wrong.”

You frowned, “I don’t even know this guy.”

Jason remembered he had taken off his helmet, left in only his domino mask. You couldn’t see the rest of his clothes from the fact he’s sitting facing away from you.

Speak! Dammit! He chided himself. He picked up his helmet from his side, bringing it around to show you. He watched your eyes widen in recognition.

“Ooooh,” you immediately nodded, “Yeah. You’re wrong.”

Jason found his words with an amused smirk, “You don’t even know what for.”

You shrug and Dick laughs, “That’s the spirit!”

Jason turned back around. He pretended like he was watching the city line, but he was really listening to yours and Dick’s conversation. He kept trying to look for ways in, ways to talk to you.

Now! Nope, Dick said something unrelated, too quickly. Now your conversation went in that direction. Here! Too late. He hesitated.

He stopped listening, pursing his lips in annoyance at his own stupid, boyish inability to talk to the attractive new vigilante.

“Oh… he said he didn’t want to talk to me. Probably annoyed by my presence.”

He tuned back in.

“How rude.”

“That’s what I said!”

Jason looked back over his shoulder. The two of you were standing there, arms crossed, looking at him.

“What?”

Dick seemed to remember something, “Have you two even been formally introduced?”

You grumbled something along the lines of, “Tried that.”

Jason shrugged, “I’ve seen them around,” he met your eyes, “You fight good.”

What kind of fucking compliment is that?

“So do you,” you smiled.

Jason’s eyebrows furrowed a little in confusion. You could see the movement through the domino mask, “You’ve never seen me fight.”

You grinned, pointing at him, “That’s what you think.”

Jason smirked a little. Oh, he liked you, alright.

[lucysarah-c]

I apologize if this has been asked before but what do you think Levi's kinks are? :)

Hi, sweetie! Oh, do not worry, no need to apologize! I haven’t received this ask before, and even if I did, it’s not a biggie. I could just attach a link to that ask here <3 Do not worry.

MH, Levi’s kinks… good question.

Power play for sure. Have you seen this man say that “pain is the best discipline”? He's always 100% down to teach you your place, at least in the bedroom. Outside of it, he deeply respects your position. Inside the room? Oh baby girl, he wants you to know he’s in charge and could spend his entire life reminding you of it.

…Shibari or tying up. Have you seen those uniforms? Levi sees that harness and deep down he wonders how pretty you would look all tied up. This one is a bit more tricky, so he and you may work around it to see how much of it you're both into.

Overstimulation, absolutely. Those Ackerman powers are a blessing; he knows he can last for hours. Can you? Oh, it's okay, baby, don’t be scared. He'll just have to keep fucking you, and if by any means you end up feeling like your legs are made of jelly from all the times he made you cum… well, I guess that’s the consequence of dating humanity’s strongest soldier. I think he could just feel getting hard, or getting cocky by feeling how you shake against his face as he keeps eating you out like a thirsty man who had been traveling across a desert. The idea that he left you completely and absolutely destroyed makes him feel so cocky. You can accuse this man of many things, but leaving you unsatisfied in bed isn’t one of them.

Degradation and praise kink. Depending on the situation and his mood, he can go either way or BOTH at the same time. “Aw, you look so pretty riding my cock. You’re doing amazing, girly. Mh? Enjoy that dick?” you will nod as you ride him with all your life “I bet. What a dirty little cock whore you turned out to be.”

Alright, maybe this one isn’t popular and maybe it's a bit OOC on my part… Corruption kink. At multiple times in his life, as the famous former thug who lived in the most dangerous part inside the walls, the idea of getting you, looking at him with doe eyes through your eyelashes, faking innocence or truly having it… I can literally picture him thinking, “Doesn’t matter if she doesn’t have much experience or doesn’t know how to make me feel good yet. I’m a very good and patient teacher… have an entire lifetime to mold her into perfection.” He likes to save the best for last; this man would enjoy every single little detail of seeing you fall into the beautiful dark pleasure he can show you.

Those are the ones that come to mind rather quickly…

I’ll give you (as if my ramblings are worthy material to be gifted, lmao) 2 kinks that I DON’T think Levi has and I believe are very popular.

Breeding kink. Like this one, maybe depending on the situation and if it’s a “game” kind of thing. But I feel Levi is a person who takes paternity very seriously; it has to be a VERY particular scenario for me (at least canon Levi) where he’s like, “fuck it, yeah let’s risk getting you pregnant.” BUT it’s a kink I can see A LOT more in Post-War Levi; it’s not that he doesn’t want to breed you… he’s just too responsible to take the risk.

Daddy. HAHA I feel like if you called Levi that in the middle of sex, he would freeze a little and be like, “Sir? Yes. Captain? Absolutely. What did you just say? Just… no.” I dare to say that if you bring it up playfully, perhaps as a joke, he will wrinkle his nose and say, “If you want to fuck Erwin, just say it, but don’t bring that shit into my bedroom.”

I had fun writing this one; I feel it’s a classic “Levi’s blog” ask that surprisingly I’ve never received before! Thank you for that! Hope this was good enough.

Have a lovely day.

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @angelofthorr @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @flxrartsstuff @katharinasdiaryy @kikarouflames @levisecretgfblog @searriously @blackdxggr @ackermanswifee @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-angel @storiesofsung @galactict3a @twruui @lemonsupernova @r3becca_0 @heyitsd1yaa @sydneyyuu @hyuckwon-my-husbands Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[lollygaggingloser]

Vat7k brain blerp - Hugo's prosthetic limb

I like brainstorming the idea of Hugo having either a prosthetic arm or leg that he's slowly upgraded himself. He's takes a lot of pride in his work on it. The metal could be more durable, but he keeps it lightweight to move faster. The joint pieces will disconnect when faced with immense force or pressure, which helps keep the more immovable peices from bending or getting permanently damaged. What sucks is that sometimes the prosthesis will burst like a fuckin beyblade when hit too hard. The guy even has a small built in compartment for Olivia, his robotic mouse, to live in. Varian legit believes Hugo just let's Olivia roam underneath the thiefs clothing, like Ratatouille, not realizing he has a prosthetic arm/leg she hides in for the first few weeks of knowing him.

Most people don't realize his limb is mechanic when they meet him. Yong finds out about it first when one of his experiments goes wrong, and Hugo tosses or kicks it out of the way before it explodes. He's a little too late so the blast ends up causing half the prosthesis to come off. Yong freaks out, but Hugo assures it's just a flesh wound. The two manage to put his limb back together, but not without Yong pleading to have Hugo let him add fireworks and additional gadgets to fight with. Hugo declines tho.

I'm a lover, not a fighter, he jokes, but honestly he doesn't like the idea of his prosthetic being made into some weapon.

One late night, Varian catches Hugo doing maintenance on his prosthesis while it's fully removed from his body. Hugo's surprised to see that the alchemist doesn't ask him any questions about it and goes straight to sleep. Funny enough, Varian just thought he was so sleep deprived, he was seeing things and decided he needed to go to bed immediately.

It isn't until the three end up going against some thugs, that Varian sees Hugo's limb come clean off when hit with a bat.

Varian is shook as he sees Yong quickly grab the appendage off the ground and wave it around shouting i got it! We can put it back! Like it's some kind of lego piece and gives him this look:

What do you mean it's fake?!

Goggles, you saw me fixing it two days ago!

I THOUGHT I WAS HALLUCINATING!!

Part 2

[happypotato48]

I think it would be fun to highlight some changes wandee goodday made as an adaptation. so here a few notable things in no particular order.

I'm not going into spoiler territory, but even if i want to the book didn't had a lot of plot to begin with and i doubt the show will follow what gone down in the book without adding a lot to it.

In the book Wandee is 29 and Yak is 20. cause of the age gap their dynamic is slightly different than in the show. Yak called Dee Phi and he use Nong as 1th person pronoun with Dee.

the convenience store scene is where they first met in the book. there was no hospital visit at all. Dee legit was following a complete stranger and being unhinged for the first peice of man meat he can find.

Yak have more of a passive personality in the book. the book made a point that although he looks like a thug Yak is actually very soft spoken and polite. this + the age gap made it feels like Dee is the one in charge in their relationship.

there was no scholarship in the book. Dee asked Yak to be his fake bf solely for petty reason, people in the hospital were gossiping and he just don't want to be the loser who got rejected.

Ter didn't said "I only like girls" in the book and made it clear that he didn't wanted Dee because Dee was too boring for him.

Pakao is not a doctor who work at the same place as Dee. his sexuality was never stated and he barely shows up in the book.

Taemrak gender was never clearly stated in the book (in the thai version at least.) but it's heavily implied by their appearance description and Yak choice of pronouns that they're a boy. Taem same with Pakao in the book had zero characterization and mostly there just to be plot points than an actual characters.

I really loved what they've done with the show so far. and although i had fun with the book, i'm way more excited and invested in what going in the show. @shortpplfedup put it best "i read the novel and it is truly porn without plot"

[joannechocolat]

Burn the library, or walk inside. Either way, it's your choice.

Unless you've been living under a rock, you can't have missed the escalating riots all around the country - riots which the media keep referring to as "protests", in spite of the fact that no-one involved seems to agree on just what they are protesting against.

Dragging strangers out of cars, burning down public buildings, throwing stones at ambulancemen, setting fire to hotels in a deliberate attempt to burn the people inside alive - and maybe scoring a new phone or pair of trainers on the way home - has nothing to do with "protest."

It certainly has nothing to do with the brutal murder of three little girls, although that was used as a springboard by online agitators, claiming that the murderer was an immigrant (he wasn't, and even if he were, attacking other immigrants because of what he did makes about as much sense as torching a Wetherspoons in Manchester in protest against Myra Hindley.) Nor does it have anything to do with Asian grooming gangs in Rotherham, although that's the most recent excuse I've heard: those grooming gangs were dreadful, but these criminals do not represent the Asian community any more than do the white leaders of grooming gangs (which by far outnumber them).

So, what the fuck is this about?

Well, it's the illegal immigrants, they say. Coming into our country, taking our jobs, raping our girls, yadda, yadda, yadda. Except that it isn't. Brexit has made it increasingly difficult for foreigners to work here, which is why so many European doctors and nurses have already left the country, putting still yet more pressure onto our dying NHS. And refugees - let's call them that, given they're neither immigrants, nor here illegally - aren't allowed to work while their application is being processed. As for "immigrant crime", a phrase that these people have borrowed from Trump - it represents a tiny proportion of crime in the UK, which by the way has risen sharply as the riots have escalated, because the police just don't have the manpower to fight on two fronts at the same time.

And add to this the fact that the principal agitators - people like Yaxley-Lennon and Farage - don't even live in this country, I think it's pretty clear that whatever motivation these burners of libraries, looters of shops, and goose-stepping Nazi cosplayers claim, it has nothing to do with "British values" or "taking back the country", and everything to do with doing whatever the fuck they want and blaming it on someone else.

Why do I care? Because I was born in one of these communities. I still have family in Rotherham, in Barnsley. I live less than fifteen miles away from the heart of these riots. I've done events in the libraries and universities that have been attacked. And by the way, isn't it weird how thugs always target libraries and places of learning on their way to robbing their local Lush, or Greggs, or Shoezone?

It's almost as if the agitators know that education is the key. That reading brings us together; teaches us to question what we read on the internet; crosses cultural boundaries; reminds us we're all human. And in disaffected communities like Rotherham, with a high degree of poverty, access to these ideas is very dangerous in the eyes of a far-right movement that wants to take power.

Already, 14 years of austerity, cuts and corruption has brought the country to its knees. By cutting education and the arts, Tories have reduced the access of these underprivileged communities to critical thinking and new ideas. Brexit has done further damage, as well as cutting us off from our allies. After the event, it is now clear how much Russian misinformation played its part in that process, just as it's playing a part right now in spreading its racist rhetoric via supporters like Farage and the fake accounts that amplify him. Now they're no longer in power, the far-right is doing its best to do as much further damage as possible to our society, urging people to "take control" by destroying anything else that can help them out of poverty.

Why? Because poor people are easier for the far-right to control. Poverty and crime are linked; just as illiteracy and crime are linked. And both of those things are linked to hate; to racism and mistrust of anyone who seems different.

But here's the thing. There's always a choice. Not everyone who grows up poor becomes a criminal. Not everyone who missed out on a good education becomes a racist. I grew up in a poor neighbourhood. There were some racists there, and some thugs, but most people were decent and honest. Most people were happy to co-exist with people of different cultures. I was one of those people; my family was different. Sometimes people even told us to go back home where we belonged. Most didn't. But of course, were were white. We looked like them. There's an obvious reason why brown and Black people in particular are being dehumanized and blamed for what's wrong with the country now.

And it's ironic, how people react when someone calls them racist? "But we're just ordinary people, with ordinary concerns."

"I'm not racist, I'm just (insert your bullshit reason here)."

And yet, here we are. Racism is ordinary. And if you do racist things, if you blame all brown people for what one brown person did, if you judge people by the way they look, if you make assumptions about whole groups of people, then you're a racist. And if you spout Nazi slogans, do Nazi salutes, walk with Nazis, repeat Nazi propaganda, then you're a fucking Nazi, mate. Live with it, or change. Your choice.

Because the choices we make today affect what comes tomorrow. And although poverty isn't a choice, being a decent person is. Your choices can help your children break the cycle of despair. Or they can keep your kids stuck in the same rut. To put it another way, you can take your kids to the library and let them learn to think for themselves. Or you can burn the libraries down and take them to watch you and your mates trying to set fire to some terrified refugees in a hotel instead.

Either way, your kids get to live with the choices you make today.

Right now, you're deciding their future.

Your choice.

[daegutowns]

your enhypen hogwarts boyfriend 

tags: hogwarts au, gn!reader, this is the grind rn

gryffindor: heeseung, niki 

heeseung: quidditch team chaser 

secretly (not so secretly) an attention seeker

please expect to hype him up and fawn over him on quidditch match days -- especially on matches with slytherin (he always has a bet with jay) 

“babe i need you to boo jay if he ever comes near you.” 

and he is so serious about this 

mcgonagall claims she doesn’t like him but he’s just lucky that he’s actually really good at quidditch (bc his transfiguration grades are not sexy) 

excels in defense against the dark arts AND potions but snape hates him 

he swears up and down he didn’t do anything this time to get detention but you know better. and he’s always begging the captain to not kick him off

“please, you know snape wants my left buttcheek!” 

talks shit before the match (especially to jay) and then feigns innocence if he’s asked about it 

this is the result of years of watching quidditch matches with his dad (their favorite team is the montrose magpies -- and he WILL badmouth puddlemere united if that team is mentioned) 

likes to sleep next to you in the library after practice while you study 

riki: quidditch team beater  

rebellious, passionate, and playful -- riki is a gryffindor through and through

always getting caught up in pranks. denies ever being inside zonko’s even though that’s the first place he goes in hogsmeade 

like okay ????

claims mrs. norris (filch’s cat) is best friends with him, but he has no real way of proving this 

shy about pda because of his friends, so he likes meeting up with you in secret and passing you notes in class 

…until he gets caught and has to read them out loud

then he decides that fuck it! it’s better to just air it out anyways. not his problem what they find disgusting! 

straight up livin’ that thug life y’all #getrekt

lowkey getting brainwashed by heeseung (go magpies!) 

makes up all his dreams for his divination dream journal but always makes it about you so he can pretend to be offended if someone says it’s fake

hufflepuff: sunghoon, jungwon 

sunghoon: prefect (head boy) 

this hard-working and kind-hearted boy is a true hufflepuff through and through

everyone thought by his looks that he’d either be in slytherin or ravenclaw, but it’s more obvious when he opens his mouth 

he’s kind of like cedric diggory -- super well-liked, popular, good-looking, and smart

he’s got all the hufflepuff girls and gays giggling around him n shit 

“first years follow me to the common room” and the new hufflepuffs are tripping over their feet trying to ask him questions 

it’s okay because he only has eyes for you <3 

haha jk sometimes he’ll tease you and say “are you jealous? you look jealous~” and then backtrack and say nevermind that he’s sorry and he doesn’t actually know what other people look like. in fact he only knows one name and it’s yours. 

he doesn’t really need to be doing all that but it’s fun messing with him 

goes around humbly (not so humbly) bragging about you until he gets smacked by snape for messing around during (but that doesn’t stop him) 

he likes taking you to cheesy date spots, like madam puddifoot’s tea shop or the covered walkway near spintwitches sporting needs where everyone else had their first kisses 

jungwon: quidditch team seeker   

well-rounded, responsible, and dependable -- these are all traits of a hufflepuff that describe jungwon perfectly 

to be honest, he’s really just here for the vibes

his favorite pastime is collecting chocolate frog cards 

(he is specifically looking for the gold and silver albus dumbledore cards that have been out of circulation for years)

he’s a very talented seeker, but everyone else’s praise doesnt mean anything. he needs YOUR praise specifically and will pretend to not like it just so he can hear it more (but you know better!) 

please help him study… he is definitely getting that quidditch scouting from a professional team but jungwon said he might get a T (troll) in history of magic 

he has a black cat named dooly that terrorizes him before he sleeps

you like dragging him to the kitchens to eat chocolate snacks with him before bed, but he gets nervous sneaking out sometimes

likes sitting underneath the big willow tree near the black lake with his head in your lap. please run your hands through his hair! 

ravenclaw: jake 

jake: quidditch team beater  

everyone really would’ve expected that he would’ve been in either gryffindor or hufflepuff just based on personality alone 

the sorting gave him a choice, and he just went with the house that had more of his friends that he made on the train 

he loves it when you show up to practice because now it’s even more awesome! now even more of his favorite people are in the same place

“babe look at this!” while he does a flip ??? 

if he falls off, now both you AND the rest of his team can laugh at him 

loves it even more if you show up to his games fully decked out (beyond his imagination) in his house colors, even if that’s not your house

he never expects this from you but he’s soooo happy when it happens that it motivates you to keep doing it 

self-declared next quidditch captain (and flitwick will give it to him) 

he’ll even tutor you in transfigurations (his best subject) for kisses, because despite being an athlete, he’s also got good grades???? sometimes god has favorites 

“if you think i’m a cool boyfriend, give me a kiss” 

his favorite type of date is sneaking out to the kitchens with you and sharing a pudding cake

slytherin: jay, sunoo

jay: quidditch team keeper  

unsurprisingly, jay comes from a long line of other slytherins

he’s pretty laidback compared to the rest of his family, but always insists that you go with him to family functions (because “baby they’re too boring without you!”) 

you two always end up at the snacks table gossiping with his cool cousins anyways 

flexes by buying you all your snacks on the train + of course covers all the dates 

pretty popular within slytherin house, but only because he’s good at quidditch and also has pretty good grades (in everything except herbology) 

hates the keeper pickup lines and jokes but likes 

lined up to be the next captain! 

claims he wants to work for the ministry of magic’s department of mysteries

“i got an image to keep”

whatever you say babygirl ^^

expects to be holding hands whenever you’re walking the halls with him

requires a good luck kiss before every quidditch match

sunoo: prefect 

a lot of people expected sunoo to get into hufflepuff! he defies expectations 

seriously, he made a name for himself within the house

with as ambitious as he is, it’s not that surprising to see that someone has confident and charming as him is in slytherin 

he’s someone with friends in every house, probably in every year too

he’s got an “in” with every club on hogwarts campus, so take your pick bae. the world’s your oyster! 

he flexes like jay, but instead of galleons, he takes you to restricted areas of campus using his prefect badge 

would actually help you break the rules if you wanted to

“you want to break in where?! okay, wait, let me get--” 

likes it when you compliment his thoughtfulness or talent in these areas 

his best subject is charms ;) 

his favorite pastime is watching quidditch practices with you, but all you do is yap together

[dangermousie]

This is amazing!

The good old we must fake being lovers for the PLOT!!!!

Love her sticking flower in HIS hair because dammit, they are gonna be equal!

It is such a great arc that he went from watching plays, to directing to being one of the actors with her!

Man is capable of learning!

And is also protecting her mmmm

He kept that flower the whole time even bossing around thugs and only took it off after she left! Man is a goner.

This man is SHINING!!!!

[hxjikonn]

Double Life Lie

Pairing: Baji Keisuke x Fem! Reader

Synopsis: Baji keeps his gang member life from his friend (also tutor) because she think he’s just a normal student who struggles with his studies, how long can he keep this double life from you?

Heads up: Very long and not proofread. Light cursing and name calling ahead!

“So if Y is a number…and X is also a number…why are looking for X?” Baji asked. “We’re looking for X’s value…” you explained but he just stared at you “We’re looking for X’s NUMBER Keisuke…” you cleared if to him. “Why the hell would you look for your Ex’s number?” He joked, you groaned but also laughed a bit. You playfully pushed him “FOCUS!” You half yelled and he laughed at your frustration as well.

“Alright Alright…I’ll try to look for X’s number geez, who knew you had to play Sherlock Holmes in math.” He retorts sarcastically, “Who knew not all guys with glasses aren’t smart” you joked back, “Hey it’s not our fault we have bad eye sight, ya guys just like throwin’ stereotypes.” He shrugs, “Can I try them on??” You reached to take his glasses but your hand a swiped away…

“Uh no…I can find X without em, get ‘yer own” he rolls his eyes and starts trying to solve the equation infront of him, you shrugged it off “Fine geez, I’ll go get us a drink, you finish finding X” you laughed and walked out his bedroom. When you did though he sighed in relief, you almost found out his glasses were fake.

The Baji Keisuke you come know is a scrawny looking nerd who wasn’t really the sharpest in academics despite how he appears to be. He still needed help with his academics, AND HE NEEDED A LOT OF IT. When you were assigned to tutor him, he looked like he wouldn’t be trouble, after all whenever you’d see delinquents trying to pick a fight with him. He always avoided them instead and went about his business.

When you started tutoring him, you weren’t frustrated and angry when he made mistakes, you found it endearing how he’d start guessing answers based on your expression, and he’d crack jokes left and right whenever he felt like you were getting stressed with him. You liked Baji Keisuke, your friends even thought it was cute that you had a type on nerdy guys.

Baji liked you too, at first he thought you were one of those smarty pants that suck up to teachers in class, the type to remind the teacher of homework just before the class ended. But you weren’t, you were nice to him, patient even though he makes a lot of mistakes, you always listened to him when he goes in a tangent about animals, and gosh you’re were really pretty.

What he made him fall deeper into the rabbit hole though was when you defended him from thugs trying to pick a fight with him, he was close to taking his disguise off and showing those shitheads who they shouldn’t mess with. But to his surprise you jumped in and told those guys to leave him alone. You’re hands were shaking, but you still toughen up to protect him despite it being none of your business.

After that incident, you two went to sit down and eat ice cream at a parking lot, and you told him how ‘guys like that annoyed you’ and how you hated them so much. That’s why he never told you…he never told you that he was part of a gang, he never told you that he also picked fights sometimes, he never told you that the person infront of you is fake and that he was infact a well known delinquent.

He was scared you’d stop hanging out with him and that you’d hate him, so he kept up the act, and still is, he even dragged his mom into it. Though he did had to admit to his mom that he had a crush on you before she agreed to hide his double life from you. He also doesn’t tell Mikey and the others about you, only Chifuyu (because he saw you two hanging out one time).

You returned to his room with snacks and drinks, as you already were munching on a cookie. You settled it on the table and it was only then when Baji looked up from his notebook. Meeting your eyes. You raised an eyebrow at him as he was just staring at you. “Helloooo? Did math finally break you??” You jested and laughed as you sat down next to him and looked at his still unfinished equation.

You frowned “Maybe you need fuel, here, eat this.” and shoved a cookie in his mouth, he almost choked on it, and it made you giggle, smiling at him apologetically “Hey! Are you trying to kill me or somethin’?” He spat out the cookie, “sorry, you just looked stupid” you teased as you laugh at him. He laughed along with you and bit into the cookie.

“You know…if you still don’t get it, we can just continue tomorrow, we can just do what you like!” You offered, he sent you a questioning look “Wow really? The strict tutor Y/n is okay with me not finishing the equation?? What’s the occasion?” He said as he chewed on his cookie.

You shrugged, “I just don’t want you to avoid me like the plague ‘cuz I’m too strict” you laughed and poked a hole in your juice box. He laughed too, and thought of a place to go to, “How about we go to the parking lot where ya saved my ass from getting skinned?” He suggested, you looked at him, playful confusion lingered in your stare “Why there??? It’s just an empty parking lot” you chuckled

“Listen if you come with, I’ll snatch a shopping cart and push you around on it? Deal?” He negotiated, hoping you’d agree, that’s the only place where he could hangout with you and not get recognized as it was far from where Toman roams around. You smiled and teasingly poke his cheek “woahhhh you’re really gonna ‘snatch’ a shopping cart?? Didn’t peg you as a Bad boy Kei” you laughed and stood up to grab your jacket.

“Oh if you only knew” he quietly mumbled, finding it funny and nerve wrecking at the same time, you turned around hearing him mumble something “Huh?” You asked, “I said Go put on your shoes!” He pushes you out the door. You both say bye to his mom and went to that parking lot. Once you got there Baji went to buy you two ice cream so you can sit down and eat for awhile.

“Oh get me a—“ “I know.” He cut off already knowing your favorite flavor, “Want me to go grab you somethin’ else? Those chips you like maybe?” You could only shake your head as your heart did backflips, he remembers these little things about you, “Alright, don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back” he pinches your cheek and leaves to go to the convince store.

It’s been a while since he left now, and you were getting worried acknowledging the fact that this was the place where he got mugged the first time too. You stood up and went to go look for him, marching to the convince store, you saw a guy grabbing him by the collar and swung him to the ground. His glasses got knocked off his face and the guy’s friends stepped on it, breaking it.

You were furious, so you grabbed a rock and was about to throw it at them, when Baji stood up and punched the guy’s face. This took you alot by surprise, especially when he started beating them up, one by one. The expression on his face was something new to you, it was terrifying.

His glasses were broken on the floor, but he could see well, he always had told you he needed them, he lied. He said he hated fighting, but he was beating them up like they were nothing, he told you he never had the strength to do all that, he lied. He was smiling while he beats the life out the guys, but he said he never enjoyed violence, he lied.

You dropped the rock you were holding as tears glossed your vision, and that made him stop what he was doing, looking up at you, still having the blood thirsty glare in his eyes. You shuffled back, shaking and afraid of this person in front of you. You couldn’t even recognize him.

His gaze softened seeing look on your face, then his eyes widened realizing what you had witnessed. He went to approach you, as the gang of delinquents ran away in fear from him. You were about to aswell. “Shit….Y/n…” he called out to you, his voice was the same, but he didn’t look the same, he didn’t act the same.

“You lied?” You asked, voice cracking in disappointment. He could only look down, guilty, he did lie. “So…who was the person I was friends with all this time? The guy who needed glasses to see, the guy who loves talking about animals and takes cares of his cat, the guy that cracks dumb jokes all the time? Was he really you? Or were you just playing some sort of character…” hurt was the only emotion evident in your voice as you asked him those questions

“He’s me Y/n…I’m still me.” He defended, “Really? How can you see me and those other three guys you beat up earlier then? You’re not wearing glasses?” You chuckled sarcastically, tears sliding down you face. “The only thing I lied about is the things I needed to lie about so I wouldn’t….” He trails off, “so I wouldn’t lose you.” He confesses.

You shook your head, not finding it in yourself to believe him. You turned around and started walking away, “I care about you, A lot…” he yells, in desperate attempt to make you stay. You broke “How can I ever believe anything you tell me again??? How can I be sure this isn’t another act huh??” You yelled back, breaking down in sobs and sniffles.

He froze, he realized he broke something, he broke your trust, he couldn’t say anything, “Bye Baji.” His name left your lips like a curse, he only watched as you left in tears, he went back home that day, remembering how scared and hurt you looked, he couldn’t sleep and went to school the next day without rest. He waited for by the school gate like usual, hoping that you would’ve cooled off by now and maybe he could explain.

He didn’t bother putting on his disguise too, it was pointless, he waited, and waited, and waited, but you never came to school, for an entire week in fact. “Damn you messed up that bad huh?” Chifuyu said while eating his yakisoba, Baji huffed, he was annoyed, but Chifuyu was right, he did mess up that bad. “shut the fuck up or I’ll beat ‘yer ass until I feel better” he taunted, he’d never actually do it, Chifuyu was his best friend.

Chifuyu passed him the yakisoba, “how ‘bout you eat this until you feel better instead.” He offered, This was Baji’s favorite, but for the first time he refused it, “dont wanna, I don’t feel like eatin’” he said pushing it back to Chifuyu. “So you don’t feel like sleeping yesterday, now you don’t feel like eating? Damn tell me when you don’t feel like living next so I can call Mikey to beat some sense into you” he says putting down the yakisoba. He was worried about Baji.

“Just go talk to her dude…” Chifuyu nudges at Baji, “Great idea, why don’t I just go talk to her when she doesn’t even come to school!” He cheered sarcastically, “No dumbass I meant, go to her house…” Chifuyu says, “Ya really think she’d wanna talk to me? If you do then ‘yer dumber than me” Baji chuckled. “You really think she doesn’t want you to try instead of staying here moping like a teenage girl who got her heart broken? Come on Baji-san, Y/n always pushed you to try harder…” he says. “She must be confused and have a lot of questions right now, why don’t you go and answer them?” He adds and eats the yakisoba

Baji sighed and thought about it, Chifuyu was right. He wasn’t even trying to do anything to fix this mess, he puts on his school blazer and stands up “Fine. But ya gotta cover for me” he says, Chifuyu looked up, sending him a silent ‘huh?’ As his mouth was full of yakisoba “I’m skippin’ class, if the teacher asks you make up a good excuse aight?” He ruffles Chifuyu’s hair and walks away, Chifuyu groaned but at least he wasn’t getting sad sack baji for another week.

Baji snuck out of the school gates, motorcycling his way to your house, but when he got there, he was just frozen in front of your door, sweating bullets, hands shaking, he didn’t know how you’d react, and he was scared that you’d just shut the door in his face. So he waited a couple more hours just hanging out in your front lawn, contemplating, procrastinating.

He was leaning on his motorcycle and whilst he thinks, thoughts and inner voices going in and out of his head that he didn’t even notice dark clouds were above his head, he only snapped out of it when heavy raindrops fell on wet, damping his hair and clothes a bit. If this isn’t a sign from god that he should go through with this he doesn’t know what is.

He runs to your front door and knocks, he was already drenched when your mom answered the door, “Oh dear! Keisuke is that you?? What are you doing out in the rain like this?? Come in hurry!” Your mom practically yanks him inside. She gives him dry clothes that he’s left here from one of your sleepovers. As Baji dries his hair and thank her, she asks something “new look? Boy you kids sure like changing styles these days” she laughs

He laughs halfheartedly, feeling guilty that even your mom fell for his lies, “Actually…Mrs. L/n, I have something I want you know..” he starts, Your mom sits down patiently listening to him as he tells her the truth. Baji thought he’d be kicked out immediately when he finished, but your mom only smiled at him. “You’ll be good to Y/n wont you?” She asks, Baji eagerly nods, he’d never let anything bad happen to you because of his gang stuff. “Then I have no reason to be mad at you, and I’m sure she’ll understand too…” she pats his back and smiles at him.

“Is she here?” He asks, your mom nodded, “upstairs in her room, she hasn’t eaten yet, maybe you could take her lunch up to her for me?” Your mom suggested. Baji nodded, and took your lunch up to your room, he was nervous but better now than never. He knocks and your door flew open, as you were expecting your mom.

“Sorry mom…I forgot lunch-“ you stared up at him in shock. “What are you doing here?” You ask, fixing yourself a bit, Baji felt his chest tightened with guilt, your hair was disheveled, eyes puffy and cheek swollen probably from all the crying, your voice was tired and hoarse, “What’s it look like? Your food ain’t gonna walk up here itself?” He tried joking, but you teared your gaze away from him, and was about to shut the door.

He stops the door from shutting with his foot, and when he did he placed down the tray on the drawer near your door, “Wait.” He pleaded, “I just need to tell you something okay?” He said holding on to the door knob, “Sorry I don’t talk to strangers” you spat out, with hatred. He felt it sting, much more than any punch he’s ever received. But he can’t just leave you with that image of him, he at least wanted you to know that he didn’t lie about everything.

“I’m Baji Keisuke…I’m a high school student, and I’m in gang called Toman.” He starts introducing himself, you found it bitterly funny, thinking he’s still trying to make jokes, you wanted to shut the door but his foot was in the way, you were mad but you didn’t want to hurt him, so you let him continue. “I’m the first division captain in toman, and I dressed up like a poindexter cuz I didn’t want my mom to cry anymore cuz I keep getting into fights, I lied about the glasses, I lied about not being a delinquent, and I lied that I was a pacifist .” He continues on.

Your grip on your doorknob softened, when you heard this, you never knew this. You opened the door fully this time, as if giving him a silent confirmation that you’ll listen to what he has to say. You had your arms crossed still not meeting him in the eyes. “ but I didn’t lie about liking animals and wanting to own a pet shop one day, I didn’t lie about being stupid too, unfortunately.” He joked and chuckled lightly

“I like riding my motorcycle with my friends, I like training in the dojo with Mikey, I like sharing yakisoba with Chifuyu and…I really like this girl…” he trails off, looking at you. Slowly walking near you, so you wont freak out “She’s always patient with me, she always listens, she’s kind, she’s smart, funny, brave, and god she’s pretty…” he was only a few inches away from you now, you felt heat crawl up your cheeks, still not looking him in the eyes.

“I care about her a whole lot, but I hurt her, I messed up really bad…And I wanted to apologize for being a lying jerk.” He says, slowly crouching down to meet your gaze, “ Y/n…’m sorry, I was just scared you’d stop hanging out with me when you found out I was a delinquent too…” he explains. “If you think that I’m mad at you cuz you’re a delinquent, than I underestimated your dumbface…” you said trying to hold back tears.

“I’m mad cuz you hid things from me, you hid the things you liked to do, you’d avoid places you liked going to, you avoided your friends whenever you’re with me…” you looked at him, “I want to get to know Baji Keisuke not some other version of him. It’s not fair that I don’t even know the guy I like…” you confessed as tears your fell, he closes the gap between you two and hugged you.

He missed you, a lot. He’d probably cling on to you twice as much to make up for the week he didn’t get to see you. “I’m sorry…Promise I’ll be honest from now on okay? So stop cryin’” he cresses you hair, once you calmed down, you pulled away and pulled on his hair lightly.

“Ah! What was that for??” He yelped in pain, his hand coming up to touch the top of his head while his other rested on your waist. “For not pushing me around the shopping cart and beating up guys instead…” you said, wiping your cheeks with your sleeve. He chuckled and kissed your cheek “I could give you a ride around town on my motorcycle instead?” He offered, resting his forehead on yours.

“Mkay…” you quietly mumbled, tired and still sniffling, he suddenly stands up and carries you like you weigh nothing to him, “Alright c’mere, let’s get some rest first…” he walks in your room and shuts the door behind him with his foot. He gently puts you down your bed and rested beside you.

You were still looking at him, surprised. “What? Did ya really think I was paper weight with noodle arms?” He asked cocking an eyebrow at you. “Not my fault you wore that blazer that covered everything.” You shrugged, he smirked and pulled you closer to him.

“Well if you wanna see I could show ya, just say the word pretty girl” he whispers near you ear making you flustered, shooting him a glare “wipe that smirk off you dumbface…” you said before pushing away and turning your back on him trying to hide the blush painted across your face. You hear him laugh, and suddenly you were pulled back closer to him.

Your back against his chest, you felt him breathe, you smelled his cologne, your heart was about to pounce out of your chest, he knows “you better get loads of rest dollface, you’re not gonna hear the end of me teasin’ you when we wake up later” he said teasingly, you tsked and pinched his arm that was draped on your waist. “Kei…I swear, I’m gonna send you home if you don’t quit it” you taunted at him.

“Alright alright! I’ll stop…” he declared defeat…maybe?, “for now…” he mumbles and nuzzled his face into your hair, you rolled your eyes and laughed a little, soon you let the tiredness in you, and his warmth cradle you to sleep. Turning around to face him and peck his lip before you closed your eyes

He was glad you didn’t see, he was redder than you.

A/N: FIRST TOKYO REV FIC!!! AAAAA THIS WAS LONGGG I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS!! DID NOT PROOFREAD THIS I’M SORRY LOL🥹♥︎

[coopigeoncoo]

Meat Cute, Chapter 1

Chapter Links: Chapter 1 ->Next

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature (rating may change)

Tags: Canon-typical violence, Cannibalism, Reader is a cannibal, Fake/pretend relationship, Puns, Raccoon Reader, Tags may change

---

In a bid to appear more approachable to the denizens of the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor enlists the help of his favorite butcher to step into the roll of an (after)lifetime: pretending to be his paramour! ---

“You can't deny we have so much in common,” Alastor's grinned, his smile somehow, impossibly, widening even farther as he leaned down on the counter on a single elbow; his nose nearly touching yours as you stood frozen in place. “I'm somewhat of a Butcher myself, you know.”

–-- A story where one thing is certain: the steaks are never bigger than when love is on the line.

---

Continue reading below, or follow the link to A03!

Arriving in Hell had been a difficult adjustment, but you figured that was likely by design and not some personal failing on your part.  You'd stumbled out of the gates of Hell right into the aftermath of what you now know was an extermination; alone and terrified amidst the burning rubble and mutilated corpses that littered the ground.  

You were lucky in a sense, even though it didn't feel like it at the time.  Everyone is usually pretty busy in the days immediately following an invasion from Heaven, too occupied looting bodies for valuables and deleting the newly deceased from their phone's contact list to give much attention to a new arrival.  The Gates of Hell were usually swarmed by traffickers looking for new merchandise and mid-level thugs looking to make an easy deal for a soul or two, so you were able to slip through the cracks and wander the outskirts of Pentagram city largely unnoticed while most of the sinners were either still in hiding or sleeping off their celebratory hangovers.  

Initially, you stuck out like a sore thumb, clad in the baggy dress that you'd been buried in; a garment that had likely been looted from your Grandmother's closet based on the large shoulder pads and unflattering mauve color.  You figured that your family had deemed all the dresses you actually owned and liked as too inappropriate for funeral garb, which aligned with how they usually regarded your fashion choices.  The fabric was uncomfortable, starched stiff and itchy against your skin, so you didn't feel any guilt about using your newly discovered claws to shred a slit into the back of the skirt to make room for your long and incredibly poofy tail.

Upon further examination in the cracked glass of an abandoned store front, you discovered that you also now possessed a set of rounded black ears atop your head and large, dark smudges around your eyes that made it look like you'd slept with mascara on for a week straight.  

The powers that be had, apparently, found it suitable for you to spend the rest of eternity living as a raccoon.  

And while you greatly preferred your animal form to many of the other, more intimidating body shapes prowling the streets of Pentagram City, looking what most people would consider adorable wasn't necessarily a desired trait in Hell.  Wide-eyed prey animals were quick to disappear, materializing weeks later on posters outside of strip clubs and porn theaters.  

You'd darted from the predatory glances of other sinners, spending your first nights in Hell sleeping curled up behind back alley dumpsters; tearing through the freshest smelling trash bags for scraps of food with a voracity that surely made your Raccoon forefathers shed tears of pride.  

Repeatedly choosing to wander down the least sinister looking streets had inevitably led you to the heart of Cannibal Town, an antiquated borough that looked like it had been lifted straight out of the background of a classic movie.  Naively, you had assumed that the more polished appearance of buildings and fixtures meant that the area was safer than the dilapidated city center you had wandered in from.  That notion had been quickly dispelled when you stumbled across a group of middle aged women sitting on a park bench, merrily chatting as they took turns ripping hunks of flesh from an obviously human leg with their sharpened teeth.  

Thankfully, the abundance of readily available, post Extermination sinner flesh kept the cannibals well satiated and dissuaded them from making you the victim du jour.  That, and the fact that more than one cannibal had gleefully admitted to you that they found raccoon meat too gamey for their liking. 

You'd managed to secure a job fairly easily, with numerous businesses looking to fill vacancies from recent employee murders.  In the end, you'd settled on working at a small butcher shop a couple blocks away from the main promenade.  You'd been unwillingly charmed by the store's on the nose name, ‘Time to Kill’, and the fact that it supplemented your meager paycheck by providing you with a small room above the storefront to live in.  

Hal, the owner of the store, was a heavy-set man with a bushy mustache that wouldn't look out of place attached to a broom handle.  He'd been admittedly skeptical about your potential as a butcher when they had to tuck a bucket into the back room for you to throw up in after the first half-dozen times you'd hurled when breaking down your first carcass.  

But you'd slowly grow accustomed to the grizzly task, focusing on the fact that you were cutting up meat and ignoring that it was likely human in origin.  Hal was pleased by your hard-working nature, but mostly he was thrilled by the fact that you didn't help yourself to a five-finger discount like the rest of his employees did.  

“Seriously,” Hal had said, his mustache twitching in displeasure .  “They're eatin’ all the fingers!”

Day after day passed without much distinction, working from sunup ‘til sundown hacking up bodies for pennies on the dollar.  It wasn't much of a living, but since technically you weren't even living at all, you did your best to be content with your lot in death.  

After all, it was your discontent in life that had landed you here in the first place.  

And if waking up in literal Hell wasn't a wake up call to turn over a new leaf you didn't know what was.  

You were coming up on the first anniversary of your arrival in Hell and the citizens of the Pride Ring were all in a tizzy trying to stock up on supplies to last through the impending Extermination.  Drug dealers were working double shifts to keep up with demand and the liquor stores had long since sold out of their top brands and had switched to selling bathtub gin to supply their customers with.

The line outside of Time to Kill was already wrapped around the block by the time you had flipped the deadbolts, barely managing to escape being crushed by the door as it crashed open; a densely packed group of cannibals rushing inside.  You'd fled from the crowd into the back workroom, taking up your post at a carving station with a cleaver in hand, ready to do your part to supply the hungry masses.

The hours bled together as you skinned and chopped, filleted and ground; so focused on the tasks before you that you didn't realize your coworker had been calling your name until they slapped their hand firmly down onto your shoulder.

“You okay?” They asked, glancing at your dewy face with concern.

“Oh- yeah, I'm alright,” you assured them, placing your cleaver down across the cutting board and wiping your bloody hands on a nearby towel.  “What's up?”

“It's your turn up front,” he said, gesturing towards the front of a store with his stubby thumb.  “Ms. Rosie is here.”

“Ms. Rosie?”

“Yeah, she's the Overlord here in Cannibal Town,” your coworker explained, elbowing you out of the way to take your place at the cutting station.  “Fresh Meat deals with the Overlords- shop rule.”

“Oh,” you murmured nervously, wandering over to the sink to wash your hands.

“Might want to hurry up, there!” one of the other workers called over her shoulder as she dropped a bunch of bone fragments into an awaiting bin.  “Your chance of survival decreases every minute you keep an Overlord waiting!”

You slammed the handle of the faucet to the off position and quickly took off to the front counter, your coworkers laughing raucously at your expense while you frantically wiped your hands dry on your blood-spattered apron.

The politics of Hell were still largely unfamiliar to you.  But even though you did your best to keep your head down and nose in your own business, you'd gleaned a little knowledge from snippets of overheard conversation in the butcher shop.  You weren't entirely sure what Overlords did exactly, but you knew that in order to become one you had to be powerful.

So it was with great trepidation that you stepped into the front of the store, doing your best to hide how absolutely terrified you were, but knowing your stiff legged gait and tight smile likely gave you away.  

The tall, elegant form of Ms. Rosie wasn't what you'd been expecting.  While dressing up was the norm in Cannibal Town, Rosie took it to a new level; looking as though she never let a fabric less expensive than silk grace her form.  But despite the absolutely enchanting picture her elegance painted, the aura of raw power she exuded prickled your skin and caused your tail to poof up in an instinctual, and utterly useless, bid for intimidation.  

“Well, look at you!” Rosie drawled, her dark eyes widening in delighted surprise as you approached the counter.  “It's been a while since we've gotten someone new in town.  Where've you been hiding, sweetheart?”

“Uh- my room, mostly,” you manage to stammer out, nervously smoothing down your ruffled tail fur.  

“That's a real shame, keeping a cute face like yours all cooped up!” Rosie cooed.  “How long ya’ been living in my part of the city?”

“Nearly a year now, Ma'am.”

“A whole year?” Rosie gasped.  “You weren't kidding ‘bout keeping to yourself, huh?”

Not really knowing what else to say, you opt to helplessly shrug before reaching for an order pad and pen.  

“So, uh- what can I get for you today, Ms. Rosie?”

“What's still available?”

“I won't lie, it's pretty slim pickings right now.  But I was just working on a pretty nice looking rack of ribs if you're interested.”

“Ribs it is then,” Rosie smiled, patiently waiting as you disappeared to the backroom and returned with multiple wrapped bundles of meat, all cinched together in a stack with fraying twine.  

“Thank you, darling,” she said, passing the stack of meat to one of the well-dressed attendants waiting beside her.  “Add it to my tab, will ya’?”

“Of course, Ma'am,” you agreed readily, sliding the sale record underneath the cash register tray for Hal to deal with later.  

“Oh, and sweetheart?” Rosie called out, catching your attention, as you moved to assist the next customer in line.  “If you make it through Extermination Day, make sure to swing by and visit me for tea sometime, will ya’?  I'd really like the chance to get to know ya’ better.”

And despite every neuron of common sense and self-preservation screaming at you to decline the invitation, you gritted your teeth and quickly nodded your assent; swallowing thickly when Rosie bared her teeth in a delighted, feral smile.  

You knew better to say ‘no’ to an Overlord.

[kittenfangirl20]

Sheriff x Outlaw Au

Lucifer sat at his desk with his dusty boots resting on top of it. His gaze landed on the wanted poster of one Adam Kadmon.

Wanted Dead or Alive.

To think that he came close to arresting him once and the guy slipped away by literally throwing dirt in his eye.

Adam could be anywhere, but if he ever came back to this side of Pride Lucifer would deal with him personally.

-

Adam limped away, his horse dead and arm bleeding. He needed to bandage his arm, get a disguise and lay low for a while.

He had managed to steal enough gold to get by for a while but those thugs would come looking for his head eventually.

Adam knew coming back to Pentagram City was a risky move, having a personal beef with the sheriff alone makes this a foolish idea. But he needed more money and a place to stay for a while.

Help wanted sign at the local bar. With a fake mustache, a different hat, and a name change Adam had himself a job as the new bartender.

Adam: Here's to another new start.

*Adam smirked as he walked into his new job, it was rather easy to trick the owner of the bar to think that he was a man named Jacob who was just looking for a job as a bartender after moving out west, it had helped that he had learn how to make drinks that his first wife Lilith wanted, to say it was a bad marriage was an understatement, whenever he did something she deemed, she would hurt him, to get away from her he had to fake his death*

Bar Owner: You came early, that’s good. I mainly want you to make drinks for the guests and protect the bar from potential robbers.

Adam: Yes sir.

*Adam was already planning on a way to rob the place when he got the chance to, Pentagram City was the best place to rob in spite of the risk, the risk mainly being a very persistent sheriff by the name of Lucifer*

Adam internally: That sheriff has become a real pain in my ass.

*Lucifer wasn’t the only threat he had to keep an eye out for, there were others who wanted his head, they had been hired by Lilith to find him and drag him back home to her, he hated the fact that he was so afraid of his wife, he went behind the bar and started his job, his eyes widened in shock when he saw Sheriff Lucifer walk into his bar*

Adam internally: Don’t draw attention to yourself, you are in disguise, he probably won’t recognize you.

Lucifer: l’ll have a root beer.

Adam: Sure, seems odd to get a non alcoholic beverage at a bar.

Lucifer: I’m on the job, it would be unprofessional if I got drunk on the job. Say, have I met you before.

Adam: I have a face that people say looks like someone they’ve met before. I can assure you that we haven’t met before. I think I would remember meeting a good looking guy like you.

*he handed Lucifer the bottle of root beer while both blushed*

Adam internally: Shit, why did I have to say I found him attractive?

*it was true that Adam did find Lucifer attractive even if he was a thorn in his side*

Lucifer: You’re quite attractive yourself, what is your name?

Adam: Jacob.

*Adam couldn’t help but smile, one of the ways Lilith hurt him was by mocking the fact that he had gained a little bit of weight which made him wonder why she wanted him back if she couldn’t stand looking at him, it was probably because she liked having control over him, Lucifer mainly had his drink and left money for it as well as a tip for Adam, other than that his shift was pretty uneventful, once his shift was over Adam walked out to see Lucifer waiting for him*

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

[celaenaeiln]

I recently found out that cats can stretch to 3 times their body length because they're so flexible and all I can see is a thug beating up a member of the batfamily and then feeling an ominous sensation at his back. He stops and turns around a little scared to find himself eyeline level to a stomach. He slowly starts craning his head up, up, up and looks up at the shadow darkened face of the tallest slenderman (wait weren't those supposed fake?!) he's ever seen.

The 12 foot tall man asks in the nicest but scariest voice the thug has ever heard, "what. are. you. doing."

The thug decides the best thing to do would be to not answer but it's not like he could anyway even if he wanted to because even sounds are willing to hide in his throat. The last thing he sees before his vision blacks out is a slender hand with bright blue fingerstripes reaching down.

At this point the batkids are just as scared as the thug because holy shit they've only heard rumors not seen it in action!

"...Dick?"

Dick just shrinks down to normal size and helps them up.

"How did you do that?!"

"Do what? oh. I just disconnected my shoulder blades. C'mon, let's go back and get you all patched up."

"You.....what?"

[myechoecho]

The Double, ep 18-19

I love that the Duke knows Li well enough by now to that he can tell she is gathering her courage to tell him something. There's part of her that desperately wants to tell him because she trusts him. However, when she says to ask her anything, he immediately gets to the point and asks who she is. She can't quite let go of that information but she will relent enough to say that she is not Jiang Li, which he already knows.

Yet he teases her and gets a smile out of her. He backs off, because just her admitting to him that she is not Jiang Li is huge. The rest will come. He reassures her that she is right to see her justice and that she is not just a ghost; she is real and alive. She does not have to be defined by her past.

I WAS SCREAMING AT THE CONTEXT OF THE SHIRTLESS RAIN SWORD PLAY.

The Duke stripped off his shirt in the pouring rain and... uh thrust his sword while thinking of Li. At the same time, Li is leisurely taking a bath, stroking bright red rose petals thinking of the Duke and smiling. And Li has a self satisfied smirk the next morning. Girl, what are you going to do when he really wakes up next to you?

Not sure how exactly they will top this.

The flower scene was so amazing! He says the flower is pretty and suits her so Li says it's ugly. Which leads him to pull her closer under the pretext of "fake" lovers. But Li dislikes being called lovers as that was the fake accusation that destroyed her before. The Duke though simply says when she's more open, it won't kill her. Meaning she is his beloved, and he would never betray her.

I adore that she stuck the flower in his hair. AND he kept it there the whole time, even when threatening the thugs. He only removed it when she left.

I think my favourite scene from ep 19 is the argument they had. She lays the out the entirety of the Duke's plans so accurately that he's a little stunned. He's always admired her intelligence but I don't think he realized how clearly she saw everything. However, he doesn't want her part of this because he doesn't want her hurt.

And here she calls him Xiao Heng, as she's starting to do whenever it's actually personal and important. She knows he's afraid for her; that he's unwilling to risk her life for the sake of the country. But their paths are converging. They may have differing angles and goals, but the end result is the same. She needs to be a part of this. She will risk her life for the justice of her father, brother and herself. She needs his help, because without it she will likely die.

The Duke relents, reluctantly. Because even if he refuses, she will go about her plan anyway which means more danger for Li. She's forced him into a corner and they both know it. So he lets her in, knowing that while it's still dangerous, he can protect her better this will.

But he still has rules! If she wants to go to the cave then she'll need to figure out a distraction plan for them. And so she does, and the Duke thinks it's brilliant. Plus he had full confidence she could do it.

When they are in the cave, I love how he recognizes that she has some kind of trauma (and expected since the caves remind her of being buried alive) so he takes her hand firmly without asking any questions to help her. He doesn't even consider asking her to leave if she has an issue.

Was the Duke showing off when he took of his shirt and gave his undershirt, which probably smells clean and like him and is warm from his body. Yes.

Did Li watch shamelessly and was turned on by this? Yes. (It gives her more to think about while bathing teehee). She's also curious about the scars on his back.

When Li and the Duke find the mining going on, Li finally has some of the missing pieces about how she and her family, Yurong, and the princess are all connected. It's one of the things the Duke was trying to protect her from but now she'll have a better idea what they are up against.

I didn't think I'd like the Third Uncle at first but he and Li are chaos together and feed into each other's chaos. I love them.

[cannedpickledpeaches]

Insert Your Name (4)

Mafia!Jade Leech x Mafia!Reader

Link to series masterlist!

Notes and TW: This series will have mentions of blood, violence, crime (kidnapping, attempted assassination, extortion), and harassment, as one might expect from a mafia AU. Please enjoy!

Tag(s): @guava-has-a-pen

Jade’s Signature Spell has several restrictions. The greatest variable about it is its rate of success. Only ten minutes after meeting with the captured thug, the four of you sit out in Azul’s living room with furrowed brows. Except Floyd. Floyd happily indulges in Azul’s expensive grapes.

“I didn’t think Moore looked like someone with a strong will.” You reach out a hand at Floyd. He drops a perfectly round, nearly black grape in your palm. “Maybe he was faking the terror? Or maybe the person who gave him Jade’s information is much scarier than a bit of persuasion from Floyd.”

“Looked and felt like a minnow.” Floyd’s jagged teeth tear through the fruit like it’s made of tissue paper. “His screamin’ was real, lemme tell ya that. Even if he’s scared of someone else, he probably thought he was gonna kick the bucket right then and there. If ya asked me, he woulda spilled even without Jade cuz he thought he was fucked either way. Kinda weird that he didn’t.”

If there’s anything you’ve learned from knowing him for this long, it’s that his gut feeling is rarely wrong. Intuition is his forte. But if that’s the case, how come Shock the Heart didn’t work?

“My guess is,” Jade muses with a hand on his chin, “there is a spell previously cast on him that can block mine.”

Azul considers it. “Memory wiping, maybe. Perhaps he really doesn’t know—or at the very least, doesn’t remember. Another possibility is a defensive spell cast on his mind.”

“Even if that’s true, he isn’t a mage.” You pop the grape inside your mouth. A sweet, delectable juice spreads over your tongue. “If he was, he would’ve tried to break out of those ropes.”

That’s a simple trap Jade likes to set. Without a magic tool like the mirror back in Night Raven College, it is difficult to tell who’s a mage and who isn’t. However, by using restraints that are not made of anti-magic material and relaxing security briefly, mages often reveal their hand with escape attempts.

“Maybe it was his boss or somethin’ who casted it. Y’know, to keep secrets from gettin’ out. Pretty nifty spell, if ya think about it.”

“Someone within the Carpenter Mafia, huh.” You curl up on the couch, pressed into the corner formed by its arm and back. “Guess we’ll have to investigate all the mages they have. Talk about time consuming.”

“Please leave it to me.” Jade places a hand on his chest, a reassuring smile on his lips. Reliable. Like a sturdy tree, or a nook in the cliffside. Someone you can lean on. Someone who can pick up your slack and watch your back. Trust given to Jade can only be from a naïve fool, a desperate person, or a wary one who has leverage on him or something to gain. Regardless, despite the fact that he is difficult to trust, he is terribly competent to make up for it.

“Will you have time for it, with all the other things you have to do? Like managing the mafia and the main story?”

“Please do not worry. If it comes down to it, there are tasks that I can delegate to other qualified individuals.”

Azul heaves a heavy sigh.

After a lengthy discussion, Azul all but kicks you three out of his house. You let Jade drive you home because you aren’t keen on sitting in Floyd’s passenger seat again anytime soon. Sitting in the leather seats of Jade's car, you watch as streetlights sweep by the glowing dashboard to a constant beat. The twins’ differing tastes are obvious even in their choice of car models. While Floyd prefers flashy sports cars that attempt to break the sound barrier, Jade prefers sleek, black ones that don’t make too much noise.

While Jade drives, your eyes drift to the night sky and your mind to the story. The next event is their second meeting. (Y/N) runs into him in the shopping district. Judging from the description in the manuscript, it’s on a street you frequented with her. Buskers at intersections. An ice cream shop next to an oak tree. A fountain with picturesque statues. You have a picture on your phone of her laughing in front of the water.

Does she think about you? If a friend suddenly stopped contacting her after being cornered in an alleyway, she’d naturally try to check up on them. That’s the selfless and considerate personality she has as the main character, after all. So why hasn’t she even texted you once? Were you truly even friends?

Of course you were. A kind person like her couldn’t fake affection. Those smiles she shared with you were definitely real. So then, why?

“You should sleep early tonight.” Jade suddenly speaks up at a red light. He takes the momentary break to glance at you. There’s an expression you can’t place on his face. Worry? No, nothing that strong. He looks back at the road before you can decipher it. “You’ve been stressed lately. I can brew you a relaxing herbal tea if you have trouble sleeping. It will guarantee you a relaxing slumber.”

“That makes it sound like I’ll never wake up if I drink it.”

He chuckles. “You can find out if you drink it.”

“Pass. Make it for yourself.”

“Perhaps I will. I often have difficulties falling asleep at night.” Unlike you, his insomnia is evolutionary. Moray eels are nocturnal creatures, and having grown up in the deep sea, day and night cycles took time to get used to. In the endless night of a place where sunlight cannot reach, circadian rhythms follow a schedule, not daylight.

“Doesn’t the story say you’ll sleep in the same bed as (Y/N) tomorrow?”

There’s only one bed. A common trope. This event seems to be shoved into the story, full of plot holes and reasons that don’t make any sense. (Y/N) is meant to lightly twist her ankle because of her endearing clumsiness. Jade will bring her to a fancy hotel room and tend to her wound there instead of bringing her home like today. Your only guess is that the story wants to showcase his wealth and influence. He can get a fancy room in a fancy hotel whenever he wants without a reservation. He can afford whatever her heart desires.

“Indeed.” Jade gives a half-smile. “Although I doubt it will happen. I find that I cannot sleep in the presence of strangers.”

Morays are cowards, Floyd once said. Ambush predators. They like hiding and darting out at prey or going after injured animals. Strong enough to have the confidence of living in a hole with no escape route other than the entrance, but careful enough not to chase down prey in open waters. Jade is more careful than most. You don’t think you’ve truly seen him with his guard down before.

“(Y/N) is harmless.”

“I am aware. It is only a force of habit.” His fingers tap lightly on the steering wheel. “I will stay until she falls asleep and then do some work. There is much to do, with so little time.”

You wonder if the increased workload has taken a toll on Jade. As competent as he is, he was suddenly saddled with the responsibilities of an entire syndicate and expected to run it with the same proficiency as his parents. His hobbies that he adores so much were all put on hold. There must be a mountain of pressure on his shoulders, but he never complains. Never one to show weakness. It is easy to exploit.

“You can give me more work. Just pay me and I’ll do it.”

Jade’s eyes flick to you, then back to the road. “How considerate of you. What are you willing to do if I take you up on that?”

“You can leave the investigation of the Carpenter Mafia to me.”

“Thank you for offering, but I would like to take that matter into my own hands. It concerns information about me, after all.”

“Then what do you want me to do?”

He hums in that way he does when he pretends to think. “How about guarding me when I sleep?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Didn’t you say you can’t sleep with other people around?”

“I said ‘strangers.’” A teasing lilt weaves through his voice. “You are my dear friend of many years. Surely, we are closer than mere strangers? I daresay we are even closer than acquaintances.”

“You really like bringing that up.”

“It is because you seem prone to forget.” The car turns into a side street. Houses pass you slowly. Your neighbourhood is quiet at this time of night. “If you were guarding me, I would not even mind sleeping in (Y/N)’s vicinity.”

“Don’t even think about it. I won’t be there.”

Despite the lighthearted tone of your conversation, you understand the undertone of his request. He doesn’t expect you to accept this responsibility. Instead, he is conveying a message: he trusts you. Enough that he’s willing to be physically vulnerable around you. When he’s asleep, you could slit his throat, press a pillow over his face, crush his windpipe. But he trusts that you won’t. Instead of attacking him, he trusts that you will protect.

But is that what he truly thinks of you? Or is that what he wants you to think that he thinks? How convoluted. Talking to him is taxing on the brain.

“Actually, Jade.” You hesitate briefly. “Can you ask (Y/N) about me? Or just, like, drop my name in the conversation.”

Mild curiosity fills his gaze. “Why do you ask?”

“Just do it.”

“I have no obligation to. But if you tell me, I might consider it.”

“Forget it, then.” It wasn’t important anyway. You’ll ask her once the story is over.

He pulls up on your driveway. The entire house is dark, save for a light in the master bedroom and in the entrance. You thank him and prepare to leave the car.

“Give your mother my greetings.”

You nod and wave goodbye. The car stays in your driveway until you enter your front door before driving off. It’s something you’ve noticed only he does. For safety, he had explained. He’s making sure that you’ve entered your home safely. You can never tell if he has some ulterior motive.

The first few things you notice when you step inside are the pill bottles left out on the counter. You take your shoes off and silently pad over to the washroom, returning the bottles to the medicine cabinet. Just as you put the final one in place, a voice calls out from the top of the staircase.

“You’re home late. Are you tired?”

A kind, familiar voice. You approach the stairs and look up to see your mother standing there in her sleepwear. The stress accumulated throughout the day melts away, temporarily forgotten. No matter how difficult things are, no matter how tedious the days become, no matter how much is on your mind—at the end of the day, you have your mother to return home to. Around her, you are just her daughter, without the need to be anything more.

“Hi, Mom. You didn’t have to stay up.” You ascend the staircase to meet her on the second floor. She gives you a warm, comforting hug.

“Nonsense. I can’t sleep until I know you’re home safe.” She pats your hair and lets you go. “Did you come home by yourself?”

“Jade drove me. He says hi.”

“Oh, Jade. He’s a good kid. Thank him properly, alright?”

A good kid. You almost laugh out loud. For one, both you and him are in your late twenties. For another, you wouldn’t use “good” to describe his character. But you don’t, because you don’t want your mother to worry. You only tell her the best anecdotes about the people around you so that she can rest assured you’re in good hands. She doesn’t know about your real job, either. She doesn’t need to. You prefer to keep things this way. She would never approve of a profession where you could get hurt.

“I will.”

She follows you to your room, where you start getting ready for bed. “What were you doing downstairs before I called for you?”

“You left your medicine on the counter again. I was putting them away.”

“Oh dear, did I?” She sighs and places a hand on her cheek. Wrinkles crease the skin around her mouth and the corners of her eyes. It is because I have lived a happy life, she always assured you, since I was lucky enough to have you as my daughter. “I must be getting old. These days, I often do one thing while forgetting another.”

“It’s a good thing you have me, huh?”

She chuckles. “You’re right. It’s a good thing I have you.”

When you lie in bed, your mother sleeping soundly in the master bedroom, you think back to Mr. and Mrs. Leech. To Jade and Floyd, who anxiously wait for a cure to that curse they still haven’t found the culprit for. Jade changes out the flowers by their hospital beds as soon as the petals start to wilt. Floyd bribes the hospital so that he can spend nights by their side. If your mother was in that situation, you know you would raise Hell on Earth. You can only imagine what the twins are going through. If they ever catch the assassin, you don’t want to know what will happen to that soul. There is no judgment against the twins here. You would do the same.

You don’t know when you slept, but you wake up before dawn to the sound of your ringtone. Upon picking up, Jade delivers two pieces of information.

Firstly, he fell asleep. And secondly, when he mentioned your name to (Y/N) last night, she smiled blankly and asked: “Who?”

[lollygaggingloser]

More VAT7K brain blerps – Hugo’s prosthetic limb Continued

I didn’t realize how much others like prosthetic limbed Hugo, so now I’m more excited to share my other ideas on it. Thanks for the validation y’all. 

After the fiasco with the thugs and Varian finds out about Hugo’s artificial limb, the alchemist is on the same curiosity level as Yong, wanting to know more about Hugo’s alterations to it. Hugo spends an entire evening talking to the two as they sit by the campfire, answering their questions on the materials he’s used, his own schematics, and each component in his prosthesis. He enjoys displaying the fruits of his labor and uses his invention to get the two’s interest and trust in him. The talk goes on late into the night and while Yong eventually ends up falling asleep, Varian stays up longer, fixated and impressed by Hugo’s work. At some point, Hugo removes the limb from his body when Varian asks to get a better look. Normally, he would just let a person get close to him to see, but when Varian leans in toward him, the closeness sends a wave of nervousness and awkwardness through his body. 

Thinking quickly, he moves away to get a better angle to unlatch the device, not certain why he felt self-conscious earlier.

Just make sure you give it back, alright, Goggles? He jokes as he removes it. Varian gently takes it into his hands and gets a closer look at the internal interlockings. As he does, Hugo goes back to boasting about his work. Impressive, right? Much better than the usual peg or hook you’ll see on others. It’s fully functional while still serving as a work of art.

Instead of rolling his eyes at Hugo or scoffing at his prideful demeanor, Varian nods, agreeing with the blonde. It’s beautiful.

Hugo is taken aback by the compliment and feels his ears burn as he realizes that Varian just called a part of his body beautiful. At that moment, Hugo is grateful that Varian is too immersed in the prosthesis to see him blushing.

During their travels, Yong asks Hugo why he keeps his limb hidden under his clothing. If I had something that cool, I’d show it off.

I don’t think people other than nerds like you two think it’s cool Hugo explains. Plus, it’s easier to get around without attracting attention.

Truthfully, Hugo hates the look of pity strangers give him when they find out he has a fake limb. Even before he got his prosthesis, he learned how to get around and function well without his arm/leg so it nerves him to be seen as something less because of it. Therefore, he keeps it hidden to avoid those looks and be treated no differently than any other person. Seeing Yong and Varian react so positively compared to the usual spiel was both refreshing and appreciated. The two never treat him like he’s incapable of handling himself, even when he can be reckless.

Sometimes Yong forgets about Hugo’s prosthesis or forgets which limb is artificial. The kid will mistakenly high five Hugos metal arm way too hard and hurt his own hand. Or, Yong accidentally drops something heavy on Hugo’s fake foot and apologizes.

I’m so sorry Hugo! Are you hurt?

I’m in terrible pain, Sparks he answers in a monotone voice. I think I lost feeling in my toes. We may need to amputate.

Once Hugo’s more comfortable making jokes with Varian and Yong, the two end up dealing with his morbid sense of humor.

Yong will wish him good luck and tell him to break a leg.

To which Hugo will respond with I'm already ahead of you!

He also definitely pulls this move on Varian when the alchemist asks him to lend a hand.

It’s amusing the first few times, but by the fourth, Varian has to control himself from not throwing the prosthesis back at him. 

He gets back at Hugo with this joke eventually. One day, Varian asks Hugo for help and the engineer tosses his arm to him as predicted. Without missing a beat, Varian takes Hugo’s mechanical arm and uses it like one of these bad boys:

To retrieve a book from a high shelf. Hugo is left both insulted and bested.

Give me that! You know what, Goggles? You just lost your Hugo arm privilege. He chastises Varian, who looks rather pleased with himself. He snatches back his prosthesis with the book still in its grasp. So insensitive! Why I’d never!

Brain Blerp part 1