#( take a god complexed criminal for yours )

[smol-tired-binch-blog]

Both meow meows at once Nishiki and Majima for blorbo bingo

:D So to make things simpler, I indeed answered both at once. Purple is for both, blue is for Nishiki, pink is for Majima.

Can You Tell I'm Not Normal About Them?

[cologona]

The fact that Jason’s wearing his murderer’s old title is a fun detail for angst but good god, “taking ownership of his trauma” is not his primary reason, or even secondary reason for doing so.

Practicality is core to Jason’s character. He did not learn to use bombs because he died from an explosion, he used them because they’re destructive and remote controlled and that’s useful for his goals. Even his theatrics are for a purpose of communication. Remember that he spent all of Lost Days in the same ratty track suit, and never took credit for anyone he killed or anybody he saved. If he isn’t saying something to someone he doesn’t bother.

So what is the practical utility of taking on the Red Hood persona?

It’s crap as a symbol of fear. Unlike the silhouette of giant bat, which stokes the imagination, the sight of some guy in a helmet hardly inspires anything more than perhaps thoughts of motorcycles. The name itself is merely a reference to the costume and the costume is just a thing to hide your face. It’s the most spartan, pared down persona one could have. That it used to be Joker’s hardly helps because it was only his back when Joker was just an ordinary man— and a rather pathetic no-name fall guy at that. Anyone clued in enough to know about it is more liable to think of Jason as another nutjob than to be intimidated.

But that’s the point. Jason doesn’t need a symbol of fear because he gives people perfectly tangible reasons to fear him. The Red Hood persona is nearly devoid of expression, but because of that it’s very effective at the one thing it does express- “I am a criminal. Refer to me by color because there is nothing more to know.” Its association with Joker taints anyone else who uses it with the implication of insanity, but insanity is useful when any crook or businessman worth his salt in Gotham knows not to bother questioning the non-negotiables of its local lunatics.

Jason is an especially acrobatic single-operator pushing a seemingly altruistic agenda. It would’ve been very easy for him to get labeled as another vigilante. One that is more comfortable getting blood on his hands maybe, but a vigilante nonetheless. That he’s able to function the way he does, while still being taken seriously a rogue and crime lord is due in large part to his very deliberate presentation.

Why, if Jason thinks what he does is good and necessary, does he present himself this way? Maybe because from the start, his beliefs were more nuanced than one would be lead to believe. That Jason thinks his actions are necessary does not mean he must also think they should be attributed to righteousness or justice. He explains in Outsiders: PAYG— what it means for a ‘bad guy’ to do something is different from if a ‘good guy’ does the same thing. Jason essentially makes the same point Tim once made to Huntress about public trust in heroes but from the opposite angle.

The assertions modern comics make about why Jason has the Red Hood mantle (and why he uses a crowbar) ring very hollow to me. It feels like an almost deliberate push to erase the complexity he had as a villain in favor of a squeaky clean redemption arc. The way I see it though, so long as Jason remains Red Hood any sort of “redemption” he has is a false one. He’s still holding onto the symbol of his convictions, just because he’s willing to betray himself and others for love doesn’t mean that he’s changed his mind about how it all works.

[verxca]

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ [ imagine #01 ]

[ j. todd ] ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

── . ✦ in which jason is your next door neighbour.

✦ The first time you met Jason wasn’t out of high stakes - a dangerous situation - or from a friend of a friend. It was by pure will, and that stuck out to him. You’d come over to finally meet your new neighbour who’d moved into your small apartment complex, blushing slightly as a young man opened the door. There you were, standing with a small container of pasta in hand next to the hunk of a man you’d never met. All because you’d made some extra on accident.

“Thanks. This looks great.” He nods his head ever so slightly in gratitude.

✦ Jason notices how your shoulders relax as he takes the container— how cute you looked all nervous like that. Above all, he was just happy he didn’t come off as some shitty neighbour, fortified by the wide, gentle smile you ported while turning to wave goodnight.

✦ He sets the container onto his counter, picturing your face in his mind for a brief instant. It'd been a while since someone did something nice for Jason, just because. He wasn’t used to it.

✦ You’d crossed paths many times in the hallway, but what really sealed the deal was when your sink started to leak one random thursday evening. You couldn’t tell if it was minor or not, but you wanted to play it safe, knocking next-door. Who was Jason to deny a pretty girl, anyway? He accepts causally, though inside he’s beaming more than he’d like to admit.

“Yeah, no sweat, let me grab my tools.”

✦ And only a couple minutes later, he was hunched under your kitchen cabinets— sleeves rolled up and everything. His hands work deftly, years of practice making the task almost second nature.

“Do you need a water, or anything? I have soda, too.”

“Oh- Yeah. Water would be perfect.”

✦ You tried desperately to hide your growing grin while reaching up for a glass, the whole situation particular. Jay stayed longer than he had to once the leak was actually repaired; a whole half hour to put into perspective. Maybe it was the way your eyes lit up when you smiled, or the way you seemed genuinely happy to have him over that made him give in. Or, maybe, it’d just been too fucking long since he’d had a normal conversation like this.

“Eh, I've been around for a bit," He says vaguely as you two were sharing, "Long enough to know my way around. And- to know that this place is a hell of a lot better than some of the other shitholes in the city."

He gestures to your apartment with his glass in hand, leaning against your counter. “Yeah, tell me about it… It’s small, but it works.” Jason points to the sink he had just finished fixing with a smirk, eliciting a small chuckle from you.

✦ Your smile just lit up around him, and that was when he knew you’d be the woman he’d marry.

✦ But then, the fateful night hit. Red Hood had come back home after beating up some prominent criminals near the side of an old port— covered in bruises and a small stab wound to the lower abdomen. His head wasn’t in the game, and the feverish lightning made it hard to concentrate. He reached for his apartment door, mask in hand. It was late; he knew nobody would be out roaming the halls at this hour.

✦ The handle didn’t budge, though— his black gloves gripping onto the metal more harshly.

“Fuck!”

✦ Jay yelled, banging his hand against his apartment door. This? Now? Could his night not get any fucking worse? He pauses, his expression not angry, but just sad. Tired. He looked defeated. Jason walked over to the left of him, pausing before knocking on your door.

“Jason? Oh my god- Are you-”

✦ The stab wound in his side was throbbing, and you could see some blood dripping down from his leg. He needed to get it cleaned before he passed out.

“Please.”

✦ You don’t waste anytime before helping him inside, placing your hand on his lower back. You always had your suspicions about the guy— but this? He had to be a vigilante! Crime was rampant in this area, anyway… You prayed he was on the good side of things.

✦ Jason was sitting on your toilet seat, shirt off, gaze completely averted down. He didn’t want you to see him like this; all fucked up and broken. But you didn’t run screaming, or turn away in disgust— Instead you rushed to help him. He didn’t understand. You diligently cleaned his wound with an antiseptic, own expression sour from how much you knew it had to be hurting him. Jay tried his best to hold still despite the stinging pain, grunting slightly.

“Shit…”

✦ You look up, only to notice he was already staring down at you in between his legs. Your heart skipped a number of beats.

“Can you tell me what happened?” You ask calmly, and Jason just couldn’t take it. Your soft hands - your sympathetic expression - your fucking voice. He was going to break, averting his gaze in the matter of a second before clearing his throat roughly.

“Just crossed through the bad side of town.”

✦ Once the wounds were cleaned, you bandaged them up with extra care. Jason’s gaze was fixed between your hands working at his cuts, up to your pretty face. Apart of him wanted to apologize for showing up all unannounced like this, but another part of him— a part that's been starved of kindness and compassion for far too long wanted nothing more than to let you take care of him. Nobody had ever before, at least not with such compassion as you carried.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this… I just didn’t know where else to go.”

✦ He explained his situation once you offered him a glass of water— how his apartment was locked. You don’t think twice before letting him stay the night.

✦ You handed him some old pyjama pants that were too big on you to sleep in, all the while his equipment sat in your bathtub for the time being. You didn’t waste your time before setting up the couch, too, even lighting a nice candle on the coffee table. Jason feels a warmth spread through his chest as you smile at him— it had nothing to do with the pain.

“Fuck- I can’t thank you enough for this.”

“Oh, Jason- It’s my pleasure, really. If you need anything during the night, just come get me, yeah?”

✦ You close the blinds and shut off all the lights before tucking yourself back into bed. Holy… what a night! You couldn’t get the image of him out of your head, knowing he trusted you enough for this. All the while Jason fell asleep like a light for the first time in many years, all thanks to your gentle care.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ part 2 ?

[criibibi]

Synopsis: After losing so much, Spider-woman learns to just keep moving. Only for her to end up somewhere far from home. Her first agenda is figuring out where she is, and how to get back. The only problem is that she ended up somewhere fictional (to her). Playing hero with Batman was not in her bingo cards this year. Hopefully she will be able to make it back home before she catches unwanted attention.

Masterlist: Prev; Next;

Chapter 1 - Home Sick

Okay, let’s start this from the top. Once upon a time and all that shit.

You had somehow, some way, ended up stranded in another universe when you were going toe-to-toe with the Spot that (unfortunately) Mile’s apparently created (unintentionally). Got it? Good.

Now the question is how you got stranded in another universe while fighting the Spot is another shebang that you do not know, and frankly, not your top priority as of right now.

Your mission is finding a way to power your web-watch (no offense but the gizmo name sucks), and either use it to find Miguel, the spider-society, or your very own earth. You honestly weren’t choosy on which option you land, as long as you safely made it out alive and unscathed. 

Speaking of unscathed, which in fact you are not, you quietly swung across many buildings, in the shadows, making sure you were hard to spot. Your dark spider suit being perfect for night patrol is a blessing for the camouflage it provides you in this god forsaken gloomy city.

Now, to get back on track, it took you an embarrassing amount of time to process that you have basically been thrown into a world where in your universe is all but fiction. 

Have you kept up with the comics?

No, of course not. After Aunt May’s passing, you honestly gave up everything and just solely dedicated yourself into fighting crime. Well, you know some things, since Peter was also a mega comic nerd.

He would go on for hours and hours and hours about Batman and his kids (adopted and biological) and whatnot. You didn’t mind, since spending time with a talkative Peter was better than being in your own headspace. If you recall the latest one to come under Batman’s wing was someone named Duke? Well, that’s as far as you remember. 

Regardless, now you're looting someone’s clothing wire. Picking out a thick gray turtleneck and black leggings (thank god) you don them over your suit, making sure nothing was visible. Now the issue is your footwear. Maybe you can get away with it? 

Taking off the mask you were able to stuff it inside your bra (extra pocket, am I right?) while your gloves were hidden among your sleeves. Making sure nothing was out of place you pulled out the wallets of the two petty criminals, counting the money.

“Four-fifty, not bad.” Though you don’t condone your actions, you are in a precarious situation at the moment. Oh well. Tossing one of the wallets away (making sure not to touch it with your fingers), you also placed it inside your bra for safe keeping.

Maybe this would be enough for a motel? How expensive- or cheap are those in Gotham? With how often crimes occur, it shouldn’t be that expensive, right? Regardless, first things first, find a place to eat, find out the date and then a place to stay. Shouldn't be too hard.

Quietly climbing down the side of a complex building, you made sure the coast was clear before heading out. The lack of a jacket made you feel very vulnerable and exposed. Head down and hands to your sides, the cool breeze of the city causes shivers down your spine. “This fucking sucks.” you mumbled, making sure to avoid gothamites as much as possible. 

No time to gawk at your environment when you’re so out of place. You honestly just kept walking around, hearing police sirens and the occasional cop car driving by while you try to not lose your goddamn mind.

Walking around, using back streets and alleys you shiver as the cold nips at your face. It’s not that you’re sensitive to cold, it’s just that you can’t afford to get sick here. In a world where you don’t exist.

“Wait a minute…” thinking back on something, it’s true that you don’t exist here. But that doesn’t mean that a you- doesn’t exist. Maybe somehow there is a version of you or spider-woman here. A far reach but hey, just hours ago, this was all fictional to you. But something worth looking into. 

With a heavy sigh you walk inside an alley, looking up to gauge the time to see- oh, what’s that? Another clothing line! And guess what? It has more clothes to loot! Score! Don’t mind if I do! Finders keepers baby!

And you thought your spider luck was ass.

Discreetly looking around to see for any cameras that can potentially identify you only to come out flat. Perfect. Using the fire escape you parkour to snag a black oversized zip up sweater. 

This would be perfect in covering you even further (and now you have pockets for your mask) and making your figure harder to identify. Now you can start acting like a true gothamite.

With a pep in your step, you exit the alleyway.

Spotting a diner up ahead, settling yourself inside you order your drink of choice and a bagel just to have something to entertain yourself while you calm your nerves.

Sitting down next to a window, taking slow sips and bites from your meal you subtly look around (making a point of subtly ignoring the gaze of the cashier). It seems to be late afternoon, heading to night. Not good, not good at all. 

Besides finding a place to stay, you glance at your wrist, the web watch looking pretty obvious and suspicious out there in the open on your wrist. But, without it, you could perish in this foreign world. Should you pull a Hobie Brown and create a new watch from scratch? No, you don’t have the time, tools, or luxury. Thank god for the hoodie covering it up.

Right now, staying on task is essential. A job, maybe? With what credentials? Hell, you don’t even have an ID. Maybe a fake one? Who would do such a thing for a reasonable price and isn’t a criminal? Another note, you need supplies, enough to build web shooters and the cartridge. Unlike other spiders, you had the ability to shoot webs from your wrist, gross. But (with Peter’s intellect) you ended up also creating webs on your own in case yours fails. And it has- a lot both in comical and crucial times. Peter wouldn’t let you live anything down (god you miss him).

And being in a new world and everything going on, the last thing you need is a web block because of the high anxiety and stress this place is already giving you. You’d rather be safe than sorry. Now, how to get supplies? Stealing them seems easier than working for it. You just don’t have the time. How were you going to steal them, and from where? Who the fuck knows. Probably from a college science room or something.

In order to do even that, you need to find out the layout and what not of this place. So maybe the best place to start is the library? Doesn’t someone from Batman’s little possie work at the library? Can you risk that? Probably.

Fuck, this was going to be harder than it looks. No phone, basically no money (not counting the one you stole from criminals), no ID (or insurance), no place to stay, no allies, ya got nothing. Zip, zero, nada. 

You feel so lost and alone, so vulnerable. And the thoughts in your head are slowly getting louder and louder. Eating away at your insecurities and feelings. God, you’re starting to get homesick. Will you make it back? Will you find a way back home? Is anyone even looking for you?

Last thing you recall was fighting the Spot with Miles, Hobie, Gwen and Pavitr. You remember hopping onto Spot’s back while he was absorbing but then he poof and you along with him. Everything went black for you and then you landed here in this city (ungracefully might I add).

You just want to go home…even if it’s lonely without Uncle Ben, Aunt May and Peter Parker.

You really have nothing, rock bottom, baby. But then again, the only place to go is up, right? 

Sighing you finished your drink and bagel before leaving the diner, making sure to look at the clock above the exit, and aimlessly walking around. Would they let you in one of those shelters? Are those even a thing? Probably, maybe. 

Couldn’t hurt to try. Buuuuut, then again, you need the privacy, so maybe the shelter was a no go. Okay, perfect, back to square fucking zero. A cheap and possibly dangerous motel it is!

Hopefully your spider luck doesn’t fuck you over. You’re honestly thankful for not coming across any batsonas and whatnot. And you were able to get clothes so you say you’re two for two.

After looking around for some time, emphasis on some, you managed to find a motel and get yourself settled. No ID required, just cash, and you internally sobbed at the remaining funds you had left. You really will need a job or a sustainable income.

“Are underground rings still a thing? Is it a thing here?” You mumbled, discarding your stolen clothes before fiddling with your watch until its screen flashes before abruptly turning dark again. “Well now, how fucked am I?” A deep sigh resonated in the empty room. Hopefully while it turned on, Miguel would somehow by some god given miracle (or your spider luck but don’t bank on it) that he received at least a signal, no matter how microscopic it is.

You had to get home. At all costs. This place isn’t your home. It’s not like you should play by the rules. But, Ben, May, and Peter would be so disappointed in you if you break laws just to return to your home universe. And if you’re being truthful, it wouldn’t sit right with you either…

But Miles needs you. 

If this world doesn’t have a- you in it, then you aren’t needed here. So you shouldn’t waste time twiddling your thumbs. Maybe you really do need to break into a computer lab to see what’s up with your watch or scavenge for parts. Hobie built it with parts from Miguel’s earth. Meaning, you can too, with whatever scraps you can find.

You’ll prioritize your watch first, then this city. It’s unfortunate, but you really have to get back home, and you can’t let your feelings get in the way and distract you.

Maybe you should call it a night? Figure things out in the morning? A yawn takes over your thoughts. “Yea, sleep sounds really good right now.” 

These problems are for tomorrow’s you. For now, you’ll catch some Zzz’s and flesh out a detailed plan on how to get back home. 

You’re banking on hacking a computer at the library despite the risks. Shooting a web at the door to prevent any possible and/or unwanted inconveniences because let’s be honest, trust no one but yourself, especially in this bat(ha)shit crazy world, better to be safe than sorry. You need your sanity to fix or at least charge your watch in order to get back home.

“Ben, May, Peter- give me strength.” and into dreamland you go.

-

“Hey B, come look at this.” A female voice spoke out, catching the attention of the adult in the cave. “I got something to show you. I got a trace of a disruption- but it happened quickly and only once.”

“Where.” A gruff and stern voice asked.

“Around the East End.”

“I’ll let Selina know.”

“Should I get someone to look into it?”

“No, I’ll do it myself.”

With that, silence once again enveloped the Bat cave as Batman stepped out.

Prev; Next;

I'll be honest, I have no outline of where I want this story to go, this is just brainrot hour for me. Less go. A very high chance this will soon turn into somewhat of "yandere" but it's mostly just them being "possessive" honestly. Slooow burn. This was the last thing i had typed up, and I have no clue where I will drive this story, oops.

[alikesical]

part 1 part 2 part 2.5 part 3

trigger warnings: angst, Bruce feeling sorry for himself

Bruce had woken up hours ago, yet he made no attempt to get up from the bed. He stayed there, laying still, looking at the ceiling.

His first thought was that the mattress was lumpy. Cheap. He knew it was mean to think this way, but he couldn't help it. He's been conditioned to do so his whole life.

Then he noticed the giant stain on the ceiling just above your bed.

Sure, this was considered a "nicer" neighbourhood, but it was still Gotham. Nothing in Gotham was truly ever nice. No one was kind without a price, whether that was money, information, or bodies...

Last night just proved this further.

Maybe he was wrong, though, because you were in Gotham, and you were the nicest thing to ever exist in this God forsaken city. You were the nicest thing in his life.

You were at least, before he went and fucked it all up 3 years ago, trying desperately to distance himself from you, an attempt to keep you safe from his choices and the consequences that came with them. This was possibly the worst mistake of his life, seeing as with your departure you seemed to take the light from his life along.

Still, a part of him -the part that didn't miss you like crazy, didn't need you the way his lungs desperetely needed the oxygen they've been long deprived of- thought it was for the best. Because as selfish as Bruce was, he wouldn't allow himself to drag you down with him. To trap you in a life of constant danger and paranoia, just to keep you by his side.

So, yes, no matter how much his heart regretted what he did, his brain knew it was for the best.

Who was he to destroy the only good thing left in this city of crime?

That, however, didn't stop him from fantasizing about what could have been. Theorising what would have happened if he didn't feel the need to clean Gotham of the criminals it birthed.

Maybe you'd still be friends, sitting in the manor, eating cereal while watching trashy drama shows on the TV. He could hear you whine about how stupid the male lead was each time, about his inability to be true to himself and confess his feeling to the female lead, as you threw a handful of cereal at the screen.

Maybe he'd stopped being an idiot too, allowing himself to tell you that he's in love with you, he's always been, and will surely always be.

But that would require him to be brave and open up his innermost feelings and thoughts to you. And he couldn't do that. Because, first and foremost, Bruce Wayne was a coward.

Too scared to let anything good in his life take roots. Too scared to allow anyone to get too close. Too scared to let himself believe he could be loved despite all the things that are wrong with him.

So he pushes people away, makes them angry, makes them hate him, and then he blames all the pain and sadness he has caused on safety.

Yes, Bruce Wayne was a coward, but at least you'd be left untouched by Gothams filth. The very same filth that ran through his veins.

So he didn't contact you for years, only allowing himself to watch from afar - just to make sure you're okay, he told himself.

And it was going great until last night.

If he was being honest with himself, he didn't know why he came here.

The wise choice would be to go straight to the manor and ask Alfred for help.

But there was not much space left in his brain for sane decisions last night. So he let his feet lead him to the familiar apartment complex and his hand - led by his traitorous heart- knock on your door.

You were a good choice to ask for help, he thinks to himself. Good in stressful situations, good with children.

Nothing about the choice of coming here was led by his emotions, much less the feelings he still held for you.

He exhaled sharply as he closed his eyes, disappointed in himself once again. Because even in the safety of his own mind, he wasn't honest.

No logic would ever justify him appearing at your doorstep holding a child.

God, he was pathetic.

Ans that was enough torture for this morning, he thought, trying to block out any surrounding sounds, to no avail.

Because no matter how much he tried, he could still hear the clanking of the utensils and your soft giggles coming from the other side of the door.

And so he let himself fall into another dream.

A reality where he never became Batman, a reality where he was just Bruce, and this wasn't your creaky, uncomfortable bed, but the one in his room back in the manor. A bed you shared with him. And whilst you weren't beside him, letting him bask in your warmth, he could hear the same giggles coming from the kitchen, as you let Dick break the eggs into the bowl, praising him and telling him how his batch it's gonna be extra special because he made it.

And he's happy.

He could be happy.

Because you were there. Loving him. Grounding him. Reminding him that the world isn't this awful, unforgivable place.

But he isn't in the manor, and you aren't in his kitchen. He's still Batman. He still pushed you away.

He knows that technically, there's nothing he can do about it now. The past is in the past, and the only things that's left now are memories and daydreams of what could have happened the last 3 years.

He also knows that he can make it right if he tries hard enough. If you let him back in.

But that would mean he'd had to get out of bed and see you, for the first time in 3 years, in the light of day.

So he just turns to his side and lets himself be surrounded by the familiar scent lingering on your bed sheets as sleep envelopes him once more.

[igotanidea]

Bedridden : Dick Grayson x reader

Aka: the one when Dick gets sick and makes it everyone's problem.

„What on earth are you doing!?”

“I’m – working out?”

“Why?” the question came out in some sort of crazy instinct, without her thinking much about it.

To tell the truth, under any other circumstances, seeing Dick shirtless, doing reps and circuits of exercises wouldn’t be shocking. Hell, it would be absolutely normal and almost – expected. Hell – she would just sit on the bench shamelessly watching him flexing his muscles and getting all hot and sweaty, waiting for the end of training to sneak into the shower with him.

But there was one little thing that made that day different.

He was fucking sick.

And not the I-got-99-degrees – I -am-fighting-for-my-life kind of sickness.

Real fucking sick.

Specifically put on bed rest by a real doctor, and not excused to go on another patrol during another night.

Y/N sighed heavily, knowing damn well that convincing her superhero-vigilante-shit boyfriend with the golden retriever attitude and savior complex would involve a lot of work, starting from explaining to him the meaning of word bed rest.

“Dick? Honey?”

“Hm? Yes? What-is-it – 99-100-101.”  Clearly talking to her was not as important as doing a few more level pull ups.

“Could you please spare me a second of your time?”

“Mhm- yeah-sure-just – a – few-more- 150-151-152.”

“Richard Grayson!”

“Y/N Y/L/N!”

“Could you please-“

“Love of my life, please understand that I absolutely have to keep in shape. If not for the beating-criminals’-asses than for you. You do like your boyfriend hot, don’t you?”

HE got her right into the trap, cause even if she said “no”, her eyes and face would reveal the truth.

“You do look hot and – “

“I know, thanks!” He grinned mischievously, jumping off the bar and reaching for the towel, wiping the sweat from his forehead.  

“- and ridiculous.”

“Ouch!” His expression turned from playful to painful.

“Don’t do this, Dick. Don’t play it down.”

“I’m not playing down anything, princess. I am absolutely fine. All ready to go. Now, do you want to take a shower with me?” he stepped closer, wrapping arms around her waist.

“No!” she tried to wriggle free, but obviously it was futile as the grip only got tighter. “Dick, you have to-“

“Shh.” He cut her off by pulling closer to his bare chest “Did I ever tell you about that one time I kicked down three goons with one broken arm?”

“Yes! At least ten times, but this is not a very good point of relevance in the case and – “

“I swear to you, I am absolutely healthy.” Dick stepped back and with zero effort did a backflip.

“Dick…” Y/N rubbed her forehead “stop showing off, for god’s sake…”

“I’m not showing off, babe! I’m showing out, actually.”

“That’s not even a word!”

“It is now.”

She was starting to get impatient, considering going as far and kicking his freshly healed bruise if it meant being able to put him into the bed and maybe tie to the bed frame, not for the reason she wanted, but definitely for the reason that was needed to prevent him from getting out.

“Listen, what do I have to do to make you get some rest?”

“Get rid of the entire crime in the city and place me in the reality where everything is full of sunshine and rainbows and people are safe.” He responded, without missing a beat, becoming serious.

How could one ever argue with such logic? It wasn’t like she didn’t have heart nor like she was blind to the situation of habitants, the violence and everything around it.  Feeling helpless more often than not, worrying about the state of the world and people in it.

“I swear to you, I am feeling absolutely fine.” One finger landed under her chin, lifting her eyes up on him. “I can do it, come on, you know I can do it. “

“I don’t like it…”

“I am very aware you don’t like it.”

“I hate how you can convince me to follow through your stupid ideas.”

“God-given gift.”

“This is not a God-given gift. It’s the effect of years of playing around and fooling everyone with those innocent blue eyes. Even Batman for god’s sake. What are you – no! – no! stop looking at me like that!

***

It was a surprisingly quiet night, one that doesn’t happen often and yet brings some sort of fear into the heart of people.

Almost as if expecting a calm before the storm.

And it made Gotham’s vigilantes far more careful and observant.

Only that they couldn’t possibly expect the hit that was coming for everyone.

“Achooo!”

***

“Y/N….” a weak voice, reminding her a little of Dick’s timbre, only more muffled and  stuffed.

“Dick? Dick, oh my god, what happened?!” In a second, she was on her feet, eyes running up and down his body, searching for cuts, bruises, bullet holes, bleeding and whatever other type of injury he might have had sustained during patrol.

“I think I’m sick…” He stuttered as if the runny nose, pale face and reddened eyes weren’t enough of a giveaway.

“huh! You think? Who would have guessed, right?”

“I don’t feel so well….” His shoulders sagged and anyone else might have fallen for the little exaggerated act.

“Is this the moment when I said I told you so?”

“You’re being mean. I’m suffering here.”

“You wouldn’t be suffering if-“

“I get it! I get it! You were right, I admit it, are you happy now? Can I just go and rest in peace?”

“No.”

“No? Y/N, come on-“

“I am not happy and you can’t just go and rest in peace, god damn your stupid choice of words. Do you really think I am enjoying seeing my boyfriend all mopey and miserable? I am not that heartless.”

“Does it mean, you’re going to make me a chicken soup?” he looked at her with begging eyes.

“Yeah, I’ll make you the chicken soup.”

“Thank you….”

“Now come on, let’s get you to bed.”

Dick was suddenly far less playful and teasing than usual, leaning on her as she guided him to the bedroom and helped get into the sheets, pulling covers up to his chin and brushing hair out of his forehead placing a little soft kiss on his burning skin.

***

“YYYYY/NNNNN!”

“I’m coming!”

“YYYYYYYY/NNNNN!”

“What is it?!” she busted through the bedroom door, madness in her eyes, half-expecting Dick to be suffocating or fevering with the life-threatening temperature.

“I can’t reach the water….”

“You can’t- you can’t what?”

She should have known better.

He was calling her from downstairs because it turned out to be impossible for him to reach for the glass standing about three inches from him.

Oh dear lord.

“Here.”

“Thank you…. You’re so good to me.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“The only one standing by me in the time of challenge…”

She rolled eyes, making her this-will-pass-I-just-have-to-be-patient face, observing him carefully. This was far more ironic considering the fact that merely a few hours earier he was all fine, ready to beat asses and bubbling with energy and now it was a life-threatening situation.

“And while you’re here, could you fix my pillows?”

“Sure, sure, I’ll fix your pillows.”

She leaned over him fluffing the cushions that were probably the fluffiest one on earth.

“Thank you…” he grabbed her hand, brushing fingers over hers in a tender gesture. Playing her like a doll, and leaving her absolutely helpless against it.

“Sure…”

“Is the soup ready? It smells really nice in the house…”

“I think a few more minutes and –“

“Please…?”

“Dick, seriously, I can’t feed you with half-boiled meat—”

“But I’m hungry… and cold and ….”

“You’ll get Salmonella!”

“I want a cookie….” He hummed putting on the most vulnerable, weak tone

“You want sweets? But sugar is not a sickness food. You need vitamins and – “

“I’m sick, Y/n! I’m suffering! I want a chocolate chip cookie!”

“Right. Maybe I’ll just put it inside your chicken broth?” she half-mocked, discreetly placing a palm on his forehead to check how bad the fever was, since it came close to raving.

“Could you do that?”

Holy shit…

“Yeah… yeah, right, I’ll be right back, ok? Just – just wait here, Dick. Don’t go anywhere, ok?”

Groaning internally, she swiftly moved out of the bedroom, closing the door and reaching for the phone.

“Alfred?”

“Miss Y/N? How nice to hear from you.”

“Alfred, I am in desperate need for your help-“

***

“Yyyyyy/nnnnnnn!”

“Oh for the love of-! I’m coming!”

“Yyyyyyyy/nnnnnnnn!”

“What is it now!?”

“Someone is at the door….”

“Ugh!”

It was getting worse by the minute. Now he was calling out to her, making her rush the stairs, only to find out it was about someone’s unexpected visit and knocking happening downstairs.

“I think you should open it-“

“You think?” the amount of strength she had to put into biting her tongue and not lashing her sarcasm and annoyance on that poor, suffering, self-absorbed, dramatic, soul. “You’re so smart.”

Dick grinned, not catching up on the bitterness of her words, clearly proud of himself.

The knocking repeated and Y/N was on the thin line of pouring all her bad emotions on whoever dared to add to her pile of problems with sick boyfriend but it turned out it was the only person who could actually be of help in this messed up situation.

“Alfred!”

“Good evening, miss Y/N.”

“Thank you for coming but why – “

“Because I’m aware of Master Dick martyrdom tendencies when his organism is working against him.”

“Right. Please tell me, you also have a few solutions, cause I think I’m about to pull Daenerys Targaryen on him….”

“You mean the one when she –“

“Yes. Yes, the exact one.”

“Now, we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

***

When they entered the bedroom together, Dick was on a zoom call with everyone he could reach on such short notice.

How he found strength to get a laptop from the desk, retrieve charger, plug in and start talking and talking and talking while it was too much to cover with a blanket earlier was forever to be a mystery.

“Guys! I’m sick! I’m on bed rest. And I am so lonely, deprived of the contact with-“

“Ahem!”

“Oh, it’s Y/N, everyone!” Dick turned the computer so she could see half of the Young Justice and at least three members of The Justice League on the screen. “Say hi, babe.”

“Um… hi…” she stuttered, because obviously it was normal to wave hands at Superman and Wonder Woman while being hardly accustomed to dealing with Batman on a regular basis. 

“He’s not alone, I swear I am taking care of him and – “ the justification was a poor attempt at making sure the heroes and heroines won’t be at their door in the next ten minutes, demanding explanation and babying Dick, by – for example – serving him chocolate chip chicken soup cookie.

“Oh, thank god, Alfred is here. Now, I’m saved. Thank you all for listening to me, I’ll reach out next time when –“

Click.

The laptop was shut, carefully but firmly, not by Y/N, but Alfred.

“Master Dick.”

“Alfred…” he hummed in a soft, quiet voice, the same way he used to do when being twelve. 

Hence, to sum up the whole dick-is-sick-and-making-it-everyone’s-problem situation, Y/N was left with one pro and one con.

 Pro: Alfred relieved her of her nurse duties, at least for a while.

Con: It was just a matter of time before she was about to be investigated and background-checked by at least a dozen of Dick’s super friends, making sure she was truly good enough for their golden boy.

As if her confidence wasn’t already suffering enough….

[msfantasy-comics]

The Perfect Match

Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: A head cannon on how Y/n is the perfect match for Jason.

Warning: this contains references to heavy topics, so if you are easily trigged, then please read at your discretion.

Masterlist - Tip Jar

Jason is one of the most complex people.

His life experience has set him up for some incredible challenges.

By the grace of god for everything that is good, you walked in and made him whole.

You were, Jason’s perfect match.

Understanding and Reliant

Jason has had an incredibly traumatic past, the death of his father and loving step-mother, becoming homeless, feeling rejected by his adoptive family, having his birth mother sacrifice him, being killed by the Joker… seriously… what HASN’T this poor man been through?

With that, Jason needs a partner who can at least, understand that he has a lot of pain to bare, and that Jason had his own unique way in processing that trauma.

Dick: “He tried to force Bruce into killing the Joker.”

Y/n: “Was it wrong of him to get someone else to do his dirty work? Yes, absolutely, however, the Joker did kill him and his mother… need I say more?”

Damian: “He kills criminals- not turning them into Arkham as we are required to.”

Y/n: “Firstly… hypocrisy. Secondly, Arkham is fundamentally broken and objectively not effective as we have established numerous times. Jason has found a permanent solution to criminals who hurt without cause or resolution.”

Tim: “You’re literally excusing his actions.”

Y/n: “I’m not saying I agree with everything Jason has done, but I can understand why Jason has done what he did and why he thinks that way. Agreeing and understanding are completely different words.”

Jason sitting smuggly with his arms crossed.

Jason: “Yeah! Tell them off babe.”

Jason at times feels like you’re the only person who understands him.

But even more so, Jason loves that you defend him in front of others with unwavering support.

But in private you reason with him gently.

Y/n: “Baby, I see why you feel Bruce should’ve avenged your death, but it’s just not part of his philosophies, punishing him for someone else’s crime wasn’t fair… you really should apologise for torturing him, I truely believe Bruce was doing what he thought was best.”

Jason: “… I’ll think about it.”

Loyalty

Jason has severe abandonment issues.

His father and step-mother dying in quick succession, with no extended family willing to take him in.

Meeting his bio-mother, who bargained her own life in exchange for Jason’s. Which Jason graciously accepted despite how undeserving it was.

Bruce ‘replacing’ him quickly after with Tim.

Bruce not avenging his death with the Joker.

Jason was constantly making sacrifices for others and as far as he was concerned

No one returned the favour.

So Jason really values loyalty to the highest degree.

As he believes it’s a rare trait.

Your unwavering love and support is everything Jason could’ve asked for and more.

However…

Jason: “Would you leave me if I ever cheat on you.”

Y/n: “Yes, absolutely.”

Jason: 😲

Y/n: 😐

Communication Skills

Jason, is generally, horrible at communicating his feelings and needs.

His feelings are expressed through action. Not words.

This can often be frustrating but this just means you have to come up with creative ways in which Jason can express himself.

Jason: “Fuck, fuck, fuck everything is fucked!”

Y/n: “Common grumpy pants, let’s go for a drive.”

You’ll often drive Jason to scenic places and you’ll both wonder around in silence before you take him home snuggle up and just watch a movie.

You do all the right things without being asked.

You know what he’s trying to say without him saying a word.

You know that the last thing Jason needs, is to explain himself.

All he needs is reassurance.

Which you do perfectly.

Supportive in his Endeavours

Jason has a … unique take on justice.

He is the lawyer, judge and executioner.

If he finds a criminal guilty of a heinous crime and said criminal is not sorry.

Then that criminal is typically never heard from again.

Whilst you may or may not agree, you both have a burning passion for the betterment of your community.

Don’t forget you both call Gotham your home.

Jason just loves how passionate you are at making the city better for everyone.

His focus is on cleaning up the crime whilst yours is to build a better foundation to better your community and home.

Jason loves that you hold the same values as his own.

[pathofcomets]

i just want to hold the flame

fandom: love and deepspace pairing: sylus/you (2nd POV) summary: you get hurt. sylus thinks it's his fault. (3.3k words, rated E.)

He surely can’t make the shot, you think. Not when this close, not before the gun held to your head unloads. He may be Sylus, but he’s not a god.

You try to meet his eyes, not even listening to the attempts at negotiating. You know better, there’s nothing left for the future but a blood bath, and you wonder how the criminals around you can’t tell from Sylus’s stance alone. Hand secure, not even a tremble in his fingers, even as they’re threatening the supposed one person he holds most treasured. 

You knew days into knowing him that this moment would come, when your happiness will be used as a weakness, when his enemies will try to reach him through you. You were ready, and yet - so easily overpowered, when jumped in the dark by one too many. 

There’s thousands of eyes in the N109 Zone, most belonging to their leader. You knew all you had to do was last long enough for him to arrive. You didn’t know that won’t be enough for Sylus himself.

He surely can’t make the shot, you think.

So when voices grow around you, Sylus’s eyes meet yours for just a fraction. You try to tell him everything in that just one, small moment. That it’s not his fault. That given the choice, you’d do nothing different. That you love him.

The sound is deafening, and yet something in you must trust him more than you even realised, because you didn’t even flinch. When the grip around your throat loosens, you throw away the arm around your body, the weight easily falling to the ground. You’re gasping, chest heaving as if you’ve just run a marathon, looking down at the man Sylus just killed for you.

And then you kick into the soft belly of his stomach, just to make sure. Then once more, though the shot was a perfect bullseye on his forehead, so there’s no way he’s still alive. Once again, harder than before, putting your entire strength in the movement, without realising that you’re sobbing, fat tears lining your face.

Sylus watches, too terrified to touch you, too terrified not to.

His hand is tentative, barely even there, but you fall onto him like you’ve known him throughout entire lives. 

***

He can hear the broken sobs leaving your lips as the hot shower hits beaten and cut skin and he wants to kill himself, for failing so utterly at protecting you. He won’t voice it, knowing you kind enough to disagree. But Sylus can’t pass the mirror in the hallway without throwing a punch in it, only his shortcomings staring back. He can’t take it, not when you’re crying in the shower, just a thin wall separating you, and even so he hopes you can’t hear the house, and him, falling apart.

It hurts, but only because you are alive. You’re upset, because you weren’t good enough, because Sylus has to be the one to carry that moment, and what it means, on his own. You’re angry, that anyone would dare make him that choice, that anyone would decide to use his heart as a weapon instead.

It hurts, on his behalf. It hurts anew when, fresh out of the shower, wearing just your underwear and a sports bra, the sight that welcomes you is Sylus putting together a med station next to the couch. How he tries to repair what he never broke, starting from your heart to these wounds just now. How much you can love him for it.

“Come here,” he says, but he does not touch you, instead taking an inventory of your cuts and scrapes.

You’ve had worse. You’ve had him patch up worse, but those were always wounds of your own making, where he could chide you for recklessness and hero complex while softly tending to you. This, you know, he won’t be able to blame on anyone else but himself. What a soft, big-hearted idiot. 

He helps you in silence, and you bite your lips each time the alcohol stings against a particularly ugly gash, not wanting this to be another reminder for him. His touch is so gentle, and when every little wound is disinfected and covered in gauze, it’s not even that bad.

You look at Sylus’s knuckles, those bruised and bleeding as well, and you let him catch you. Knowledge out in the open, because you want to do something about it, not let the guilt fester like rot between you. 

You stand up, turning around to smile at him. There’s a mild confusion growing on his face, which turns into hurt as you settle into his lap. 

“No,” he says, decisive, moving to already push you away.

“Hands off,” you reply, these your first words since arriving, and said in such a tone that he can’t help but listen to you, body listening before the brain has time to catch up. “And keep them like that.”

You search his eyes, finding no resistance, nodding and waiting until he nods back, knowing that he understands you’ll stop whenever he wants to. Knowing that he needs this more than you need rest. And for once, instead of Sylus making all the decisions, having to think of others first, you’re freeing him of that pressure. You’re in charge now, and him the only one who needs to be the focus: of love, of care, of pleasure.

You start a trail of kisses, starting from his cheek, the slightly there stubble coarse against your lips. Moving across his neck, stopping to lick and bite until he swallows a groan, feeling him grow under you. Hands making quick work of his shirt, settling on teasing at his nipples until his hips jump at a particularly harsh tug. 

You slap him across the face.

He pants, turning to meet your eyes.

“Just take it, my sweet boy,” you coo, palm now soothing the reddening skin. 

He looks so pretty. There’s a fire in his eyes, the knowledge that he doesn’t deserve this the easy way, and you grin as you unbuckle his belt. Sometimes love needs to be beaten into you. Sometimes, love needs to be beaten into him.

You find him hard, as you free his cock from the confines of his underwear, trousers just tugged out of the way. You press your thumb, hard, against the tip.

“So hard already?” you hum, rubbing circles into his tip as he bites his lip, body shivering as he’s fighting the impulse to move, chase your touch, reach for more. “Want to cum?”

He shakes his head, fiercely.

“No,” he says, and he looks at you like a man forced to walk towards his execution, as you press his cock down, shifting forward so you can sit yourself on top of it. Fuck, he can feel how wet you are, through your underwear. “I don’t deserve to.”

You tut, grinding your hips. He closes his eyes, and you follow suit, lost in the feel, the hardness of him as you move your cunt across his cock, until his tip touches your clit. You moan, fingers digging into his scalp, rubbing yourself onto his tip, pressing your clit harder against his bulge. If he needs to feel like he deserves this, then you’ll give it to him.

Without caring about his comfort at all, you start moving. Back and forth, seeking more of that touch against your clit, and you force yourself to take in all his little gasps and hisses, the twitch of his fingers next to your calves, hands hung in the air, as he remembers at the last moment that he’s not supposed to touch you.

It makes you feel heedy, drunk with the wonder of having the most wonderful man you know falling apart under you, reduced to nothing but your fuck toy. You moan, hips slipping, the tip of his cock teasing at your entrance through the underwear, pushing at the soaked material. You heave, ass pushing further down, reaching for more, and Sylus swears as he feels your pussy stretching, just the tiny bit to allow for the intrusion.

He turns his head, going after your mouth like a thirsty man after water in a desert. You press against his lips with a force that tells of your frustration, as your hips move quicker and quicker. You swallow his moan as you press into him, harder than you’ve done, feeling his dick twitch between your legs. He seeks your tongue with his, and you let him, his tongue fucking into your mouth as you ride his hard cock through your underwear, the orgasm building and building, until you come, body stiffening over him, shivers down your back. He bites down onto your lower hip, so hard you can feel the metallic taste of blood on your tongue, and when you shove at his shoulder, pushing him apart, there’s a string of saliva connecting your mouths as he grins up at you.

Your hair is stuck to your forehead with sweat, and you lick your lips. You bring a hand up, grasping his chin in a hold you purposefully try not to make tender.

“What are you being such a brat for?” you demand, tone firm but lazy with your orgasm. “Getting bored?”

He shakes his head, a bit too desperate to please, and you smile, humming.

“Then? Use that pretty mouth of yours to tell me what you want,” you say, pleasant and ready to give, even in this position, just because you do love him so damn much.

“Please,” he huffs, tip leaking with precum, chest heaving with the strain, heart hurting with how badly he wants to touch you, how grateful he is to you for not allowing him to. “At least the tip. Please, let me put it in.”

You chuckle, hand lifting to grip into his hair. You tug, forcing him to meet your eyes. He’s lost, searching for something you gave him from the beginning, you’re just helping him realise it right now. He’s seeking forgiveness, bodies ready to talk before brains, and if that’s what Sylus needs, then that’s what Sylus gets. 

Your other hand grabs one of his, slowly guiding it between your legs. He’s careful, afraid this is just a trap, giving just to take away, but when you tug your underwear to the side, and gesture for him to hold it in place, he knows you have much worse in mind: giving him anything he asks for.

You shift, just the tiniest bit, using your recently empty hand to grap at his cock, give it a few strokes that have his eyes roll to the back of his head. Then, you guide him between your folds. Few taps first, letting him feel how wet you truly are, your pussy puffy and swollen with need, before slowly guiding him inside you.

Just the tip, and you roll your hips above him, the tug combined with the squeeze of your cunt already almost too much. Your hand moves, just a tiny bit, to grasp at the base of his dick, hard.

His body shudders, a loud exhale on his lips as the sharp pain brings a level of clarity. You’re not even taking anything more but an inch of him, there’s so much else you can claim before you’re even close to satisfied, and despite the pathetic whimper building in his throat as you lift off him, just to have him enter you again, just the tantalising feel of his tip inside you, as he’s fucking asked, you ignore him.

He moans, your hips picking up pace as you’re fucking onto him in earnest. His veins are straining at his neck, as he’s trying not to meet your rhythm with movement of his own, sweat gathering at his forehead as he feels your thighs trembling around him. 

You’re taking him so easily, so wet and warm that he just slides right in and out of you, and he knows you’d be ready to take him all the way in, refusing simply because he is withholding it to himself. You squeeze tighter when his tip brushes against your clit, directing his cock to rub against you, your juices already acting as all the lubrication you need. The friction builds another orgasm within you, which crashes into you like a wave when Sylus bites into your shoulder.

You cannot even savour it, because it’s immediately followed by the sound of your underwear ripping, Sylus’s tug a bit too forceful. 

You chuckle, darkly, under your breath. He lifts his head, an apology on his lip, though he does not get to say it before you slap him again, on his opposite cheek. He can feel your cunt trembling right against his cock, and he is leaking with precum, red and hot. 

“You absolute beast,” you sigh, with amused disappointment. “Want to just rut into me, consequences be damned? Can’t even last long enough for me to have two fucking orgasms?”

He moans, as you tap your palm against his cheek, accentuating each one of your words, trying to find your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he blabbers, as he pulls at your tattered underwear, lets his palm rest, heavy, on your hip. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” as he lifts his hip, enough to nestle his cock inside you.

He goes all in in one smooth movement, and you moan, body arching at the fullness of it, chest pressed against his.

“At least fuck me like you mean it, darling,” you say against his lips, and you go in for a kiss, just to bite your teeth down onto his lip, a matching mark to the one he offered you.

His hand grabs onto your shoulder, shoving you down onto his dick as he snaps his hips up, in and out of you, the sound of skin slapping against skin loud, mixed with your panting, hot breathes. 

“Yes,” you hiss, nails digging harder into his shoulder, and Sylus’s hips stutter, feeling your cunt tightening around him. “You’re stretching me so well, Sylus. Who else can make me feel this good?” you ask, a hint of danger in your tone, as his hand shifts, fingers tightening, just slightly, around your neck.

His other hand slides between your bodies, nestling next to his cock at your entrance. It’s a stretch that has you in a silent moan, mouth open wide, as he teases one finger inside you too. You’re going dumb with how feel it fucking feels, accompanied by a delicious burn that turns into stupid pleasure as he bends it inside you, pressing against your walls. You gasp when he pulls it out, trembling all over when he presses the now wet, coated finger against your clit with a fierce pressure, hips resuming their rhythm as he fucks into you, your body bouncing on his cock as you’re trying to keep up, despite your muscles screaming at you.

“No one,” you whisper the answer, with the tilt of a smile in your voice, and Sylus knows this is it, his penance finally done. He snaps into action.

You’re rolled onto your back on the couch in one smooth move, his cock still nestled inside you, a moan escaping you, happily, as he settles to the hilt in a new position, where you can feel him even deeper. You can feel the full blast of his gaze upon you, too many emotions to name swimming in his eyes.

You squeeze your pussy around him, and they’re all overtaken by the basest one: lust.

 He keeps the pressure of his palm upon your chest, fingers like ghost against your throat as he fucks into you. You smile, useless and happy to be so, used for him to spill your frustration into you. 

“Won’t,” he puffs, his other hand so tight around your thigh, pushing you open, wider still,“last much longer.”

He groans, stilling inside you, trying to reclaim some form of control. He tries not to look at you, unable to hold himself back though, saliva pooling at one corner of your mouth as your cunt continues to coat his dick in your cum.

“Where do you want me?” he asks, resuming his fucking at a much gentler, maddening pace, having you whine under him.

“Inside, please,” you say, eyes turned desperate, maybe some comfort that you need as well after tonight’s encounter, this the truest way to mark you still as his. His palm hovers across your body, settling at your navel where his cock is nestled inside you, and he chuckles.

He rolls his hips, and you close your eyes at the sensation. He won’t let you go this easily. He wants one more orgasm out of you. His body leans over yours, mouth meeting one of your puckered nipples. He licks, sucks - and upon one harsh snap of his hip, bites. You moan, back arching, pushing your boob against his mouth as he continues his ministrations. The other hand he moves to press fast, harsh circles against your clit, and you come pathetically quick.

He fucks you through your orgasm, your vision gone black at the edges as you go limp beneath him. He has to hold onto your hips to continue fucking into you, but he’s not far behind you, not with how you’re squeezing around him, pulsing tightness.

You can feel his cum filling you up, and your fingers blindly grab at his behind, squeezing his ass, demanding it all, moaning all over at the feel of it.

He falls onto his elbows, his body engulfing yours, breathing harshly, and you turn to press a kiss against his temple.

“It was not your fault,” you whisper, accompanied by another kiss, Sylus’s entire body shivering at the words. “You’re the one who saved me.”

He pulls away from you, from inside you with less gentleness than normal. You sigh at the loss, feeling his cum dripping down your thighs, making a mess under you. He sits next to you, still trying to catch his breath as he pushes his hair away from his face, eyes closed.

He says nothing, though he can tell from the press of your feet on the floor that the conversation isn’t over.

Your touch is tender, the warm water rag against his dick, wiping your combined juices from his crotch. He hisses, giving no other reaction. He does stop you before you go away, catching your arm. 

 He refuses to meet your eye, though his body turns, just a tiny bit towards you - a small win, but still a win.

“I shouldn’t have had to save you.”

You let the rag drop on the floor, turning to settle your bottom on one of Sylus’s knees, his arms coming up to embrace you, your hands cupping his reddened cheeks. 

“Listen to me,” you say, tone harsh, refusing to give way in your hold until he meets your eyes. “I’d be in danger regardless.”

You let the words land, you allow him the time to comprehend all that you mean by them: from the beginning, you’d have ended up dead ten thousand times without him. It comes with the job description, with the personality type, with why he loves you. And under all that, the simplest truth you know: the only reason why you’re still here is Sylus.

You see him understand, comprehend. That you mean it entirely, that just because that is the case, doesn’t mean you see him as less for not getting to you earlier today, that you don’t expect him to be unfailable. 

“I’m sorry I made you worry,” you land on, softer, and Sylus’s expression breaks all over again.

His hand come up to cup yours, a tender but possessive touch.

You’ll rest tonight. But tomorrow, tomorrow he’ll burn them all to the ground, leaving your picture as a visiting card. 

[liketolaugh-writes]

Re: the Fenton Parents-

The thing is, it's not abusive to be just... sort of okay at parenting. It is not abusive to be unable to stop your kid from behaving erratically, to not be able to figure out what's wrong, to not be able to stop your kid from lying to you and sneaking out of the house. They tried! They spend several episodes trying, which is, frankly, a lot of screentime for a 45-episode series (movies excluded)! They just were never able to figure out what was wrong.

(If you're curious: S1E7, S1E17, S2E9, and S3E3 all center around plotlines where the Fenton parents make an active effort to connect with their kids... and that's leaving out episodes where it's merely a major element and not half the plot.)

(It's also not neglectful to assume that a man showing an inappropriate interest in a married adult woman is probably not inappropriately interested in a teenage boy, especially when Danny hasn't said anything. That would frankly be a really weird assumption to make, and it only seems obvious to us because... we already know.)

You can say that they never showed the Fentons taking Danny to the hospital after his accident... but we also aren't shown that they didn't do that. We know nothing about the immediate aftermath of the accident. Stupid Desiree reality-warp episode aside.

It never said that they knew about Danny's accident... it also never said that they didn't. (Personally, I think that it would be super out of character for Jazz to know and not tell them, regardless of whether or not they're neglectful? Jazz, like Danny, has faith in them.)

You can say that we didn't see how the Fentons fed their kids when the food in the house was contaminated... but we also never heard that they didn't do that. There was not a word about missing meals, not even from Jazz.

Do I think the Fentons were abusive?

The simple answer: yes!

The complex answer: But not in any of the ways I usually see depicted.

The thing is- the thing is, I think that the only thing the Fentons did that was genuinely abusive - not just a mistake, not just they could have done better - is their godawful lab safety. That is where they knew better, knew what they were doing was wrong, and did it anyway. The house wasn't safe and that was entirely on them, and danger on that level is criminally neglectful.

But that's a very unusual profile. It's not that they didn't care enough about their kids. It's not that they didn't pay attention to their children, or that they prioritized their work over their family, or that they neglect their responsibilities. (For God's sake, they go to multiple parent-teacher conferences! Jack chaperoned a dance he didn't remember agreeing to attend! Maddie woke up in the middle of the night, not yet knowing there were ghosts around, and immediately went to find Danny!)

They were just, quite literally, criminally irresponsible, which is a different breed of family trauma altogether.

Now, Danny definitely experienced domestic violence. Was Danny physically abused? Absolutely. But because of identity shenanigans, 'was Danny physically abused?' and 'are the Fentons physically abusive?' are two very different questions. 'Was Danny physically abused?' is about Danny's childhood and the trauma he gained from it; 'are the Fentons physically abusive?' is a statement about their personalities. And this extends out to all of the other ways they failed Danny because they never knew about his ghost half.

Did Danny experience that trauma? Yes. Would the Fentons ever knowingly do those things to their child? No. (This contrast causes Danny a lot of stress.)

Of course, a lot of this is still rooted in headcanon, and other interpretations are equally valid! Just as it's never shown that they didn't make sure their kids got every meal, it's also never shown that they did. Just because it's never said that their kids couldn't catch their parents' attention when they needed help, doesn't mean that they could. But I wanted to get my thoughts down, since it's a fairly significant divergence from most of the standard interpretations.

[erinfern0]

cutting the cord

spencer reid x explosives specialist!gn!reader

— gender-neutral nicknames, gender-neutral anatomy, only pronouns used are you, they, etc.

summary: the team struggles with a group who planned to plant a bomb in a town hall to spread awareness of their cause. as the only technicians available in the area are busy with another emergency, Spencer finds himself calling you, the closest off-duty technician he knew, despite how much he hates the idea.

warnings: emotional, angst(?), some swearing, love confession, and obviously stress, anxiety and fear for your life, etc. cliffhanger

a/n: this was highly inspired by episode 'hero worship' from season 10 of Criminal Minds. I haven't written anything besides smut for such a long time I wanted to give something like this a try. Itt's also over like 2,5k words long--- (I'm so sorry i don't even know how i wrote it)

Doomsday Prophets - The group they were tracking started off small, with a bunch of troubled, unsupervised teenagers led by their online guru, who believed the system was too flawed to even try to repair it. They spent their first months spreading their agenda with countless flayers and graffiti murals all over the most popular places in the city. No one knew his real name, just the internet alias of doomsking130. Even the great Garcia couldn't track him in time before one of his sidekicks got brutally beaten for trying to leave.

Countless informants, and hours spent in interrogation rooms with lower-ranked members and the injured boy, lead them to the leader struggling with psychosis and an overwhelming god complex. He believed the only way to get people's attention was to set a bomb in a nearby town hall in the early morning hours, showing even the government can't protect people from the truth, at least that's what the team thought.

He never even thought there might be security guards waiting for him, informed about his plans by the FBI. As soon as they saw him entering the building via security cameras, they called no other than SSA Hotchner, who had warned them earlier that something like this might happen soon. His team quickly moved into action, hoping they could stop him before he set up the bomb, just to avoid getting help from Bomb Techs.

“Dave, you and I go from the staff-only entry on the left, Morgan and Jareau take the right window, the security guard who called left it open,” said Agent Hotchner, pointing the right directions to his team, watching them split. “Reid and Callahan, you enter the front and look for any worker left in the building.”

Everyone nodded in understanding, splitting and running to their destinations with their guns in their hands. Dr. Reid could feel a tiny drop of sweat running down his brow as he pointed another person toward the front door. People ran away in fear but kept their mouths closed not to alarm the criminals' leader.

Some time passed, leading the team to the building's basement, where the leader set up his life's biggest achievement. A small-looking detonator, connected to two canisters of gasoline, was set next to the power outlet. The arrest was quick, he didn't try any games or to run away, he simply allowed Agent Rossi to cuff him, because the damage was done.

Or was about to be done.

The bomb was already set, giving the team one and a half hours to deal with it as the unsub refused to help. He screamed about how the government tries to control the youngest of all to be their mindless little soldiers. How the system was set to manipulate the youth into dying for the country that didn't care about them. He laughed as Agent Morgan inspected the bomb from a distance.

“Y'all are a part of their games, agents,” he spat as agent Rossi guided him to the door. “All I spread is the truth, you're just too blind to see them using you. My kids won't stop opening people's eyes, even when you take me away! The Doomsday will come as they realize they'd been lied to...”

“Aren't you even worse?” Asked Morgan, crossing his arms with a displeased look on his face.

"How so?" Asked the man, suspiciously calm and smug as he raised his head proudly.

"Well, technically speaking even if what you're saying is true, the government uses us to help other people who can't protect themselves from people like you," said Reid, staring at the man as if he were trying to look at his soul. "You on the other hand pressure troubled teens into doing your dirty work to feed your ever-growing god complex, which almost led one of them to death."

The unsub seemed to be confused, that little frown on his brows, mindlessly staring into the wall behind Dr. Reid as he parted his lips as if he was about to speak.

"Seems like you used up your limit," taunted Callahan, smirking at him as he opened his mouth again.

He started trashing his arms around in Rossi's grip, spitting something out in some Slavic language they couldn't understand.

“That's enough,” murmured Rossi, tightening his grip and taking the criminal outside, leading him to the car parked in front of the building alongside Callahan.

“I'll call the Techs,” said Hotchner, heading outside to get his phone.

Some minutes later he came back with his arms crossed and that strange, disappointed look.

"And?" Asked Morgan, looking around the room, kneeling beside the bomb, and inspecting it closer.

"They might or may not be here in an hour, there was another emergency, supposedly done by the Dooms Prophets," said Agent Hotchner, looking at all of his people who stayed inside.

"He planned this better than we thought," whispered Jennifer, looking at him with concern. "The kids must have lied..."

"Or he didn't trust all of them, the ones we got to speak with were younger, less devoted. He wouldn't trust them with that information," added Reid, standing beside Morgan.

"Yeah, but if he really treated them like prophets for the close-minded folks, he wouldn't change his mind from a long-lasting plan to something so quick," murmured Derek, looking up at his teammates.

"This was his plan all along, he knew he'd be caught. He just hoped his Prophets would continue his work without him," Reid chimed in, looking around to only see his teammates confused faces. "His nickname was 'doomsking130'… The bomb was set to an hour and a half," he added, looking at his watch, then the device. "I think the attack and the emergency wasn't his idea, it's his followers who tried to continue his work on their own."

They all stared at one another, nodding in agreement while processing his words, following up on the idea of their Boy Genius.

Morgan turned his head slightly to look at the messy-haired doctor. "This shit is too complicated, nothin' I've seen yet, this guy is a smart one," he whispered, shaking his head softly. "I can't deal with this... I'm sorry."

"Not your fault, Derek. We'll wait for the Techs," assured Hotchner, patting his agent's back as he stood up away from the bomb.

"There is no time," said Jareau, turning her head to her team. "You said they 'may or may not' be here in an hour, and we already lost a few minutes, they might be too late."

The atmosphere in the room felt heavier as Agent Rossi came back to the room, saying he got the local police to drag the leader to the station, while Kate called her family to inform them she'd be late. He felt as disappointed and worried as everyone, making sure to keep the pregnant agent safe, away from the building as the rest searched for a solution for a few more minutes.

"Reid," started Morgan, turning to face his friend. "Doesn't your lovebird know how to deal with those?"

"Um, yeah, they worked in the bomb disposal department, but decided to take a break from this a while back," he answered, already frowning his brows at the dreadful idea.

"Would they be able to disarm it?" joined Hotchner, crossing his arms as he listened.

"I think so..." he said unsurely, his hands shaking slightly at scenarios running through his head. "It wouldn't be exactly legal to bring them here, just for your information."

"Would be quicker than the actual technicians," noticed Jareau, looking at Spencer with a soft, understanding look on her face. She knew exactly how much it had to scare him, but like everyone else — she couldn't see another way.

"If they don't feel like doing it, we'll just have to wait for the Bomb Techs, as a civilian now, they shouldn't feel pressured into risking so much," reminded Hotchner, looking at Dr. Reid with a glimpse of sympathy.

"But saving some time would be nice," said Morgan unapologetically, moving closer to Reid. "They live only a few blocks away, local police could escort them and secure the area."

Jennifer came up to Spencer, slowly wrapping an arm around him, soothing his tense muscles. She saw the distress in his eyes, but just like the doctor, she didn't like the idea.

"I'll call," decided Spencer, closing his eyes to calm down. "They live around eight minutes away from here, but-"

"It's up to them," assured Hotchner, nodding his head in understanding. "I'll make some calls, to make sure they won't get into any trouble if they decide to come."

Getting a call from Spencer so early in the morning was usual, so you left your book on the side of the couch, paying your full attention to his words. He spoke quickly, almost too quickly as he tried to summarize everything in the shortest amount of time possible, making it hard for you to interrupt him. Just the tiredness and distress in his voice made you melt, gathering your kit before he could even finish his ramble.

You didn't hesitate, jumping into the police car he talked about that escorted you right to the town hall, passing the barrier blocks and reporters who tried to talk to you. You covered your face with your hood, knowing too well not to talk to them, especially that you weren't there exactly legally. Passing agents Rossi and Callahan, you waved at them, getting polite nods as they watched you disappear into the building.

You walked as quickly as possible, guided by the deputy that drove you there. Something felt different, deep inside of you as you ran downstairs to the basement. It wasn't the first time you got an urgent call to help disarm a bomb, that was your entire life for the past few years, but just reminding yourself of Spencer's voice made your heart beat a little faster.

"SSA Aaron Hotchner," said the tall man who stood in the middle of the room, nodding his head as he shook your hand. He was the only member of the team you didn't have the chance to meet. You introduced yourself. Just hearing your own specialist title fall from your lips felt so distant as you were on a break for the past few months.

You nodded to everyone, only locking eyes with Spencer, who got closer as if just his presence was meant to protect you. "Agent Hotchner," you started, looking away from your boyfriend to kneel beside the device, opening your kit of tools in a hurry. "Evacuate the building and the area, I'll do my best but with devices like this..."

"I understand," he assured, letting Morgan and Jareau leave the room. There was only one more person who didn't budge beside him. "Reid?"

You looked to your side, watching Spencer shake his head and roll his sleeves up. "I'd like to stay," he said as if it was nothing, not even looking at his superior.

"It's your call," said Hotchner, looking at him with worry, but he left the basement. You knew if you weren't so important to Spencer he'd never allow this kind of behavior, but you could feel your blood boil at just the idea of him staying.

"Leave," you said simply, knowing how dangerous it was for him. At that moment, you didn't even care for yourself, you've done this a million times, but risking his life...

"Not a chance," he replied, reaching for your flashlight to help you. You could see the way his hands started shaking then he lifted it and it started to break your heart.

"You can't do this, Spence," you whispered breathlessly, focusing your eyes on the device. Two detachable components connected only by a few wires, a wide panel to control the bomb was already turned off the moment the time was set and two big canisters of gasoline beside just to make the explosion more dangerous.

"I can and I will," he said firmly, watching your skilled fingers run over the bomb to carefully detach the two parts.

"For fucks sake, Spencer," you sighed, already feeling the way your lip quivered with every word. "I can't promise you anything, I can't do this to you..."

"I'm not leaving," he repeated through gritted teeth, looking up at you from under his messy hair, covering most of his face as he spoke. "And stop trying to convince me otherwise."

You wiped the tears that spilled from your eyes as they followed one wire after another, watching the way they split and connected to find the one to cut. There were way more than in a usual device and just from the look of it, you knew some of them were just decoys, not really connected to any part, not activating anything, just being there to fuck with the mind of the person who dared to try defusing it.

"I can't focus when all I can think of is this killing you," you whispered, your voice breaking with every passing second. "Leave me here, I need to do this alone... I can't risk your life like this. You mean too much not only to me but to your team, your mom, the people who will need the help of an actual genius, so please, just spare me the talking and get out when you still have the chance. It's so selfish to even think..."

His calm and soft voice stopped you in the middle of your monologue. Tears kept falling down your face as you recognized the words he spoke. The stubborn bastard couldn't even fathom the idea of leaving you to this by yourself. Despite how scared he was inside, he kept his cool, reciting one of your favorite books from memory.

You inhaled deeply, feeling yourself growing more steady and calm, your muscles relaxing with every paragraph. Despite biting into your lip harshly, you didn't feel the pain, the tears were gone and the annoyingly fast heartbeat eased.

Spencer kept his eyes glued to your fingers as he took breaths in between each sentence, only glimpsing up a you for a second every time you cut another decoy wire to clear your way to the actual ones.

The time seemed to stop despite the timer showing you almost an hour passed already, leaving you with only a few minutes to neutralize the threat. You wiped your face in your hoodie, getting rid of sweat and tears as you cut through the last decoy, leading you to analyze the actual device.

You caught the cord you thought was the right one with your scissors, swallowing harshly at just the idea of you being wrong. You reached your free hand to the side, mindlessly searching for his. Doing this was not only risking the lives of you and Spencer but potentially unaware people who happened to be close by. Your heart sped up drastically as you made the decision.

Looking up, you saw Spencer who stopped mid-sentence. A look of worry passed through his face as he intertwined your fingers, his other hand resting on the back of your head, soothing you by slowly moving his fingers through your hair.

"Spencer," you whispered breathlessly, a stray tear running down your cheek, leaving him to quickly wipe it off with a soft smile."I love you..."

His smile only grew bigger as looked at you, that familiar sparkle in his eye shining brightly at you. His eyes were teary, but he didn't let any tears spill as he nodded. Those puppy eyes stared at you with the most love you've ever seen.

"I know," he whispered back, his voice cracking as he looked down at your hands.

You felt like the whole world crushed over you as he didn't say those words back, unlike he did a million times before. Your heart sank but you just looked down, brows frowned as you focused not to lose all composure you had left.

For a split second, the basement was filled with eerie silence as you pushed down on the scissors, cutting the cord in half.

masterlist | request info

[tiramisuucakeee]

HOTLINE BLING ★

( reader x yang jungwon )

IN WHICH: on a boring day, jungwon decides to call an unknown number, wanting to prank them. but it backfires.

read more !

‘ hello? ’

‘ hi, is this the young maternity center? ’

‘ no it’s me. keeho stop fucking bothering me ’

‘ who’s keeho? ’

‘ oh ’

‘ hello?! amir, i need you to deliver food immediately, i’m in the ice age. if you get here in under ten minutes, i will give you two dollars tip ’

‘ okay, whoever you are, stop this prank calling, i’m literally not in the mood for this ’

‘ do you not want your tip? ’

‘ goodbye ’

‘ hello bro, i’m travis scott-y, i need 200 dollars to get back to america ’

‘ oh really? how do i know you’re travis scott? ’

‘ fein fein fein fein fein ’

‘ shut up, stop calling me already, oh my god ’

‘ but you literally asked me to — ’

‘ hold on, listen! please don’t hang up on me! ’

‘ what do you want? ’

‘ to say hi, i’m jungwon, what’s your name? ’

‘ nunya ’

‘ nunya…? ’

‘ none of your business ’

‘ it’s four in the morning, what could you possibly want jungwon? ’

‘ …. ’

‘ hello? ’

‘ you remembered my name! — ’

‘ hey, i’m on my way to the east building on campus, giselle, are you sure macro is on class 2-B? ’

‘ now look who’s the one calling me ’

‘ oh, sorry, i got you mixed up with a friend from uni, didn’t realize ’

’ it’s okay, it happens… so, you’re an econ student? ’

‘ yeah, first year ’

‘ cool, cool. me too. well, not econ. i’m in art school. you know, i never got your name… ’

‘ yeah, because you don’t know who i am ’

‘ well, what’s your name? ’

‘ y/n ’

‘ now i know who you are ’

‘ takes more than that ’

‘ so. y/nnie, first year econ student, i have a preposition for you, one that you can’t deny ’

‘ don’t call me that… ’

‘ let me tell you something first ’

‘ what’s that? ’

‘ want to go out for coffee? ’

‘ …. ’

‘ hellooo ’

‘ are you dumb? you’re literally asking a stranger to meet you, what if i’m a criminal or something? you have absolutely no survival instincts ’

‘ so… do you wanna go? ’

‘ you’re paying? ’

‘ of course, i’ll make up for all the prank calls ’

‘ i don’t think anything will make up for that, but okay, maybe just a small part of it ’

‘ great. meet me at your uni’s entrance at 6 ’

‘ how would you know what uni i go to — ’

‘ i have my ways. maybe just a feeling ’

‘ you’re genuinely weird ’

‘ see you later y/nnie ’

‘ you’re impossible ’

‘ did you get back to your dorm safely? ’

‘ yeah, thanks for driving me back to the complex ’

‘ it’s nothing. thank you for accepting to meet up, i didn’t think you’d show up '

‘ why? ’

‘ survival instincts? ’

‘ right, well my survival instincts want me to go to sleep since i have classes all day tomorrow ’

‘ oh yeah, yeah, don’t let me keep you here ’

‘ wasn’t planning on it ’

‘ goodnight y/nnie ’

‘ goodnight… won ’

‘ hey, want to go out today? it’s been years ’

‘ you saw me last week, and we call every day ’

‘ so? ’

‘ alright, you’re coming shopping with me, i need some things for a project. all your calling made me start on it later than the rest, this is your fault ’

‘ eughh, i don’t wanna go do that ’

‘ fine, we can do whatever you want after ’

‘ that’s more like it, i’ll go ’

‘ okay ’

‘ so it’s a date? ’

‘ what? ’

‘ nothing — ’

‘no, i heard you. are you serious? ’

‘ uhhhhhhh, yes? maybe? i don’t know? ’

‘ good, so it’s a date ’

‘ wait, really?! ’

‘ unless you don’t want it to be ’

‘ no! i mean — yes! yes yes yes, okay, i’ll pick you up from your dorm, text me when you’re almost ready, i’m going to go get you flowers ’

‘ okay… see you, won — jungwon ’

‘ don’t act like that now, i can hear you smiling and grinning like crazy and kicking your feet ’

‘ no. you cannot ’

‘ uhuh, see ya ’

EXTRA:

masterlist.

[aphroditelovesu]

Yandere Akatsuki Headcanons (Platonic)

❝ — 🍥 lady l: something I thought about for a while and decided to do it now. I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️🖤

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mention of death, yandere themes, stalking and jealousy.

❝🍥pairing: platonic yandere!akatsuki x gender neutral!reader.

Becoming part of Akatsuki was an important decision and one you knew shouldn't be made lightly. They were wanted and dangerous criminals. Once you decided to join, there would be no going back.

You were not innocent, you had already killed and committed some minor crimes and you were a well-trained ninja. That's why you decided to join Akatsuki. You just didn't know that your life would turn out completely different than you initially thought it would.

Pain was a little wary of allowing you to join Akatsuki, as not only did you not have a little-known reputation but there was something about you that unnerved him. That attracts him. But he decided to agree, after talking to Konan.

That's how you joined the world's most wanted ninja, Akatsuki and became their obsession.

Pain is the leader of Akatsuki and has a god complex. He is serious and distant, rarely approaching other members except to give him missions or orders. However, when he is Nagato he is totally different. Kind and shy. You and Konan are the only people who really know him as Nagato.

Regardless of your identity, he is very protective of you. He sees you as something good, as one of the few remnants of goodness, even if you are a criminal, you are still better than everyone. Besides being quite possessive of you. He wants to become a God and he will, but he sees no point in becoming one if you are not by his side.

Konan possessed a calmness, an admirable and frightening control. She has enviable self-control and this is visible in the way she deals with you. She is very calm around you, offering a kind smile and seeking any form of affection she can get from you.

She is desperate for affection, but she will never admit it. Konan is very intelligent and knows how to manipulate you. Stoic and cold-blooded, she will kill anyone who gets in her way, in your life other than herself and the other members. She takes whatever time she can have by your side.

Tobi has lost a lot during his life and these losses have shaped him into who he is today. He never expected to get attached to someone again, to love someone else after being deprived of someone he loved. This made him paranoid and very overprotective of you. Obito already lost someone he loved once, he won't lose you too.

He is introverted, however, and tries to avoid social interactions with the other Akatsuki members as much as possible, but with you, he is more sociable. Tobi is very possessive and always has one eye on you, especially when you are around the other members.

Itachi is calm and reserved, his feelings for you, the obsession he harbors, are very well hidden behind his mask. Not even the other members know Itachi very well, as he is enigmatic and mysterious. He deals with you the same way he does with everyone else, calmly and without showing much of how he feels. This makes you more distant.

However, he is not a really bad person. He did bad things, things he will regret. He sees a second chance in you, he trusts his intuition and you a lot. Itachi has a strong sense of empathy towards you and he is the one who notices the most if you are uncomfortable or upset about something, usually offering you comfort. He is possessive, however, because he has already lost a lot and wants your attention to him.

Kisame is a tailless tailed beast, a shark in humanoid form and he has strong predator instincts. He is very aggressive and can often be dominated by his bloodlust and desire for death, but he knows how to control himself when he wants to or when ordered to do so. You are one of the few people who can convince him to have mercy.

He's very perceptive, though. Kisame is always on alert and is aware of any danger and his first reaction is to take you away from danger. He is very protective and is also great at analyzing people and will know when you are bad.

Kakuzu only cares about money and himself, an avaricious and greedy man. He used to be like that until you joined Akatsuki and he started to care about you, but like a possession. Something that belonged to him, something to be controlled.

He often says that you can only trust him and money, the only two things you can rely on. Kakuzu is very attached to you and cares in his own way. He has a violent temper and becomes obsessed easily and you are his biggest obsession. He gets jealous very easily and reacts harshly to it.

Zetsu is a duality and only a manipulation, a difficult one to read and understand. White Zetsu is the easiest to deal with, he is playful and carefree, and he loves to tease others. He is very calm and loves to have fun with you, but he is very protective of you and although he doesn't usually use violence, he will.

Black Zetsu is the real problem. He is very intelligent and is the real brain behind many plans, serious and experienced. He is a great manipulator, appearing trustworthy and loyal, but his true loyalty is unknown to you. He is very possessive and a born stalker and will kill anyone who gets too close to you. He gets into several conflicts with White Zetsu because of this.

Deidara is extremely proud and fully believes that the greatest art form is destruction. He does not accept defeat and will always seek revenge. He is very reckless and even impulsive, often acting without thinking and that includes you. But he is not stupid, but rather calculating.

He is easily jealous and no one can insult you around him, as he will go crazy and be willing to sacrifice even himself to destroy the offender. Deidara protects you fiercely and his possessiveness leads him to states of madness that only you or Sasori can control. His favorite activity is the art of explosion with you.

Sasori is devoid of any human emotion, has no feelings of affection and is even considered inhuman. He doesn't feel anything, he never cared about anyone or anything, until he met you. Cold and distant, Sasori just watches from afar, preferring to keep his attention on his puppets.

You made him feel something for the first time in years, someone he could finally have the love he always wanted as a child. Sasori, although distant, still stays close to you when it suits him. He became possessive, even threatening the other Akatsuki members over you. He doesn't care about anything or anyone except you. And he won't let you be taken from him. Even if he has to turn you into a puppet. You will stay together.

Hidan has no respect for anything or anyone, insulting everything and everyone that suits him. Not even his own leader is safe from his insults, considering he doesn't respect him at all. Although a religious ninja, Hidan acts in a manner completely contrary to a religious person. He kills everything and everyone without any remorse.

He is quite easygoing towards you, his insults are never directed at you and he will eviscerate anyone who dares to insult you. Hidan is a sadist, finding pleasure in causing pain and killing his victims in the most painful way possible. He definitely wants to teach you how to be like him.

Akatsuki became more united when you joined and although there will always be conflicts between them, you became the missing piece. Pain would never let you leave, not when you were true peace. You're stuck with them forever.

[jinxedshapeshifter]

Why Kristoph Gavin Is Like That: An Essay

Alright so common sentiments I've seen regarding Kristoph are "Why is he like that" and "I want to study him in a lab" and I am a psychology nerd, so I decided to analyze Kristoph. Obligatory disclaimer: I am not a psychologist. Wanting to analyze Kristoph's behavior may or may not have gotten me interested in criminal and forensic psychology but I am not a psychologist. I am simply a guy who likes to psychoanalyze fictional characters from the most clinical perspective I can get to without actually being a psychologist. So let's begin.

Part 1: Diagnosing Kristoph Gavin

The thing about Kristoph is I think to fundamentally understand him, you need to diagnose him. In fact, I haven't posted my analysis of Kristoph's black Psyche-Locks because of it. As I said, I'm not a psychologist, but I do enjoy looking through the DSM-5 every once in a while, so I'm going off of that.

When you first look at Kristoph's behavior, you would (understandably) say he's a narcissist. From a purely colloquial perspective, this is absolutely true. However, I also think he very likely has narcissistic personality disorder. To be completely clear, I don't think his behavior is inherently a result of this. I think his behavior is a result of realizing he has a problem (even if he doesn't realize it's narcissism, he does acknowledge that he's fucked up because the reason he gives for killing Zak is "I am an evil human being") and not bothering to get help for it. In fact I'd argue he embraces it. So let's go through the DSM-5's diagnostic criteria for NPD (I don't need to explain where most of these are applicable but I'm going to anyway).

Criterion 1: Has a grandiose sense of self-importance (e.g., exaggerates achievements and talents, expects to be recognized as superior without commensurate achievements) - While I don't personally think the examples provided by the DSM-5 are reflective of Kristoph's behavior (although I think an argument could be made about him exaggerating his achievements, depending on if you think he was forging evidence before the Gramarye trial, which I personally do but I'll get into that later) I absolutely think he has a grandiose sense of self-importance because he canonically has a god complex, which is implied to be why he became a defense attorney; by doing that, he made people depend on him and literally had people's lives in his hands.

Criterion 2: Is preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love - I don't really know exactly how applicable this is, and it might've been more applicable when he was younger. However, he was so determined to get a win over Klavier in Klavier's first trial to forge evidence over it, so there's something to be said about him having a preoccupation with success not unlike Manfred I think.

Criterion 3: Believes that he or she is “special” and unique and can only be understood by, or should associate with, other special or high-status people (or institutions) - He literally says this himself. He literally says the jury is made up of "ignorant swine" and says they're soiling the courts, I don't know what else to say on this point

Criterion 4: Requires excessive admiration - I will once again point you to the implication that he became a defense attorney specifically to make people dependent on him. The judge calls him the best defense attorney in town so I think it's safe to assume he's never lost a trial (which I will bring up again later). The nanosecond it's implied Apollo is turning on him and losing admiration for him, Kristoph takes it as a fucking betrayal, specifically saying "Et tu, Justice? You would betray me, your teacher?" Reminder, this is because Apollo decided to listen to Phoenix's testimony.

Criterion 5: Has a sense of entitlement (i.e., unreasonable expectations of especially favorable treatment or automatic compliance with his or her expectations) - Can I say his cell is evidence of this? No? Alright. He seems pretty fucking upset when he's reminded he's not the defense attorney in Phoenix's case. What does this imply? He acts like he's entitled to acting as the defense attorney during the case. This in comparison to the other defense attorneys who have acted as co-counsel at some point (Mia, Diego, Phoenix, Apollo, Kazuma, Athena) who let the acting defense attorney do their damn job. Like it might even be that no other lawyer acting as co-counsel has ever acted as entitled as Kristoph does that makes it feel like Kristoph comes off as entitled in the first place (in which case, I very much think Kristoph is meant to come off as entitled during Turnabout Trump).

Criterion 6: Is interpersonally exploitative (i.e., takes advantage of others to achieve his or her own ends) - I'm not explaining this. Phoenix's disbarment hinged on this, I refuse to explain this. I already made a post about it in regards to Apollo, I'm not explaining this here

Criterion 7: Lacks empathy: is unwilling to recognize or identify with the feelings and needs of others - I think in order to be as horrible as he is, he would have to lack empathy. Idk. Like he obviously lacks empathy but I don't know how to explain it.

Criterion 8: Is often envious of others or believes that others are envious of him or her - Literally his motive for everything. He got Phoenix disbarred because he was upset over Zak firing him.

Criterion 9: Shows arrogant, haughty behaviors or attitudes - I will once again direct you to him calling the jury "ignorant swine" in Turnabout Succession.

That is 8 out of 9 criteria he definitely meets and one that's debatable. You only need to meet five of the critera to be diagnosed. The only reason one is debatable is because we don't get into Kris's head. Conclusion: "Kristoph has NPD" isn't an unreasonable assumption. Kristoph having NPD is actually why I haven't posted the analysis on his Psyche-Locks; I didn't think I could explain Kristoph having NPD well in that post and having that explanation is crucial to understanding that analysis (which will be added to this one instead of it being its own post).

As I said at the start, I do not think Kristoph having NPD makes him a horrible person. I think he knows he has a problem, and instead of getting help for it, he embraces it. He chooses not to get help and that choice and him borderline embracing his narcissistic traits is what makes him a horrible person. This is yet another thing that makes Kristoph and Klavier so interesting; Klavier exhibited similar narcissistic tendencies at 17 (although not near as bad as Kristoph) but it feels like he recognized that he had a problem and got help for it. Narcissistic personality disorder can be caused by trauma, and it wouldn't surprise me if Kristoph and Klavier had very similar yet very different responses to whatever traumatic event they experienced. In Kris's case, this resulted in NPD that he didn't get help for and arguably embraces.

Part 2: Evidence Forgery & A Perfect Trial Record

The judge explicitly refers to Kristoph as "the best defense attorney in town" when he asks about Apollo's status as the acting attorney and Apollo refers to Kristoph as a "top-notch defense attorney" when he asks Phoenix why he wanted Apollo to be his attorney. In my opinion, both of these statements would imply that Kristoph has never lost a trial. Even Phoenix has lost trials, and he basically had Kristoph's reputation before being disbarred (which has some super interesting implications actually). This is where Klavier comes into play.

For Kristoph to forge evidence to guarantee a win, he's either not as good a defense attorney as his reputation would have people believe, or he was confident Klavier had a chance to win the trial. If we really think about it, I think the first option, that Kristoph just isn't as good a defense attorney as people think, is more likely, and this also leads into the evidence forgery discussion. He had no qualms about spending $100k on forged evidence. This implies one of two things; either he's forged evidence before or he's von Karma levels of rich. I think it's much more likely that Kristoph forges evidence to make up for the fact that he's not actually as good a defense attorney as people think he is.

He's a year younger than Phoenix, so if we assume he became a defense attorney at the same age as Phoenix (24), he'd already been a defense attorney for two years at that point. Going a bit further, if we assume he became a defense attorney at the same age as Apollo (22) instead, then he'd been an attorney for four years by the time Zak's trial was happening (and he had been an attorney long enough by Zak's trial to be well known, as Klavier says "Ah, figures my bro's more famous in this part of town" when the judge asks if Klavier and Kristoph are related). There's plenty of room for him to forge evidence there, as long as the decisive evidence doesn't require replication of something that would be unique, like handwriting. He could (probably) easily forge a murder weapon or a bloodstain. This would explain why he's so willing to pay $100k for a forgery too. If we keep with the assumption that he forged evidence his entire career but never had to do anything with something like handwriting, he'd probably pay an arm and a leg to get the evidence he needs.

Considering Kristoph is also willing to murder people over a seven year old case, I wouldn't be surprised if he defended people he knew were guilty. Depending on the case, he would probably have to forge evidence at some point.

Part 3: Black Psyche-Locks

Kristoph having black Psyche-Locks when he's asked about why he killed Zak is interesting. It makes a lot more sense if you keep in mind that he is a narcissist. To fully explore Kris's Psyche-Locks, we need to go back to something Spark Brushel mentions in Turnabout Succession's MASON system section.

Spark says that Kristoph started stalking everyone who could conceivably be involved in Zak's case out of paranoia. In Kristoph's brain, this was probably completely justified. His paranoia was specifically rooted in the belief that Zak would appear to someone involved in the case and expose Kristoph's forgery. Kristoph stalked Spark, he stalked Phoenix, he stalked the Mishams, I wouldn't be surprised if he (attempted to) stalk Klavier. If the fact that he forged the evidence that got Phoenix Wright disbarred ever got out, his reputation would be tarnished beyond repair, and to him, his reputation is the most important thing he has. He was so careful about how he handled the forged diary page that nobody suspected anything was even wrong with it except Klavier. All of this adds context to his Psyche-Locks being black instead of red.

I think it's incredibly likely that whether through paranoia-fueled delusion or just not being able to consciously acknowledge that he did kill Zak (which, if revealed and then investigated, could absolutely expose all of Kristoph's wrongdoings, something I think he would've realized), he genuinely didn't realize he killed Zak. I 100% think it's possible that Kristoph genuinely thought he'd killed some random guy on impulse. "But Jinx," I hear you saying, "why would he have gone after Zak if he didn't realize who he is?" As I said, I think it's possible that Kris thought he killed a random guy on impulse. He didn't plan to kill Zak. If he had, he would've been more prepared for it. I think some part of his brain recognized Zak which is what gave him the impulse in the first place, but he didn't become consciously aware of it until Turnabout Succession. Alternatively, he got so far in denial that he managed to delude himself into genuinely thinking he hadn't killed Zak, and he had just killed some rando named Shadi Smith. Phoenix didn't even recognize Zak when he introduced himself as Shadi. If Phoenix, who played poker with and defended Zak and has a picture of him in his office, didn't recognize Zak immediately, why would Kristoph?

It's also not impossible that there are multiple other murders Kristoph's committed that we don't know about. Hell, he tried to poison the Mishams after Zak's trial. At the very least I don't think that was his first time attempting murder. Kristoph's not an idiot, he's just careless (which doesn't surprise me, considering he is so convinced that if he ties his loose ends he won't get caught that he doesn't even tie his loose ends all the way, nor watch what he says in regards to murders he committed). That's not to say he's some kind of mastermind either, but he is intelligent. I don't think he could pull Simeon Saint levels of bullshit but he's very much capable of successfully and skillfully manipulating people. My point here being, if he has murdered other people before he murdered Zak and after he attempted to poison the Mishams, he probably wouldn't be surprised about having the impulse to kill some random guy, making him more inclined to believe he did just kill some guy.

I also think it's worth it to compare how Athena's Psyche-Locks broke in Dual Destinies to Kristoph's behavior. Athena was able to be eased into her Psyche-Locks breaking. She didn't have any reason not to trust the things Phoenix was saying. Kristoph is so paranoid that he doesn't trust anyone. He wouldn't have been able to have his Psyche-Locks broken because he would just deny everything that's being said until he can't deny it anymore and breaks down, something at least directly related to his paranoia, if not also his NPD. This is why I mentioned in this post that breaking Kristoph's Psyche-Locks would always be a bad idea. He'd never get to a point where he'd be able to mentally handle the truth. Kris's trust issues run so deep that he'd never trust anything anyone's saying until the damage is already done and the Psyche-Locks are broken. In Kristoph's case, there's no way to break those fuckers without causing the damage Pearl mentioned as something that'll happen if they're broken when they're not ready to be. I wouldn't be surprised if this is why Kristoph's breakdown in Turnabout Succession is so intense.

Part 4: Kristoph's Personal Relationships

For this section, I'm going to discuss each of Kristoph's relationships separately, then go into what his relationships say about him in general. So let's start.

Kristoph & Klavier

Kristoph and Klavier's dynamic is genuinely one of the most interesting in the Ace Attorney series to me.

Klavier doesn't really talk about Kristoph much, and the same sorta seems to apply to Kristoph. We don't learn anything about Klavier and Kristoph's dynamic until Turnabout Succession, and we know Kristoph didn't talk about Klavier because Apollo didn't even know Kristoph has a brother. When we do see what their dynamic was like in 2019, it's Klavier being used by Kristoph. Kristoph used Klavier to get Phoenix disbarred, and it weighed on Klavier's mind for seven years.

I also think it's worth noting the following exchange from Turnabout Succession:

Klavier: Let's clean out the family closet, eh, Kristoph? Kristoph: You're spinning out of control. Calm yourself before you say something you'll regret. Klavier: Spinning out of whose control? Mine? …Or yours?

Which implies that Kristoph exhibited some kind of controlling behavior towards Klavier. It doesn't surprise me because Kristoph's a control freak. I'd also be more surprised if Klavier wasn't afraid of Kristoph killing him at some point. Additionally, something I mentioned in my Klavier analysis is that in the 2019 section of Turnabout Succession, Klavier does have a good view of Kristoph and even seems to look up to him. He takes Kristoph at his word that Phoenix is going to present forged evidence despite (by 24 year old Klavier's account) finding it weird even then, and keeps him anonymous when he brings up the fact that Phoenix presented forged evidence. Another thing I mentioned in the aforementioned Klavier analysis is that based on Klavier's behavior, he didn't realize Kristoph was manipulating him until sometime after the 2019 section of Turnabout Succession. Something made Klavier realize he was being manipulated. Could be age or that Kristoph did something that made Klavier realize Kristoph was a piece of shit, but no matter what it was, something happened that made Klavier's view of Kristoph shift.

Kristoph & Phoenix

Kristoph and Phoenix are also really interesting to me because Kristoph's end of their friendship is fueled by paranoia, and Phoenix's side is fueled by a desire to keep Kristoph close and basically investigate him. It's toxic on both their ends, and that makes it really interesting. Their dynamic also has a really good example of "Kristoph will lash out if someone even minutely slights him" in both Phoenix's trial and Vera's.

During Phoenix's trial, Kristoph gets so upset over the trial even slightly alluding to the potential for him being present to kill Shadi that the judge has to remind him that Phoenix is his client. Phoenix is also so determined to get Kristoph caught that he forges evidence (technically twice) and revamps the entire justice system (and this was exclusively to get Kristoph caught). They're both incredibly petty with each other. I'm not really sure what to add here, they're just so toxic they should come with a radiation warning.

Kristoph & Apollo

Apollo looks up to Kristoph. Kristoph uses this to his advantage during Phoenix's trial, using the fact that Apollo is loyal to and looks up to both Kristoph and Phoenix to emotionally manipulate him. He then probably tries to use "You would betray me, your teacher?" to further manipulate him, but Apollo's desire to find the truth overrides his loyalty to Kristoph (something Apollo literally tells Kristoph).

Kristoph has one final instance of trying to emotionally manipulate Apollo; he gets Klavier to the point where he essentially shuts down then blames Klavier shutting down on Apollo. This doesn't work of course, and Apollo bulldozes on through anyway.

In general I think we can come to a pretty solid conclusion that Kristoph will either manipulate and gaslight people to get what he wants or stalks them out of an intense paranoia that's directly related to how he sees himself as a result of the NPD he didn't get treatment for. Instead of coping with things like a normal fucking person, he resorts to both physical and psychological violence and stalking.

Part 5: Conclusion

So here we are. Almost 3k words later. I do not want the takeaway from this to be "Kristoph's a manipulative, violent asshole because he's a narcissist" and if that's your takeaway you need to rethink literally everything I said here. The fact that Kristoph could be diagnosed with NPD has nothing to do with him choosing violence. NPD has nothing to do with him choosing to stalk everyone involved with Zak's trial instead of getting help for his paranoia. I want that to be perfectly clear. The thing with NPD is it can be hard for the person suffering from it to realize they have it and subsequently get help for it. Kristoph's problem isn't exactly that he has NPD. It's that he never got help for the thinking patterns the NPD caused. Had he gotten help I don't think he would've ended up stalking and murdering people. He'd still have NPD, but he wouldn't be near as fucked up.

It's why Klavier and Kristoph are so interesting as characters. Klavier has narcissistic traits but he evidently got help for them, as he's nowhere near as egotistical at 24 as he was when he was 17, although he does start exhibiting those traits again under high stress situations. He's still not completely okay mentally (otherwise he wouldn't regress like that), but he's also better than Kristoph at managing his symptoms when they do show up. Kristoph doesn't even try to get help for his symptoms, which leads to his downfall. Had he gotten help for his narcissism, he might've ended up a bit more like Klavier.

I hope Ace Attorney's prison system has a proper therapy program. I hope Kristoph's able to get help when and if he decides he wants it, because I am personally of the belief that everyone deserves help if they want it, and Kristoph's no different. I don't think he deserves to have Phoenix, Apollo, or Klavier back in his life, and I wouldn't blame any of them for never talking to him again, but that doesn't mean I don't think Kristoph deserves help. He would just have to realize he has a problem first, which I doubt happened soon after Apollo Justice and I'd frankly be surprised if it ever happens. But I hope the offer for help is there if he decides he wants it.

So why is Kristoph Like That? Untreated mental health issues that he's implied to realize is a problem.

*Again, please do not act like I'm saying Kristoph having NPD is an excuse for his actions. He chose not to get help. He chose to stalk people. He chose to kill people. Him having NPD isn't an excuse for that. My goal here was simply to answer "Why is Kristoph Gavin like that?" Do not misconstrue my intentions here or what I'm saying. Kristoph's NPD isn't what drove him to do what he did. Him choosing to embrace symptoms that hurt people did.

[dark-l-angel]

Hey I was wondering if you could do a Bruce Wayne x reader where she’s a god and is crazy strong how would the batfam to him dating someone like that and how would they meet and interact

Sure here you go 😘

Batfam x god!reader (hcs)

Dick would be intrigued and slightly cautious upon meeting you. He's used to the unusual and extraordinary, but a deity dating his father figure would still catch him off guard.

Dick Grayson :

He would approach you with a mixture of charm and genuine curiosity. Dick values family above all else and would want to ensure you have Bruce's best interests at heart, like he might tell you his likings in different stuff.. ect

As the oldest "son," Dick would take on a protective older brother role. He'd offer advice and support to both you and Bruce, ensuring the relationship is healthy and balanced.

I believe that he would appreciate your strength, both physical and emotional. He enjoys sharing stories from his circus days and would find your perspective on life fascinating.

Jason Todd (Red Hood):

Jason would be more skeptical and cautious than Dick. He's been through a lot and tends to trust very few people initially.

He would test your boundaries and observe how you react under pressure. Jason respects strength but also values loyalty and honesty above all else.

Once he sees your genuine care for Bruce and your dedication to justice, Jason would soften. He might not show it openly, but he appreciates having another strong ally in the fight against Gotham's criminals.

Jason would be fiercely protective of Bruce and would make it clear that any harm to him would have serious consequences. He'd also watch out for your well-being, ensuring you're not taken advantage of because of your powers.

Tim Drake (Red Robin):

Tim would be intrigued and excited by the prospect of someone with extraordinary abilities dating Bruce. He's always been fascinated by the extraordinary and sees potential in what you could bring to the team.

He would approach you with a mix of intellectual curiosity and respect. Tim would likely engage you in discussions about strategy, technology, and how your abilities could be used to enhance their crime-fighting efforts.

Tim would enjoy working with you on solving complex problems and would appreciate your unique perspective on issues. He sees you as an equal partner in the fight against crime.

Your relationship with Tim would involve mutual growth, with each of you learning from the other's strengths and weaknesses. He'd value your input and see you as a valuable addition to their team.

Damian Wayne (Robin):

Damian would be the most skeptical and competitive upon meeting you. He's fiercely protective of his position in Bruce's life and would see you as a potential threat.

He would challenge you both physically and mentally to prove your worth. He respects strength and skill but also values loyalty and dedication to the mission.

Once you prove yourself capable and dedicated to justice, Damian would slowly warm up. He'd appreciate having another strong ally in the field and would enjoy training and sparring with you (potential of becoming a mother figure to him if your character was into children).

Damian would eventually come to respect your abilities and dedication to the cause. He sees you as a partner in protecting Gotham and supporting Bruce, even if he doesn't always show it openly.

☆ I hope you like it ☆

[luciaintheskyainthi]

Happy new years! Even if it's still 2024 for me <3

If for some reason Tony could meet the batfamily and Jason, how would their reunion turn out? (Besides all the trauma)

I really wanted to see how this would unfold.

Like Tony (*technically* peter's overprotective father figure) and Jason (the older boyfriend, associated with crime and literally everything Tony would disapprove of) trying to have a peaceful dinner for the sake of the person they love.

Happy new years to you too! This is a great question, getting me to think about father figures!

Perhaps a controversial opinion, but I actually think MCU Peter would have been closer to Happy than to Tony Stark!

Peter definitely idolises Tony Stark, but it's very much hero worship, and I don't think they really got the chance to become close in the same way he would have had the opportunity to have with Happy, who took both May and Peter in after the fallout of Quentin Beck, even after May broke up with him. That's goated behaviour (a little part of my millennial soul died saying that lol).

Sure, there's evidence of Tony and Peter interacting, and arguably Tony's entire reason for risking everything after the Snap was a desire to bring Peter back, but it could be argued that this came down to guilt and five years of rose-tinted glasses over the times they did spend together. Peter's presence in Tony's life is also what probably made Tony open up to the idea of having a child of his own, so yeah, if he did come back, there's a chance Tony would want to take a more active and fatherly role in Peter's life.

But the way things actually turned out? It's Happy all the way. However, similar to Tony, I don't think Peter was ready to see Happy in that way until after the events of NWH. A throwback to Uncle Ben. Hero-worshipping Tony Stark was safe: he was practically a new god and therefore untouchable. No chance of the Parker curse getting him... But Happy? He was just 'some guy'. And looking at 'some guy' with father-tinted glasses was far more dangerous to Peter Parker.

To get to the meat of your question though! Be it Happy or Tony, they would definitely be disapproving lol. Tony more than Happy, I imagine. But it's not as if Tony's got clean hands, pre or post-Iron Man.

In regards to Happy, consider: having worked with Tony for many years, Happy enabled Tony's wild behaviour before he eventually settled down as Iron Man. How many women many years younger than Tony would he have allowed to pass through those doors? And he was his driver/body guard/head of security, so it's not as if he's averse to killing either.

With all that in mind, here's how I'd imagine things would go down with Tony:

Tony: I don't approve of you (Jason) because you're a criminal and a murderer and also too old (and therefore I'm going to be an ass and not call you by your name).

Jason: Oh, cool, the former warlord who profited off the blood of thousands doesn't approve of me. Hey, did you know that there's no ethical way to be a billionaire? Where'd all those billions come from? Oh, that's right! All those weapons you equipped the military-industrial complex with! Viva la imperialism!

Tony: ... (Has no good rebuttal for this)... Your father is literally a billionaire.

Jason: estranged, but yep. And I steal from him all the time. But please, tell me more, weapons manufacturer, about how you're so much better than me.

Peter: this was a mistake

Jason: and speaking of too old, why don't you tell us about all your sexual conquests huh? You're telling me all the men and women you've slept with have always been your age? There's only five years between Pete and I, you saying that's the biggest gap you've had?

Peter: please make it stop.

At some point, it devolves into a brawl that Peter has to break up and he tears into both of them. It's a long time before they're allowed to spend time together again, and NEVER unsupervised.

If it was Happy, Jason would probably be a lot more respectful. They'd both give each other shit, it would probably also devolve into a fistfight at some point (Happy is such a posturer), but there'd be a hell of a lot less vitriol from Jason towards him. It'd be defensive anger, not the contempt he'd have for someone like Tony Stark acting like he's better than Jason.

I can see a reluctant truce develop between the Happy and Jason, with the odd snipe, but otherwise relatively peaceful. And heaven help anyone who hurt Peter if the two of them were involved.

Does any of this mean I don't love Iron Dad fics? Hell no! Chasing the Iron Dad trope is what led me to the Spider-Man in Gotham fandom in the first place (I was looking at the 'homeless Peter Parker' tag and came across Dark Matter and fell down the rabbit hole like the rest of you)! But in the world of ECM, I don't think Iron Dad is how things actually went down.

Hope that doesn't disappoint! LBR though it probably does lol

[partycatty]

professor!kenshi takahashi > again

you just can't seem to do professor takahashi's reading assignments.

warnings: smut kinda? idk ur freaky and so is he

notes: hi guys im sorry i havent been posting, brain went numb after i lost a 2k kung lao fic because god hates me. enjoy a new brainworm!

@crimsonbubble come get yo juice

[ masterlist ]

• professor takahashi was a major asshole, every student on campus whispers about his attitude and ridiculously complicated assignments, particularly his reading assignments. they were long, tiresome, and often so complex in word choice you swear your eyes are crossing. unfortunately, you needed this credit to get the hell out of that school.

• he was presumably indifferent about you, wandering the aisles of the desks with a never-changing scowl. he was pretentious, always clean in a suit. his hair was neatly done and his back was obnoxiously straight. you tried to be mad, but you respected his devotion to his career.

• when he'd assign one of those readings, nine times out of ten you chose to skip it. they were only worth five points, it felt criminal to waste that effort when you could be enjoying college life. what's a few points here and there? it's not like you were studying for a phd like your physics professor, dr. carlton.

• midterms were approaching, grades were set to be due within the week and it seemed to be all crashing down on you. the readings and journals following them were costing you about seventy points that could easily bump your grade up a letter... if he let you submit them this last second.

• knocking on his office door, you hear an immediate groan and shuffling. his dress shoes clacked against the floor before he opened up. his height was alarming at such close proximity and you found yourself dizzy under his scrutinizing glare. the glasses on the bridge of his nose jump as he scrunches.

• "it's after office hours," he states, eyes shooting to a clock on the wall behind you. "3-7. it's on the syllabus."

• "i—i know, but—" for the first time, you found yourself stuttering in front of him. "i didn't have the t-time to do the assignments and i was hoping you could take them before the end of the week...? i'm sorry, i know this is sudden—" his large hand raises itself, putting a spell on you to stop talking just as quickly as you started.

• "you're missing fourteen of them," his voice is low and cold. how did he already know how many you were missing without checking? it takes a long time before he sighs and steps to the side, eyes inspecting your every move. "we... could probably knock a couple off if you need the help." ...we?

• swallowing, you step into the small office. you never really noticed a distinct smell on him, but the faintest cologne and his natural musk fogging up the room made you suppress a whimper of surprise. he squeezes past you to get to his desk, and you try to ignore the brush of his touch against your waist as he subtly moves you to the side. you feel trapped in this room, backing into a corner and fidgeting with the dead skin by your fingernails.

• he shuffles papers around on his desk, retrieving the printed copies of what you're missing and slapping them on the desk. you jump, trying to back even further into the corner you had buried yourself in.

• "don't look so afraid," somehow his harsh tone offers a smidge of comfort. "it's not rocket science." he beckons you over with two fingers and your insides curl.

• the passage is long and aggravatingly complicated just from a glance, the backside of the page being a few short answer questions. professor takahashi stands close behind you, forced into closeness from how much his desk was positioned against a wall. you hear him try to stifle his breathing but each small gust on the back of your ear made reading all the more impossible.

• your eyes skin the page, lips trembling as you mouth the words on the paper. just as focus overtakes you on the final paragraph, your professor's sultry voice grumbles in your ear.

• "what did the curtains symbolize?" he gruffly asks, tapping a finger on the first question. you stutter over your words, in a blind haze you couldn't even recall the mere mention of curtains in the writing. you swallow thickly, trying to pull an answer from your ass in typical student panic.

• "concealing true thoughts?" you wince, ready for his disapproving tone to burn your ear. instead, the tense air is cracked through when professor takahashi slams his hand palm-down onto the desk, making you whimper in surprise.

• "again," he groans, already frustrated with your ignorance. "and get it right this time."

• how were you able to focus like this? it was cruel. it was sick, and you wouldn't be able to tell that kenshi agreed with your panicked thoughts from his stone cold expression. he was just thankful you had just enough wiggle room to not be pressed against his aching boner through his slacks.

• you swallow thickly, eyes fluttering over the passage again in a haze. this was too much, you should have just failed instead of participate in whatever this was. "the barrier between private and public manners?"

• kenshi groans again, head dropping in frustration and nearly putting his head on your shoulder. you tense up, his hot body feeling like too much and he's not even touching you. something about a big, authoritative man telling you what to do was getting you going... damn you and your late night assignment recovery plan.

• professor takahashi raises his head again, rolling his shoulders as he tries to keep himself together. his eyes glance downward, and he looks down his nose at the sight of you rubbing your thighs together ever so slightly to relieve the tension. a chuckle is pulled from deep in his throat, amused by your small figure and just how caged you were in this situation. he had all the positioning to... no, he shouldn't think that way.

• something ugly and disgustingly horny tugs at him anyway and pulls a swift movement. professor takahashi swings his thick leg between yours, parting your thighs and forcing you to stand with your legs further apart, pulling all satisfaction from you the moment it started. the smoothness of it all sends your heart into overdrive as you try to make sense of his motion.

• you're too afraid to turn back and look at him, to ask what he's doing. you can't, it's too much to ask of you. your legs are weak and knees are buckling, so you attempt to subtly rest your weight onto his desk with your elbows, unintentionally(?) bending over his desk.

• you feel his body loom over yours, and he manages to position his leg just right to press flush against your ass. his torso bends down, just barely above yours, just barely pinning you to the wood.

• "innocence," he answers the assignment question lowly, his brow twitching desperately. "purity... shame."

• his words tug at your core. "oh."

• kenshi wonders if he should pull away, if this was too much, if you'd run away the moment his grip loosened... but you show no ounce of disagreement to the predicament. if anything, the shake in your body and the emanating heat from your cunt through your bottoms told him you needed this... maybe even more than you needed this grade.

• testing the waters further, his fingers dip into the sides of your waistband, tugging the fabric away from your hips curiously. if now was your time to decline his advance, you certainly wouldn't have taken it. involuntarily, your ass presses against his thigh in anticipation, a motion that makes him jolt in surprise. no words are being exchanged, yet your heat was telling him all that he needed to know.

• "question two," he mutters, eyes transfixed on your back. "in the main character's dialogue during the theater scene, who was he speaking to?"

• this question came to you easy even if your mind was escaping you. your voice is weak, barely there enough to answer. "the audience."

• "which one?" his growl makes you yelp as he tugs on your waistband, pulling you impossibly closer. your clothed pussy was just barely able to rub against his thigh.

• a hot breath escapes your lips, why he's torturing you like this is beyond you. "the—the real audience. us." a reward was given as kenshi pulls your bottoms to the floor, letting them pool at your ankles to give him a display of how soaked you got through your panties. he takes a sharp intake of breath, unable to stop his hand from dragging along the fabric or diving in straight away... no. you wanted this, you had to earn it.

• his lack of response but delight in touching you was confusing. your head drops in embarrassment, hiding the heat creeping up your face. "was... that right?" professor takahashi only replies with a hum, tilting his head to inspect your arousal further.

• he dives right into the next question, just as hungry as you were without admitting it. "what was the meaning behind the title?"

• you part your lips to pathetically guess, forgetting the passage had a title to begin with. your eyes are glassy, the words nearly impossible to distinguish. you want to cry by now, needing both a grade and something, anything to relieve what he's not providing you with. all you can sputter out in a shameful "i don't know."

• "yes you do," he really hopes so as he pulls your panties to the side, fully exposing yourself to him. he prays to god you know the answer, then he'd be able to take what he wants, fuck you into how he desires. he considered himself a pervert, a sick and twisted individual that shouldn't have the job he does. but seeing the way you ache and writhe for him assures he's right where he belongs. "think."

• you can't, you honest to god can't. your mind and body are fully disconnected, unable to access any cohesive part of your thoughts that would either tear yourself away, push yourself in deeper, or just completely shatter. his voice was pulling you apart, and in hindsight, maybe it always has. maybe he was just so alluring during his lectures you found it hard to focus on the work in front of you.

• a belt buckle clinks behind you, a sound that makes you clench onto nothing. kenshi frees himself, one hand squeezing the base of his cock and the other one pressing your back down, bending your body into a 90 degree angle. a mortifying wet slapping sound shocks your body as he taps his shaft against your cunt, your juices sticking and stringing in connecting threads each time he pulls away. your mind runs wild, wondering just how big he is, if his face is flushed or cold as always, but even still you dare not turn around.

• "again," he instructs with a huff, breath escaping him as he tries to regain his own composure. you're tearing him apart just as much as he is to you. "read it — hhh — again." the hand on your back trails to the back of your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair and guiding your sight back to the passage. through fluttering lashes, you manage to get a clear image of the text, racking your brain for an academic response when all you can focus on is his tight grip and heat from his cock.

• "s'a reference," you sputter out, hoarsely. "to the... irony."

• "of?" you can hear the smirk as he notches his tip into your entrance.

• "the... character's... fuck—" you pound a fist onto the desk, back arching and attempting to fruitlessly bounce back onto him, something he wouldn't permit just yet. "the main character's thoughts and inhibitions..." you try to crank out an answer as you clench your eyes shut, chasing your potential reward. "how good of a man he claims to be when he's just as evil as the villain." you speak so fast you're afraid professor takahashi misheard you, or was displeased with your tone. his silence is deafening and you feel tears prick at your eyes.

• you whine at his silence, but before you could cry his name out in frustration, his hand curls around your head and slaps against your mouth, pressing firmly to stop any noise from escaping.

• you feel like a wet, silenced, needy dog with the way he handles you, demanding and controlling the situation in a cruel and torturous manner. it makes you sick, he makes you sick. it's a terrible awful desire to want to be stuffed full of a professor, one you paid to teach you, and all he's teaching you is how to behave like a toy.

• as you near the verge of fighting back, a firm knock echoes on your professor's office door. a feminine voice pours through, authoritative and with obnoxious intent.

• "mr. takahashi," the calls through the door. "the board wanted your approval for the next steps we discussed in last week's meeting. is now a bad time?"

• his cock still pushing against your entrance, he clears his throat and adjusts his glasses, standing straight. "not at all," he replies nonchalantly, feigning innocence behind a thin wooden door. "one moment, if you could."

• she approves and you hear her lack of footsteps — she's right outside of the door. in one swift moment, kenshi discards the assignment, hoists your bottoms back into place nearly making you jump in the process, and cramming his dick back into his pants. you want to cry, whimper for any sort of guidance, internally laughing at yourself for suddenly needing his attention and help instead of being the aloof student you typically were.

• professor takahashi nods his head toward his desk, and you understand immediately — crouching down and tucking your legs against your chest, you bury yourself underneath his office desk and hold your breathing, trying to calm your racing heart... tonight has been a lot for it.

• he clacks toward the office door, swinging it open. you can only catch the faint noises and changes in lighting as they move about the office. kenshi's sure to circle back to his desk and sit down, giving his coworker no opportunity to join his side of the room.

• your breath is held tight as they talk about office jargon, words you're too afraid to hone in on in case you get spotted. you try to focus on the faint stripe pattern of his slacks, the tapping of his foot as he intently listens to the muddy words.

• "i must admit, tonight's a busy one for me," he bluntly admits to the woman, shifting his hips in his seat. "i've got a lot to catch up on, a lot of grades to fix. if you don't mind, it would be best for the both of us to put a pin in this and come back tomorrow morning." a polite smile graces his stern features, one you can yet again hear in his tone. your heart flutters at the thought of being alone with him again.

• "i'm at a crossroads here," the woman sweats, nervously chuckling. "we were hoping to do a late follow-up meeting after your approvals... as soon as our conversation is done. they're all waiting in the board room."

• professor takahashi audibly groans, leaning back in his seat. you take the brief moment of adequate lighting to smirk at the sight; his cock was still raging and angry from denial, pushing hard against his slacks. he was dying inside.

• "if we must do it tonight," he draws out his tone, standing abruptly. "alright."

• your stomach drops at the thought, cunt aching and drooling for more after getting only a taste. you wouldn't be able to sleep, eat, function until you're able to be split in half by his dick. fuck the assignments, there's something else you want to chase now.

• and you wish you could chase, frowning as you see them both leave the room, kenshi stock-still as always just as you peer over the wood to ensure you're free to escape. tonight was a disappointment all around, and not even five minutes on your walk back to your dorm your phone pings, a new email sitting in your inbox.

just now - ktakahashi@school.edu

subject: office hours

thank you for reaching out for after-class help. my office is open anytime if you need anything from me. i'll be expecting you tomorrow to start.