#CPS after school

[emiliosandozsequence]

how i feel about my parents moodboard

[swagging-back-to]

update on those netlectful parents

the baby is now a teenager and the parents are effectively dead (full on deleted from the save file because i dont want their genes to pass on ever again) and shes been adopted by her lesbian older 'sister' and her girlfriend

[batsandbirdbrains]

I’m half asleep so have a half baked idea that’s keeping me awake

The one where Dick and Bruce troll everyone

Set during season one of young justice. Dick is just an overall menace who loves to make everyone question everything they know. His favorite topic to cause mass confusion amongst unknowing Justice league members and every member of the young Justice team? His relationship with Batman

There are days where he insinuates Batman kidnapped him off the streets of Gotham.

“He saved me from Killer Croc eating me like a chicken wing.”

“I was supposed to go with the nice CPS lady but then Batman showed up and shoved me in the Batmobile and now I’m here!”

“I was walking home from school one day and he snatched me out of the shadows (he was hiding behind a dumpster).”

Sometimes they act like brothers who can’t stand each other half the time

“You’re such a buttmunch I hate you!” “Literally all I’m asking you to do is shower after training before you come home. You stink, Robin. You’re smelly.” “You’re smelly! Did the bats crap on your cowl before you came here?” Batman’s sigh is long, drawn out, and dramatic. He turns on his heel. Robin sticks his tongue out at him.

“Hey if I get this training sim completed at 100% will you get me Batburger on the way home?” “Fine. Don’t tell Agent A.” “Only if you also promise to get me a milkshake.” “Fine.”

“Yes.” “No.” “Yes!” “No!” “YES!” “NO!” This goes on for three full minutes. They’ve forgotten what they were arguing about. They’re not sure who wins.

Sometimes Batman is such a dad it feels like they’re not supposed to be watching even though it’s in the middle of Mount Justice where anyone can see.

After a particularly tiring mission and the subsequent debrief, Robin leans against Batman and definitely doesn’t close his eyes. He’s just resting them. It’s a slow blink, nothing more. Batman has a hand very softly carding through Robin’s hair, and he’s basically carrying him to the zeta tubes a couple minutes later to go back to the batcave.

Sometimes there’s a new video game out or something that Robin really wants, and he’ll whine and hang off Batman’s arm until he weasels Batman into buying it for him. He has to pinky promise. No take-backsies

They’ve absolutely heard Batman call Robin “chum” in a soft, proud voice that sounds nothing like the big bad Bat they all know.

Sometimes he just says wild shit to send them way off base:

“I dunno Conner, maybe you’re not the only clone around here.”

“He made me by mixing his own DNA with an actual bat, that’s why I’m so acroBATic. Haha, get it? Acro-BAT?”

“He stole me from the circus.”

“He’s actually a cryptid. He asked lady Gotham for light and hope and she gave him me!” “Does that make you a cryptid too?” “I dunno, maybe!”

“I’m his love child with justice.”

He’s only said the circus one exactly once because Bruce told him off for it being too close to the truth, but they did both get a laugh out of everyone’s reactions.

And then one day someone just straight up asks Robin, in front of Batman, if they’re related. And Robin blinks once, twice.

“He’s my roommate.”

It’s said so matter of fact, Robin just shrugs, and goes about whatever he was doing. Batman grunts in a confirmation sort of way, busy looking at a data pad.

Artemis, standing a little ways away behind Conner (who the rest of the team elected to go ask the question), shoves her face in a couch pillow and lets out a muffled scream. M’gann and Conner are confused. Wally is laughing. Kaldur tries to remember different surface customs in when children move out and get roommates.

“Wait but so how old is Batman then?” Wally’s question makes them all now wonder if Batman is even that much older than all of them.

In the other room, away from curious, prying eyes, Dick is smothering a giggle behind a gloved hand and shoving his face in Bruce’s shoulder. Bruce lets his lips quirk up just a little.

[strangegardendelusion]

Yandere batfam + Neglected Reader

Rough au idea:

Reader grew up with her mother and stepfather until the age of 9. Both of them had been laid off and couldn't afford to take care of reader.

So, her mother contacted reader bio father, bruce wanye

Reader mother explained the situation to bruce. And promise reader as soon as she and stepfather can find work + money. Reader would come back and live with them.

But that never happened....

Reader arrived 5 months after Jason death, even though his death was old, the shadow he left behind was fresh.

Reader was shown around the mansion by Alfred. Later that night, reader met bruce before he disappeared for an emergency.

As years went, reader was treated as a ghost in their own home..

It not really their home, is it?

Unlike at home, at school wherever they went during school hours, they were mistreated, bullied, and tortured every single day. Treated as a little bug who doesn't deserve anything

It doesn't help bruce, and the batfam is always busy. Never helped reader whenever they tried to call out for help they were ignored by loved ones who were supposed to help them.

Maybe if one person actually stopped and actually gave the emotional/physical love and comfort reader wanted, everything would have been different.

The accident wouldn't have happened

After, some time of constant nothing but pain, and sadness that really takes a toll on your mental health.

School got involved quickly after reader begins to talk to the counselor. The school decided to call cps. Soon, cps decided it was not safe for you to return to your mom house or stay with the batfam.

So, after talking to your new case worker, you were able to leave the batfam. And you put into a new foster family.

Honestly, under your new foster family influence, you were truly a different person! You were a bird taking flight, and nothing could stop you!

It really sucks after a certain night their family started to clip their wings

[c-monthecob]

Ran Haitani Headcanons!

💤 Grew out his hair because Rindou told him he looked like their mother with it long.

💤 Wore glasses one time, and the other S62 made fun of him for it.

💤 People thought he was a little girl with his pigtails when he was younger.

💤 Started wearing different color uniforms after accidentally punching Rindou in the face during a brawl.

💤 Snores loud asf, like you can hear his ass from the halls.

💤 The kind of guy who will repeat your joke but louder and get all the praise.

💤 He hated recess. He'd throw a fit whenever the teachers tried to make him go out.

💤 Eventually, the teachers let him stay in and have nap time instead.

💤 Slept so much in class that teachers started to get concerned about his home life. (They reported him to CPS before)

💤 He and Koko go to the same hair salon. They go out for coffee afterward, too.

💤Gossips with his hairdresser and all the old ladies in the salon.

💤The women will show him pictures of their daughters and granddaughters, trying to set him up with them.

💤Shamelessly stands outside to watch the neighbors argue. He knows they won't say anything.

💤 All his food HAS to be cold. He says it cools his stomach down.

💤 Doesn't allow Rindou to sit on the couch after coming home from the gym because he smells musty

💤He wants to ask Baji for his haircare routine, but his pride won't let him.

💤Always nagging Rindou about his posture and frowning. "You'll get wrinkles and grow a hump"

💤Believed his life was over when he got a pimple. Rindou had a full face of ache and listened to him cry about it for twenty minutes.

💤Aging is his biggest enemy. He stresses over wrinkles and grey hairs like it's the end of the world.

💤 As an adult, he often regrets cutting his hair.

💤 Dyed his hair purple because it's supposed to make him 'look young'

💤 Refuses to sleep anywhere but his bed. He doesn't trust anything else.

💤 Has to sleep on a specific thread count or he will throw a bitch fit.

💤 Has a satin bed set and his name embroidered on his pillowcases.

💤 Washes his sheets twice a week, but blames the high water bill on Rindou.

💤He used to worry when Rindou wouldn't come home from drinking out, then he acquired the "He'll come back eventually" mentality.

💤In school, he'd pretend to sleep to listen in on conversations. "Oh, don't worry about him. He's sleeping." No, he's not. He'll relay everything to his brother right after class.

💤 Hates New Years. The fireworks keep him up all night.

💤 Only watches 3 specific asmrtists every night. He refuses to watch anyone else.

💤 He never eats in front of people. But he'll fuck up a plate when he's alone

💤 When he was a kid, he sent really low-quality photos to a modeling company.

💤He and Emma like to gossip while painting each other's nails.

💤In the final timeline, he made Hanma do a photo shoot for him. When Hanma wanted him to pay, he tried to smooth talk his way out of paying

💤Wakes up in a cold sweat constantly. He has no idea why. He just does.

💤The guards had to hold him down to cut his hair in juvie

💤He adores trad goths. Loves the spooky Victorian vibe they give

💤He was a Twilight fan back in the day. (Team Edward)

💤Loves mean-girl movies. Clueless, Heathers (1988), and Mean Girls

💤He has a one-sided beef with Tom Holland. Apparently, he "Knows what he did."

💤His parents got him glasses, but he refuses to keep them on because it's "Rindou's trademark."

[ew-selfish-art]

DpxDc AU: Justice League requires all of its youngest members to list at least one adult emergency contact in case something happens out in the field- And Lancer did tell Danny to put his number down if he needed help!

Lancer wanted to call CPS, wanted to call them for years, but something was wrong with his beloved town and the government agents that came were always… ill mannered. To say the least. So with the young Mr.Fenton appearing wounded in his class on multiple occasions, sleeping through lectures even more often, Lancer felt himself gradually accept that no other adult was going to step up to protect this child.

He figures out his Identity as Phantom and it makes his rage boil hotter than Dante’s sixth layer of hell. Danny refuses to abandon his parents (who continue to hunt him unknowingly), and he refuses to let any of his ghostly responsibilities fall wayside (this CW fellow is a real piece of work!).

But for all the things he expected when he told Danny that he could be trusted and could help- Ms. Manson and Mr.Foley coming to him for help, patching wounds, offering snacks and covering for Danny when attacks occurred in class- he hadn’t expected the Justice League to be knocking on his door.

Lancer blinked at the appearance of Batman in his classroom after the final bell, but then his stomach dropped.

TELLTALE HEART THATS THE BATMAN!!

“Phantom listed you as his emergency contact. Have you had any recent communication with him?” The deep, gravel voice startled Lancer.

Lancer checks his phone, Danny had skipped class today; and while Lancer was working with Danny to get him after school lessons and tutoring for all of the hours he missed, it was uncommon for him not to respond at Lancer’s text asking for a confirmation of his safety.

“Not in 24 hours, but I can message him again.” Lancer is shaking as he types on his phone to team phantom-Who wouldn’t be nervous at both the implications of Danny’s safety and the Batman??

Superman flies into the room from the open doorway, “No luck, without a heartbeat I can’t find him. Where ever they have him it’s lead lined or he’s keeping himself invisible.”

SCARLET LETTER ITS SUPERMAN!?!

Danny doesn’t reply to Lancer, and neither do Danny’s friends.

“He has two team members with whom he is inseparable, if none of them are responding then all three have been accosted. I’m coming with you until we find them.” Lancer declares and while he’s sure that Batman is unimpressed, Superman gives him a sad smile and nods.

Thus Lancer joins the Justice League for a day, Helps to save Team Phantom and Informs the takedown of an illegal government agency.

Batman also slides him some adoption papers and a card for a lawyer if Lancer decides to formally adopt Danny. Lancer also wins a Wayne Excellence Award for Teaching that year but he’s pretty sure the money is unrelated to Danny’s alter ego- after all, Lancer is a fantastic teacher.

[kkoffin]

aside from your harmful transphobic views, what did kink ever do to you 😭

literally let me choke my boyfriend if hes into it lmao

to me personally, kink fucking ruined my relationship with sex and affection. people such as yourself always seem to assume i’m just some sheltered prude who thinks “anything other than missionary is the devil’s lust taking over!!”, but i was probably just as deep, if not deeper in it than yourself, and i’m still recovering from it, after years of trying to fix things.

sex was a performance, an act on both parts. sex wasnt a matter of what felt nice, and caring for my partner, wanting to share something, and be intimate. i felt exhausted after the act - sometimes it felt awkward returning to daily life. sex wasn’t really sex. it wasn’t intimate, it wasn’t loving, it was performing. I don’t know how to be intimate anymore. i can’t turn back time, and get my first times back, and recreate them as loving, and explorative. i was reliant on porn and kink, and now i’ve lacked any libido for years. I’m afraid to be intimate with anyone. I know that if i were still dating, many people i’d partner up with and have sex with would start choking me or hitting me without asking, or even if i explicitly told them not to.

it had much worse consequences too. sometimes, or eventually, it isn’t an act. sometimes it becomes real. you can’t act like one partner is superior, and the other is indebted or lesser-than without it seeping outside the bedroom. one starts always feeling like they owe the other, they must be obedient to the other, not question them. even when the other partner doesn’t intend this at all, and even where you might not notice it. after long enough of this, i spiraled into self-hatred, and complete reliance on my partner for any affirmation of my worth.

kink affected me before i’d even had sex, too. it was popular at my school, or maybe just amongst my group of friends, to take that “bdsm test” online. from the get-go, it wasn’t “cool” to be “vanilla”. before i had ever had sex, before i ever got to explore my own sexuality, what i liked and what i didn’t, i expected my partner to hit me, degrade me, etc, because that’s what was “cool”. it’s cool for women to let their boyfriend hit them. it makes the boys like you more, it makes you more fuckable. sometimes boys were the ones being hit too, or girls would be the ones degrading others, but either way, it certainly wasn’t cool to be a “vanilla wife”. i was maybe 13 when this started.

so that’s what kink did to me specifically, but that’s not the only reason i’m against it. refer to pavlov’s dog here: do you think it’s a good idea to condition yourself to be turned on when someone’s in pain, or when you hurt someone? look at the faces of many “submissives” in porn, see the fact that “painanal” is a hugely popular category - those faces are not happy, or in pleasure, or intimate and loving, or even aroused. they’re suffering. they even cry, or the video emphasises their pain. maybe they don’t say “no” or “stop”, but there’s a reason the video takes place in a situation they can’t escape from. that’s why “stuck in the washing machine” is such a popular category. it’s so they can’t escape. it’s an unsaid “no”. do you think it’s a good idea to condition yourself to be aroused when others suffer? hint: majority of misogynistic serial killers did just that. same with majority of serial rapists.

it is like a drug - you look for the next high, or the next taboo. whatever’s bigger and badder. i believe that’s scientifically proven; that porn addicts and people who engage with kink content always end up getting more and more extreme. it doesn’t stop at choking, or light “spanking”. it ends with CP and/or murder and/or rape etc. the only thing that really ends it is a prison sentence, or giving it up. vast majority of older men in the kink community have some sort of abuse or SA allegation against them. there’s a huge portion of men in prison for possession of CP who aren’t pedophiles, it was just their next taboo.

there’s so so so so so much more to address, and if you’re truly interested i can recommend books, but this post has gotten personal enough. i doubt you truly wanted to know “what kink did to me”, but that’s a peek into it. besides me, it’s worth note that kink has killed plenty people. choking can kill much easier than one would think - you can damage veins in the neck and die days after, just as one example

[helps-the-writing-brain-go]

Dad-Coded Billy

Consider, if Billy had been dad-coded even before he'd gotten his powers.

He's the eldest (he's 12) of the street kids.

He ends up gathering the Shazamily over time, either abandoned, lost or having run from home and he keeps them safe and out of CPS hands.

Eldest child syndrome (i.e. parentification) except he's done it to himself.

He tries so hard to keep them fed and clothed and with some semblance of a roof over their heads.

He buys clothes from the thrift store in bulk, gets coats sized for adults so they can bundle up more, steals leftovers and has them take turns at the local fridge to get them canned foods, fights off bullies and other people for the right to live in condemned buildings for them all.

The older kids had a couple years of school and he teaches them to read. They frequent the library a lot and use public toilets to wash up.

It isn't perfect, but they've survived this long.

The one that nearly broke the camel's back was Darla, a toddler (about 2ish?) who got really sick. Billy debating so hard on whether to willingly bring them to CPS if only to get her help because winter is closing in and he's SO scared she'll die.

But he PROMISED.

He ends up getting his powers when he ran into the subway after stealing from the local pharmacy.

Honestly he nearly refused because this kid has been in survival mode for so long and his entire focus is on keeping his family alive and possibly giving them a better life.

And then the Wizard promises him magic and spells to help them if he accepts the duty and like a man signing up for the army Billy agrees for their sake.

He's a little more closed off to the JL maybe? He has more regular hours compared to his Canon counterpart bc his focus is still on his family.

They call him big brother, but after he'd gotten even bigger, they accept the truth they'd always had subconsciously, that they actually consider Billy their dad.

[silcos-oldest-daughter]

Zaundads Timeline (by me)

Featuring

A divorced girl dad

A stressed single mother

Their children

Timeline

Married high school sweethearts (dead wife montage below)

Bitter divorce after domestic abuse allegations

Parental alienation

Custody hearing

Custody hearing Winner 🥇

Parental alienation (again)

CPS was called (they wanted custody of his child)

Family therapy after parental alienation

And finally...AU divorced-remarried parents

I could do more but the gifs are killing my phone 😂

[householdcryptid]

shy!reader and Pope brainrot

him just being appreciative that Lena has a positive female role model. and then finding out that they go above and beyond with things like braiding Lena's hair so it's out of her face at lunch, playing her mom on mothers day (my ma does this for her students on mothers day school things) and walking into pick Lena up one day to see reader arguing with CPS that yes Lena is happy and safe and well fed and that they think Pope is doing a fantastic job at looking after her

I HAVE THOUGHTS

this is so cute i had to take a lap around my house dude

also thats so fucking sweet of your mom? oh my god??

I genuinely like- this is making me freak out dude. he LOVES lena. you could say(and be correct on some level) that he only cares so deeply for her because he sees it as penance for hurting cath, but like. he loves his niece :( thats his baby :(

and it's literally canon that he's kind of insecure about how well/not well he's taking care of her? so to have someone(especially the pretty lady that works at her school who smiles so soft and sweet and calls him mr. cody and can't look him in the eyes and always has suckers poking out of her pocket-) tell him they think he's doing a good job? brother he might cry about it.

and when he realizes how much she cares about lena??? putting cute little braids in her hair, letting her spend lunch and recess in her classroom/office/library/etc., sitting with her and a few other kids at lunch on mother's day(literally stop im gonna cry). he's enthralled. he can't get enough. and lena talks her UP too.

and THEN!! one day he's walking lena in, carrying cookies they stayed up to make for a class party of hers, and shy! reader (who he's only ever heard talk quietly, never seen her anywhere near upset) is arguing, LOUDLY, with a lady from CPS.

"Mr. Cody is doing his absolute best-" He hears, stops dead in his tracks. "Lena is a lovely girl, and he's keeping her safe, and fed. Yes, she has some behavioural problems but she's being Bullied and the poor girls parents have just died. That is in no way a reflection of Mr. Cody's ability to take care of her!"

and he's all wide eyed, can't remember how to breathe all of a sudden, fingers wiggling restlessly at his sides. he has to blink hard to shake himself out of it, clears his throat, has to reboot for a minute to remember how to walk.

one thing is for sure though. his ass is seeking you out after that. (because obviously you want him too right? right.) actively trying to insert himself into school functions that you're a part of(smurf and jobs be damned) asking lena what you like to do, what your favorite food is, and lena just writes it off as "uncle pope's being weird again", but she's totally happy to give over the information.

[badathumanemotions]

Hello! I don't know if you're taking requests, but if you are I'm begging for an emily prentiss × female!reader with a dom/sub dynamic involving... Scissoring (I don't know if that's how you say it, but that's how I'm going to say it) after a difficult private case involving children (which is Emily's weak point) and I thought about breeding kinks, if possible (I think it's hot involving sapphic couples). Please?

The Quiet After

Emily Prentiss x femReader

MDNI Masterlist Category: Smut CW: Normal Criminal Minds Warnings, Case Involving Children, BAU Reader, Angst, Smut, Oral Sex, Tribidism, Scissoring, Strap On, Breeding Kink, Light Dom/Sub, Comfort. WC: 7,852 *Updated* Completely missed the first section while transferring it over, sorry about that. (Not Proof Read)

The case weighs heavily on Emily. It’s in her eyes—those tired, worn-out eyes you’ve come to know better than anyone else’s. She doesn’t let it show on the surface, but you can feel it. You know her. And this case, with the kids, is getting to her in a way that’s deeper than usual.

You watch her for a moment, standing at the board, her fingers tracing the photos of the missing children. The unsub believes he’s doing them a favour—taking them to a “better” place. It’s not hard to guess why it hits Emily so hard. There’s a part of her, a quiet, secret part, that wants to be a mother. She’s told you once, during one of those rare moments when she lets her guard down, when it’s just the two of you, and she’s soft, vulnerable in ways that few people get to see.

You’ve seen the subtle changes—the way her hands linger over the files of the kids, her shoulders tightening as the day stretches on. She’s struggling, but you’re here. You’re with her. And even when the case is consuming her, she finds ways to steal small moments with you, little gestures that recharge her.

A quiet kiss behind the SUV after the briefing. Her hand slipping into yours as you walk to the next scene. The brief press of her lips to your temple when she thinks no one’s looking. It’s in these moments that you can feel her ground herself again, as if your touch can remind her that she’s not alone in this.

The board in the conference room is covered with photos of the missing children, their faces staring back at you. There are seven so far, ranging in age from five to eleven. Beneath each photo are snapshots of their lives—school pictures, candid moments from birthday parties, photos scraped from social media. It’s a cruel juxtaposition against the grim reality of their current circumstances.

“The unsub is targeting children they perceive as neglected,” Spencer explains, standing near the map dotted with pins marking the locations of the abductions. “But their definition of neglect seems warped. The children’s backgrounds don’t show significant patterns of abuse or systemic failures.”

“It’s subjective,” Emily adds, her voice sharp and focused. “They’re acting on personal judgment, deciding these kids aren’t being cared for based on arbitrary criteria—like an out-of-context moment or assumption about the family dynamic.” Her arms are crossed tightly over her chest, a shield against the emotions brimming beneath the surface.

Garcia clicks through slides on the projector, her voice uncharacteristically subdued. “This is Evan Marshall, eight years old. His mom works two jobs, so he’s often in the care of his older sister. She’s fifteen. CPS has never been involved. Teachers describe him as happy and well-adjusted.”

The photo shifts to a girl no older than twelve. “And this is Sophia Grant. Her dad is a single parent. No abuse on record, but the unsub might have seen him disciplining her in public. And then there’s Mia Lang, five years old. Her parents had a loud argument at a grocery store a week before she was taken. Someone might have seen that and made assumptions.”

“They think they’re saving these kids from a horrible life,” JJ says, shaking her head. “But in reality, they’re just ripping them away from their families.”

Spencer frowns, adding, “It’s likely that the unsub sees themselves as a redeemer, correcting what they perceive as societal failures. Each abduction reinforces their sense of righteousness. The more they take, the more justified they feel.”

A heavy silence falls over the room. The photos on the board feel suffocating. Seven children—snatched away under the guise of salvation, only to be murdered by someone who thinks they’re better off dead.

Emily’s gaze lingers on the images longer than the others. Her jaw tightens, and you can almost see the turmoil brewing beneath her composed exterior. This isn’t just another case for her. It’s personal in ways she hasn’t fully shared with anyone but you.

Later, during a quieter moment, you find her standing by the SUVs in the parking lot, her back to the building. Her fingers worry the strap of her holster, a nervous habit she doesn’t even realize she’s doing.

You approach slowly, your footsteps pulling her from her thoughts. She looks up, her expression softening slightly when her eyes meet yours.

“Hey,” you say, your voice gentle as you step closer.

She doesn’t speak immediately, but she doesn’t resist when you slide your hand into hers, offering her an anchor.

“I hate this case,” she finally admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not just the kids. It’s the way the unsub thinks they’re doing the right thing. That they’re justified.”

You nod, squeezing her hand lightly. “It’s awful. But we’ll find them, Emily. You’ll find them.”

Her jaw clenches, and for a moment, you think she’s going to argue, but then she exhales a shaky breath and nods. “I hope so,” she murmurs.

Her hand tightens around yours, grounding herself in your touch. It’s a stolen moment, brief but powerful, as she lets herself lean into you. The team doesn’t need to see this—the way she recharges herself in the quiet moments you share.

“You okay?” you ask softly, your free hand brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Her eyes meet yours, and though the exhaustion is clear, there’s gratitude there too. “I will be,” she says, her voice steadier now.

You stand there together for a little longer, the weight of the case momentarily lighter between you. It’s enough to remind her—and you—that she’s not in this alone.

The tension in the room was electric as the team pieced together the final parts of the unsub’s profile. Spencer’s rapid-fire monologue laid out the psychological motivations, each word building up a picture of the unsub.

“The unsub’s fixation stems from a personal history of perceived neglect,” he explained, his hands moving animatedly as he spoke. “They’re projecting their own experiences onto these children and making judgment calls based on fleeting observations. The perceived neglect—a single-parent household, a sibling as a caretaker—is triggering their need to intervene.”

“They’re likely observing the children over time,” JJ added. “The unsub is targeting families that seem chaotic or unconventional from the outside, but these are often normal, loving homes. They’re misinterpreting moments—like a parent raising their voice in public or an older sibling looking overwhelmed—as signs of neglect.”

Emily’s arms were crossed tightly, her jaw set in a way you recognized. She was focused, determined, and more emotionally invested than she’d ever admit in front of the team.

“What we’ve seen so far suggests they’re escalating,” JJ added, her voice heavy with concern. “They’ve gone from abducting children every few weeks to every few days. If we don’t move fast, there’s going to be another victim.”

“Garcia, do we have anything on their potential location?” Hotch’s voice cut through the discussion with its usual authority.

Garcia’s fingers flew across her keyboard, her eyes scanning through reams of property records, utility bills, and work schedules for any anomaly that might point to a suspect. “I’m narrowing down properties owned or rented by individuals with ties to these areas," she said, her voice tense but determined. "I’m looking for someone whose daily routine brings them into contact with children in these areas—a school bus driver, a delivery person, someone who works near parks or schools. Those interactions might be how they observed the kids." She glanced at the screen. "Cross-referencing every property associated with individuals fitting the profile within a fifty-mile radius of the abduction sites. Hang tight, my loves, I’ll have something soon."

Moments later, her screen lit up with a match. "Okay, I’ve got something. George Lyman, 38 years old, works as a postal carrier in the targeted areas. His route regularly takes him through neighbourhoods where each of the victims lived. He’s single, no criminal record, but… oh." Garcia paused, her tone shifting. "He has a history of child protective services reports from his own childhood. His parents were flagged multiple times for physical and emotional abuse, but every time George ran away, he was returned to them. There are records of repeated visits by social workers, but nothing was ever done to remove him from the home.”

Emily’s face darkened. “So he sees himself in these kids, believes he’s saving them.”

Hotch nodded. “That fits with the profile. What else do we have on him?”

“He rents a farmhouse just outside town,” Garcia continued. “It’s isolated and matches the description of the type of location we’ve been looking for. I’m sending you the address now.”

You caught Emily’s eye across the room. The exhaustion in her face was mirrored in your own, but beneath it, you saw the same resolve. You gave her a small nod, and she returned it—just a fraction, but it was enough to steady you both.

The drive to the farmhouse was tense. Emily sat beside you, her leg bouncing with restless energy. She’d barely spoken since the briefing, and you knew better than to press her. Instead, you let your pinky brush hers on the console between you, a silent reassurance. She glanced at you briefly, the corners of her mouth twitching in a ghost of a smile, before turning her focus back to the road ahead.

The farmhouse loomed in the distance, its silhouette stark against the darkening sky. The team split into pairs, surrounding the property. You were with Emily, your weapons drawn as you moved toward the back entrance.

“Ready?” you whispered.

She nodded, her jaw tightening. “Let’s do this.”

The door creaked open under Emily’s firm push, revealing a dimly lit interior that smelled of damp wood and decay. You swept the first room together, clearing it quickly before moving deeper into the house. Upstairs, muffled voices and a child’s cry sent a chill down your spine.

Emily held up a hand, signalling you to pause. She leaned toward you, her voice barely audible. “They’re up there. We need to be careful.”

You nodded, your heart hammering in your chest. Together, you ascended the stairs, each step deliberate and silent. At the top, you found yourselves in a long hallway, the sound of the child’s cries growing louder. Emily gestured to the farthest door, and you both moved toward it.

Hotch’s voice came through your comm. “We’ve cleared the lower level. The house is empty except for one suspect. Any sign of the child?”

Emily responded quietly, “We’re about to breach a room on the second floor. Stand by.”

You reached the door and exchanged a glance with her. This was it. Emily counted down with her fingers, and on three, you burst into the room together.

The room was small, its walls covered with old wallpaper curling at the edges. A man stood in the center, his grip tight on a terrified boy’s arm. The child, no older than eight, was trembling, his tear-streaked face pale with fear.

“FBI!” Emily shouted, her voice commanding. “Drop the weapon and let the boy go!”

The unsub’s eyes were wild, darting between you and Emily. He clutched a knife in his free hand, the blade trembling as much as his fingers. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice cracking. “I’m saving him.”

“Saving him from what?” you asked, keeping your voice calm. “He needs his family. Whatever you think you’re doing, this isn’t the way to help.”

The unsub shook his head violently. “No one cared about me! No one ever cared! They won’t care about him either!”

Emily took a slow, careful step forward, her gun still trained on the man. “George, listen to me. You’re scared, and you’re hurting, but this isn’t the answer. Look at him—he’s just a child. You can’t make him go through what you did.”

For a moment, something flickered in George’s eyes—hesitation, maybe even regret. His grip on the knife faltered, his hand trembling. But then, in an instant, he pulled the boy closer, the blade pressing against the child’s neck.

“Stay back!” George screamed, his voice breaking. “Don’t make me do this!”

Your heart raced as you saw the terror in the boy’s eyes. Emily’s voice remained steady, though you could hear the edge of desperation in it. “You don’t have to do this, George. Put the knife down, and we’ll talk. No one else has to get hurt.”

The standoff stretched into agonizing seconds, every muscle in your body coiled and ready to move. You caught Emily’s eye, and she gave the slightest nod—silent confirmation of the plan forming between you.

In a swift motion, Emily fired, her shot hitting George’s shoulder with pinpoint accuracy. The knife clattered to the floor as George cried out in pain, his grip on the boy loosening. You didn’t hesitate, lunging forward and pulling the child into your arms, shielding him as Emily rushed to subdue the unsub.

“It’s okay,” you whispered to the boy, your voice gentle as you held him close. “You’re safe now. We’ve got you.”

The boy clung to you, his small hands gripping your shirt as he sobbed uncontrollably. You crouched on the floor with him, your body positioned protectively between him and the rest of the room.

Emily secured George with practiced efficiency, her jaw tight as she snapped the handcuffs into place. She glanced over at you and the boy, her expression softening ever so slightly when she saw you murmuring reassurances to him.

The rest of the team arrived moments later, the tension in the room finally breaking as Hotch and Morgan took over. Emily walked over to you, crouching beside you and the boy.

“Hey,” she said softly, her voice a stark contrast to the authority she’d wielded moments ago. “You’re safe now. Can you tell me your name?”

The boy hiccupped through his tears. “E-Evan,” he managed.

Emily smiled gently. “Evan, you’re so brave. We’re going to take you home, okay?”

He nodded, his grip on you loosening just enough for Emily to brush a comforting hand over his back.

As the team began to clear the scene and escort George out, you stayed with Evan, his small frame still trembling against yours. Emily stood, giving you a brief but meaningful look before stepping away to help the others.

You held Evan a little tighter, feeling the weight of his fear and relief as if it were your own. In that moment, nothing else mattered but making sure he felt safe.

The boy, Evan, was safely in the hands of the paramedics now, his sobs slowly subsiding as he clung to one of the responders. The team had the unsub secured, and the farmhouse was already being cleared. You felt a wave of exhaustion wash over you as you watched them lead Evan to safety, but it wasn’t over yet.

“Good job, everyone,” Hotch said, his voice steady, even in the aftermath. “Let’s wrap this up.”

The drive back home was quiet, the weight of the case still hanging heavy in the air. You sat beside Emily, your fingers brushing occasionally, the small touches speaking volumes. She was focused on the road, her jaw tense, but you could see the weariness in her eyes. You didn’t speak, neither of you needed to, but your proximity was a comfort—a grounding force amid the chaos of the case.

By the time you made it to your shared apartment, the evening had settled into a quiet calm, but the emotions of the day were far from gone. You both stepped out of the SUV, the cool night air feeling sharper now as it hit your skin. Without a word, you walked side by side into the building, up to your apartment, and inside.

The door clicked shut behind you, and just like that, the quiet of the apartment surrounded you both, cutting through the exhaustion that clung to your bones.

Emily didn’t say anything. She simply kicked off her shoes, then reached for you, pulling you into a tight embrace. Her arms were strong, but there was something softer about this moment—more raw than you’d seen in her before. It was as if she couldn’t bear to let go of you, even for a second.

Then she leaned in, her breath warm against your cheek. Her kiss took you by surprise—intimate and urgent. It was as if she was trying to erase the horror of the day with the press of her lips to yours. You didn’t resist. You couldn’t. Instead, you melted into it, letting the heat of her touch seep into your very soul.

Her arms wound around your waist, pulling you closer, until there wasn’t an inch of space between you. Your hands found their way to her hair, tangling in the soft strands as the kiss grew deeper, more desperate. It was a kiss filled with fear and anger, but also with a fierce love and a need to be connected—to be human.

Without breaking away, you both stumbled into the bedroom. The door clicked shut, cutting off the outside world, leaving just the two of you. You didn’t bother with the lights, the moon casting enough of a glow through the windows to navigate the room. Her hands were everywhere—on your neck, your back, sliding down to your ass—and you could feel the urgency in every touch, as if she was trying to claim you as her own.

Emily’s strength was surprising as she hoisted you onto the bed. You felt your breath hitch as she looked down at you, a wild hunger burning in her gaze. You could see the need etched on her features, the same need echoing in your own chest. It was raw, animalistic, and you craved it like a drug.

Her hands moved to the buttons of your shirt, deftly undoing them one by one. Each button released cool air against your skin, causing goosebumps to break out. She took her time, kissing each inch of exposed flesh as if she were worshipping it, her lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The fabric parted to reveal your bra, and she took a moment to simply look at you, her eyes darkening with desire.

Emily’s fingertips danced along the lace, tracing the edge of your bra before gently pushing the fabric up to reveal your breasts. She took one nipple into her mouth, her tongue swirling around it in a slow, tantalizing dance that had you arching off the bed. The sensation was exquisite, and you couldn’t help but moan, your hands fisting in the sheets. Her other hand found its way to your waistband, and she began to unbuckle your belt with an agonizing slowness that made you want to scream in frustration.

Her kisses travelled down your torso, each one more urgent than the last. She kissed your stomach, her breath tickling the sensitive skin, and you felt your abs clench in anticipation. As she reached the button of your pants, she paused, her eyes meeting yours. You nodded, giving her the silent go-ahead, your body aching for her touch.

Your pants fell away, revealing the simple cotton panties that were already damp with need. Emily’s gaze was intense, her pupils dilated with desire. Her hand reached out, tracing the waistband of your underwear with the back of her fingers before she hooked them and slowly began to pull them down.

Her eyes were focused as the fabric slid over your hips, exposing the wetness that had gathered between your legs. You watched her face, the hunger in her expression unmistakable. It sent a thrill through you, a heady mix of desire and power, knowing you could do this to her.

Emily’s fingertips brushed over your inner thighs, sending shivers of anticipation through your body. You spread your legs wider, silently begging for her touch. She didn’t make you wait long. With a soft, almost reverent sigh, she reached down and parted your folds with the tips of her fingers. You gasped as she touched you, the sensation of her skin against yours sending heat through your core.

Her touch was gentle at first��exploratory. She traced the length of your slit, her fingertips slipping through your slickness and circling your clit with maddening precision. Your hips rocked upward, seeking more pressure, but she took her time, her eyes studying your reactions. Each touch was calculated, a silent exploration of what you liked, what you needed.

Then, her fingers entered you, sliding in smoothly. You bit your lip to stifle a moan as she began to move, setting a slow, deliberate pace that had you panting. Her thumb found your clit, stroking it in time with the movement of her fingers. It was a sweet agony, the anticipation of what was to come building with every second that passed.

She brought her mouth to your pussy, her tongue swiping over your clit with a gentle touch that had you trembling. She took her time, savouring every part of you, and when she finally closed her lips around the sensitive bud, you couldn’t hold back the gasp.

Her suckling grew more intense, each pull sending shockwaves through your body. Her teeth grazed you gently, not quite biting, but adding an edge to the pleasure that had you digging your nails into the bedspread. Emily’s hand gripped your thigh, holding you in place as she explored your depths, her fingers moving in tandem with her mouth.

As the tension grew, you felt your body begin to quiver. You reached down to stroke her hair, needing to feel connected to her in every way possible. She took your cue, increasing her pace, her tongue flicking against your clit with a rhythm that had your toes curling. Your breathing grew ragged, your moans echoing through the room.

Emily’s own need was palpable. You could see it in the way her hips began to rock back and forth, grinding her core against the edge of the bed. She was so focused on bringing you pleasure that she forgot about herself. But you weren’t going to let that happen.

With trembling hands, you reached down and pulled Emily up onto the bed. Her body was a warm, solid weight against you. You both needed this—needed to feel each other, needed to be close.

You began to kiss her again, but this time, you were the one in charge. Your hands moved to her shirt, slipping it off her shoulders and down her arms, revealing her bare skin to the cool air. Her bra followed, and you took a moment to just look at her—her perfect breasts, the rosy tips of her nipples standing at attention.

Your tongue darted out, tracing the outline of one erect peak before closing your mouth around it. Emily gasped, her head falling back, and you took advantage, sucking gently as you teased the sensitive flesh. You felt her hands in your hair, her nails digging into your scalp as she pulled you closer, her hips bucking against you.

Your hands moved to her breasts, cupping the soft mounds before squeezing them firmly. Your thumbs flicked over the tightened buds, eliciting whimpers that only spurred you on. You could feel her nipples pebbled against your palms, the sensation sending jolts of desire straight to your own core. Emily’s breath grew shallower, her body arching towards you as you played her like an instrument.

With a sudden, urgent need to feel all of her, you slid your hand down her stomach, over the waistband of her pants. Your fingers worked the button and zipper with surprising dexterity, given how much your own hands were shaking. You pushed the fabric down, her underwear following, revealing her bare sex.

Emily’s thighs parted slightly, an unspoken invitation that you couldn’t resist. You gripped her thighs firmly, spreading her wider as you leaned in to taste her. Your tongue darted out, lapping up the wetness that had pooled at her entrance.

Her hips jerked in response, a soft whine escaping her as you found her clit, swollen and begging for attention. You took it into your mouth, sucking gently before swirling your tongue around it, feeling it pulse against you. Her legs quivered around your head, and you knew you had her exactly where you wanted her.

Your fingers slid into her, curling slightly to hit that spot inside that always made her moan. The sound was music to your ears, a symphony of need and desire that had you pressing harder, moving faster. Emily’s breath was coming in short gasps now, her body tightening with every stroke.

The two of you were a captivating mess—half-clothed and carelessly undone, tangled together on the bed in a chaotic, feverish embrace, completely consumed by desire. Emily’s eyes never left yours as you pleasured her, her gaze a blend of passion and something deeper—gratitude, perhaps, for this brief reprieve from the horrors of the case.

Her hips rolled against your mouth, and you knew she was close. You doubled your efforts, desperate to make her cum, to show her that amidst the chaos, she was cherished, loved. You added a second finger, curling them inside her in a come-hither motion that had her back bowing off the bed.

Emily’s breath grew ragged, her eyes squeezed shut as she whispered your name. You could feel her body tighten around your fingers, her muscles clenching as the first waves of her orgasm began to crash over her. You didn’t let up, your mouth working her clit, your other hand sliding up to pinch her nipple, twisting just enough to send sparks of painful pleasure shooting through her.

“Cum for me, Em,” you murmured against her folds, the vibration of your voice sending another tremor through her body. “Let go, baby.”

Emily’s eyes snapped open, meeting yours, and you could see the need there, the desperation in her gaze. You didn’t stop your relentless rhythm, didn’t ease up on her clit. You needed her to release, to feel the shattering pleasure that you knew was just out of reach.

Then, you began to hum—a low, steady vibration that resonated against her sensitive flesh. It was all it took. Her body went rigid, and then she was cumming, her orgasm ripping through her like a storm. Her cries filled the room, her hips jerking wildly against your face as you held her through it, her muscles pulsing around your fingers.

It was a beautiful sight—Emily’s release, raw and unbridled. You felt a sense of accomplishment, a fierce satisfaction at being the one to give it to her. But even as the first orgasm subsided, you didn’t stop. You knew her body, knew that with the right touches, you could coax more from her.

Your tongue remained on her clit, flicking gently through the aftershocks. Emily’s hips rolled, and you knew she was trying to pull away, to catch her breath, but you held her firm, keeping the pressure steady. It didn’t take much—just a few more strokes before she was gasping again, her body responding to your relentless pursuit of her pleasure.

Her second orgasm hit her like a surprise attack, stealing the breath from her lungs. She bucked against you, her pussy fluttering around your fingers. You groaned against her, the vibration of your voice sending another jolt through her.

Emily’s hands were in your hair now, her nails scraping at your scalp, holding you in place. You felt the tension in her thighs as she rode the waves of pleasure, her breath coming in panting gasps. You didn’t let up, your tongue and fingers working in tandem to milk every last drop of ecstasy from her trembling body.

As the second orgasm began to subside, you slowly pulled back, kissing your way up her body. You could feel her pulse beneath your lips, her chest heaving with each ragged breath. You looked into her eyes, searching for any sign of discomfort, but all you saw was a desperate hunger that mirrored your own.

Without a word, she rolled you over, her body straddling yours. Her hands found your face, pulling it closer until your mouths collided in a kiss that was as fiery as it was tender. She kissed you as if she were trying to consume you, her tongue delving into your mouth with an urgency that was almost desperate.

Emily’s hips began to move, grinding into yours with a rhythm that was both seductive and demanding. You could feel the heat of her core against yours, the wetness of her desire coating your skin. Your own need grew, your body responding instinctively to the pressure of hers.

Without breaking the kiss, you shifted, aligning your bodies so that your clits met. The sensation was electric, sending bolts of pleasure through your core. You moaned into her mouth, your legs locking together as you began to rock back and forth.

The wet sound of skin against skin grew louder, punctuating the air with each movement. Your hips rolled together in a sensual dance, the friction building between you. The pressure was exquisite, the feeling of her body against yours setting off sparks that threatened to ignite a wildfire.

You wrapped your arms around her, your hands finding purchase on her toned back as she ground into you. Your own hips met hers thrust for thrust, each movement bringing you closer to the edge. The scent of your combined arousal filled the room, a musky perfume that was intoxicating.

Her hips picked up speed, the friction between you growing more intense. You could feel the slickness of your desire as it coated your thighs, a testament to how badly you needed this release. Emily’s breath was hot against your neck, her teeth grazing your skin as she nipped and kissed her way down to your collarbone.

You both were so wet, the sound of your bodies sliding against each other filled the room. Your clits swollen and sensitive, the constant pressure sending waves of pleasure through your bodies. You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her closer, the heat of her breasts pressing into yours.

Emily’s hands slid down to your ass, gripping you firmly as she ground her hips into yours. The sensation was overwhelming, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body with every movement. Your own hips matched hers, the rhythm becoming more frenzied as you both chased the peak of your climax.

“You’re so wet for me, sweet girl,” she murmured against your neck, her voice a low growl of approval. The words sent a shiver of submission that you had desperately craved. You arched into her touch, your body begging for more.

Emily’s kiss grew more demanding, her tongue delving into your mouth as if she could taste your need. You could feel the tremble in her own body, the aftershocks of her recent orgasm still resonating through her. But she wasn’t done with you yet.

With a sudden shift, she pulled away, her eyes dark with intent. “Be a good girl and make me cum one more time,” she breathed, the words sending a new wave of lust through you. You nodded, eager to give her what she wanted, eager to feel her come apart in your arms again.

“I plan on getting my strap out and breeding you tonight, sweetheart,” Emily whispered in your ear, the promise of dominance in her voice sending a thrill through you. Your eyes widened at her words, the excitement of the turn in your intimate moment making your heart race.

With a sudden surge of need, your hips bucked against hers, your body desperately seeking the release that was just out of reach. Emily’s eyes lit up with approval, her grip on you tightening as she held you in place. “Looks like you want it as badly as I do,” she said with a smirk, her voice low and husky with desire.

You nodded, unable to form coherent words as you felt the pressure building again. Emily’s own hips began to rock, her movements more deliberate and forceful as she matched your rhythm. The feeling of her clit grinding against yours was heavenly, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body. You could feel the heat from her core, the wetness of her desire, and it only made you want more.

The sound of her moans grew louder, filling the room. They were sweet and needy, urging you to give her what she craved. You responded in kind, your own sounds of pleasure mingling with hers. Each gasp, each whimper was a symphony of desire that spurred you onward.

Her hips rocked faster, the slickness of your arousal making it easier for her to glide against you. You could feel the tension coil tight in your stomach, your legs trembling with the effort to keep up. Your body was a live wire, ready to snap at any moment.

Emily’s moans grew louder, the sound of her pleasure pushing you closer and closer to your own release. Your own breath came in pants and gasps, your nails digging into the flesh of her back as you held on for dear life. You felt her get wetter, her movements growing more erratic as she approached climax.

“Cum for me, Emily, please,” you begged, the words spilling from your mouth like a prayer. The need to hear her fall apart, to feel her body convulse with pleasure was overwhelming. She threw her head back, her eyes squeezed shut, and you knew she was close.

With a few hard, desperate thrusts, you pushed against her, the friction between your bodies reaching a fever pitch. Emily’s hips stuttered, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. And then, she was there—her body tightening against yours, her cries filling the room as she shuddered with release.

The moment she came, you felt it—a rush of wetness that soaked the sheets beneath you. You couldn’t help but moan at the sensation, your own climax just a breath away. Emily’s eyes snapped open, and she stared down at you with a fierce hunger.

Then, she broke away, reaching for the bedside drawer. You watched as she pulled out a harness and a silicone dildo. The sight of it sent a thrill through you, a mix of excitement and trepidation. She looked into your eyes, her own alight with something primal.

“I’m going to fuck a baby into you,” Emily growls. It was a dark promise, a fantasy that sent a shiver down your spine. The words alone were enough to make your pussy throb with anticipation.

The harness was strapped around her hips, the dildo jutting out like an extension of her. She leaned over you, the tip brushing against your wetness, and you felt your body respond instinctively, your hips rising to meet it.

Emily took hold of your hips, her grip firm and commanding. You watched as she positioned the toy at your entrance. Then, with a single, powerful thrust, she plunged into your wet heat.

You cried out in pleasure, the feeling of fullness overwhelming you as she claimed you. Your eyes squeezed shut, and you couldn’t help but let your head fall back into the pillow, your body arching up to meet her. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by your gasps and her growls of effort.

Emily’s eyes bore into yours, the intensity of her gaze making your heart race. “You’re mine,” she murmured, her voice low and possessive. “You’re going to carry my baby.”

The words hung in the air, coloured with desire and dominance. It was a heady mix, and you found yourself nodding, eager to submit to her every whim. The thought of being filled by her, of carrying a piece of her inside you, was intoxicating.

“Yes, Em,” you babbled out, your voice trembling with need. “I want it—please, take me, make me yours. I want to be filled with you, to carry your baby. Make me feel it, all of it. Don’t stop.”

Emily’s eyes blazed with desire, her pupils blown out. She leaned down, her breasts brushing against yours, and whispered, “You’re going to be so full, my love. Everyone will know you’re mine, that you’re carrying my child.”

With that, she began to move in earnest, setting a steady pace that had you whimpering. Each thrust filled you completely, the girth of the toy stretching your walls and hitting that spot inside that made your toes curl. Your hands clutched at her shoulders, your nails digging in as you tried to keep up with the sensations that were crashing over you like waves.

Her hips moved in a relentless rhythm, the dildo sliding in and out of you with ease. The room was filled with the sounds of your muffled cries and the slick sound of her movements. You could feel yourself building, your body responding to the eroticism of her words and actions.

Emily lifted one of your legs, changing the angle and hitting you deeper, harder. The sudden shift in sensation had you crying out, your hand flying to cover your mouth to keep the noise from escaping. Your eyes watered as she stared down at you, her expression one of pure determination.

Then, she grabbed your wrist, her grip surprisingly firm, and pulled your hand away from your mouth. "Don't you dare stifle those pretty little sounds," she demanded, a dark smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"I want the neighbours to hear how good I’m making you feel," Emily growled, the feral sound sending a shiver down your spine. She pulled out almost all the way before slamming back into you, the force of her thrust making the bed frame shake. Your moan was loud, echoing through the apartment, and you felt a thrill knowing that anyone close by could hear the unmistakable sounds of your passion.

Her hips picked up speed, the slap of her thighs against yours growing louder. Each thrust sent a jolt of pleasure through your body, and you found yourself letting go, moaning louder and louder, the sounds bouncing off the walls.

Emily’s grip on your hips tightened as she pulled you down onto her silicone cock, the friction building between your bodies. She was relentless, her movements powerful and possessive. You could feel yourself getting wetter, the sound of your slickness mingling with your cries of pleasure.

Her other hand found its way to your throat, not squeezing but rather holding you in place as she claimed you. The dominance was intoxicating, and you found yourself leaning into it, your body begging for more.

As Emily’s strokes grew more intense, so did her words, whispered into your ear like dark promises. "You’re going to carry my baby," she repeated, her voice a mix of a command and a desperate plea. "You’re going to be so full of me, so ripe with life."

The thought sent you spiralling, your body responding in kind. You felt your orgasm building, the pressure in your core tightening with each thrust. "Yes, Emily," you moaned, your voice breaking. "I want it—want to be filled with you, to carry your baby."

Her eyes lit up with triumph at your words, her movements growing even more frenzied. She leaned down, her teeth grazing your neck as she whispered, "You're going to cum for me, aren't you?" It was a question, but there was no doubt in her tone.

You nodded, unable to form words as the pleasure mounted, threatening to overwhelm you. Emily's grip on your throat tightened slightly, a silent command to look at her as she took you over the edge. Your eyes widened as your climax approached your body tightening around the silicone cock.

"Emily, please," you managed to choke out, the desperation in your voice clear. "I need to feel you cum in me."

Her eyes darkened at the words, and she leaned in closer, her breath hot against your skin. "You want it that badly?" she whispered, her hips grinding into you.

You could only nod, the anticipation of her release almost too much to bear. Emily’s eyes searched yours, a silent question before she leaned down and whispered, "You’re going to feel every drop of me filling you up, baby. You’re going to be so full."

Her words sent you over the edge. Your orgasm was intense, your vision swimming with stars as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. You could feel Emily’s own excitement in her tightened grip, her hips moving faster as she watched you come apart beneath her. It was as if your pleasure fuelled hers, her thrusts becoming more urgent, more demanding.

As your climax subsided, she leaned in to kiss you, her breath ragged and her eyes bright with desire. But she didn’t stop moving, the toy still buried deep inside you. The feeling of fullness remained, a delicious reminder of your shared fantasy.

Emily’s kisses grew more tender, her movements slowing to a gentle rocking that kept the pleasure simmering without letting it boil over again. Each thrust was deliberate, drawing out every sensation, making you feel cherished and owned. It was a tender domination that made you melt into the mattress beneath her.

With surprising grace, she shifted your positions so that you were both laying on your sides, the silicone cock still buried deep within you. Your legs tangled together, her hand still resting on your throat, but now with a gentle, soothing pressure that was a contrast to the intensity of moments ago. Her thumb brushed your jawline, turning your face towards her, her eyes searching yours.

Then, she leaned in and captured your lips in a slow, sensual kiss. It was a kiss filled with everything unsaid, everything felt but not voiced. Her tongue danced with yours, a dance that was both sweet and demanding.

The kiss lingered, slower now but just as intense, a way to ground yourselves after the chaos of the case. Emily’s hands slid over your back, holding you close, and you let yourself sink into her, feeling the tension in your body finally ease. The weight of everything—the long hours, the children’s faces, the endless cycle of chasing darkness—seemed to lift with each shared breath.

When the high broke, it was like coming up for air after being submerged for too long. Both of you stilled, breathless and spent, bodies still tangled together as the energy between you shifted into something gentler, softer. Emily rested her head on your shoulder, her arms wrapped tightly around your waist, as though letting go might bring the world crashing back in. Her fingers moved absently along your skin, a grounding motion more for her than for you.

You turned slightly to look at her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. Her dark eyes met yours, no longer guarded. There was a softness in her expression she rarely let anyone see—a vulnerability reserved for you alone. It was a part of Emily she kept locked away, buried beneath layers of composure and strength, but here, in the quiet of your shared sanctuary, she let you see it.

“I needed that,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of her exhaustion. “I needed you.”

Your heart ached at the honesty in her words, and you reached out, running a hand along her arm. “I’m here,” you said simply but with conviction. “I’m always here, Emily.”

She sighed, her body sinking further against yours as though your words had given her permission to let go. “It’s just… too much sometimes,” she murmured, her voice cracking slightly. “The cases, the victims, the choices we have to make. I keep it together out there, but when it’s over, it feels like it’s all going to crush me.”

Your chest tightened at her admission. Emily rarely talked about the toll the job took on her—not with anyone else, not even with the team. But with you, she let the walls come down, piece by piece. You cupped her face gently, guiding her to meet your gaze.

“It doesn’t have to crush you,” you said, your tone soft but firm. “You don’t have to carry it alone. Let me help. Lean on me, Emily. Please.”

Her jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought she might push back, but then her face crumpled just slightly, and she nodded. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she whispered, her voice unsteady. “You’re the only one I can… let this out with.”

“You won’t have to find out,” you assured her, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got you.”

Emily’s hand settled on your hip, her thumb brushing lazily against your skin. The tension that had held her body rigid for hours finally began to ebb. She exhaled slowly, her breath warm against your neck, as though releasing the weight she had carried all day.

For a long while, neither of you spoke, the room quiet except for the sound of your breathing. The case, the emotions, the burden of it all—it wasn’t gone, but it felt lighter now. You could feel it in the way her body relaxed against yours, the way her hand stopped fidgeting and simply rested on you, the way her breathing evened out.

You pulled her closer, holding her as tightly as she held you, grounding her in the present. “You’re safe,” you murmured softly. “We’re safe. Just us.”

Emily lifted her head slightly, her dark eyes meeting yours again. The gratitude in her expression was so raw, so unguarded, it made your breath catch. She leaned in and kissed you again—not out of passion, but something deeper. It was a kiss of trust, of love, of everything she couldn’t quite put into words but poured into you all the same.

When she pulled back, she rested her forehead against yours, her fingers tangling with yours. “Thank you,” she said quietly, her voice steadier now.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you replied, brushing your thumb over her knuckles. “This is what we do for each other. I’m here, Emily. I always will be.”

She smiled faintly, the first genuine smile you’d seen from her since the case had started. “I’m holding you to that.”

“You should,” you teased lightly, earning a soft laugh from her. It was quiet, but it was real, and it was everything.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other. No barriers, no walls, just the safety of knowing you didn’t have to face the world alone. And in that moment, nothing else mattered.

[mistytanzanite]

Would love to see hcs about dating Toby in an AU where he’s a university student or something!

Dating Toby in college!

p.s. this is a MDNI account! So if any minors are reading this, please don't! :(

small warning for a sentence with a mention of sex

I’m gonna yap a bit about the backstory before I get into dating him.

So with a college AU, it would most likely be some sort of AU where he never killed his dad. Instead, Toby ran away the second he graduated high school, desperate to get away from Denver.

Since he’s from Colorado, he probably goes as far as possible from it, probably going northeast. Let’s say Massachusetts, since it’s high in education ranking. I can see him majoring in social work, so he can get a job with CPS, wanting to help kids get out of abusive homes.

He works part time as well to pay off student loans, although he doesn’t get many hours since his boss is a dick who sees his tics as a hindrance. 

You meet Toby in class one day, two loners who need a partner for a project. Toby is distant at first, having trust issues due to bullying. You’re patient with him, not saying anything bad about his tics, and just focus on the project.

That gives him a good first impression of you, since a lot of people are annoyed, disgusted, or make fun of him for his tourettes. But you don’t give a shit, and he feels…normal.

The two of you exchange numbers and at first, only talk about the project as you both work on it. Then, near the end of it, you make a casual comment about a movie you wanted to see soon. Toby says he also wanted to see it, so you surprise him by buying two tickets, giving him one.

The movie is nice. He’s nervous, never having hung out with someone before. Afterward, the two of you talk about it. He sees you imitating some of the fight scenes, and laughs.

The two of you form a friendship after that. You whisper to each other in class. You eat outside together. Slowly, he opens up to you about his past. You share your own struggles. 

He develops a crush on you sometime in the second semester of knowing you. He gets highly embarrassed, beating himself up for falling for you when you had only been friendly to him. He starts to avoid you, guilty for having a crush. 

“Hey Toby, what’s-”

 “SORRYGOTTAGOBYE”

 “Wait, what?”

It isn’t until you damn near corner him after a month of this that he goes beet red and stumbles over his words that he likes you. He keeps apologizing as you walk up to him, and then interrupt him with a kiss to the cheek.

His brain stops functioning after that. You sigh, and tell him it was obvious, but you wanted to be nice and let him figure his own shit out.

He buries his face in his hands, so ashamed of himself. 

You start dating after that. Toby is shy at first, with you being his first romantic partner. He doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, at all. He’s trying his best lol.

He has a big ol’ smile on his face when you hold his hand as you both walk to class. It makes the rest of his day feel more bearable. Got a little pep in his step.

Despite his shyness, he tries to initiate. He initiates the first kiss. Asking you on an actual date. Having sex in his dorm while his roommate is at a party. 

Toby is the kind of boyfriend that doubles as your best friend. Gets invested in whatever drama you tell him about. Likes to talk shit about annoying classmates with you. 

He jots down his plans for the future with you, deciding on where to live with you, where you both can get jobs with your degrees, what kind of house you’ll be getting, what the wedding would be like…he’s a sap lol.

All in all, college! Toby would be a really good boyfriend, you just need to be patient with him.

[tinylilacbun]

Could you do a JJ’s little sister fanfic where she gets hit by Luke and JJ comforts her and takes her to the chateau to get her away from it? She could be like 13 maybe

Daddy Issues

Pairing: brother!jj maybank x sister!reader

Warnings: angst, child abuse, Luke, bruises, swearing

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

You squint your eyes shut as you try to close the front door quietly, praying to god that your father is dead asleep or passed out from drinking.

Peeking inside the living room you sigh in relief when he is nowhere to be seen only to squeak when you bump into a chest, looking up to face your father.

"You're late." He states, the smell of beer reaches your nose and you refrain from the urge to scrunch your face up in disgust.

"M-My phone died and I lost track of time." You stammer, cursing at yourself mentally for giving him the satisfaction of knowing that he's scaring you.

"Uh-huh..." He trails off before his fist suddenly connects with your face, sending you on the ground from the inpact. "Care to explain why your goddamn school called me today 'cause you keep ditchin'?"

You cradle the side of your face, tears stinging in your eyes as you try to come up with an explanation only to flinch when he raises his hand again.

"If I get one more call I swear I'll give you a beating that you'll never forget." He seethes and when you don't give any acknowledgement he leans down to grab your face with one hand, his fingers digging uncomfortably into your skin. "Got it?"

"Y-Yes dad..." You answer, your voice shaking.

He let's go of you harshly, walking past you to get himself another beer and you quickly scramble off the floor to rush for your room, locking the door you press your forehead against it and let the tears finally flow.

Fun fact, the only times you don't go to school are the days you got another bruise from Luke, not wanting to keep explaining to your teachers where they're from and risking that CPS gives you a visit, knowing they would instantly take you and JJ into foster care and the chances that you both stay together is low.

You wouldn't know what to do without him. He's your big brother, the only person you can tell everything and see more as a father figure than Luke.

20 minutes later you're curled up on your bed, sobbing quietly into your pillow when a tapping on your window startles you, lifting your head to see JJ.

You force yourself to get up and walk over to the window, opening it for him to stumble through.

"Thanks...didn't wanna get caught by dad." He says, standing back straight he smoothes out his clothes, adjusting the cap on his head.

He doesn't notice what state you're in until you move back to your bed, getting a glimpse of your face from the lamp on your nightstand illuminating it.

His eyes widen as he approaches you. "Whoa, what happened." He asks, lifting his hand to grab your chin but when you flinch away he stops mid air, his jaw clenching the moment he realizes.

Luke. He's gonna kill him. He's gonna fucking-

JJ's thoughts are interrupted by you starting to sob, pulling you into a hug with a hand cradling the back of your head against his chest. "Shh, I'm here now...I got you."

He just stands there with you for a while, not making any move to pull away, waiting for you to make the first move and when you do he pushes you gently to sit down on your bed.

Without saying anything he grabs one of your bags and shoves some clothes into it and any necessities he thinks you might need, then crouches down to pick up the teddy bear you had since you were a baby and shoves it in there as well before he stands back up.

"Let's go." He grabs your hand and pulls you towards your window.

You don't protest and climb over the window seal, your feet touching the ground again you watch JJ come out after you and shut the window quietly.

He grabs your hand again and leads you to his dirt bike, helping you sling the bag onto your back, climbing onto his bike first he waits for you to get on as well.

After you do, you wrap your arms around him tightly, your face pressing against his back. JJ revs his bike before taking off towards the Chateau, knowing you'll feel safer there.

Arriving at your second home JJ stops the others from greeting you, telling them you need a moment and taking you inside, placing his hands on your shoulders he leans down to meet your gaze.

His heart aches at the sight of the blooming bruise on your right eye, your eyes puffy and red rimmed from the crying. "Go take a shower, I'm waiting with the others outside, yea?"

You nod, making your way to the bathroom JJ sighs, walking back outside he grabs a beer can and cracks it open, taking a big sip.

"What's up with tiny maybank?" John b asks, his concern growing when JJ starts pacing, pulling the cap off his head angrily.

"Fucking Luke..." The blonde mutters. "He hit her man! He hit my baby sister!"

Everyone's eyes widen, protectiveness and anger flaring up in all of them. You're the youngest of the group, so of course they see you as their own little sibling and would do anything for you, just like JJ does.

"Why? What happened? Is she okay?" Kie asks concerned and JJ scoffs.

"No, she's not fucking okay, kie. She has a damn black eye 'cause of this piece of shit!" He snaps at her, too worked up to see that his friends are just as worried and upset as he is.

"Man, calm down, okay? We're trying to help." Pope tries to ease the tension.

"Right, right. I'm sorry- I just...fuck. I should've been there I..." JJ trails off, feeling tears build up in his eyes but pushing them back.

He knows how you feel, the feeling of not understanding how someone who's supposed to love and take care of you can hurt you like that without batting an eye.

JJ feels even worse for not being there to protect you, to stop his father from laying a hand on you.

He sits down on the ground near the crinkling fire, his arms braced on his knees when he feels a hand on his shoulder, looking to his side to look at John b.

His best friend doesn't need to be a mind reader to know what he's thinking, squeezing his shoulder in reassurance. "It's not your fault, jay. We're here for you both."

JJ just nods, giving him a small smile. "I know. Thank you. All of you."

Everyone's attention goes to the Chateau when they hear the screen door being shut, seeing you coming towards them, freshly showered and dressed in an oversized shirt.

JJ instantly gets on his feet again, approaching you to pull you into another hug and you wrap your arms around him, holding onto his shirt tightly. "I'm sorry I wasn't there I-"

"S'okay..." You whisper, already feeling a lot better being in the presence of your real family. "I love you, jay..."

"I love you too, kid." He whispers back, pulling back to press a kiss to your forehead. "More than anything.

You smile at him, the throbbing pain from your bruised eye slowly fading as you turn to look at the others. "Hey guys..."

"C'mon, sit with us, sweetie." Sarah pats the places next to her and you go to sit beside her, letting her wrap an arm around you.

The moment everyone gets settled again the usual banter and laughter kills the built up tension in the air, JJ keeping an eye on you the whole time to make sure you're alright.

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu @mylettterstoyou

For JJ:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @flora-eva

[thehealthyfearofeverything]

The Kitchen Sink

SYNOPSIS; “ “No books today?” The pretty redhead asked.  “No.” you mumbled. ”

Or 

You go to the library.

Chapter three || A Great, Good Place.

Warnings: Death, depression, violence, murder, panic attacks, mentions of EDs but otherwise not specified.  

 Your ears were ringing. You stayed on the curb, and your ears were ringing. Ambulances and police cars surrounded the gymnasium. Jamie was sent to the hospital. You had Nettie’s glasses chain wrapped around your hand, the thing was thin and discolored. He looked so small. Tobey had given you his jacket before he was picked up by his Father. The way he clinged to you. Nettie was picked up shortly after by her stepfather. It’s just a broken arm, his grandmother could wait for him in the hospital.

Mama… Where is Mama? 

The body bag.

You were alone. This was different from how Mom died, that woman was complex; filled with all the nasty side effects of motherhood that society preferred to ignore. Mom killed herself. At least she had the decency to do it when you weren't home, at least she had the courtesy to send you to the grocery store for some cheap laundry detergent.

Mama was killed. Shot twice to the back of her head right in front of you. 

It took you years to find out why Mom took her own life, to properly digest that she was suffering from untreated postpartum depression. And it took you even longer to stop with the ‘what ifs’ that it didn’t matter if you realised it sooner, Mom would have killed herself regardless.

Mama wasn’t Mom. Mama was murdered and you saw it happen. And there was nothing you could do about it, there was no ‘what ifs’ when it came to Mama.

She wasn’t the only casualty. Many parents were left without their children and many children became orphaned. 

Oh god you were an orphan.

In your first life, after mom’s funeral you still had your grandpa. He was old and cranky, and smelt of tobacco, but he held onto life until you graduated from highschool. You were eighteen then, and finally had access to the money Mom left for you.

What would happen now?

Gothem’s foster care was shit, most children would rather be homeless then placed in foster homes. You couldn’t go to Tobey’s  father or Nettie’s mother's. They already had a lot on their plate and Jamie was being raised by his grandmother. 

No you couldn’t burden them like that.

Maybe you could get emancipated? No, you shook your head. Even in Gotham no sane person would allow a fourth grader to be an independent minor. You didn’t want to be homeless and you didn’t want to be in foster care. But right now you had to choose the lesser of two evils.

The police were busy and so were the few paramedics that still lingered in the streets. Distantly, somewhere to your right reporters were being held back by some officers. Batman and his brood had left once the vehicle that held the Joker departed. 

You could leave.

It was concerningly easy to leave the crime scene. Maybe that's why villains like the Joker were able to leave Arkham so easily, incompetence and underestimation. 

The journey home was long and quiet. And it allowed stew in your thoughts. Once it’s noticed that you’re no longer at the crime scene with the other distraught and newly orphaned children CPS or the police would come after you. For now however you just wanted to go home. 

You still had the keys to the apartment, it weighed heavy in your pocket. You’ll have to be quick; in and out, just grab what is needed.

The apartment was just how you and Mama left it. Your backpack was still by the front door next to mama work shoes. The carpet was still the ugly shade of brown that it always was. You closed the front door. The apartment was still drafty but mama was’t here to warm it up. She would never lounge on the couch and peer over her book and watch you do school work. Or sing bad karaoke or encourage you to write.

You haven’t written anything recreational since waking up in this world, but you told mama about the stories you wanted to write. And she always listened, you thought briefly and foolishly that one day you would write again.

Now that’s a mere pipe dream.

Nevermind that.

You’ll need your birth certificate, your social security card, the emergency fund mama keeps under the kitchen sink, and a change of clothes. In your first ife a few months after graduating and shortly after your grandfather's death you were evicted from your apartment for a little over a year. Back then you drifted between sleeping in motels and couch surfing, it was hard but you learned a few tricks. 

You couldn’t couch hop right now, your best bet was a homeless shelter– a Wayen funded homeless shelter. Preferably one for kids. The better funded library was in the university district and that was near the crime scene. Then again all the better funded anything was in the upper districts. 

You left the building with little fanfare and with a heavy heart. You didn’t knock on Tobey’s door, you couldn’t bring yourself to. And besides he might not even be home. 

It had started to rain on your journey 

You trip going up the stairs of the huge library. The library in the Narrows was small; a hole in the wall nestled in between an alley. And more often than not it would be closed for ‘maintenance.’ Ever since taking over Birdie’s body you only entered that library twice. You looked up at the dark lettering looms above the entrance: GOTHAM CITY PUBLIC LIBRARY.

Now, back in your first life the library in the town you grew up in was never really empty, even on slow days. There was always some kind of foot traffic outside, and the library would host events and fundraisers every other week. There’s kid corners— where the library would invite some person of importance to read to the local children, Writer’s groups, book clubs, etc. it was impossible for that library to be empty, so when you entered Gotham Public Library the first thing you thought was ‘sad.’

You stood in the entryway of the library, dripping water onto the marble floor. Your mouth parted slightly as you surveyed the massive space. Perhaps, when you’re not soaking wet, you could come back here. Lose yourself in a book and forget that you were alone, twice orphaned and barely feeling human.

You could excuse the library in the Narrows because that part of the city was crimaly and cartoonishly underfunded and crime riddled, but this was the ‘good library’  and no one was in there.

It’s clean unlike the one in the Narrows, the lights were dim. Your eyes flickered to the right where the librarian’s desk was neatly pressed against the far wall. Seeming to wrap around to a side you couldn’t fully see from your position. Inching closer to the desk, and spying various pamphlets stacked across it. You grabbed a few that looked particularly useful.

There was light coming from an office in the back, but the shades were drawn shut, so you couldn't see who was inside. “ No, listen Red, you’re gonna head left then…”

A woman's once muffled voice rose with irritation before lowering back to an incomprehensible murmur. 

 The lights might be on a weird setting but the sign at the door said that the library was open, so you're doing what you want. And if they’re closed then the doors should’ve been locked. It's the universal rule in Gotham.

 You snorted as you flicked through the pamphlets. Salvation Army…Soup Kitchen…Harvest House…Youth Shelter…

Huh, many of these  charities exist in your world as well. Back in your first you had no other choice but to go to the soup kitchen, or the salvation army. You were alone than, with no living family. Now in this life you had truly thought that you wouldn’t need theses services again. Mama worked hard to make sure you wanted for nothing, not that you asked for much. And even after all her hard work, you still ended up on the street.

You lingered on the shiny image of happy children printed across the last pamphlet. you brushed your fingers along the edge before flipping it open to give it a closer read. Of all the options presented before you, surely a youth shelter was the best option?

Physically 9 but mentally 25, you were still legally a child. It would be another eight years before you were considered an adult by anyone, seven years before you could legally get a job. Despite the complete upheaval your life had recently undergone, you still wanted to at least finish school! The youth shelter seemed the best option, especially given you age.

You were familiar with how bad Gotham’s foster system was, there were kids in your class that would just disappear. They would be there one day then gone the next, and rumors about what happened to them ran rampant. But even if the shelter forcibly placed you with a family…well, you could always disappear.

With that in mind, you made your way to the door, that's when you noticed her. Sitting at the reception desk, the woman had finally left her office. You must have been too focused on the pamphlets to notice her. She’s wearing much warmer clothes than you, which makes you a little self conscious about going back outside in your school uniform. Her red hair is cut around her shoulders and she looks to be in her mid twenties.

You try to sneak past her. You keep your head low and your hands in the pockets of Tobey's jacket. you glanced at the darkening sky through the glass doors, if you hurried maybe you could make it to the shelter before nightfall.

Silently you pray that she doesn’t notice you. Not that you did anything wrong but still, you’d prefer not to be noticed. 

Her cheery voice catches his attention as you almost make it to the doors.

Fuck.

“No books today?” The pretty redhead asks. You looked over your shoulder to see an amused grin on her lips, her eyes never leaving her phone. You turn around to fully face her.

“No,” You mumbled.

There’s an uncomfortable pause, then she finally looks up from her phone and at you though her oval-shaped glasses. There’s a curious glint in her eyes, that flashes with something you're too emotionally stunted to name as she glances you over.

“Not many people come around here, so I know my regulars. You’re new.” She was smiling, her voice is light, but her gaze kept returning to your face once–twice–three times, as if making sure you're really there. It was similar to the look Mama gave you when you told her that you had depression, she never left you alone much after that. Not that you could blame her you did kill yourself.

“I came from the Narrows.” You said. “ My class… field trip.” you trailed off. Shit, that was a crappy lie.

The woman nodd, but she didn't seem convinced. No doubt because any school trip should have ended a long time ago. Still she doesn't call you out.

“ So I take it you won’t be a regular?”

“There’s  a library closer to home but it's not as big as this one.” You said. “ Though this one is better funded, so there's that.”

She nodded in understanding, “ Yeah, the city often underfunds its programs so we mostly rely on public donations.”

You nodded just to be polite, but you really wanted to leave. Small talk had never been your forte, even when your physical body matched your mental age. You clocked it a while ago, she was trying to keep you here. It was a strategy used for flight risk individuals, keep them talking until the authorities arrive. Was that what she was doing on her phone?

Did this woman realize that you escaped the crime scene?

“ Is Red Robin your favorite hero?” she asked suddenly. You looked at her dumbly before you realized that you were wearing Tobey’s jacket— his Red Robin themed jacket.

“He’s cool I guess, this is Tobey’s jacket, he’s the fan.”

To your relief the woman breaks out into a bemused smile and laughs. It;s bright and airy and filled with mirth, just like how Mama’s used to be. 

“I’m Barbara Gordon, it’s nice to meet you.”

Oh,

Oh, no. 

Maybe she noticed your wide eyes, and the color drained from your face, but before she could ever ask ‘ what’s wrong you bolted out of the library.

You should have realized it sooner, of course the first person of the batfam is Barbara fucking Gordon. you thought that you would never interact with any of them, and maybe it was just a one off thing.

But you really should have noticed it sooner.

God you were fucking stupid.

You did not reach the shelter before nightfall. To further rub salt in the wound, every step you took seemed to urge the rain to fall heavier and harder. Much to your chagrin, you were fairly certain that the last few minutes had seen the falling of hail instead of rain. 

Given that it was mid-August in New Jersey, you grit your teeth and cursed out whatever weather-altering villain was responsible for the sudden drop in temperature. 

Your luck did seem to change upon arriving at the Youth Shelter.

You were greeted by a portly, older woman who gasped at your waterlogged appearance and all but dragged you inside. She introduced herself as May, the main nighttime caretaker of the shelter. May had you shower, and in clean clothes, with a hot bowl of soup within an hour. The woman was so determined to help, that you were afraid she’d strip you of your clothes and wash you herself. 

As it was, currently you were sitting at an empty table watching May huff and run back and forth. Muttering to herself about getting a bed ready. You dropped your gaze and stared at the bowl of soup between your hands. Simple tomato soup, with a side of mouth-watering garlic bread that probably had been better hours before when it was fresh. The warmth was welcome against your cold skin.

You slowly ate, and used the soup as an excuse to remain silent when May finally sat at the table with you. You… didn’t feel hungry, you never really did like to eat. The only reason why you didn't starve to death is because Mama and your friends would put food in front of you. Mostly eating was habitual, something you did because everyone would worry if you didn’t.

“What’s your name?” She asked softly, as if you would throw yourself out the nearest window.

“Mama called me Birdie” 

Tag List:

@jsprien213 @vxsire @sick2mystmch @not-aya @seemeee3 @wendee-go

A/n: ask box and tag list is open!

A/N: this chapter is finally out sorry that it took so long to write, life has been kicking my ass, pare that with writers block, gruesome stuff my guy.

PART 2 — HERE— Interlude

[buff-muffin]

I remember seeing this guy talk about raising his sons and it kind of made me think of a modern AU Dadan and how I think she would also use one of the methods this guy mentioned. I don't remember the guy who posted or how long ago it was before it resurfaced in my brain, but essentially. he knew his boys needed to rough house, get out the energy of being well behaved all day so he bough a few gym mats and punching dummy's and threw these kids (lightly) around. Which, in of its self, is an amazing thing to give a small boy? a place to be rough and tumble and loud, an outlet for the exhaustion of the day and a place where they could actually practice their strength.

Now the ASL brothers are by no means as gentle and really they're fighting with teeth and claws regardless. but I love the mental image of like. After hours of these boys fighting every second of the day. who gets the first bath, who gets the bigger sandwich, who has to sit middle in the car, who gets the good snack or the last serving or the shower or the top bunk. or whatever other reason they decide to have a BRAWL IN THE FUCKING LIVING ROOM. Dadan finally gave in. going round back of an gymnasium she manages to score some old worn out tumble mats. drags them out to the shed and says "this is where you fight. not in the bedroom. not in my kitchen. not at school. here. and the only rule is you cant cause enough physical injury to have CPS called in my ass again."

now when an adult gives you a round about way to let you beat your siblings ass? you're gonna take it. and the collection grew, second hand boxing gloves, pool noodles cardboard shields and the dangerous stay piece of bamboo. they had their battle arena and would run home to settle a fight from hours before. And also gave Dadan a reason to kick them out of the actual fucking house when they got too rowdy over mario kart.

Of course they still got hurt. punches too hard, slamming into the concrete, a lost tooth a broken limb. But I truly think those memories of running to the shed to fight over who got the last slice of dessert at 9pm must be some of those boys favourites. Dadan considered it a slightly duller head ache

[hazelfoureyes]

Fun fact, I had an abortion after an ex removed the condom without my permission while I was in college. I take this issue really personally. I had to travel to another state and use my school money to afford it.

In the waiting room was a 13 year old girl who said her grandparents had tried everything to make her miscarry but that didn’t work and now they were almost too late to terminate. They had traveled four states away from Texas and took money from their neighbors to afford the hotel and gas money.

I’m starting prep now. Leading up to the 8th, I’ll be accepting story requests. If you can donate and show me a screenshot and just mention HLDC in it so I know it’s for my requests, I’ll write 500-700 words of what you want (smut or otherwise. No CP, no SA, you know the drill.) for a donation of at least 5$.

I’ll be releasing any requests and new things the 8th as well tagging and linking the Lillith Fund.

If you can’t donate you can always share this and @fraugwinska ‘s posts regarding it to spread the word.

At the off chance you’re in a good spot financially, I’ll send you the finale of Loss Of Decorum that I never posted for a donation of $50+. Not publicly, just straight link you to my Google docs. I also have some omega verse reader stuff I’m willing to privately offer.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,

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@howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @fizzled-phoenix , @star-kujo-platinum

, @a-case-of-attachment, @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl @smoky000

@hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain

@harley2223-blog , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby

@dontfuckbutimfab @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12