#Inside the thoughts of a thief (Musing)

[k1ranishf4]

☆ Ink and Instinct ☆

☆ Jason Todd x Female Reader

☆ His muscles were screaming, his bones aching and he wanted nothing more than to collapse in bed—or to end up in a coma, preferably. Tasteless joke, he knew, considering that he had literally died and came back, but oh well. None of that mattered when he saw his fiancée, though. Or rather, when he saw the pretty black ink on her radiant skin, right where her womb was.

☆ Content tags/warnings: 18+ content, engaged couple, explicit language, horny Jason Todd, explicit content, soft smut, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, NSFW, pet names (baby, sweetheart, pretty girl (1x), my love), praise, reassurance, reader got a womb tattoo without his knowledge, information broker!reader, shameless Jason Todd, newfound breeding kink and its consequences (don’t worry, no pregnancy in this), Jason’s thinking with his dick, momentarily shy reader, ticklish reader, humorous and sweet atmosphere, no beta we die like everyone in DC at some point

The fire escape groaned beneath his boots as he landed on the creaky metal, right in front of your shared bedroom window. It became a routine for him to enter the apartment through the window after patrolling, considering that the front door would raise too much attention to him. No one was supposed to know who the Red Hood was nor where he lived, thank you very much. He checked his surroundings again, like he always did, and then slid the window open to climb inside.

Patrol had been complete bullshit, in his opinion. Chasing down an amateur thief who ended up knocking himself out by running into a brick wall because he had looked back at Jason, disrupting a drug deal by the docks, gunning down Penguin's goons after one of them had spotted him—he was tired. And sore. He didn't even know anymore if the dried drops of blood on his jacket were his or someone else's.

He wanted nothing more than to get rid of his clothes, take a shower and melt next to you in bed. You, his perfect, smart fiancée who entered his life as the best information broker of Gotham's underworld. He sometimes still had moments of realization that, yes, he was, in fact, going to marry you. His heart felt way too heavy with love.

Jason thought you might be asleep by now, cuddled up in the warm sheets and sprawled out over his side of the bed again, despite your insistence that you always stayed on yours. He never asked you to wait up for him and you were out like a light by eleven o'clock sharp most of the time, so it was a surprise to see you still awake, music filling the air from the loudspeaker at a volume that wouldn't disturb your neighbors.

He closed the window gently, not wanting to announce his presence just yet. You were oblivious that he was even there, in the middle of changing. He leaned back against the windowsill and crossed his arms as he watched you, still in his whole Red Hood getup. Sure, okay, it might have been creepy of him to watch you change, but he didn't really see how anyone could blame him.

To him, you were the hottest, most sexiest woman in all of Gotham, hell, in the whole world. Smart, witty, beautiful, and so kind, he could die again and be much happier in his grave this time around. His gaze raked over you behind his helmet's white lenses, taking in every inch of skin you were showing as you stood there in nothing but black lace panties, pulling a shirt over your head and humming along to your favorite song playing in the background.

He smirked with amusement when you turned and yelped, jumping like a scared cat.

"Jason!" You threw the nearest object—an empty deodorant bottle that he didn't know why you still kept—at him and missed, the aluminium bottle clattering on the hardwood floor. "Don't just stand there, asshole, you scared me!"

He smiled at your indignant tone and looked you up and down again. "Calm down, baby. You know it's me," he mused smugly, his voice changed by the voice modulator. He didn't even make a move to take his helmet off or to put his guns inside the safe in the closet, still leaning against the wall.

"Why didn't you say anything?" You asked with a huff, walking past him to pick the empty deodorant bottle up and putting it back on a shelf instead of just throwing it away, then pausing the music. "Watching me like some creep, instead... Idiot."

But he wasn't listening. His gaze was on your stomach, which was hidden by the shirt again. He could swear that he had seen something there. He watched you reach up to the shelf inside the closet, his eyes still on your stomach while you rummaged through your clothes. For what, he didn't know, nor did he care, because now he could see it clearly.

"Lift your shirt," he said without any kind of context, not even looking at you. His arms were still crossed, but he felt tenser.

"Huh?"

He met your gaze, white lenses meeting hypnotizing but confused eyes.

"Your shirt," he repeated, still making no move to get out of his grimy clothes. "Lift it up."

He kept watching you as you looked at him with confusion for another moment before grabbing the hem of your shirt and lifting it up to your stomach.

His breath caught in his throat.

"I was gonna show you eventually," you started rambling, but he wasn't even hearing the words. "I thought it'd be cool, I guess, and I was waiting for it to heal properly, but then you became busier and—"

He called your name softly, so soft it could as well have been deadly. His head slowly lifted, looking into your eyes again. "When did you get it?"

The 'it' in question being a womb tattoo just above the waistband of your panties, a tattoo of his name. Cursive, elegant, the J underlining the rest of the letters and dipping beneath your panties.

He felt his heart race, his head tilting when you didn't answer. "Baby, when did you get that?" He asked again. Exhaustion who? He was more concerned about not jumping your bones right then and there.

Jason slowly got closer to you, gloved hand gently tilting your head up. "Don't be shy now, pretty girl. I just wanna know when you got it without me ever realizing," he reassured.

His thumb gently rubbed circles on your jaw, silently encouraging you not to get all shy on him now. "A few months ago," you mumbled. "Three, I think."

He paused. Months? Months of his name engraved on your skin, on your womb, and he was only seeing it now?

Taking a deep breath, he finally reached up to get rid of his helmet, tossing it on the bed carelessly. His eyes were dark, once emerald now appearing black. "You got my name tattooed right above your pussy and never told me?"

"Don't say it like that!" You slapped his chest, but he only smirked. His pretty fiancée, flustered about a tattoo she had gotten on her own volition.

"It's the truth, no? Fuck, baby." His hands went to your waist, his pants painfully tight. "C'mon. Let's get rid of this, hm?" He lightly tugged at your shirt.

"You haven't even put your guns away—"

"I know." He looked into your eyes. "I'll do that as soon as you're out of this shirt. Promise."

"Jason..." He could hear that you didn't believe him. Which was fair, considering that all of his thoughts were on you. Your body. That tattoo.

He felt dizzy from simply remembering that it was his name. His name. On your perfect body.

How would it look like if you were pregnant?

The thought made Jason pause.

Neither of you had ever brought up the topic of having children, not when you were dating, not now. But fuck, if it wasn't an appealing idea.

He never thought of himself as father material, nor did he have any intention of fantasizing about something that you might not even want, but the thought of your stomach becoming round and full of his child, with his name literally on your skin and claiming you, both of you—shit.

"You'll be the death of me," he told you hoarsely, voice thick with lust. "Get on the bed, baby. I'll put my guns in the safe, I promise, but I need you on that bed."

He'd throw you on it if he had to, but he was forcing himself not to go completely caveman on you. It was the last thing you needed, he could tell from your uncertain expression.

"C'mon." He gently guided you towards the bed, walking slowly with you until the back of your knees hit the edge of it. "Just like that. Sit down, baby."

Only when you were sitting did he go to the closet, helmet in hand, and put it along with his guns inside the safe that he had put there for this purpose. Aside from the things he personally needed as Red Hood, there were also some document files and USB drives that belonged to you—all filled with information about various criminals and crime lords.

You never stopped being his information broker and neither of you intended to change that.

"You're not mad, right?" The uncertainty in your voice made him pause, the fog of lust dissipating just enough for some rationality to return. He locked the safe and looked at you again.

"Mad? Why would I be mad?" Jason asked, confused. He stood up and walked towards you, sitting down on his knees in front of you and peeling his gloves off.

"I don't know, I just—" He watched you huff, his hands gently running up and down your thighs. "I never told you. I thought..."

"What?" He tilted his head, looking up at you with patience and so much love. His eyes flicked to your throat as you swallowed.

"I thought you might think I'm insane," you confessed quietly, avoiding his gaze.

Jason couldn't stop the smile that spread on his face. "Insane? Baby, the only one going insane right now is me because I'm trying very hard not to fuck you right this instant."

He laughed when you paused, looking at him like he was crazy. His heart swelled when he saw you getting out of that unsure headspace. Insecurity never suited you, in his opinion.

"You're so disgusting," you huffed, and his smile widened at the relieved humor written all over your face.

"That's what you do to me," he grinned. "Now take this shirt off. Please. I wanna see the ink again."

He looked at you with a mix of lust and adoration, not wanting to rush you but also feeling like a feral dog that's hurling its toy across the room.

With a sigh, you took the shirt off and set it aside. "Don't be weird about this," you muttered with faux sternness, making him smile.

"No promises," he winked at you, his hands traveling up your thighs to your hips. "Spread your legs. I need to get closer to you."

"And people say romance is dead," you mumbled as you spread your legs, making him chuckle softly while shifting closer, his lips immediately pressing a gentle kiss on your lower belly.

"You don't know what this makes me want to do," he breathed against your soft skin, his eyes fluttering when he felt your fingers run through the raven strands.

"You mean other than fucking me?" You asked teasingly, tilting your head.

"Oh, you..." He met your grin with his own and stood up, making you lie on your back in the middle of the bed before taking off his boots and settling between your legs.

His heart swelled when you giggled as his lips met your neck. He loved it, loved that you were sensitive and easily ticklish. It made sex even better. He buried his head in the crook of your neck, chuckling when you squirmed.

"Hey, now," he murmured against your neck. "No squirming, I haven't even started."

"That tickles!" You protested with a smile as more kisses were littered on your skin, down to your shoulder.

He smiled and pulled back, looking into your eyes. "Let me worship you, baby." His hand went to your lower belly, gently caressing your skin. He took a deep breath, feeling like he might combust.

Jason looked at you when your hand reached for his cheek. "What are you thinking?" You asked, your eyes looking like gems to him.

"You," he rasped. "This tattoo." He took a deep breath. You were his fiancée, sure, but he was still so afraid that he might scare you away. "I'm thinking about what it would look like if you were pregnant."

A crazy thing to say, he knew, as he watched your eyes widen. You weren't even married yet and he was already thinking about knocking you up. Just to see your skin stretch with his baby, with his name on your body.

"Jason—"

"I know," he interrupted, not even giving you the chance to finish speaking. "I won't do anything you don't want me to, I swear to you. But... Fuck, baby, I can't stop thinking about it. What it'd look like if your stomach was round with my name literally on it and our baby inside you."

He hadn't even been aware that he was hard. But he could feel it now, the unbearable tightness of his pants. He swallowed. "We don't have to talk about babies or anything right now. I just..." His hand gently rubbed your womb again. "Let me worship you, baby. Please. Let me show you how much I love this tattoo. How much I love you."

He watched you swallow before nodding. "Words," he murmured. "Give me words, my love."

"Yes," you breathed. "I.. I want you to show me."

That was all he needed.

He leaned down and kissed you deeply, but without urgency. This wasn't like the countless heated make-out sessions the two of you had had or the rough sex whenever both or one of you was too pent up to release the emotions verbally.

No, this kiss conveyed all of his love for you, the adoration he felt for you. One of his hands cupped the back of your head when you let out a small noise against his lips, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

He hummed against your lips when your arms locked around his neck, pulling away with a soft intake of breath before his lips went to your neck.

He smiled as he pressed kisses on your neck, hearing your soft laughs. "You're still ticklish," he murmured against your skin, amusement in his voice.

"I'm blaming you," he heard you say, and laughed.

"Of course you are."

His lips traveled from your neck to your shoulder, down to your collarbones. Both of you started breathing more shallowly as he littered your perfect breasts and stomach with soft kisses, until his lips were on your womb. On that damn tattoo.

He heard your breath hitch when his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your panties, but they stayed there. He looked at you, pupils blown wide. "Can I?"

He watched your throat work as you swallowed. "Yes," you whispered. "Please."

"You don't have to beg me. Never beg me, baby." He inhaled sharply as he pressed a kiss on your clothed mound before pulling the black lace off of your body and tossing it on the floor. "Fuck, you're gorgeous."

He felt hot. Too hot. His skin was burning as he leaned down and pressed another kiss on your mound, on the small extension of the inked J. His heart was racing, especially when he heard you gasp softly.

"Jay—"

"Shhh, I've got you," he whispered. "Just lie down and let me take care of you, baby." He had to take his jacket off, the leather landing on the floor too. His body was on fire, molten lava coursing through his veins.

He let his eyes wander over your body again before shifting a little further away. "You're perfect," he whispered as he leaned down, his breath ghosting over your glistening cunt. He pressed a kiss on your flesh before licking a stripe from your entrance to your clit, his eyes fluttering as he heard your breath hitch.

He looked up at you. "Tell me to stop if it becomes too much or if something feels wrong," he told you before his mouth closed around your clit, his tongue swirling around it.

The sound of your breathing becoming heavier only turned him on even more as his hands went to your thighs, moving your legs over his shoulders. Death by suffocation wouldn't be a bad way to go if this was how it happened.

"Jason—mmm..." Your breathy moan went straight to his cock, still straining painfully against his pants. He had half a mind not to dry-hump the damn bed while eating you out.

His right hand left your thigh and went up to your wet entrance, slowly easing his middle finger into you as he kept lapping at your clit. The pleased sigh that left your lips made him moan in response, muffled by your flesh.

He added a second finger when you started rolling your hips against his mouth, meeting his fingers with your own movements. He let out a muffled groan and put his free hand on your hip, to keep himself grounded and not to pin you in place.

Jason didn't mind the movement, in fact, he took it as a sign that he was doing a good enough job. He kept his mouth on your clit as his fingers pumped faster in and out of you, your moans and sighs filling the air.

It was over for him when your hands landed in his hair as you arched your back. He could feel your legs trembling while you clenched around his fingers, greedy cunt sucking them in. He kept his ministrations up as he listened to you moaning his name, his eyes on the very tattoo of it on your belly.

"Jay—Fuck, Jason, that feels good—Mmmm—!"

He couldn't see your face from down here, but he didn't need to. His eyes were locked on the tattoo, watching it ripple with your skin as he curled his fingers against the spot that he knew made you see stars, listening to you moan with satisfaction as he repeated it.

"Jason—Jason, Jay—," he heard you mewl and whimper. "I'm gonna—Fuck, I'm gonna—"

It didn't take too long for him to groan in pleasure as he felt you pulling his hair, coating his fingers with your release while your thighs clamped down on his head. His nose was pressed against your skin, the flowery scent of your body lotion mixed with the musky scent of your cum filling his senses.

He worked you through your orgasm, his own body practically vibrating from the lust coursing through his veins. Only when you stopped squeezing his head with your thighs, did he sit up and slowly pull his fingers out of you.

"Shit," he breathed as he watched you pant and come down from your high. His clean hand rubbed your hip and thigh gently, wanting to soothe you as you caught your breath. "Easy, baby. No rush, take your time."

"Jason," you breathed, your eyes meeting his.

"Shhh... Take your time. We can focus on my issue later."

He kept his hand on you until your breathing was relatively normal again and your legs weren't shaking so much anymore. He helped you sit up, letting you use his arm to pull yourself up.

"You okay?" He asked softly, adoration and concern in his eyes as he watched you nod.

"That felt good," you breathed. "Was...really good."

He smiled as you leaned against him, his arm snaking around you and holding you close. He was still uncomfortably hard in his pants, but that wasn't going to stop him from making sure you were okay first. He rubbed your sweaty skin soothingly, letting you take all the time you needed to fully recover.

"Next time," he murmured, "tell me before you get a tattoo. Might save me from having to process it before I can fuck you."

He chuckled when you slapped his chest, muttering something about him being "a filthy animal", and pressed a kiss on your forehead.

He had come home wanting to sleep, but the red light of the digital clock showing him that it was 3:47 A.M. told him that neither of you two would be getting much sleep tonight.

Tomorrow would have to be a lazy day, he supposed, smirking as he watched your hands reach for his belt.

☆ A/N: Let me know if there’s something I can do better, constructive criticism is always welcome. Hope you enjoyed!!

☆ 3.4k words

[syatbs]

Suck the Drug

summary: When Y/N wants to set farewells to her soon-to-be ex-boyfriend, Nam-gyu, she uncovers something terrifying.

➳genre/au: Nam-gyu x reader [she/her, female anatomy}, smut, plotwist, 18+, Dom Namgyu, Dom Reader, explicit content.

➳ Word Count: 2.624k

Find me on Ao3 for more frequent updates.

“Don’t let that asshole foul you, Y/N.”

The words of my closest friend reverberated within my head like obnoxious little bells. She always tries to protect me from the painful outcomes, but I just don’t fucking listen.

 I was fully aware of where this relationship was leading, but I still chose to tear my insides apart until nothing remained but the empty words that I loved him.

Him… The guy who ignited a spark within my heart and the same one who purloined it like a thief in the night.

Nam-gyu.

That’s his name and crossness spurted in my chest. It was resentment for myself who melted at the thought of his name for a tad second. How the vision of his handsome features entering my mind, made my pulse hammer against the veins.

I was a lost cause, yet I was desperate for him.

Not in love as I thought when we first crossed paths. Just yearning for affection from a man who only gifted me with mixed signals and nothing else.

“What’s wrong?” A deep voice bloomed in the dim red room, my rumination fizzling out like the smoke of a cigarette.

Following the sound, I was met with two pairs of eyes. They had the deepest color, so dark that oftentimes I had the impression that what I was seeing was the abyss of the ocean… So deep like forbidden secrets that are banned from being professed.

I didn’t realize when I was pulled into a privet room, the loud music now becoming dull, and fainted through the soundproof walls that were enclosing us. I wasn’t even permitted a proper period to grasp what a terrible mistake I had just made… Where instead of being in my bed and asleep, I had visited the club Pentagon in search of a man I should be running away rather than lusting over.

It only dawned when Nam-gyu was between my legs with the purpose of pleasuring me. His long thin fingers that were clad with silver rings, grazed the inner side of my thighs, a peculiar expression creasing his handsome face. It was crystal clear that this man wanted to devour me whole, though when he saw I was spacing out, he seemed rather reluctant.

And it shouldn’t pester me one bit for the reason why Nam-gyu looked quite different from our past encounters.

Conversely, it did. A lot.

Though when that sensation festered me like a hurricane brimful of unfortunates, I shook my head mentally.

No. This time what I’m about to do is for my own selfish benefit. For once I will spoil myself without giving something in return.

In instinct, the edge of my lips was tugged into a smirk. “Nothing. Just the thought that we had a long time to see each other.”

Kissing now the exposed skin, I had to swallow a whimper.

“Is it?” Nam-gyu mused as his kittenish demeanor returned. His teeth skimmed over the inner of my thigh before sucking down lightly, only to draw away and leave his teeth marks on the other leg.

My back arched as I moaned and my French Manicure nails sunk into the velvet cushion of the sofa beneath me.

There was no more hesitation in his motives.

With hazy eyes, I stared at his fingers grazing the upper of my legs, while his mouth was busy leaving mark after mark, and traveled them up to the hem of my leather skirt.

“Look at you so eager… I started to believe that you actually missed me.” I teased, though there was some truth alongside my telling.

On the other hand, he didn’t waver to my words only to crane his neck and gaze up at me in a look that made butterflies waltz in my stomach.

“I always do.”

At that everything around me ceased, trapping me in an environment that was only just the two of us. No music from the speakers or laughter from the guests who were gliding outside. Every length of my body was now trembling as I was not able to contain the sadness that took over. I wondered if he was genuine or if it was another of his believable lies… To push me further in the obsession I have for him.

Before I could open my mouth and demand an answer to my troubles, his fingers disappeared into my short skirt, and hooking his index fingers at the edges of my panties he pushed them down to my legs. Then shoving them into the back pocket of his dark trousers, with a drag of my hips, Nam-gyu forced my wet pussy close to his face.

My bloodstream was now racing with the exhilaration of my heartbeat as blush crept on my cheeks. Despite being no stranger to this man, such intimating moments were always making me shy away.

I felt vulnerable, yet simultaneously, the most delectable woman in the club. It was ridiculous such ideation; therefore, it gave me a sense of power that I never knew existed.

“So fucking beautiful.” He rasped, his voice dropping an octave.

Parting my legs even wider, he darted out his tongue and licked the wetness that coated my walls since the very moment I spotted him in the club. He slowly traveled it up to my sensitive bud and sucked it between his front teeth before two fingers were shoved inside me in replace of his tongue.

They weren’t that deep and I had to move my hips in desperation to find some friction. Perversely my craves soon came to a halt when his free hand forced me to stay immobile.

“Nam-gyu…” I mewled his name.

In an instant, a growl rumbled within his chest as I knew that he was getting off with how addressed him by his first name. However, his hold didn’t grow slack. In lieu, he nibbled harshly on my clit, earning a scream from me.

When I threw him daggers, a lethal expression took over his exterior and drawled. “Patience is the key, Y/N. So be a good girl and take what I’m giving you.”

At that goosebumps blazed down my spine, his dominance having a foreign effect on me. In the past, our intimating moments weren’t so intense and ardent. There was no eye contact or words, merely the animus to bring ourselves into the high.

This time, however, he was acting on a different hue and to be frank, I didn’t like it. At all.  

Because it made me feel. Because this sudden meet-up was for me to visit him for one last time before I take our memories and burn them in the flames of what I call “moving on”. To forget for once and for all that, this man made me more alive than any other mortal being and not dwell on the webs he set for me, so he could keep me as his lover prisoner.

Placing my legs on the edge of the sofa, my fingers ran through his long dark hair, and taking a fistful I pulled until a low hiss fell from his lips.

“There is no patience if there is no time.” I heaved.

I could see my words echoing within his skull, and once he understood the message his jaw clenched.

He finally realized that what I was doing wasn’t our usual routine, where I visited the club where he works, getting railed, and once the building closed he would take me to his apartment so we could continue from there.  

It was a hook-up. A farewell to the failure of our relationship.

Once he makes me come undone, I will depart and never return.

In a trice, Nam-gyu’s nostrils flared as fury licked his dark orbs. His breaths became ragged, causing his chest to deflate and inflate in rapid rhythms that still simmer with control, and his face was stone-cold with a lingering vibration that screamed authority upon this situation.

Of his silence for a moment, I had the deliberation that he would leave me hanging sans doing something to complete my plan — to give me the upper hand and the satisfaction. But when his fingers curled inside me and deeper than previously, it settled in me that Nam-gyu was letting me win.

He pushed them in and out of me while our eyes were locked, and my lips parted in silent moans. With each second, my warm walls were clamping down his fingers like a vise, the craving to reach my climax more potent than ever.

By my eagerness, he picked his pace up, and dipping his head once again he sucked my clit hard. The sensitive bud was either flicked by his tongue or his teeth were lightly biting at it and when he noticed my legs starting to sake by his assault, he changed motive.

Replacing his fingers with his mouth, Nam-gyu was tongue-fucking me as his hands hooked around my legs to bring me closer to his face.

Conversely, one of my hands had been placed beneath my head while the other one was at his head — pushing him harder against my opening. My nails were scraping his skull and a low groan of his vibrated through me.

It was such a euphoria that I never wanted it to end. A Nirvana I never experienced before… Somehow it felt quite bitter when I knew it wasn’t a situation that would last, no matter how much I begged to maintain.

A pinch of my clit and his tongue being shoved in my pussy was all it took for me to cry out and my fluids to coat his lips and chin. My breaths had now turned uneven, the high I was entrapped had me spinning and seeing stars.

Our gazes never strayed from each other and the dim LED lights of the private room gave me a slight glimpse of my glistening arousal on his lips. Peculiarly, such a spectacle that was displayed in front of me made me wonder if I ever would be able to find a man so spellbinding as him.

A man who still shines with handsomeness notwithstanding the flaws that corrupt him whole.

Slowly or rather cagily, I took his hand and sucked his coated fingers clean. His eyes followed the movement of my pink tongue swirling around them as if what I was sucking was his veiny cock, and my Louboutin heel was planted on his sternum.

Letting his fingers with a pop, I pushed him harshly on the floor straddling him with my hips. Bewilderment overpowered his features when I reached for his belt.

He always was my Dom, though this time I will be the one to ruin him and ravish him.

Like an expert, I unbuckled the leather material around his waist, the sound of it snapping from his jeans’ loops, having him gasp silently. Smirking in his way, I seductively bent over my torso, my hot breath grazing over the shell of his ear.

“Wrap it around your throat.”

I could feel his body stiffen beneath me, a body language that spoke louder than words that signified he hated being controlled. Yet the tightness of the center of his trousers and hips slightly raising to dry hump my wet pussy was a hint that there was some liking at my sudden dominance.

Reluctantly, he took the belt and placed it around his neck giving me now the initiative to loop it through the buckle and pull it tight. So tight that the metal bit into his skin as the belt constricted.

Nam-gyu choked and his back arched as panic flashed before his vision, thus a single caress of my hand down to his cheekbone and a soothing voice, his muscles relaxed.

“Relax. You can breathe.”

With one hand now holding the edge of the belt like a leash, my other one found the zipper of his trousers and undone it, my palm pressed hard against the swollen of his manhood.

He was bigger than the average size, having my core skated with dark desires. I wanted his dick inside me, the sensation of being filled compelling me to move quicker and hastily. Without any further ado, I pulled out his swollen length from the waistband of his boxers, and giving a few strokes of my palm — while my thumb traced his pre-cum — I then rubbed it up and down my coated folds.

Soon, I sink into him, taking bit by bit every inch and my eyes roll at the back of my head as my opening burns at the sudden stretch of his thick length.

Once he was fully inside me, both of us groaned in unison.

“Y/N…” He growled once my hips started rocking against him. He attempted to grab and guide them with a more brutal bounce but a single tug of the belt restrained his efforts.

“Patience is the key, Nam-gyu. So be a good boy and take what I’m giving you.” Throwing his words back in his face, something dark gleamed in his eyes.

Beaming in his way, my hand was placed against his strong chest for stability and continued bouncing on his cock, as my head was lolled back. My pussy was basically screaming for another orgasm — to be filled with his cum and leave the room like a dirty whore.

The sound of skin hitting skin bloomed into the dim room, our panting breaths the melody in our silence.

Every unused muscle in me was aching with such intense hip movement, my eyes stinging in tears as my folds creamed and squeezed him. The orgasm wasn’t far afield and leaning to his way, I sucked the quick pulse in his neck. Lapping up his sweat and aroma that smelled like cigarettes, my lips crashed into his. I could taste myself on his tongue and like a grinding woman, I sucked it, fought it with my own, and flicked his bottom lip before ravishing it between my front teeth.

The taste of coppery was inserted into my mouth and I swear I could feel his erection growing even larger at the roughness my nature provides.

What I was doing was a silent message that tonight he was all mine. Mine to devour and mine to ruin. For one last time until another female has him as her own.

Soon my whole body had been paralyzed as the orgasm hit me like a thunderclap. I arched my back, driving my climax until the very end.

It surprised me when his hand snaked around my nape and pulled me once again for a kiss — with the difference that it was now softer and more loving. There was no rush between us and as we were breathing in each other’s pants, I released the belt.

His thumb wiped the red lipstick that I’m damn sure was now smudged and we looked at each other debating if we should withdraw or remain in this position for eternal eon.

Regrettably, his phone rang and he rolled his eyes in irritation.

“Sorry,” Nam-gyu apologized as I rolled over, already feeling the emptiness between my legs.

But it didn’t vex me when I found out that the one who was calling him was no other but his friend, Thanos. It troubled me when a card fell from the pockets of his jacket while he pulled out his phone.

A card with three shapes in the center. One circle, one triangle, and one square.

Since he was busy with the call, he didn’t notice that it had fallen out nor how my face paled at the sight. Because that card was no stranger to my eyes since I already had one.

[atlabeth]

table thief

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: spencer's routine, thoughts, and plans are thrown off by a girl he meets at his favorite cafe --- not necessarily in that order.

a/n: i dont know where this came from but uh. enjoy this lil fluffy blurb! ill get to those 3k requests sometime. set during spence's time at caltech

wc: 1.6k

warning(s): none, all fluff

Spencer’s mind is a whirlwind of information while he stands in line at his usual coffee shop, trying to keep everything in order as he goes over everything he needs to get done. It’s a particularly busy afternoon for him, hence his coming here directly after class instead of stopping by his dorm. 

There’s a research paper for him to finish, office hours to make for his most elusive professor to get some questions answered—why she only has them open for two hours on Wednesdays, Spencer has no idea—a thousand papers to grade for the class he’s a TA for, and naturally, a coffee to give him the energy for the rest of what is going to be a long night. 

Of course, he knows he should probably try and do it without caffeine—it’s one of the most popular drugs in the world, and most people live in ignorance of their obvious addiction to it—but Spencer has decided to forgo some caution in the name of getting all his work done. 

He doesn’t really have a choice, honestly. He’s planned out this whole day meticulously, much like every other day. He packed his bag with everything he would need for the rest of the day so he wouldn’t have to make the aforementioned stop at his dorm, he picked the line with the barista that has never gotten his order wrong—and, he’s realized over numerous trips to this shop, is the fastest in the entire cafe—and his usual table is big enough to hold all of his books and papers. 

But as Spencer finishes pouring in his last bit of sugar, he realizes his meticulous plan is foiled before he can even take the first sip. 

Because his table is taken. 

The table he sat at the first time he stopped in here before class and the table he has sat at every other time since, the table that has honestly become a part of his routine and is the only one big enough for all of the work he has to get done this afternoon, is taken by some woman wearing a Caltech sweatshirt and reading a book. You’ve got your own thermos in front of you, so at least you care about the environment, but that thought doesn’t stop the flareup of annoyance inside of him. 

You have to be a student, and you have to be his age, and you have to either be oblivious or have a whole lot of nerve because Spencer has seen you around campus and in this coffee shop before. That means you know this is his table and you still took it anyway. 

“That’s my table,” Spencer says, and after it leaves his mouth he’s able to hear how stupid he sounds. It’s a table in a public coffee shop. Of course he has no claim to it—just because it’s obvious to him doesn’t mean it’s obvious to you. You probably didn’t even know. 

You look up from your book, and the second stupid thought to hit him is how pretty you are. “I know.”

He frowns. He can’t think that table thieves are pretty, especially ones with apparent malicious and knowledgeable intent. “You— you know?”

You nod. “I’m here almost as much as you are, Mr. Reid.”

“Doctor Reid,” he corrects, almost on instinct. 

Your eyebrows rise. “Doctor?”

“I have two PhDs,” he explains, though he feels even more stupid doing so as he gets on the edge of stammering. “I’m working on a third. Chemistry.”

“And already I know more about you in a minute than I’ve gotten in the past month,” you muse. “That’s why I took your table, Doctor Reid.”

Spencer frowns even more. “You took my table so I could tell you about my PhDs?”

“So I could get an excuse to talk to you,” you correct. Your smile grows a bit and you huff a quiet laugh, more to yourself than anything. “You’re a little intimidating.”

That gets him completely, his brows furrowing deeper yet. “I— I’m intimidating?”

“Well, yeah,” you say. “You’re a gorgeous guy who always looks like he’s got something to do, so I never wanted to interrupt you. But I really wanted to ask you out, so I finally decided to take matters into my own hands.”

Spencer feels like his brain is short circuiting. He’s still stuck on the intimidating comment, and he’s still kind of annoyed that you took his table, but you specifically went out of your way to get his attention and now you’re calling him gorgeous— 

Just who the hell are you? 

“You’re not busy, are you?” He’s drawn out of his head temporarily as you speak again, dazzling smile still on display. “I would get it if you were. I mean, third PhD and all.”

“No,” he says immediately, shaking his head far too rapidly, “no— no, I’m not busy.”

He just has a whole lot of work to do, work that he came specifically to this cafe to do, but you’re throwing him off of everything in the first five seconds of knowing each other. 

“Wonderful.” Your smile grows and Spencer feels his face grow hot. He finds his annoyance quickly fading, replaced with some mix of confusion and interest and embarrassment. “If you’ve got the time, I’d love to sit down and talk some. Get to know you a bit.”

And again, Spencer hardly even knows what to say. He— he doesn’t talk to girls. Girls don’t talk to him. But here you are, stealing his table and flashing pretty smiles and wanting to get to know him— wanting to ask him out. It’s all so absurd that a part of him thinks he might just be dreaming, but he’s sure he’s fully conscious. 

“Why?” he blurts out, and he would be even more embarrassed if it wasn’t such a genuine question. 

You give him a wry look. “Why what?” 

“Wh— why would you want to get to know me?” Spencer stammers. “There’s more than 2,000 other students here. There’s almost 40 million people in California. I’m no one.”

“You are Doctor Spencer Reid,” you say, looking him right in the eye. “You drink your coffee with an absurd amount of sugar and cream, you always seem to be in a hurry, you’re one of the most beautiful guys I’ve ever seen, and I want to know more about you than passing observations. That’s why.” 

For once, Spencer finds that he’s speechless. He doesn’t think anyone has ever been this blatant, this honest with him, over a matter like this. He— he doesn’t think he’s ever been asked out. Are you asking him out?

“If you think this is totally weird and you want your table back, say the word and I’ll get out of here.” Your eyes move to the free seat across from you, and you tilt your head. “But… if you don’t think it’s totally weird, there’s room for another.” 

Spencer stands there for a second, a thousand things flitting through his mind once again. On one hand, he has a lot of work to do. This is throwing off his entire routine, and even if he just spends ten minutes talking here, he’s going to have to get all his work done, and he’ll probably end up running to his office hours to make it there in time. Part of the reason that he plans things out so meticulously is so he can avoid sprints across campus that he’s most certainly not built for. 

On the other hand, he’s known you for two minutes and he’s already enraptured. He wants nothing more than to ignore that voice in his head and sit down across from you, absorb every bit of attention you’re willing to give and every word you say, and get to know this strange table thief. 

It takes another moment, but Spencer slings his bag off and takes the seat across from you. He sets his bag on the ground and his oversugared coffee on the table, and he notices the way a weight seems to leave your shoulders. 

You were nervous. Nervous to talk to him. The thought is almost laughable, that someone feels the way about him that he usually feels in every social interaction. 

“It is a little weird,” Spencer says, and he finds a small smile tugging at his lips that he can’t fully control. “But that’s kind of my specialty.” 

Your smile grows, and Spencer thinks you’re one of the most beautiful girls he’s ever seen. He has no idea how he got lucky enough for you to intercept him like this, but he’s grateful for it. 

“Good to hear,” you nod, and you let out a soft chuckle. “Sorry for stealing your table, by the way. It was the only thing I could think of to get your attention.” 

He shakes his head as he blinks a few times. “I don’t blame you. It’s a good table.” 

“It’s not really the table,” you say wryly. “It’s you. You’re very intriguing.” 

“Well,” Spencer says, clearing his throat as he tries his hardest to calm his nerves, “I guess it’s not really my table anymore. It can be our table, going forward.” 

Your eyebrows rise, and your smile is as bright as your eyes. “I like the sound of that, Doctor Reid.” 

His face burns as he tries to act casual, and he hopes you can’t tell how much he likes the sound of that. 

You start talking, asking him questions about himself and what he does and how in the world he has two PhDs already when you’re the same age, and he finds himself attached to every word—it’s an active effort to not get lost in those bright eyes of yours. 

(Spencer never does make it to those office hours.)

[shizuturnspages]

Hi, I can request a yandere diluc, Childe, (I don't know which character else to add) with a cute and adorable reader but who is actually strong and professional murderer, thief, disguise, hitman and a horrible, He has an obsession with removing the organs of his victims (such as cutting their stomach to remove their entrails and feeling their warmth) twisted and sadistic Personality . Basically, the reader belongs to a murderous organization from birth and he also has a traumatic past. if you don't feel comfortable doing this, don't do it :D Thanks. (Oh and it is impossible to rehabilitate and give therapy to the reader, the reader is aware of his actions but still it is bad )

A Monster in Sheep's Clothing

Synopsis: You are not a victim. You are not helpless. You are a predator. And they? They are the fools who fell into your trap. But one thing remains certain— They will never, ever let you go. Pairings: [Separate] Yandere Diluc, Childe & Dainsleif x Cute but Sadistic Assassin! Reader

Diluc – The Knight in Shattered Armour

❥ At first, Diluc doesn't suspect a thing. He sees you as this small, naive person who has somehow survived in a cruel world. It baffles him.

❥ He thinks you need protection. He is ready to shield you from the dangers of the world. He doesn’t realize that you are the very danger he is trying to keep at bay.

❥ The moment he finds out the truth, he freezes. His blood runs cold. This isn’t just murder. This is pleasure. You kill for fun.

❥ “What… are you?” His voice shakes—not with fear, but with something deeper. Something more twisted.

❥ And yet, despite everything, he can’t let you go. He should despise you. He should turn you in. But he doesn’t. Because deep down, there’s a part of him that likes this.

❥ You are a monster, yes—but you are his monster. He tries to tame you, convince himself that he can control this. That you will never turn your knife against him.

❥ But every time he looks at your sweet, smiling face, he wonders… Would it really be so bad to let you be?

Diluc hates what you are.

And yet, he cannot let you go.

It sickens him, the way his heart clenches whenever you smile—sweet, innocent, deceptive.

He has seen what lies beneath that mask.

He has seen you, drenched in blood, humming softly as you dig your fingers into a man’s open stomach, warmth still clinging to his fading life.

He should have killed you.

Should have ended this the moment he realized what you were.

But instead, he burns with something he cannot name.

Something worse than hatred.

"You disgust me," he growls, grabbing your wrist.

You giggle, tilting your head. "And yet, here you are~"

Diluc’s grip tightens. "This needs to stop."

You sigh, eyes shimmering with amusement. "But you don’t want me to stop, do you?"

And when you lean in, whispering softly—

"Would you like to watch next time?"

Diluc trembles.

Not with rage.

But with something he refuses to name.

Childe – The Bloodstained Beast

❥ Oh, you think you enjoy the thrill of the kill? Childe lives for it.

❥ When he meets you, he immediately senses something off. There’s something in your eyes, something hungry. He recognizes it—because it’s the same look he sees in the mirror.

❥ But he doesn’t expect this. The first time he watches you work—sees the way you carve into a body with delicate precision, humming sweetly to yourself—he feels something dark curl in his chest. You’re beautiful.

❥ He laughs, shaking his head. “And here I thought I was the messed-up one.”

❥ Childe doesn’t try to stop you. He doesn’t want to fix you. No, no, no—he encourages it.

❥ “You like feeling their insides, don’t you?” His voice is low, teasing. “Don’t be shy, show me how you do it.”

❥ He sees you as his perfect match. A partner in blood, in chaos. And the way you act so sweet on the outside? It only makes it better.

❥ “I wonder…” he muses, eyes dark with amusement, “how many people have fallen for that cute little smile before you gutted them?”

❥ And the worst part? He wants you to do it to him, just to see how far you’d go.

Childe is thrilled.

He has always believed that love is best proven through blood, through battle, through the thrill of a kill.

And you?

You are perfect.

"Look at you," he laughs, crouching beside the fresh corpse you’ve just meticulously gutted. "So messy."

You pout. "I think I did a good job."

Childe grins. "Oh, I think you did amazing, sweetheart. But you know…" His fingers brush the blood on your cheek, smearing it further. "Maybe we should have some fun together next time?"

You blink, tilting your head. "You want to play with me?"

Childe chuckles. "Oh, darling—I want to dance with you."

And when he takes your bloodstained hand in his own, pressing a kiss to your knuckles—

You know he means it.

Dainsleif – The Reluctant Worshipper

❥ Dainsleif is torn. Completely and utterly torn. You remind him of something he lost. A fragile, beautiful thing that should never have survived in this wretched world.

❥ But that illusion shatters the moment he sees your work. The blood, the carved flesh, the glee in your voice. It disgusts him. It horrifies him. But most of all, it fascinates him.

❥ Dainsleif knows he should stop you. He knows you are beyond redemption, beyond saving. He knows you are something wretched. And yet, he can’t bring himself to leave.

❥ “You are beyond salvation,” he murmurs, watching you carefully. “And yet, I cannot seem to turn away.”

❥ He hates how drawn he is to you. He despises himself for liking the way you speak to him, for feeling something warm when you smile.

❥ But no matter how much he resists, the truth is undeniable. You have ensnared him. And he will never be free.

Dainsleif does not try to change you.

He understands you.

For what are you, if not a product of a world that has always been cruel?

He watches, silent, as you carve into another victim, your eyes gleaming with something twisted, something delighted.

"You enjoy this," he states.

You glance at him, tilting your head. "Should I lie and say I don’t?"

Dainsleif does not answer.

Instead, he steps forward, kneeling beside you.

"You do not fear death."

You hum. "Death is just another game."

Dainsleif watches you for a long moment.

Then, softly—

"Would you like me to play with you?"

And when you smile, wide and genuine, he knows—

You are his.

Completely.

Eternally.

And he will never let you go.

[butterfly-lies-chase-them-away]

hii i wanna ask if its possible you make a part 2 on behind the mask? like for example maybe how they relationship is going on or when bruce finds out??

Behind the Mask - Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader Part 2/2

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader Scarecrow x Batgirl!Reader

(Part 1)

Word Count: 8682

Warnings: fear toxin, Scarecrow x Batgirl

Summary: Imma cut to the chase (Requested) Their relationship is well, but Crane wants to be more open

A/N: Holy shit, did this take a while, my bad guys!! I had no intentions to write a part two, as I had nothing else to add to this fic, but I had many requests for a part two so...here we are, lol I don't know how good this part is but it exists now, lol Thank you so much for the people that liked this fic, I hope this wraps it up for yous, if not...my bad let's go! 💚

-

The rhythmic tapping on Y/n's window had become a nightly occurrence for Y/n. She turned towards the source of the sound, her heart fluttering as she caught sight of Craw and Jonathan perched on the fire escape in front of her window.

Y/n hurried to unlatch the window, "You really ought to it open," Jonathan suggested, his voice carrying a playful edge as he flashed her a smirk.

Y/n chuckled softly, her eyes dancing with amusement. "And you really ought to use the door. This fire escape is shitty and old, it’s gonna break nay day now," she quipped back, her tone laced with affection as she pulled Jonathan inside with a tug.

Jonathan's grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "But it adds to the aesthetic," he countered.

Y/n couldn't suppress a fond roll of her eyes as she removed Jonathan's mask, her fingers lingering on his cheek for a moment before she leaned in to capture his lips in a stolen kiss.

The moment stretched and Jonathan lips curved into a smile. As they parted, Y/n's gaze softened, her heart skipping a beat as she watched Jonathan's smile linger.

Pulling away, Y/n made her way to her desk, her movements graceful and deliberate as she grabbed a bag of seeds she had stashed away. Sprinkling them onto the surface, she watched with delight as Craw flew from Jonathan's shoulder, his wings fluttering with excitement.

Settling onto her bed, Jonathan followed suit. Laying back on the bed, Jonathan shifted his gaze to Y/n. "So, when do you plan on letting your high-flying friend know about us?" he asked.

Y/n's eyes widened in alarm, her head snapping towards him with a swift motion. "You wanna die?" she retorted.

A chuckle escaped Jonathan's lips, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Ah, so you're resorting to threats now?" he teased, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Y/n couldn't help but shove his arm in response, her touch carrying a playful edge. "You know what I mean," she countered, her tone softening with affection as she met his gaze

"Better you tell him than him finding out," Jonathan said.

Y/n's expression grew tense, her worry palpable. "Yes, but telling him means exposing you to potential danger. Who knows what he might do?" she fretted, her voice filled with concern.

Jonathan's confidence remained unwavering. "As you’ve mentioned before. It would be hypocritical for him to act out," he reasoned.

Y/n shook her head. "But we're dealing with two vastly different scenarios here. Catwoman is a petty thief, and that’s very different from your... eccentricities. You're a werido doctor, doing experiments with questionable drugs that induce terrifying hallucinations and, sometimes, even casualties," she countered, her words laden with unease.

Jonathan turned his gaze to the ceiling, deep in thought. "Hmm," he mused softly.

Y/n sighed, shifting her focus upward as well. "Besides," she continued, "it could complicate things even more, considering you don’t know his identity."

"And I’m guessing you prefer it that way," Jonathan replied.

Y/n gave him a playful pout, but before she could respond, her phone rang, cutting through the tension. With a reluctant groan, she pushed herself up and grabbed her phone from the nightstand. Seeing Bruce's name on the screen, she took a deep breath and answered. 

"Hey, Bruce! What's up?" she greeted, her tone deliberately light and casual to indicate that now wasn’t the best time for a serious conversation.

"Just calling to check on you," Bruce replied, his voice calm and understanding.

"I'm good, thanks. I just have someone over right now," Y/n said, glancing at Jonathan, who was watching her intently.

"Oh, is it who I think it is?" Bruce asked, a hint of teasing in his tone.

Y/n couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Yes, it is," she admitted.

"When do I get to meet this mysterious person?" Bruce asked, the question laden with unintentional irony.

The complexity of the situation weighed on Y/n as she considered her response. "Not sure," she replied, her voice careful and measured.

"I hope you won’t keep me waiting too long," Bruce said, his tone both playful and serious.

Y/n sighed inwardly, recognizing the tangled web of secrets and identities she was caught in. "I'll see what I can do," she replied, striving to keep the conversation light despite the underlying tension.

As she ended the call, Y/n looked back at Jonathan, who raised an eyebrow inquisitively. She could sense the unspoken questions between them, the delicate balance they maintained teetering on the edge of discovery and secrecy.

As Y/n put down her phone, she could feel Jonathan's eyes on her, a mixture of curiosity and concern etched across his features. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the inevitable questions.

"So, that was Bruce Wayne?" Jonathan asked.

"Yeah," Y/n admitted, sinking back onto the bed beside him. "He just wanted to check in."

Jonathan smirked, a knowing glint in his eye. "And he wants to meet me, does he?"

Y/n sighed, rubbing her temples. "You know it's not that simple. He’s... protective, and if he found out about your... nightly activities, it could get messy."

Jonathan chuckled, a dark, velvety sound that sent shivers down her spine. "Messy, indeed. But you've got to admit, there's a certain thrill in walking such a fine line. Besides, he wouldn’t be as bad as your other friend."

Y/n frowned, her worry deepening. "This isn't a game, Jonathan. Bruce isn’t someone you want as an enemy. He’s...persistent. And don’t get me started on Batman"

Jonathan reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You just want to keep me safe…you’re not embarrassed of me."

Y/n was well aware of these underlying insecurities of Jonathan’s, they were hard to miss. And keeping him as a locked up secret didn’t help. 

She nodded, the weight of her dual life pressing down on her shoulders. "Exactly. I don’t you getting hurt."

Jonathan's expression softened slightly, a rare vulnerability peeking through. "I’ll be careful, Y/n. For you."

She met his gaze, searching for sincerity in his dark eyes. "I hope so. Because if Bruce ever found out who you really are... I'm not sure what he’d do."

Jonathan leaned in, brushing his lips against her forehead. "Then we’ll just have to make sure he never does."

Y/n closed her eyes, leaning into his touch, her mind swirling with worry and affection. She knew the road ahead was fraught with danger and deceit, but for now, in this moment, she found solace in Jonathan’s presence.

Breaking the silence, she murmured, "We need to be smart about this. No more unnecessary risks."

Jonathan nodded, his voice a low whisper. "Aside from my obvious alter ego issues, what about me would put him off so much?" he asked curiously.

"Well, for starters, you're technically my superior at work, which complicates things," Y/n began. "And let's not forget, you're literally his age, which doesn't exactly help our case. So, we’re already off to a rocky start."

Jonathan sighed, acknowledging her points. "Yes, you make a fair point," he conceded.

"Will you stay the night?" Y/n asked, her voice soft and hopeful.

Jonathan considered her for a moment before a slow smile spread across his face. "I don't see why not," he replied, his tone warm and reassuring.

Y/n felt a wave of relief wash over her as Jonathan settled more comfortably on the bed beside her. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft, silvery glow over the room. She reached out, her fingers lightly tracing the contours of his face, memorizing every detail.

"You know," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "despite everything, I do feel safe with you."

Jonathan's expression softened, and he took her hand in his, pressing a gentle kiss to her palm. "And I with you," he murmured. 

They lay there in silence for a while, wrapped in each other's presence, the world outside their little bubble momentarily forgotten. The unspoken promise of mutual protection and understanding hung in the air, a fragile but resilient bond between them.

-

Waking up was easier than usual, especially with the enticing aroma of breakfast wafting through the air. Y/n stretched and climbed out of bed. Craw was perched on the desk, still asleep. Below the bird lay Jonathan's mask, resting limply on the surface. Y/n followed the delicious scent to the kitchen and there, she found Jonathan at the stove, and she felt a surge of gratitude that he hadn't left as she had half-expected.

"Morning," Y/n greeted, a smile spreading across her face.

"Good morning," Jonathan replied, turning to plate some food for the two of them.

He set the two plates on the small dining table, and they both took a seat. "Thank you," Y/n said softly, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

As they began to eat, Craw flew in from her room, landing on the table in front of them. Y/n broke off a piece of her breakfast and offered it to Craw, who eagerly accepted the treat.

"You don't have work?" Y/n asked between bites.

"I do, but I have some time," Jonathan responded, a small smile playing on his lips.

They ate in comfortable silence, the morning light filtering through the windows casting a warm glow over the scene. 

"You know," she said, her tone playful, "you’re going to spoil me if you keep making breakfast like this."

Jonathan chuckled, stacking the plates. "Then I guess I'll have to make it a habit."

Finishing her last bite, Y/n leaned back in her chair, her eyes studying Jonathan. "I could get used to this," she admitted softly.

Jonathan looked up from his plate, his gaze meeting hers with a tenderness that was rare for him. "So could I," he replied.

Y/n squeezed his hand, feeling a swell of emotion.

Jonathan looked at his watch. "I should probably get ready for work."

Reluctantly, Y/n released his hand, watching as he stood up and began clearing the table. As he carried the dishes to the sink, Y/n stood and followed him, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind.

They stood like that for a moment, savoring the closeness before Jonathan gently turned in her embrace, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Y/n giggled and released him from her hold, “I’ll do the dishes.” she siad.  

Jonathan walked off to her bedroom. As Y/n cleaned the dishes, she heard his voice call out. "Do you know where my mask is?"

"It should be on the desk. I saw it before," Y/n replied, rinsing a plate.

"Craw must have moved it," Jonathan said, a hint of frustration in his voice.

"Do you really need it today?" Y/n asked, pausing her task.

The question, though simple, carried significant weight. She didn’t want him to wear his Scarecrow mask, knowing it would mean he was engaging in dangerous activities that could put him at risk with Batman.

Jonathan appeared in the doorway, contemplating her words. "I suppose not," he said, moving toward her with a softened expression. "I'll see you tonight?" he asked, his voice hopeful.

"Of course," Y/n replied, looking up at him with a reassuring smile.

With a final kiss, Jonathan headed towards the door, grabbing his coat. "Stay safe," he said, a note of concern in his voice.

"You too," Y/n responded, watching as he left, the door clicking softly behind him.

Once he was gone, Y/n turned her attention back to Craw, who was still perched on the table. "You not following him?" she asked, offering the bird another morsel of food.

Craw pecked at the treat, his feathers ruffling contentedly. “Guess you’re with me then.” Y/n couldn't help but smile. 

After finishing the dishes, Y/n dried her hands and made her way to the bedroom, her thoughts already shifting to the upcoming visit to the Batcave.Bruce had called her last night, and she assumed he'd want to see her today. She knew she needed to be prepared for whatever Bruce had in store for her. He was always easy on her, but sometimes, he was a lot to deal with.

Entering the bedroom, she moved to her closet and grabbed clothes to change into. She laid them out on the bed and then headed to the bathroom. 

-

It was easy enough to get to Wayne Manor, where she was greeted at the door by Alfred. “Good morning, Miss L/n,” Alfred said with a warm smile.

“Morning, Alfred,” Y/n replied, returning his smile as she stepped into the grand foyer.

“Is Bruce home?” Y/n asked.

“He left just over an hour ago. He should be back soon. I’m sure he was expecting you. Would you like something to drink while you wait?” Alfred offered.

“That would be nice, thank you. Does Bruce have any fizzy drinks, or does he only stock protein shakes and expensive booze?” Y/n joked.

“Master Wayne does have a rather... focused selection, but I assure you, Miss L/n, we do keep a few civilised options for guests. Perhaps a sparkling water with a twist of lemon?”

Y/n chuckled softly. "Sounds good to me. I'll be down in the Batcave," she said.

Making her way down through the hidden bookshelf entrance, Y/n wasn’t too sure what she was gonna do. There were no immediate threats she was aware of, and Bruce hadn’t assigned her any specific research tasks, so she decided to indulge in a bit of fun.

She settled into the chair at the Batcomputer and typed in "Scarecrow," smirking as she did. She wanted to see what Bruce had on him and if there were any scandals she could teasingly bring up to Jonathan tonight.

As large images of Scarecrow filled the screen, Y/n smiled, engrossed in the data. She barely noticed Alfred entering the cave.

“With that smile on your face, I would have assumed you were looking at your boyfriend,” Alfred’s witty remark echoed through the cavernous space.

“Oh, but we would make such a cute couple,” Y/n joked back, grinning at Alfred.

"From what I’ve heard from Master Wayne, I’m surprised you’re not already,” Alfred said, setting down a tray with sparkling water beside her.

Y/n laughed. "Because Bruce would totally approve of him!"

“With the cat he’s running around with, he ought to be more lenient,” Alfred quipped.

"See, that's why you're my favorite butler," Y/n smiled, leaning back in the chair.

“That would imply you know other butlers,” Alfred replied with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, you’re my one and only,” Y/n said with a grin.

Just then, a notification popped up on the Batcomputer, indicating a presence at the front door. Clicking onto the camera feed, Y/n saw Bruce arriving.

“I suppose I should answer that,” Alfred said, turning to head upstairs to greet Bruce.

While waiting in the Batcave, Y/n watched as Bruce entered. “Morning, Bruce,” she greeted him.

“It’s 2 PM,” Bruce corrected, glancing at the Batcomputer's clock.

Y/n snorted, checking the time herself. "So it is."

"You called me yesterday?" she asked, turning back to him.

“I was calling to tell you there was a Scarecrow sighting last night. Thought you might be interested,” Bruce informed her.

“Really? Damn,” Y/n said, surprised.

“Too bad you were busy with your friend,” Bruce teased, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

Y/n rolled her eyes, shaking her head with a grin. "You just love to rub it in, don’t you?"

"I don’t know why I don’t get to meet him," Bruce said, crossing his arms, his tone somewhere between curious and irritated.

"Because you’d be weird about it," Y/n shot back, raising an eyebrow.

Bruce narrowed his eyes slightly. "Weird? I’m not weird. I just want to know who’s been spending so much time with you. Making sure he’s...trustworthy."

Y/n rolled her eyes, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Exactly. That's what I mean by weird. You’d give him the whole ‘protective’ speech, probably stalked him. Plus, you two aren't exactly the same type of...career men."

Bruce huffed, clearly unconvinced. "It’s my job to stalk."

“And you'd probably scare him off," Y/n added, shaking her head with amusement. "You’d interrogate him like he’s some criminal mastermind."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "And is he?"

Y/n hesitated for a split second before shrugging, her grin widening. "Wouldn’t you like to know?"

Bruce’s expression softened, though his curiosity remained. "I just don’t want you getting hurt. That's all."

Y/n smiled at the sincerity behind his words. "I know, Bruce. But trust me, I’ve got this."

Bruce eyed her for a moment longer, his sharp gaze searching her face for any cracks in her confidence. When he didn’t find any, he finally sighed, his arms dropping to his sides. "Alright, I’ll back off…for now."

Y/n chuckled softly, pushing herself off the Batcomputer and stretching her arms above her head. "Appreciated. Besides, I think he'd be more scared of you than you’d be of him."

Bruce smirked, clearly amused by the idea. "If he's smart, he should be."

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully, but before she could respond, the Batcomputer beeped to life, pulling both their attention to the screen. The glowing red alert flashed in sync with a detailed map of Gotham’s city grid.

"What now?" Y/n muttered, leaning closer to get a better look.

Bruce’s expression instantly hardened, the switch from casual conversation to business happening within seconds. His fingers flew across the keyboard, pulling up more data.

"Another Scarecrow sighting," he said, voice low and focused. The map zoomed in on a section of the Narrows, where several alarms had been triggered in what looked like an abandoned factory. "This could be serious."

Y/n's stomach flipped at the mention, her mind immediately jumping to Jonathan. She tried to keep her cool, but the worry crept in before she could stop it. "You're sure it’s him?" she asked, her voice steady despite the growing unease.

Bruce glanced at her, noting the change in her tone, but didn't comment. "The chemicals found at the scene match his previous attacks. It's a safe assumption."

Y/n swallowed hard, her thoughts racing. Jonathan had said he wasn’t planning anything for today...but if this sighting was real, she had no idea what he was up to.

"I’ll handle this," Bruce said, grabbing his cowl from the side. "You stay here. I don’t want you getting mixed up in it."

Y/n clenched her fists, forcing herself to keep her expression neutral. "I can help, Bruce."

"Not this time," he said firmly, already moving toward the Batmobile.

Y/n hesitated, torn between her loyalty to Bruce and her concern for Jonathan. "Just...be careful, okay?" she called after him.

Bruce paused at the Batmobile’s door, glancing back at her. "Always," he said, slipping into the driver’s seat and speeding off into the cave’s tunnel.

As the roar of the Batmobile faded, Y/n stood there for a moment, her mind swirling with what to do next. She could wait for Bruce to handle it like he always did...or she could find out for herself what Jonathan was really up to. 

Taking a deep breath, Y/n made up her mind. She wasn’t going to sit on the sidelines this time.

Y/n snatched her phone off the desk, her heart pounding in her chest. Her hands shook slightly as she scrolled to Jonathan's contact and hit call. She wasn’t even sure why she was so furious, after all, she hadn’t explicitly told him to quit his villainous habits, but she thought he’d at least try. That hope had been dashed with Bruce’s news.

The phone rang once, twice, three times. She didn’t expect him to pick up. In fact, she was already mentally preparing for the voicemail beep. But then, to her surprise, his calm voice came through the line.

"Hello?"

Y/n blinked, caught off guard. "What the fuck are you doing?"

There was a pause, followed by a confused, “What?"

"Don't ‘what’ me, Jonathan," Y/n snapped, pacing now. "Bruce just told me there’s a Scarecrow sighting in the Narrows. Your gas was spotted. What the fuck, Jonathan?!" 

Jonathan let out an exasperated sigh. “...I’m at work. Like, real work. At Arkham.”

Y/n stopped pacing, furrowing her brow. "You’re...at Arkham?" She was still furious, but confusion was starting to take over. "But your gas-"

"Is in the Narrows, yeah, I know…" he cut her off, his tone darkening. "It’s Poison Ivy."

"Poison Ivy?" Y/n repeated, the confusion on her face deepening.

"Yeah, we made a deal a while back," Jonathan admitted, sounding less than pleased. "I gave her some of my chemical mixes in exchange for some of her plant matter. She must be using it now."

Y/n ran a hand through her hair, feeling a mix of frustration and relief. "So you're not...?" She trailed off, not quite knowing how to finish that sentence. She had been ready to go off on him, but now…

"No, I’m not running around the Narrows today," Jonathan muttered, clearly irritated by the whole situation. "And you think I’d be that sloppy if I were?"

Y/n exhaled sharply, rubbing her temple. "God, Jonathan, you could’ve warned me about the deal."

"I didn’t think she'd use it, honestly," he replied, his voice edged with frustration. "She’s impulsive when it comes to her little vendettas."

Y/n felt the anger fading, though she was still annoyed. "You’re lucky Bruce doesn’t know it’s Ivy yet."

Jonathan snorted. "Well, let’s keep it that way, shall we?"

"Yeah," she muttered. There was a beat of silence on the line before she sighed. "You better not be lying."

“I’m not," Jonathan replied, his voice softening a little. "Look, I know what you’re thinking, and I’m trying, Y/n. I really am."

She bit her lip, feeling a mixture of emotions. "Okay. Just...don’t make me regret trusting you."

“I won’t,” he said, and the sincerity in his voice made her chest tighten.

Y/n nodded to herself, even though he couldn’t see it. “Fine. I’ll deal with Bruce. You deal with Ivy.”

“Easier said than done,” Jonathan muttered.

She huffed. "Tell me about it."

After hanging up, Y/n tossed her phone onto the Batcomputer desk, running a hand through her hair. She took a deep breath, trying to shake off the frustration still simmering beneath the surface. It was hard to stay mad at Jonathan when it turned out he wasn’t the one running around as Scarecrow today. But it didn’t make things any easier. But if Bruce found out Ivy was using his gas, it might blow some smoke off of Jonathan.

Y/n sank into the chair in front of the Batcomputer, her fingers drumming anxiously against the desk. Bruce had already left for the Narrows, but now she had new information, information that possibly helped the situation. 

She reached for her phone and quickly dialed Bruce’s number. It didn’t take long for him to pick up.

“What is it?” Bruce’s gruff voice came through the line, filled with urgency.

Y/n exhaled sharply. “I know it’s Ivy.”

There was a pause on the other end before Bruce spoke again. “And how did you get this infomation?”

Y/n hesitated, her mind flashing back to her not-so-distant past. “Let’s just say Scarecrow gave me some insight.” Her tone was sharp and cautious.

There was another brief silence. Then Bruce’s voice, lower and more guarded, came back. “When?”

“When he reversed his drug effects on me. I found out some things during that lovely little vacation, like how he and Ivy have this deal. Something about trading toxins, he gave her some of his gas formulas.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Bruce’s question wasn’t accusing, but the tension in his voice made it clear he wasn’t pleased.

“I didn’t think it would come up again,” Y/n said defensively, her fingers tightening around the phone. She hated lying to Bruce. “And…well, I didn’t exactly want to give you more reasons to go after Scarecrow. He did save me..”

Bruce’s sigh echoed through the phone. “You know this makes things more complicated.”

“I know,” Y/n muttered. “But Scarecrow wasn’t lying. He didn’t know Ivy was planning to use it, and now that she is, we’ve got a mess on our hands.”

There was the sound of movement on Bruce’s end, probably him moving through the dark streets of Gotham. “Stay on the Batcomputer. I’m close to the Narrows, but I need more intel on Ivy’s last known location. And we need to talk when I get back.”

“Got it,” Y/n responded, already pulling up files and maps, scanning through recent surveillance. “But Bruce…be careful. Ivy’s unpredictable, especially when she’s got a new toy.”

Bruce didn’t respond immediately, but when he did, his voice was firm. “I know.”

Y/n stayed glued to the screen, her heart pounding in her chest as she monitored Bruce’s position and scoured the data for any trace of Ivy. It was hard not to think about the delicate line she was walking, caught between the man she loved like a father figure and the villain who had once been her captor.

As the Batcomputer beeped with a new set of coordinates, Y/n’s eyes widened. “Bruce, I’ve got her. She’s holed up in one of the old greenhouses just north of the Narrows.”

“Send me the location,” Bruce replied, his tone all business.

Y/n tapped furiously on the keyboard, sending the details to his encrypted communicator. “I’ll come,”

“I don’t need backup,” Bruce replied.

Y/n smirked despite the tension. “Of course you don’t. Just be safe.”

The line went dead, and Y/n clenched her jaw, staring at the Batcomputer. She knew Bruce’s directive was clear, stay out of it. But sitting back and waiting wasn’t her style. Bruce wasn’t immune to Jonathan’s gas like she was, he was vulnerable, and knowing Ivy, she would have made the toxin much worse.

No. She wasn’t just going to sit there.

Without another thought, Y/n pushed back from the desk and made her way to the suit vault. She quickly donned her Batgirl outfit, every movement precise and practiced. The familiar weight of the cowl settled on her head, the cape brushing against her shoulders. A sense of purpose surged through her veins.

Screw Bruce’s order. She wasn’t letting him face this alone.

In record time, Y/n made her way to the Batmotorcycle. The engine roared to life beneath her, the vibrations tingling through her fingers as she gripped the handlebars. The chill Gotham air hit her full force as she sped out of the Batcave and onto the streets. 

Her heart raced, not just from the speed but from the anticipation. Ivy was unpredictable, and if she was mixing her plants with Scarecrow’s fear toxins, there was no telling how bad this could get. Bruce might be Batman, but even he couldn’t always do it alone. Not this time.

As the city blurred past her, Y/n’s mind focused on the coordinates she had sent Bruce earlier, the greenhouse north of the Narrows. If Ivy had set up there, then whatever she had planned would likely already be in motion.

She tightened her grip and accelerated. She wasn’t just backup. She was part of the team, and Bruce would have to deal with that when she got there.

Y/n weaved through the dark streets of Gotham, the distant sound of sirens blending into the night as her Batcycle roared toward the Narrows. The coordinates she had sent Bruce earlier were burned into her memory, guiding her through the labyrinth of alleys and side streets with pinpoint accuracy. The further she rode, the denser the buildings became, their looming shadows creating an eerie silence over the area.

When she finally reached the edge of the Narrows, the glowing greenhouse structure came into view. It was tucked behind a row of dilapidated buildings, just as she had suspected. Ivy was hiding in plain sight, and her mix of flora and Scarecrow’s fear toxins would be deadly if released.

Y/n slowed her bike as she approached, parking it behind a crumbling wall to keep it hidden. She surveyed the scene from a distance, her breath steady as she slipped off her helmet and carefully crouched down to get a better view.

A thin, green mist hung in the air, barely noticeable, but enough to set off alarms in her mind. The plants surrounding the greenhouse seemed to writhe unnaturally, their movements synchronized, as if they were waiting for Ivy’s command. Y/n gritted her teeth. She had to get in there before this escalated any further.

Suddenly, the low hum of a Batmobile engine caught her attention. Bruce was already here. She had no idea if he had spotted her yet, but there wasn’t time to worry about that now. She tapped into her comms.

“I’m here,” Y/n whispered into her earpiece, watching the shadows of the greenhouse. “Tell me you have a plan.”

A short pause followed before Bruce’s voice crackled through. “You weren’t supposed to come, Y/n.”

“I’m aware,” she shot back quietly. “But you’ll thank me later. What’s the move?”

Another brief silence before Bruce responded, his tone edged with reluctant acceptance. “Ivy’s inside. She’s preparing to release the toxins. I need you to disable the generators behind the greenhouse. If we cut the power, we’ll stop the spread before it gets worse.”

Y/n nodded to herself, scanning the area for an entry point. “Got it. I’m on it.”

Sticking to the shadows, she slipped around the greenhouse, staying low and silent. The air smelled heavy, rich with the scent of damp earth and something sickly sweet—probably the beginning traces of Ivy’s toxin. She had to move fast.

Reaching the back of the greenhouse, Y/n spotted the generators Bruce had mentioned. Thick vines coiled around them, pulsing faintly as if feeding off the energy. She pulled out a pair of batarangs, slicing through the foliage with careful precision.

Just as she was about to sever the last vine, a voice rang out behind her, smooth and melodic. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, darling.”

Y/n froze, her blood running cold. She turned slowly, and there stood Poison Ivy, her red hair gleaming under the moonlight, eyes glowing with a dangerous, otherworldly hue. She smiled, a slow, wicked smile.

“Wondering if you were gonna show up,” Ivy purred, taking a step forward. 

Y/n tightened her grip on the batarangs, her heart pounding but her face steady. “What’s your deal here, Ivy? This isn’t your usual style.”

Ivy’s smile widened, her fingers trailing through the air as the plants around them quivered in response. “Oh, you’d be surprised. Gotham needs cleansing. And with a little help from Scarecrow’s toxins, I’ll make sure it happens.”

Before Y/n could react, the vines whipped out, wrapping around her wrist and pulling her off balance. She stumbled, but quickly regained her footing, yanking her arm free with a sharp tug. Ivy laughed softly, the sound echoing through the garden.

But Y/n wasn’t backing down. "You’re not cleansing anything..”

With a quick movement, she hurled the batarangs at the remaining vines, slicing through them cleanly. The generators sputtered, their lights flickering before the power shut off completely. The greenhouse dimmed as the machinery inside ground to a halt.

Ivy’s smile vanished, replaced with a cold, calculating glare. She growled, raising her hands as the plants around them surged to life.

Just as the vines began to close in, Y/n heard a low groan from across the greenhouse. Her eyes darted to the source, and her heart dropped. There, amidst the writhing green tendrils, Batman was bound, arms and legs ensnared by thick vines, his body slumped against them. His cape was torn, his breathing labored, and his face was pale. Ivy had already hit him with a dose of her toxin, enough to weaken even Batman.

Ivy’s laughter echoed through the greenhouse as she stepped into view, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Oh, look at him,” she cooed mockingly. “The mighty Dark Knight, felled by a little plant. Isn’t he beautiful when he’s helpless?”

Y/n’s blood boiled, but she kept her face neutral, watching every move Ivy made. Her heart raced. She had to free Bruce before it was too late. But Ivy wasn’t finished yet.

“You think you’re clever, don’t you, little Bat?” Ivy sneered, her gaze now fixed on Y/n. “Disabling my power? Stopping my plan?” She stepped forward, cradling a vial of her signature toxin, swirling with an ominous green mist. “Well, let's see how clever you are after a dose of this.”

Before Y/n could react, Ivy flung the vial at her feet, shattering it with a sharp crack. The toxic gas billowed out, curling around Y/n in a cloud of green haze. Ivy grinned wickedly, certain she had won.

But something was wrong. Y/n stood there, her expression unchanging as the gas swirled around her. No coughing, no dizziness, nothing. Ivy’s smile faltered.

Y/n scoffed. “That’s not going to work on me, Ivy.”

Ivy blinked in disbelief. “What…?” she breathed, watching in shock as Y/n stepped forward, completely unaffected by the gas that should’ve incapacitated her.

“You can thank Scarecrow for that,” Y/n said, her voice edged with confidence. 

Ivy’s face twisted in fury. “That traitor,” she spat, raising her hands to command the vines. But Y/n was faster.

With a quick flick of her wrist, Y/n hurled a batarang through the air, slicing cleanly through the vines that held Bruce captive. He slumped to the ground with a grunt, but he was free.

“Get her!” Ivy screamed, and the plants surged toward Y/n, but she was ready. She dodged and weaved between the tendrils, her agility unmatched as she closed the distance between her and Ivy.

Before Ivy could react, Y/n landed a solid punch to her gut, knocking the wind out of her. The plants faltered, their connection to Ivy weakening as she stumbled back.

Y/n's grip tightened on Ivy's collar, her breath heavy with adrenaline. "Give it up, Ivy," she hissed. But Ivy’s smirk only widened, eyes glinting with malicious intent.

"You really think you can threaten me?" Ivy scoffed, and with a wave of her hand, the vines surged to life once more. This time, Y/n wasn’t fast enough. Thick, thorny tendrils wrapped around her wrists and ankles, yanking her off her feet and slamming her into the ground.

She winced, pain shooting through her body as she struggled against the vines. Ivy stood over her, victorious, her emerald eyes glowing with satisfaction.

"Poor little Bat," Ivy sneered, crouching down to Y/n’s level. "You really thought you could take me on your own? Without your precious Batman to save you?"

Y/n gritted her teeth, yanking at the vines, but it was no use. They only tightened around her limbs, cutting into her skin. She was stuck, helpless as Ivy reached for another vial of her toxin, twirling it between her fingers.

"This will be much more fun," Ivy purred.

Y/n's heart raced. She had never been this close to defeat. Her mind raced for a way out, but the vines held her too tight. Batman was still too out of it to help.

Just as Ivy raised the vial to unleash its deadly contents, the sound of footsteps echoed through the greenhouse.

Ivy froze, turning her head slightly. Before she could react, a cloud of smoke enveloped her. Y/n’s eyes widened as Ivy gasped, although it had no effect on the pair, it still clouded the room in a thick smog.

Out of the smoke stepped the Scarecrow, his form looming ominously. "Ivy," he drawled, his voice distorted and menacing, "did you forget our little agreement? No playing with my things."

Ivy’s expression morphed from anger to confusion as she saw Jonathan approaching. The smoke began to clear, and she got a better view, but before she could fully process the situation, a dark figure emerged from the shadows behind her.

Batman, clad in his black armor, lunged forward with a swift precision that took Ivy by surprise. He had been lurking just out of sight, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. With a powerful sweep, he knocked Ivy off her feet, sending her crashing to the ground. 

Ivy glared up at him, her confusion shifting back to fury as she scrambled to regain her footing. But she was no match for Batman’s physical strength. Jonathan must have injected him with an antidote before he entered, and now Bruce was fully alert, his abilities restored. 

Bruce moved with lethal efficiency, closing the distance between him and Ivy in a heartbeat. With a single, powerful punch, he connected with her jaw, sending her sprawling to the ground. The force of the blow left Ivy dazed, and she struggled to regain her bearings.

Without missing a beat, Batman swiftly produced a set of restraints from his utility belt. He moved in to secure Ivy, tying her up with expert precision before she could fully recover. Ivy glared up at him as he tightened the knot, her defiance still flickering in her eyes, but she was completely at his mercy now. 

Scarecrow strode over to Y/n, his sharp gaze locked onto hers as he effortlessly sliced through the vines with a concealed blade, freeing her from Ivy’s grasp. He crouched beside her, his face mere inches from hers.

"You really shouldn’t be here," he said softly, almost teasingly, though there was an underlying concern in his tone. "You promised me you’d stay out of trouble."

Y/n panted, still reeling from the fight. "Yeah, well...so did you," she muttered, rubbing her sore wrists.

Jonathan stood, offering her a hand. She hesitated for only a second before taking it, allowing him to help her to her feet.

"I thought you weren’t the rescuing type," Y/n quipped, her voice shaky but defiant.

Jonathan tilted his head, his mask concealing his expression, though she could almost feel the smirk behind it. "I’m not. But it seems you’re always the exception."

Before Y/n could respond, a deep voice suddenly broke through the tension of the moment. “Am I interrupting something?” 

Y/n turned to see Bruce emerging from the shadows, his imposing figure silhouetted against the dim light of the greenhouse. She felt a rush of relief mixed with anxiety as he approached, his gaze scanning the chaotic scene.

“Uhh,” Y/n barely replied.

“Scarecrow.” Batman began to step closer, his cape billowing slightly with the movement, but Y/n quickly stepped forward, shielding Jonathan from Bruce’s intense scrutiny.

“Wait! Batman, he helped us...” Y/n said, casting a fleeting glance at Jonathan, who stood beside her, calm and composed amidst the chaos. “He came just in time.”

Batman’s expression remained unyielding, a hardened mask that betrayed nothing but the weight of his concern. Frustration flickered across his features as he assessed the aftermath of the battle. “You should never have come. I told you to stay put.”

Y/n felt her heart race at his reprimand, but she couldn’t let it go unchallenged. “I know, and I’m sorry, but we did it!”

Bruce's gaze shifted back to Jonathan, his voice low and demanding. “Care to explain the guest?”

Y/n struggled to articulate the whirlwind of events that had led to this moment, especially with Ivy still unconscious on the floor. “Can we talk about this later?” she said, urgency creeping into her voice.

“Not if you want him out of Arkham,” Batman replied, his tone brokering no argument.

Y/n let out a dry chuckle, the tension almost absurd. “Haha, funny you say that…”

Before she could gather her thoughts, Jonathan stepped forward, his demeanor unexpectedly calm and measured. “I am more than willing to discuss this with you elsewhere,” he said, his voice smooth yet authoritative.

This candid offer took Y/n by surprise, she hadn’t expected him to be so amenable, especially given the circumstances. Her eyes darted between Jonathan and Batman, searching for signs of tension or underlying animosity. “Scarecrow, are you sure?” she asked, hesitating as the implications of his statement settled in.

“I don’t want to cause more trouble than necessary,” he replied, his mask obscuring any deeper emotion. “But I think it’s vital we have a proper conversation about what happened tonight.”

Batman narrowed his eyes, still assessing Jonathan with a blend of skepticism and wariness. “I’m not so sure I can trust you just yet,” he said, his voice steady. “Your methods are... unconventional.”

“True, but tonight, I acted in your favor,” Jonathan replied, meeting Bruce's gaze with unwavering confidence. “Besides, you don’t want to waste this opportunity to learn more about Ivy’s plans and the potential threat they pose.”

Y/n felt the weight of the moment. She knew that trusting Jonathan came with risks, but he had also proven himself when it mattered most. “Batman, he’s right,” she added, hoping to bridge the gap.

Batman considered her words, the tension in the air palpable. Finally, he nodded slowly, the hardened expression softening ever so slightly. “Fine,” he said. “But this is not a free pass, Scarecrow. I’ll be watching you closely.”

Jonathan inclined his head. “Understood. Shall we?” He replied, his tone light, but there was an unmistakable edge to his words.

Just then, the wailing of sirens echoed through the night, cutting through the remnants of chaos like a knife. The sound sent a jolt through Y/n. “We need to move,” she urged, glancing back toward the entrance of the greenhouse where Ivy lay incapacitated.

Without waiting for a response, the three of them rushed out of the building, the scent of damp earth and foliage mingling with the sharp tang of adrenaline in the air. They quickly scanned their surroundings, seeking a more suitable location to discuss their precarious situation.

Batman moved toward a nearby alley, the shadows deep and inviting. They ducked into the narrow passage, the sound of the sirens fading into the distance as they found a moment of respite. 

Y/n leaned against the cold brick wall, her heart still racing from the encounter. “We can’t stay here for long,” she said, glancing at both men. 

“Agreed,” Batman said, his voice steady as he took a position near the entrance of the alley, keeping a watchful eye on the street. “But I’m more focused on the criminal in front of me right now.”

Y/n glanced at Jonathan, who remained calm and collected, his mask shadowing his expression. “I did my best” she began, her voice steadying as she recounted the events leading up to Ivy’s defeat. “I tried to stop her, but she caught me in the process. He showed up just in time to help.”

“How did he even know what was going on?” Batman asked, standing tall and imposing as he glared at Jonathan.

“Let’s not forget that I saved your life. If it weren’t for my anti-toxin, you’d still be on the floor,” Scarecrow retorted, his voice laced with a mix of arrogance and confidence.

Y/n forced a chuckle, though there was no humor in it. The tension was palpable as she glanced at Batman’s sharp eyes, her heart racing. “I-I told him…”

“And why did he come?” Batman demanded, his gaze unwavering, dissecting every nuance of Jonathan’s expression.

“I had my reasons,” Jonathan replied, his tone turning serious.

“And it’s those reasons I’d like to understand,” Batman pressed, his voice low and commanding.

Y/n sighed, feeling the weight of the situation settle in her chest. “He came for me, Batman. You already know that.”

“But I want to hear it from him,” Batman insisted, not breaking eye contact.

Jonathan remained unfazed. “I came because she called for me. She thought it was my attack downtown, and I knew she would rush to confront it. I didn’t want her getting hurt. She’s good at what she does, but she doesn’t always think.”

“Hey!” Y/n shot back, embarrassment coloring her cheeks.

“And you knew I’d be there,” Batman interjected, his tone incredulous.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t you be?” Jonathan replied smoothly. “It was you who took my mask that day, wasn’t it?”

Batman reached behind him and pulled out a piece of fabric, the unmistakable outline of Jonathan’s mask. “I’ve known for a while,” he admitted, his voice steady.

Y/n’s brows shot up in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me? And you said nothing?”

“I was waiting for you to tell me,” Batman responded, his tone unyielding. 

Y/n crossed her arms, muttering under her breath, “So not cool.”

Jonathan smirked under his mask, eyeing Batman. “So, what are you going to do to me, Batman? Lock me up?”

Batman tossed the mask toward Jonathan with a swift motion. “Not tonight, Crane.”

Jonathan caught the mask effortlessly and tucked it into his pocket, a glimmer of triumph in his eyes. Batman continued, his voice low and steady, “I’m guessing you know who I am as well?”

“I have an idea…” Jonathan replied.

The tension between Batman and Jonathan hung thick in the air, both men staring each other down in a silent standoff. Y/n felt the weight of their gaze as she stood between them, unsure of what to say next.

Y/n shifted nervously between the two, rocking back and forth on her heels. “Well…” she started, trying to defuse the tension in the air. 

Before she could say anymore, Batman’s voice broke the silence. “This doesn’t mean you’re off the hook, Crane. I’ll be keeping a close eye on you.”

Jonathan chuckled, the sound low and unsettling. “Wouldn’t expect anything less from the great Dark Knight.”

Y/n shifted her weight, glancing nervously between the two. “Cool, let’s drop it then, okay?” she said, forcing a nervous laugh. 

Batman’s stern gaze flicked to her. “You’re treading dangerous ground, Y/n. Associating with him,” he nodded toward Jonathan “is a mistake. He can’t be trusted.”

Jonathan’s eyes darkened, his voice cold. “Trust is a matter of perspective, Batman. And right now, it seems she trusts me a great amount.”

Y/n felt her chest tighten. “You’re one to talk, Batman,” she said quickly, trying to bridge the widening gap between them. “The entire city knows about yours at Cat Women’s fling..”

“They’re two very different criminals,” Batman asked, his voice sharp, causing Y/n to groan. “Maybe he’s just playing a longer game, using you as a pawn.”

Jonathan stepped closer, his voice calm but edged with warning. “If I were playing a game, Batman, I’d have made my move by now. But this…tonight…I did it for her.”

The statement hung in the air, and Y/n’s heart skipped a beat. She looked up at Jonathan, surprised by the sincerity in his voice.

Batman narrowed his eyes. “You’re walking a fine line, Crane. Don’t think I won’t be there when you cross it.”

Y/n let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “Okay, how about we call it a night?” she suggested, desperate to break the tension. 

Batman’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before he turned, his cape billowing as he strode into the shadows. “Stay out of trouble,” he muttered, disappearing into the night.

Jonathan watched him go, then turned to Y/n, his eyes softer than they had been a moment ago. “You should listen to him, you know.”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “Says you.”

Jonathan smirked, his usual calm confidence returning. “Touché.”

Y/n sighed, looking up at him. “Why did you really come tonight?”

Jonathan paused, his expression unreadable. “I told you. I didn’t want you getting hurt.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The night felt strangely still, as if the chaos from earlier had been swept away.

Y/n glanced back toward the city, then at Jonathan. “I guess I’ll see you around?”

Jonathan gave her a look, glancing at Y/n, his expression softening just slightly. “Not a chance,” he said, he tucked the mask away and stepped closer. “I’m not letting you out of my sight tonight.”

Y/n blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “Wait, what? You’re not busy? I’ve already wasted a lot of your time.”

Jonathan’s gaze remained steady, unyielding. “You’ve had a rough night. I’m not letting you walk home alone.” His tone was calm, but there was no room for argument.

Y/n hesitated, glancing at the empty street. Part of her wanted to protest, but the other part felt a strange comfort in his words. She sighed, giving him a half-smile. “You know I can protect myself.”

Y/n shed her outer layers in the shadowed alley, blending into the darkness to avoid drawing attention.

Without another word, the two of them started walking down the quiet streets, side by side. The tension from earlier faded with each step, replaced by an odd sense of ease. Y/n glanced at Jonathan out of the corner of her eye. He wasn’t the same man she had faced in battle countless times. There was something different tonight, a strange connection between them that she couldn’t quite shake.

As they reached her apartment building, Jonathan paused at the entrance, his gaze scanning the area with sharp precision. Just then, the sound of flapping wings broke the silence. Craw came swooping down from the sky, a single flower clasped in its beak. It dropped the delicate bloom right into Y/n's hands before perching itself on Jonathan’s shoulder.

Y/n looked at the flower in surprise, recognizing the rare blossom immediately. “A flower delivery?” she teased, raising an eyebrow as she twirled the stem between her fingers.

Jonathan glanced at Craw and then at the flower, his face carefully neutral. “Must’ve been hunting and got distracted,” he said smoothly, though the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Birds are unpredictable like that.”

Y/n chuckled, stepping closer to him. “Right. A total coincidence.”

She stood on her toes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, lingering just long enough to make him freeze for a moment. His smirk faltered, replaced by something softer, something he didn’t quite let show often.

As she pulled back, Y/n smiled warmly, clutching the flower to her chest. “Thanks, Jonathan.”

He cleared his throat, brushing off the moment as Craw flapped its wings once more. “Don’t mention it.”

Y/n walked into the apartment complex, hesitating for a moment. She glanced back at Jonathan, who was still standing there, his usual guarded demeanor softening. 

“Are you coming up?” she asked, her voice quieter than before.

Jonathan's eyes flickered with something unreadable before he gave a slight nod. “If you’ll have me,” he replied, stepping forward.

They walked up to her apartment together in comfortable silence, the only sound being the soft flutter of Craw’s wings as the crow swooped ahead of them. When they reached her door, Y/n pushed it open and stepped inside, feeling Jonathan’s presence right behind her.

As the door shut behind them, the weight of Gotham, of the night’s events, seemed to fade away. There were no masks, no games, just the quiet understanding between them that, somehow, this felt right.

-

A/N: Sorry if it isn't good, I got through half of it then disappeared for ages, then carried on, so if it doesn't line up right then...oops I will not be writing any more parts for this, as there is nothing else for me to add to this fic, sorry I also ended up finishing this fic at like...2am, so if it's shit...my bad again Thank you for the support and I hope you did enjoy :) 💚

[chaoslovesmisery]

Chapter 16. A Tale of the Grasslands

Previously

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"This place might actually suit you better than the N109 Zone," I remark, a hint of envy creeping into my voice.

"You're not wrong. The air here is refreshing, and the people are honest," he responds, giving me a once-over. "And you look good in those clothes. Very cute."

My breath catches and my cheeks flush at his compliment, I'm lost for words.

"What? Isn't saying what's on your mind important when it comes to sincerity?" he teases, a sly grin spreading across his face. Ugh, this man. I tug at the reins and leave Sylus behind, a smile forming despite myself.

"You can say what you like. I'm heading on ahead!" I shout before moving toward the center of the group while hearing his laughter carry in the wind behind me. I can't help but smile to myself.

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As night falls, the tribe sets up camp in a clearing.

"I'm going to turn in for the night. We'll be moving at the crack of dawn," Tarna announces, stretching her arms above her head.

I freeze for a moment, then quickly glance around the yurt at the beds, the blankets, and at Sylus, who's lounging inside.

"We rarely have guests when we travel, so there aren't enough yurts. You might have to share," Tarna adds, her voice light but carrying an undercurrent of mischief. I try to remain calm as I make the bed, but my heart races at the thought of sharing a yurt with Sylus.

"Given what we've been through before, sharing a room shouldn't be a problem. Right?" he says, an eyebrow raised.

"Wonderful! Get some good rest!" Tarna says, clapping her hands before making a quick exit.

"Is sharing a yurt with me that bad?" Sylus asks, his voice filled with concern.

"No, it's not that..." I trail off, trying to mask my anxiety.

"Oh, so is it that you're just anxious about the competition, sweetie?" Sylus replies, a playful smirk on his lips.

"I mean I don't really expect you to lose, after all it's you," I mumble but suddenly a different fear comes to mind. "But Tarna said all the warriors from the grassland are participating. What if you get hurt—"

"You do know my wounds heal quickly," he counters, brushing off my concerns.

"What if they get infected before you..." I trail off, my worry turning into a nagging knot in my stomach.

"Sincerity really is the best," he mutters, and the heat in his gaze makes my cheeks flush even deeper. I sigh in frustration that the words I'm looking for aren't coming to mind at this very moment.

"I'm sleepy... I'm going to bed first," I declare, turning to grab my blanket. "Don't wake up everyone with your tossing and turning. And don't even think about stealing my blanket."

"Once I'm settled on my side," Sylus says lightly. I hear a rustling sound behind me. I can now feel the heat from his body next to mine.

"Let's see who ends up being the blanket thief," Sylus says, lying down casually with his hands behind his head. His breathing is steady, but my heart is pounding like a drum in the darkness. I settle down next to him very much aware of his bare chest and I turn away from him pulling some of the blanker trying to use that to separate us a bit.

"Someone's being sneaky. She's taking the blanket with every toss and turn," he adds, his voice teasing.

"I am not," I protest but can't help but smile.

"Oh? Tsk, tsk. Guess I have to blame the blanket for barely covering half my body." He says chuckling. I pause turning to face him before then tentatively reach out. My hand lands on his bare chest, and I feel the warmth radiating from him.

"I wasn't lying. It's exactly one half," he says with a hint of humor in his voice. A moment of silence hangs between us. I pull my hand back, slowly starting to give him back his half of the blanket.

"Why are you still moving? Heh, I wonder exactly who's restless here," he muses playfully.

"...I just wanted to share," I admit quietly.

"Keep it. I'll be fine," he replies, but I can't shake the thought of the cold grassland nights.

"We're in the grassland. It gets cold after midnight." I mumble. Sylus turns to me, his warm breath brushing against my face, making my heart race.

"What are you doing?" I ask, my voice catching.

"Making the most out of the limited space we have," he responds, that mischievous grin still on his lips just like earlier his lips seem to inch closer to mine but I can't tell if it's me or him leaning closer. The faint sounds of a morin khuur, a horsehead fiddle, playing outside the yurt pull me back to reality. I turn away from him and I hear him sigh lightly, but I don't think he intended for me to hear that.

"Still awake, sweetie?" he asks after a bit of time has passed, breaking the silence.

"What if that sacred stone isn't the Protocore fragment? What if we're stuck here?" I let some of my worries spill out, frustration leaking into my voice. What of the familiarity of this place, the language, the people, and mostly the dagger?

"You seemed calm during the day," he points out, his tone surprisingly soothing.

"It's probably because we were busy adjusting to our new surroundings. And it's only at night that I get these intrusive thoughts..." I trail off, a sigh escaping my lips. Sylus looks at me silently, understanding etched across his features.

"Then we keep searching for it," he declares.

"Sylus, I wish I could be as cool and collected as you sometimes," I admit. What a simplistic way of thinking.

"What about the other times?" he asks. I turn towards him and his arm is supporting his head as he faces me on his side.

"The other times, I... think about what you must've gone through to act that way," I reply, feeling vulnerable under his gaze. He reveals a faint smile and it softens the edges of my worries.

"The situation isn't dire. That might be why I'm relaxed," he explains nonchalantly but his words feel strangely comforting. He lays back down and I muster up some courage, grabbing his arm using it as a pillow. For the first time in a long while I feel safe.

"Don't mind me, I'm learning how to be space-efficient," I say, a hint of a smile playing on my lips. His other arm pulls me in a little closer.

"Actions do speak louder than words. And more sincerely," he answers.

"Then, do you prefer words or actions?" I ask, daring to meet his gaze in the darkness.

"I'm sure we each have our own preferences but perhaps we can learn from each other," he replies thoughtfully.

"...Here?" I motion around us.

"Think about it. Maybe people have fewer things to worry about when in an unfamiliar place. That's even more of a reason to cherish the time we have before the competition," he says meaningfully. I nod lightly, it was worth a try. I nestled myself in his warm arms before drifting off to sleep.

The next morning, I woke slightly cold. I reach out to my side to find Sylus gone and a note in his place. I get dressed and after getting a bite to eat I follow Tarna to herd the sheep, I watch as they graze peacefully. She begins embroidering her pouch.

Every time I catch a curious glimpse of her handiwork, she bursts into laughter, a warm sound that makes me smile.

"Are you interested in making one yourself? It's not that hard," she asks, glancing at me with a grin.

"I wouldn't say I'm great with needles," I reply, slightly embarrassed.

"Think of it as a way to pass the time," she encourages, and I pull out the blank pouch she had first given me when we arrived. She pulls out colorful threads from her bag. After a moment of contemplation, I pick out a single color from her selection, feeling an urge to create something meaningful.

"There are a lot of colors to choose from. Why black?" Tarna inquires, tilting her head.

"It'll also be red, but that's for the finishing touches," I explain, a new sense of determination fueling me. As the pattern begins to take shape, I use the red thread to add eyes to the crow I'm crafting, my heart feeling a little lighter with each stitch.

"You people have interesting tastes," Tarna says, glancing at the pouch I'm working on.

By noon, the sheep are full and content. I gather my things and follow Tarna back to the tribe, my mind racing with thoughts of the wrestling match and the mysterious sacred stone.

"What's with all the ruckus over there?" I ask, trying to peek around her as we ride. Tarna rides ahead of me, her excitement palpable. She soon returns with a big grin on her face. "There's a riding competition! Sylus is participating in it!"

"Let's take a look!" I urge, my heart quickening at the thought of seeing Sylus compete.

A crowd has already gathered, their cheers echoing across the grassland, blending into a chorus of excitement. Children, the elderly, men, and women—all are supporting Sylus.

"I heard Sylus beat Tumur in archery today. Tumur is last year's champion," Tarna explains, pride in her voice.

"Tumur demanded a rematch on horseback. Surprisingly, Sylus said anyone could join," she adds, her eyes sparkling. We approach the arena and several steeds with their riders gallop across the field, kicking up clouds of dust.

Suddenly, a familiar figure on his sleek black horse moves ahead of the group, crossing the finish line at a breakneck pace. People erupt into loud cheers, as if celebrating a hero's victory.

Sylus reins in his horse, scanning the crowd until his gaze finds me. A faint smile graces his lips, and my chest swells with pride. After some time, as the crowd begins to disperse, Sylus rides over to me, looking exhilarated.

"I was able to get a feel of the warriors' skills," he says, his voice full of confidence.

"You chose a unique way to gather intel," I replied, smiling.

"I should know my enemy," he says with a smirk on his face. "Now you don't need to worry about me losing anymore, right?" I can't help but feel a rush of warmth at his words. Was it because I opened up to him last night?

"What about the warriors who are even stronger than them?" I ask, crossing my arms.

"They're still human. And humanity isn't unbeatable," he assures me with a determined look. While I am still worried about him, I can't resist teasing him a little.

"I heard there's one person you still haven't defeated, though. I'm very worried." I say walking up to him.

"Who are you talking about?" he questions.

"Me," I say with a grin.

"Well then. What an unexpected twist." He chuckles, but a competitive fire ignites in his eyes.

"I've been competing since this morning. If I'm doing another round, the prize better be worth it," he declares, crossing his arms.

"What do you want?" I ask curiously.

"If you lose, you need to shout out the word Tarna taught us," he says with a playful gleam in his eyes. The request is so stunning to me, I'm not sure how to respond. Noticing my hesitation he continues.

"In that case, I'll say it out loud three times if I lose." He says and I smile.

"While offering a bowl of kumis," I demand and he grins.

"You're saying that as if I'm destined to lose," he says, raising a brow. I pull my reins and head towards our starting point.

"We'll see at the finish line!" I shout laughing. Tarna sets our start and we race off into the distance. Riding feels almost like second nature to me but I can't recall ever riding a horse before. When it finally comes time for the final stretch of the race, I push myself to the limit.

"I won!" I shout, exhilarated.

"Seeing you go all out made me wonder if you were scared of the punishment. Or just really thirsty," he teases while grinning. Dismounting, Sylus holds out his hand to me. "Your dedication is always admirable."

I take Sylus' hand and jump off the horse, but suddenly, something falls from my waist. My pouch! Before Sylus can pick it up for me, I quickly turn him around. I grab the pouch and hide it in my sleeve, hoping he didn't see anything.

"Is that something I shouldn't see?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"No... Tarna gave it to me. Don't look," I urge, a little flustered.

"Will I be able to catch a glimpse of it before we leave?" he asks, curiosity evident in his voice.

"As the horses lower their heads to drink from the lake, I sit on the grassy bank and slip the pouch back on my waist. Sylus scoops up water to wash the sweat from his face, and his reflection shimmers on the water's surface. The sunlight catches his features just right, he looks captivating. I watch him in silence, marveling at how effortlessly he blends into this world—the warriors, the land, everything. Like he's used to this place.

"You were so determined to win. Even your hair got some action." Sylus says, chuckling. I glance at my reflection next to his. Silence hangs in the air as my whole body freezes at the crows nest that is my hair. Just another reason to cut it short.

"Let me help," Sylus offers, moving behind me. I can feel his legs brush against mine as he sits behind me..

"The girls in the tribe have unique braids. I should give you one," he adds, his fingers already starting to straighten out my hair.

"How many 'special girls' have you seen to make that statement?" I can't help but huff a little as I reply.

"Did I say I stared at them? I was looking at their hair." He quips back. I can feel him tightening his grip slightly, and I flinch, even though it doesn't hurt.

"Was I too rough?" he asks, his tone turning a little softer. I feel him gently rub the back of my head, and in the water's reflection, I see him blowing air on the spot he just touched. Our eyes meet again, both of us caught in the ripples of the water until a water bird disturbs its surface.

"On the grassland, people wear head coverings because their hair is precious to them," he says, shifting his focus back to combing my hair.

"Only the individuals they're closest to get to see their hair in its natural state." His fingers move with precision, meticulously undoing each knot with such care. I remember what I've heard about my own people, the folks in Linkon.

"Hair is important to us, too. You can learn a lot about someone's health by looking at the sheen and color," I add.

He moves aside loose strands around my temples, effortlessly dividing my hair into three parts, and quickly braids them together.

"I like your hair," he says, but the way he says it makes me feel like he's talking about more than just my hair. The moment between us is silent for a moment as he weaves his fingers through my hair. It feels like an intimate moment.

"Don't you feel at home in this place, Sylus?" I inquire, breaking the silence first as I close my eyes, taking in the smell of fresh grass. The wind caresses my face and I can hear music in the distance. There is a sense of comfortability in the air but also a sense of deja-vu, as if we've done this before.

"I can adapt to any location and call it home." He says confidently. It's been months and I still feel as if I haven't gotten used to Linkon City, even this world at times I don't always feel I fit in.

"You can do that anywhere?" I ask, somewhat impressed and jealous.

"As long as I'm willing. But I guess I've always had a condition," he says, pausing for dramatic effect. "If you're not there, then I'm not interested."

I pause and slowly turn around facing him. We lock eyes as he places the headwear on me.

"Ta-da. My magnum opus," he announces proudly. He turns my head so I can see my reflection in the water. My braid sways gently and I can't suppress a smile.

"It looks like a regular braid to me," I tease.

"I only glanced at the other girls' braids. I can't recall all the minutiae," he replies with a grin. "Once I hone my hairstyling skills here, I'll visit Linkon and try again or you can always come back home in the N109 Zone. What do you think?"

"So Onychinus's leader has a hidden talent for braiding hair? I wonder how much money this intel could fetch on the dark web." I can't help but chuckle.

"Let's not do that, sweetie. You wouldn't make me braid other people's hair, right?" He smiles at me and I pout before stubbornly meeting his gaze.

"Nope." I respond while feeling a warmth blooming in my chest. I glance at my reflection next to his.

"The horses are done drinking. We should regroup with everyone else," he says, redirecting the conversation. He offers his hand and I take it as he helps me up. Rather than getting on the horses, we take their reins and we walk back in a comfortable silence. Sylus is still holding my hand but I don't let go. Instead I also keep my fingers clasped against his.

By nightfall, the tribe has arrived in Tala, ready to join in the festivities tomorrow. The sky darkens, flames crackle, and shadows move to the rhythm of swaying grass. People dance gracefully around the bonfire.

"Do you know of the Bird Goddess of Tala?" Tarna asks plopping next to me. I take a look at Sylus who is talking to some of the men he had competed against earlier. I shake my head, turning my attention back to Tarna.

"You know there is a really interesting story that my эмээ used to tell me, oh um I'm not sure what the word is in your language," she said apologetically.

"It means grandmother," I responded to her smiling and her eyes grew wide.

"Wait, how do you know-," She started saying loudly and I grabbed her arm pulling her close.

"Shh! I'm not sure how I know but I can understand your language though I'm not really sure how to speak it." I whisper to her trying not to draw attention to us. She nodded her head and I let go of her arm.

"She told me that when her mother was a young girl, there was commotion in the village one day about a young girl with pure white hair and red eyes. It was said that the girl had fallen from the heavens and had only survived after turning into a bird." She says staring into the fire and I turn to her eager for more of the story.

"She was an omen of good fortune. When she arrived the Grasslands thrived, anyone who held her hand felt like they had power surging through them and became stronger. She became a symbol of strength and prosperity, she became our young Goddess. Her praises were sung by multiple tribes but then..." She trails off looking a little sad.

"Somehow a rumor spread that if you eat the girl's heart that you would become immortal. Soon people in white robes would stop by different tribes kidnapping all the young girls looking for her. My эмээ's mother had also been kidnapped but the young Goddess had followed her and led the tribe to the kidnapped girls saving them." As she spoke I got chills down my spine and it wasn't from the cold. I wrapped my arms around myself.

"However, she was injured with an arrow from the people in robes and it was no longer safe for her to be in the Grasslands. So my эмээ's grandmother gave her a dagger and helped her escape. However, we don't know what happened to her after." She looked into the fire for a moment before continuing. 

"But in order to honor her we do not eat or kill any bird with white feathers and this festival is also a way to gather and remember her bravery and strength of saving the young girls in our tribe. The Goddess never gave her name but we gave her the name Talania which means vitality, good fortune, victory, and the triumph of goodness." She said smiling .

"Our tribe renamed itself to Tala and we adopted her language that she had spoken in the heavens as our primary language." she grinned at me as she finished her story.

"One day we know our Talania will return." She said proudly. I tried to think for a moment why her story seemed to resonate with me and I had more questions for her but someone called her away right at that moment.

"Wait until I tell you about how our tribe came across the red gem Daybreak, which is said to be capable of transporting you to a paradise!" She said excitedly before excusing herself. The stars twinkle above and I'm lost in thought as I stare into the flames.

"How did you like the story Tarna told you?" Sylus asks, sitting down next to me. I don't look at him and keep staring at the fire resting my arms on my knees as if trying to to keep myself together.

"It was entertaining." I admit, but something else about it bothered me the more I was thinking about it.

"I know of a few tales you might be interested in." He says so lightly I barely heard him. I remain lost in my thoughts. What does he mean? Actual stories or the past? Is he finally ready to tell me what I can't seem to remember?

"What's on your mind?" Sylus asked while gentle music started playing. Tarna had also mentioned people in white robes and something about her telling me about that part of the story made my skin crawl for some reason but I didn't know how to bring that up into conversation.

When I open my eyes again I see Sylus is holding a wineskin and a unique grassland instrument and a different thought comes to mind.

"I'm wondering when you'll fulfill your promise," I reply, keeping my tone light.

"I never go back on my word," he assures me with an earnest look in his eyes. He puts the instrument down, kneels, and pours wine into a cup. With both hands, he presents it to me.

"Хайр аа," He murmurs once and my cheeks start to heat up.

"Хайр аа" He says again before he leans in close to my ear..

"Хайртай шүү," He says and I bury my face in my hands to cover my shock and how red my face must be. His words feel like an enchantment sinking into the depths of my heart.

"You seem to know more than you let on." He hints that he knows more than what I'm letting on. I sit up, taking the cup he had offered and empty it in one go, feeling warmth spread through me.

"Can I have another? Please?" I ask playfully, trying everything to forget the words he said that seem to be ringing in my head.

"Looks like both of us have a knack for pushing limits," Sylus remarks, filling another cup. He holds it out for me with one hand.

When I try to take the cup, he presses it against my lips, and some of the wine spills. Its intoxicating aroma wafts up, making my head swim slightly.

"Drink too much and you'll get tipsy," he warns with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Do you want me to stop drinking then?" I reply, matching his playful tone. A faint smile spreads across his face as he elegantly tips the cup, and wine flows slowly into my mouth. The liquid stains my lips, and he uses his thumb to wipe away any stray droplets.

"Where did you get this from?" I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

"The elder, the most revered person in the tribe, noticed me eyeing it. He figured I could use it," Sylus explains.

"For your nerves or for mine?" I inquire and he smiles only in response, not verbally answering. I'll let you slide this time.

"Everyone is so welcoming. Even if you lose tomorrow, staying here wouldn't be a bad thing," I say, twiddling my thumbs.

"Competing all day still hasn't put you at ease, I see," he notes, plucking the strings of the instrument he was holding earlier. A deep, ancient melody fills the air, wrapping around us.

"So, what's our next course of action if I lose? Are you going to abandon me? Or are we embracing a nomadic lifestyle of riding horses and herding sheep?" he asks lightly.

"Is the powerful leader of Onychinus content with a simple life?" I retort, raising an eyebrow.

"Only if you're with me." His eyes meet my gaze. His eyes shimmer in the dance of the firelight. The crackling fire echoes the blossoming heat in my heart. I lean against him and feel his comforting warmth.

"But I miss the twins, and Onychinus, and maybe even a bit of Linkon City." I admit softly.

"Then I won't lose," he says matter of fact. He continues playing a beautiful and familiar melody as I drift to sleep. I had hoped for another dreamless slumber but that was just wishful thinking. 

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A/N:

Chapter heavily based off/follows/influenced of Memoria: Grassland Romance chapters 2-3

Read/Played in order:

1.  5-Star Sylus Memoria: Grassland Romance - Chapter 2

2. 5-Star Sylus Memoria: Grassland Romance - Chapter 3

So as we know the game Love and Deepspace is a work of fiction, the Into the Grasslands by Love and Deepspace was heavily influenced by Mongolian Culture. So I felt it was only right that I also use that influence to enhance things in the story as well. 

The Bird Goddess Talania was based/influenced by the Mongolian Garid, also known as Khangarid or Khan Garuda, is the Vedic Garuda, the Divine Eagle of Vishnu. Mongolian traditions associate Garuda with prowess, vitality, good fortune, victory and the triumph of goodness. Garuda adorns the Official Flag of the Mongolian Capital City Ulan Bator. 

SOURCE: https://thehistoryofculture.wordpress.com/tag/khangarid/

Another influence in this chapter was the language spoken from Tarna and Sylus in the chapter. In the original version of LADS MC does not know what they are saying saying that it was a unrecognizable. In my version of this Mephisto does understand what they are saying but is unable to speak it.  I decided that I wanted to use additional influence of the Mongolian culture and use their native language for the key part of the story when Sylus calls her "My beloved."

Now, I did NOT just want to use Google Translate for this or Wiki when doing my research. Instead I scoured forums, YouTube videos, or anything  NOT Wiki on more information on how love or similar expressions  to my beloved might be said. 

I really couldn't find anything for "My Beloved" so I kind of opted for I love you. Sylus isn't certain whether Mephisto can understand the language or not.  When Sylus says "Хайртай шүү" this can mean beloved (according to Bolor dictionary (the link was unsecure so resource link was not added). 

However, when I was researching further I cam across a blog that talked about ways of saying 'I love you' in Mongolian (there is a YT Video in there too) I found that the phrase could also be used for 'I love you!' as a less formal and more playful way. 

They also explained that in Mongolian, couples call each other Хайр аа! Literally meaning, ‘my love’. [The ‘aa’ is possessive] This felt more closed to 'My beloved' and closer to the meaning as the game mentions that is what they specially call someone instead of saying it to anyone. I couldn't decide to use the same one three times since I wasn't sure which one was entirely correct but I thought it would be alright to have. 

Now they do have an actual phrase for 'I love you' which is in Mongolian: Би чамд хайртай (I to you love). This is the literal term for it, it’s saying ‘I have love for you’- Би чамд хайртай. In the article it comments that they notice that westerners and maybe some other cultures tend to use this phrase quite liberally. However, in Mongolia, saying ‘I love you.’, ‘Bi Chamd Xairtai’ is quite formal and serious. So you should be careful and only say it if you really really mean it.  

SOURCE: https://www.mongolianlanguage.mn/free-lessons/i-love-you-in-mongolian#:~:text=Literally%20meaning%2C%20'my%20love',They%20will%20love%20it.

Also I wanted to add that the reason why Tarna did not know the word grandmother in English (just the language the story is being written in) is because how many foreigners or tourists talk about their grandmother? I'm not saying no one has but I would imagine it be pretty uncommon unless maybe they are travelling together. 

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A/N pt 2: If you made it this far thank you! As you may have notice this project is a bit more than just a fanfic. I really want it to make sense and tie into LADS as I love the storyline and lore for the game however, with not much clarification or canon lore out it can be a difficult for me as I am full of theories and wanting to know more about this world.

The next chapter will be theory lore based on my assumptions based on things that occur or are seen in the game but of course are NOT confirmed. 

 Some things will eventually no longer be accurate to the lore but for know I plan on just creating a fun way to tie everything to the game in a way that makes sense or makes you think 'hey I didn't notice that or I didn't think that before.'

It's always fun when something I add ends up coming up in the game later like how I gave a mechanical arm to Mephisto before Caleb was reintroduced. However, it IS incredibly stressful when they add something where I'm like how TF am I going to add that? As I mentioned before I'm trying to pickup the pace before Sylus' story branch and the new LI drops but who knows. Some things I want to wait until I know more but for now I think the way I'm writing is fine I hope you as well!

AS ALWAYS, thank you for your support! 

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A/N pt 3:

I'm almost done with one more chapter before I take a 2 week break as yall see I do a LOT of research. New chapter will post next Sunday night April 20th. Super excited for the new Sylus Birthday Banner I can't wait to include it in my story! I would wish us luck in pulls but last time I did that I had the WORST pulls in history with Caleb so may the odds be in your favor!

fin.

[eleni-cherie]

a thief's origin✨ || bts • kth - chapter 0.9

"you're afraid I won't wait." "I'm afraid you will."

a criminal and a doctor should be as different as the sun and the moon - but unexpected things happened every day. like him finding his safe haven in her.

© 2024 | eleni_cherie

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masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburn, mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers s2f2l

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

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age 27 // 3rd year - assistant physician

17th July

Barcelona, Spain

The buzzing of the phone in the middle of the night startled Cassandra. Not that she was sleeping. It was way too warm, despite the open window, but an ominous feeling took over her nevertheless as a late-night call rarely meant something good.

Sitting up straight in the dark bedroom, she rubbed her eyes and reached for it. Her heart picking up in pace only more when reading 'cool guy' on the display, though, worry getting replaced by excitement instead.

She swiped to answer, hushed but eager. "Tae?"

There was a beat of silence, then she heard his breath. "Hey, angel."

With just one simple, soft word she felt all the tension she'd been holding inside her body the past days dispel. She'd missed his smooth voice and closed her eyes, letting it soak through her.

Sometimes he'd still use the old nickname and call her 'Doc', but his new one surely was her favourite.

"Thought you might be out."

He heard something of a laugh leave his girlfriend. It was quiet, but it was still there. He was joking, of course and she knew that. It was easy with him after all, always had been. Even if they hadn't seen each other in a month.

"What, at 2 in the morning? No way."

Taehyung chuckled along and her eyes fluttered open at the sound of his deep chuckles, the room suddenly feeling lighter. She'd missed the sound of his laugh.

"Then, sorry for calling so late."

"It's fine, I couldn't sleep anyway," she told him honestly, feeling almost coy and suddenly very aware of her breathing. Her chest falling and raising steadily.

"Me neither."

Silence followed, and she felt a small twinge of panic. Did anything happen? Did he realise he had nothing to say? Please don't hang up, she thought desperately, holding as still as she could underneath the thin sheets.

"I bet I have you beat," he finally said, sounding somewhat amused. And she relaxed. "We were back by eleven. Yoongi was in a terrible mood."

"Oh, how so?" she smiled quietly, adding, "Sorry I'm whispering. I recently discovered I can sometimes hear the neighbours' talking from my bed so I assume they can hear mine as well."

"It's okay. I like it," he whispered back with a smirk, only to still when another question crossed his mind. "Wait, does that mean they heard us when.."

Her lips folded, stifling a giggle as she'd wondered the same thing when discovering that fact. "They might have."

"Oh." His embarrassed chuckle made her smile widen. Taehyung hummed on the other line then, musing for a moment. "Guess we have to be careful next time."

"Mhm. But anyway, why was Yoongi in a terrible mood?"

"He was trying to play it cool, you know?" Taehyung said then, groaning slightly. "Almost blew his cover."

Cassandra snorted softly. Yoongi wasn't exactly discreet when it came to hating their disguises, according to Taehyung. Him and Jimin arguing about it sometimes. It was quite funny to her, two grown men bickering like school kids.  

However, she held herself back from asking what disguise it was and why, knowing it'd be pointless to do so. 

"Hope he and Jimin didn't argue."

"They did, but already made up. They can never stay mad at each other for too long," Taehyung reassured.

She hummed. Realising him reaching out so soon again after their last call had to be a good sign as well.

"Mhm, I assume the job was successful despite that then?"

He huffed in mock-offence only for a boisterous smirk to settle on his lips. "Of course!"

Cassandra smiled to herself, pressing one side of her face further into the pillow.

It always felt nice to talk to him like this. It felt normal, as if they were never apart. As if he lived just across the city. After years of knowing him it was normal to her anyway. The only thing that had changed was the fact it was even more annoying now that they were in an actual relationship. When they were only friends it'd been a pity not hanging out as much, surely, but now it was simply insufferable.

"So.. it's safe to say you didn't really have fun tonight," she concluded then as a joke. Earning an agreeing hum from him.

"No," he simply stated then, "I was forced out and promised a good time, but instead I was surrounded by bickering and debauchery."

A dry laugh left her lips – loudly, unable to help it really. Forgetting about her neighbours possibly hearing her in the middle of the quiet night.

"I guess the latter is referring to Jimin."

"Of course. He made flirting with two hostesses at the same time look easy." Both burst out laughing before Taehyung's tone softened again."Should have been with you instead.."

She had to ignore that, she just had to, otherwise she'd end up doing something foolish like asking him to drop everything and fly over to her. She'd never do that, her pride never allowing that anyway. But she couldn't trust herself a lot after 1am so who knew, she might become weak if she cave into it.

"Pity," she replied instead with a much calmer voice, more appropriate to the late hour, "Did you force him to stop?"

"Had to, otherwise we couldn't have proceeded with the plan," Taehyung huffed out a laugh, "He probably would've had the time of his life right now if it wasn't for me."

A lie, they both knew. Taehyung had told Cassandra everything about his friend being head over heels in love with some other thief who crossed their paths sometimes. Cassandra always found the stories involving Arabella exciting and entertaining, much to her boyfriend's despise really. Of course, she understood his reasons hence why she'd try keeping her amusement over them at bay.

"He didn't think to share with you?" she teased as she stared up to the pitch-black ceiling.

"Me?" he asked, surprised, and for a second she worried she'd gone too far when he continued, "No, he knows I'm not interested in anyone but you."

There was the beat of a silence before both attempted to say the other's name.

"Tae -"

"Cas -" He rushed forward as she held back. "I've missed you." He breathed. "Saying that out loud just makes me miss you more."

Cassandra's heart felt like expanding, drumming against her ribcage. He kept his promise of being vocal about his feelings from now on and it meant everything to her.

She heard him laugh at himself then. Feeling silly. "Do I sound pathetic?"

"No," she insisted, eager for him to know. "No, Tae. I miss you, too." She wanted to tell him everything that had been on her mind, but over the phone like this felt insufficient.

"I called you because I wanted to hear your voice. I thought of you tonight and just wanted to -" He cut himself off with a sigh. "I wanted to pretend everything was normal."

"Everything is normal, what do you mean?"

"I mean actual normal. Like.. like we're a normal couple and I can just see and call you whenever I like."

Without realising, tears had welled up in the corners of her eyes when allowing his words to sink in.

Yeah, that would be nice but it is what it is, she thought. After all, she knew what she got herself into when allowing him into her life. And it wasn't like her own job would've allowed anything 'normal' anyway, with its irregular schedules or being on standby.

One single hot tear slipped away from her eyes then, getting absorbed into her pillow. She blamed the late hour for his voice and words making her so easily over-emotional.

And without realising it, a quiet sob croaked its way past her throat.

"Cas?" His voice laced with concern. "Are you crying?"

She sniffed and wiped her face. "Sorry. It's the late hour."

"No, don't be. I'm the sorry one. I wasn't trying to make you cry."

She took a moment to compose herself, annoyed at herself. Taehyung waited patiently, and when he heard her laugh weakly down the line, he added another, although seemingly unrelated, sorry.

"What for?" He had nothing to be sorry for.

However, Taehyung let out a low whistle. "A lot." A deep exhale followed. "It's hard."

"You mean us?"

"No," he was quick to response. Needing to dissolve any insecurities before they even arose in her mind, "It sucks that we can't see each other as much.. but no, Cas, being with you isn't hard."

Her cheeks were burning by now and it wasn't due to the 23°C and the stuffy air in her bedroom. She couldn't help but grin like an idiot, feeling all jittery for a moment before recalling his sullen tone before.

"What is it then? Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really.. I mean, I do. Just not right now." She hummed, relating to that statement. Hearing his mattress move on the other line.

"Is that okay?" he asked thoughtfully.

"Of course."

"Right now I just want to feel close to you," he admitted bashfully, "And hear your voice."

"I want that, too," she said and the corners of her lips tugged into a gentle smile, pretending the warmth of her bed was him. They didn't even need to talk, hearing his breathing was enough. Just like when he was lying next to her.

"I've really missed you, like, a lot." He chuckled awkwardly. "Sorry. It's late, I'm all over the place."

"No, it's cute! Don't worry," her tired smile grew at the thought of his flustered expression, "We'll see each other soon. We'll be okay."

"We will."

His confirmation meant the world to her. For the first time in a while, she felt excited. She opened her mouth, her heart ready to combast, when she stopped herself instead. Something told her he already knew what she so desperately wanted to tell him; why else would he be on the phone with her right after a coup?

Instead, she fell into a comforting silence again with her eyes starting to grow heavy. Sleep began washing over her, until a noise and Taehyung's cursing made her jolt awake. And he laughed faintly.

"Crap. I just hit my head."

The bed moved again, and she imagined that she was there with him.

"Were you falling asleep?"

"Yeah, I think I was."

"Should we hang up?" She felt bad for keeping him up, not even knowing in what timezone he was, but she also didn't want the call to be over yet.

"Let's talk tomorrow."

His assuring tone caught her off guard as she knew how risky it was for them to talk too often or too long.

"You sure?" she grinned lazily.

"Yeah. We need to talk more. I can't take this any longer."

She was suddenly wide awake now. "Okay. I'm free tomorrow. Call whenever you want."

"I'll make sure it's early in the morning then."

She could hear the teasing grin on his face. Picture it, too. "Meanie. As if you'd be up early."

"Just joking."

She giggled faintly, feeling both, excited and relaxed. "I can't wait."

"Me neither."

She could almost feel his breath, wanting him close. Tomorrow, she reminded herself.

"I should go now. You need to sleep."

"So do you," she added with a light scoff.

"So, I'll talk to you tomorrow?"

She knew he was smiling, she could hear it all the miles apart.

"Yeah," she smiled back. "You will."

The phone call ended and she was about to put it away when a text appeared on her display.

cool guy (2.46am): btw goodnight :)

angel (2.46am): goodnight ♡

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3rd October

Cassandra wasn't sure what time it was, nor was she sure if her mind hadn't imagined things in her sleep. Still in a half-daze, she tossed her blankets away, hearing the persistent ringing again which had torn her away from a deep slumber.

The doorbell, she concluded so far. Brown eyes frowning when she took off her sleeping mask and trotted to the door in the dark.

Had she forgotten about an upcoming delivery?

It didn't even cross her mind that it wasn't daytime yet despite the darkness of her apartment. That was how she preferred to sleep after all, blinds all the way down. Besides, the days became shorter and it was raining endlessly, so naturally it was rather dark outside even in the morning.

Only when she unlocked the door and swung it open, she realised how off her assumptions were when in front of her was standing none other than Taehyung. 

Clothes entirely drenched, soaking wet from the pouring rain with pools forming around his feet.

Any sleep that had remained in her system was abruptly blown away, replaced by pure excitement followed by confusion and irritation at his slumped posture. Her lips eventually parted, causing him to flinch.

He was ready to hear her expelling him for showing up there in the middle of the night, when instead she grabbed him by his arm, pulling him firmly inside and closing the door behind him.

"Tae, what happened?"

Her words faded when she noticed his sulked expression underneath the hood. Almost hidden away by long streaks of dark hair sticking onto his forehead. 

It wasn't so much the question itself that completely unarmed him. He had expected it considering the randomness and time of this encounter and his abject state.

No, it was rather the concern in her eyes and the whisper of her voice that made him completely lose any remaining energy to deny it and instead made him tear up. And he almost knocked her off when wrapping his arms around her.

She smelled of almonds and flowers. Just like he remembered.

Startled, the young woman tensed for a moment when her hands instinctively engulfed her boyfriend's torso in a tight hug. Putting her all into squeezing him as much as she could. It was her way of showing him that she was there, whatever it was that he was struggling with. Not even caring the slightest how his soaked clothes were wetting her pyjamas.

She understood not to ask further. He'd tell her eventually, she knew. He always did.

Stepping back, she clasped his arms to take a better look on him. He swallowed, avoiding her worried glance. By now he somewhat regretted coming there in an impulsive moment, acting out the only clear thought in his chaotic mind.

He'd felt so miserably and pathetic, he couldn't even bare himself, let alone fleeing to Panama with Jimin and Yoongi - the next place where an object of interest was located at - after what had happened. Even if they had tried persuading him and ensuring him it hadn't been as bad as he had made it out to be. He was so upset with his own self, however, that he couldn't simply stand being alone either.  

And out of pure selfishness and immaturity he'd spent six hours driving from Marseille to Barcelona, to the only person he wanted to see.

Perhaps it was because Cassandra wasn't one of them but an outsider. Perhaps it was her sweet and campassionate nature. Or how she tried to see all sides and wasn't set on black & white views - and he needed someone like this in that moment. Someone else who'd essentially verify what his friends had been trying to convince him of.

But when he had rung the doorbell, two sudden realisations had hit him.

It was 3am. And she was a physician.

Now it was too late though. She was already standing in front of him with big questioning bambi eyes. The fact she hadn't flipped him off or cussed at him already would've been a miracle, if she was such a person. She wasn't, however, he knew that. And yet, he felt terrible.

Was he using her to make his pity self feel better? To calm his guilty conscious?

When she felt his arms growing tired and loosening around her, she placed a hand on his cold cheek. Carefully inspecting his face with a serious glare.

"Are you hurt?"

He only responded with a small shake of his head to assure he wasn't. It was enough for her. Her hands dropped and she helped him slip off his jacket while he stepped out of his shoes.

She grabbed his hand then and he silently waddled behim her to the bedroom.  

Only when she switched on the small cloud-shaped lamp on the nightstand did she see what time it was.

She had barely slept three hours and had planned to wake up in another six - enough time to properly rest and get prepared for her shift at 2pm - but now it seemed like she had to abandon that plan.

It was alright though, first she had to take care of her favourite patient after all.

"Wait here," she quietly instructed him and Taehyung willingly did as he was told. That was the least he could do in that moment anyway, and he watched her disappear into the hallway. Eyes wandering around her room. It was the same as he remembered it, only with a few more of his postcards on the wall. And he smiled, realising she had kept them all. Along with photos of him between her friends and family.

His heart clenched. The tiny voice in the depths of his conscience telling him yet again he didn't deserve Cassandra. And it only got louder after tonight.

He heard steps then, seeing her reappearing with two mugs and a towel. She rested the mugs onto the nightstand first, the hot steam prominent while rising from the tea she'd made them. He smiled.

She pointed at him then with a scowl. "You should take off your wet clothes."

He couldn't help but chuckle quietly at the suddenly demanding tone. "Is that a doctor's order?"

It was the first time he spoke tonight. Evident in his hoarse voice. And yet, Cassandra only huffed out a laugh at the fact it was a teasing remark out of all things. Of course.

"Not this time. This time it's your girlfriend's order."

His thick eyebrow arched at this. Liking the sound of the word whenever she was referred to as his girlfriend. "Is that so?"

"Yep. I don't want you to wet my bedsheets," she grinned, "If you wet my bedsheets I'll kick you out."

"You didn't mind your clothes though," he retorted, to which she shrugged unimpressed.

"I can always change those. But I don't feel like changing bedsheets in the middle of the night. And besides, it feels disgusting being in wet clothes. Doesn't it?"

He hummed, unable to counter something to her logic like so often. She was definitely not wrong about the disgusting feeling, although it wasn't only physically.

Quietly, he began pulling his hoodie over his head, remaining with a plain shirt and she stepped closer, placing the towel over his head. She held the edges together, framing his face with it. The adorable sight making her lips curl into a smile. She almost cooed but knew to suppress it, so instead her fingers began rubbing his hair dry. Her arms were completely stretched out to properly reach him, although he was already stooping to assist her.

Soon his brown irises disappeared behind his eyelids, the stern expression on his features softening. He hummed at the soothing sensation, lulling him more and more until he couldn't feel the motion anymore.

When she deemed it dry enough, she let the towel slide from his head. Revealing his tousled waves.

"How do you still look so cute even with messy hair?" she jokingly pouted. Earning a lazy smile from him. It was so easy for her to make him smile and he tucked at one of the curls falling from her loose bun then.

"You look cuter."

She puffed her blushing cheeks, dismissing his words as always. And he still found it both, endearing and annoying, how she didn't know how to properly react to his compliments.

"Drink the tea, it should've steeped by now," she mumbled then. Quickly making her way under the covers and choosing one of the mugs to try the tea herself. By the look of her face, however, he could tell that it was still too hot and he stifled a laugh at her grimace when putting it back down. "Okay, maybe wait for a little long."

He only hummed and attempted taking off the equally damp trousers when he unintentionally shuddered at the cold metal of his magnum brushing against his skin. Shoving the gun underneath his clothes as if he tried hiding it and Cassandra noticed, but chose not to comment on it. Already holding the sheets up beside her for him. 

"What about your pj's?" he asked worried.

"It's fine they didn't get wet. Just a tiny bit dampish. It'll dry off quickly."

"Oh, so I'm the only one doing a striptease here, huh?" he smirked before sliding under the warm bedsheets. Only earning an innocent pout from Cassandra as she rested her head on his shoulder. Her arm finding its way around his waist when his draped around hers.

"Aw, poor baby," her tone teasing as she lightly poked his flushed cheek, "But you were the one running around in the rain, not me."

Sitting now next to each other in her cramped bed, they grew quiet. Partially due to their tiredness, partially due to the elephant in the room.

Taehyung didn't mind her twin-sized bed, it made it easier for him to cling onto her like a koala, even if she always complained not being able to sleep that way. Secretely she liked it, it gave her some kind of security. Unless it was the middle of summer, then she indeed hated it.

Cassandra propped her chin onto his shoulder then, glancing at him expectedly. She noticed him licking his dry lips, eyes focusing on something invisible as he held her close. His fingers curling around her hip more as he was seemingly lost in thoughts, staring into space absentmindedly.

It didn't seem like he was ready to talk yet.

With a sigh, she lifted her head and turned to grab her tea and retry. This time the sip was in a much more drinkable temperature and she took another sip. Taking the other mug and handing it over to him.

"Be careful not to spill," she quietly said and he gladly accepted it. Despite feeling warm on the outside by now, there was still an internal coldness that made him shiver.

The tea managed warming him up, but the heaviness in his chest remained. And Taehyung sunk further into the sheets after drinking the last bit of it.

His throbbing head burying itself into the crook of her neck ans she stilled for a moment when he inhaled deeply. His warm breath tingling her skin. He sensed Cassandra's lips on his temple then when a delicate hand of hers reached to his still damp hair. Her fingers beginning combing the soft dark waves.

He smelled of falling rain.

It was a soothing sensation that clouded his mind and his eyes fluttered closed. Getting lost in the anew relaxing movement of her hand. It was steady, despite sleepiness slowly taking over her as well. And his body began feeling numb, falling asleep before his mind could. Taehyung was sinking more and more into his seat. His head slipping from Cassandra's neck and sliding to her chest and to her stomach. Settling there just between.

Cassandra was his save heaven.

With her he was in a bubble. She shielded him from his chaotic and dangerous life, providing him with something he had never believed he'd receive or even deserved. Something that also terrified him though.

She was his weak spot after all, his Achilles' heel. And his profession a threat to her normal life.

It was silent in the small bedroom except for the clock on the nightstand and the pit-a-pat of the falling rain against the window glass. Occasionally, a lonely car would pass by and the sound of splashing water was heard. Their breaths and her heartbeat underneath his ear soothing him even more.

"What if I injured someone innocent?"

The sudden whisper of his voice made her perk up and she began to understand.

"Is that what happened?" she quietly asked. Her fingers not stopping from gliding through his hair. "Did you injure an innocent passerby?"

He swallowed down the lump in his throat, turning his face towards the soft fabric of her pyjamas for a moment.

"Yes."

Cassandra hummed only, peeking down at him. She knew he'd open up on his own and she knew there had been a reason, but only now she grasped why he had been in such an awful state.

She had always been curious about his 'job'. Always wanting to hear heist stories and how they pulled them off. It was an odd fascination, the whole technical part. Whether it was illegal or not what they did, it was still a form of art to her - if done correctly.

However, as he always refused to give too much into her interest and instead kept stories as superficial as possible, for him now to tell her about a job on his own felt like an apology. A depreciation.

And perhaps it was just that. Perhaps that was the reason he had driven all the way there, because she was the only person who could grant him some kind of absolution.

Her knuckles brushed over the side of his agitated face then.

"How did it happen?"

Taking a deep breath, he collected his thoughts before continuing. He didn't want to speak it out, but he had to. He couldn't bare it anymore. "It happened so fast, but.. I should've foreseen it. It was my fault."

Cassandra remained silent. He wasn't sure if it was a good sign but she hadn't pulled away her hands yet.

"Why's it your fault?"

"It just is."

"Why do you th-"

"Because I'm the best shooter in the damn world!" His voice rose with frustration when recalling the incident and he abruptly heaved his head from her warmth. Cassandra tensing at this, startled. "I can aim and hit a target in my sleep, I should've - I should've -" He began stuttering, screwing his eyes shut. A deep crease forming between his prominent brows. Cassandra's face mirroring his pained expression, the corners of her lips pulling downwards. "I should've noticed that goon creeping up behind me and pushing me. I-I shouldn't have missed my target -" He choked up at this point, cutting himself off.

Her hand glided from his hair to his cheek, cupping it as she stared into his afflicted eyes and he swallowed.

"Cassandra, I.. I swear it was an accident - it was the first time - I'd never - Please, believe me."

He needed this. Needed to hear it from her. Needed to hear that she believed him, that she knew he wasn't a common criminal shooting at innocent people without a care. Needed her to confirm he wasn't a monster. Needed her to ensure him she wouldn't despise him, despite her own profession of saving lives. Needed her to forgive him.

Cassandra gave him a look of commiseration and trapped his flushed cheeks between her palms.

His guilty conscious had been visible from the moment she'd opened the door. She knew he felt terrible, she could feel how sincere he was. How much he regretted it. And she knew she was in no way entitled to judge people in situations she'd never gone through herself and went beyond her experience. Hence why it was flattering that Taehyung not only felt the need to tell her but was also concerned for her opinion on the matter. After all those years of knowing each other, she was truly his confidant. And the realisation warmed her heart.

"I've told you time over time you're not a bad guy. This was an accident, you didn't want it to happen," she softly spoke. Her thumb caressing his cheek in an attempt to calm him down. And it seemed to work, his guilt-ridden expression mitigating. His jaw unclenching.

"You truly believe that?" he asked quietly.

She nodded confidently. "I know it."

"It won't happen again," he confirmed. He planned to learn from his mistakes. Perhaps he should try mediating like Yoongi who sensed any threat from miles away.

"I know," she smiled. Her gaze falling then. "What happened to the person you accidentally shot though?"

He frowned. "We fled instantly, so I'm not sure. But I heard sirens of an ambulance in the distance, so I hope.." His index finger went to his hip. "I got him here, it's not a vital part, right?"

Cassandra knew that a hip injury by a gunshot was likely to cause complex peritrochanteric fracture. But orthopaedic procedures had an overall union rate for primary fixation of over sixty percent - which was pretty good. There was, of course as it was the case with all medical procedures, always a remaining chance for complications, however, she chose not to disclose the last part. Not wanting to make him feel worse. Instead she kept it positively vague, just like with patients and their families.

"He should be fine," she nodded, her smile widening, "It's not a life-threatening injury."

With the heavy burden being lifted from his chest, he slowly sank back down to her chest. Closing his eyes as soon as he heard her heartbeat and felt her fingers returning to his chocolate waves.

Cassandra had managed to calm him down like no one else ever could.

He wasn't used to this. To feeling so at ease. There in her warm embrace, with her fingers running through his hair, her chest rising and falling underneath him, her scent in his nose and her steady pulse in his ear, he slowly drifted off to sleep.

Realising the reason she was the only person he wanted to see that night, the only person he wanted to ever talk about his heavy heart with and the only person whose words mattered the most to him, was as simpel as the answer to why he always kept coming back to her, despite the risk of getting caught by interpol.

Because he loved her.

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next chapter: 1.0 here

Don't forget to like, comment & leave feedback!♡ It motivates me to keep writing :)

- btw any detco fans here who caught the shinran reference? 👀 hehe

taglist: @lilanyxta @naoolammao345 @memna234 @tetehion @myblacklilame

[nomstellations]

Tales from the Isles- Bounty

Mangri checked the bounty poster in her hand. The disheveled yet all-too pleased grin of her target stared back, fangs on display with dark hair covering their eyes. A thief stealing from the Cove's mayor had some serious guts...Mangri herself would have liked to do the same thing, someday! But she was all too happy to settle for secondhand loot- they were hiding out in one of the canyon's mystery dungeons, so she tracked them here.

As a master thief, lining her own pockets meant more to her than whatever justice that sheriff wanted to uphold. Hopefully this job would be interesting...

Chomper's Canyon had plenty of little nooks and caves, she wasn't surprised a thief would make their hideout somewhere around here. Her target was a Deino who had made off with a pretty chunk of change, and the town's sheriff had a decent reward for whoever could bring in the thief. She had no plans on returning the loot, of course- but they didn't have to know that, did they? Their hideout should be somewhere on this floor...

Mangri found it sooner than she expected. Turning a corner, the dragon was met with a wide room full of gold, treasure boxes, and...food? Resting atop a smaller pile of gold was her target- a thin and lanky young man snoring loudly. As soon as she stepped in he awoke, looking around frantically as if he could actually see anything.

"Whuzzat?! Whozit? Who's there?!"

She smiled. This was too easy. "Your time's up, buddy. Come with me back to town and they might let you off easy."

He sniffed at the air for a moment, then licked his lips. "Hey...y'smell real fruity. You some kinda grass type? Heh heh, and you think you can take me in? I eat folks like you for breakfast! The only thing gettin' turned is you into food!" Suddenly leaping off his hoard, the Deino did a blind and reckless charge at what he thought was his misguided prey. But instead of clamping his open mouth down on his quarry, he found himself slamming into the large gut of a dragon type that vastly towered over him.

"Mmm...that's where you're wrong, shrimp." Hoisting him up by the back of the shirt, the larger dragon studied her catch in smug amusement. "See, I hate it when people underestimate me because of my typing...and I'm afraid you're overpowered and outmatched. Now let's see who's food, hmm?"

Her catch wriggled and shouted a few colorful expletives she noted for later, but it was all ultimately useless as she hoisted him high above her head. Opening wide, Mangri started slipping his feet into her maw and into her throat. Upon feeling the warmth and slick saliva he started to kick and wriggle, but her powerful throat muscles easily rendered kicking a pointless endeavor. "H-hey! You can't do this to me! I'm a DRAGON, y'hear me?! I'm nobody's lunch!"

Mangri simply hummed, lazily gulping again and letting him sink a bit deeper. She loved it when people underestimated her- she wasn't a little weakling anymore by any stretch of the imagination, and any self respecting thief should know that there's always a bigger, hungrier fish. She'll let this be a free lesson to him- two free lessons in fact. she mused as she began to tuck the arms that were shoving at her face and body into her maw. Lesson two: once a predator has most of you in their gullet, you cut your losses and save your strength.

Gulp, glp, glrk. It didn't take long for his protests to become muffled as he was swallowed down. Mangri's stomach jostled and wiggled a bit as her prey collected inside of it, but ultimately the fuss he made was covered well. He wasn't terribly filling either, which made her consider another snack later...but her biggest priority was right in front of her. The criminal was caught- now how does she make off with all this treasure without tipping the people at the Cove off that she stole it?

[dxy-drxxm]

SYNOPSIS: Lyney wanted to do one last trick, and he found the right person to do it with. (gen. neutral reader) [ IDENTITYV AU ]

CW/s: Lyney goes a bit too rough with thief! reader, implied major character death (part 1 of 3) with hunter Lyney, but the second part is not an x reader oops (might publish it tomorrow after classes w/ the x reader variant)

"Step right up, dear guest! Come right inside the box right here…"

Lyney's voice echoed as he urged the guests in his show to watch, and just as always (with his partner and sister, Lynette) he showcases the trick and the preparation he made for it.

Although it was a trick he knew he can pull off with ease, he still wanted to make sure that they were safe. You can never know if the trick fails, after all.

"Now!" he called to the audience, "I will make our dear guest disappear from this box…"

He gestures to the box a ways away from him, then to the one next to him.

"… And appear to this box, right here!"

The audience cheered as they knew it wouldn't fail. It shouldn't fail.

"Now, I ask of you to count to 60! It'd be bad if I send them to someplace like the manor, wouldn't it?"

…?

Manor? Like, Oletus?

"Alright, start counting!"

60…

59…

58…

...

…

5…

4…

3…

2…

"… One."

The unfortunate 'guest' of the hour had fallen to the ground when they were hit with one of Lyney's 'tricks', feeling their body ache as they skidded down.

Their head began to ring as the grim-malkin cat that tagged along with him slam them with enough force to send them flying. It felt as though their head has hit a wall or something so tough to have cause a concussion.

The male twin chuckled and walked over, whistling so to retrieve the phantom feline. Soon, he crouched down, purple eyes twinkling in amusement.

… And malice.

"Poor, poor thief… Why, I thought you'd put up more of a fight!"

Grabbing their waist, he tied them up in balloons, whistling as he carried them up.

"No matter," he mused, ignorant of their struggles as he walked off to the chair. "Let's continue the fun, shall we?"

"After all, what's a magician to do without an audience watching?"

@.enxgmx-wrxtxr | do not republish, repost, or copy my works anywhere | 2023

[shadowfalllen]

For the Tav ask:

1, 2 and 8 :)

Hi there eldritchelf and thank you for the questions! ❤️ 1. What would your Tav’s greetings be (at different levels of approval)?

Negative approval: "Whatever it is, make it short."

Neutral approval: "Here to discuss strategy?"

High approval: "Good day! Should we take a look at our plans?"

Exceptional approval: "Nice to see you, I hope you've been well."

Romantic (dating): "Oh, hi there." [shyly]

Romantic (together properly): "You always brighten up even the darkest of days, love." 2. Describe their tent setup! What’s on the outside? The inside?

Tav's tent would be simple in design, but deep burgundy in color. Outside, she'd have a training dummy like Lae'zel has, but instead looking like a mind flayer, it would be made of wood with a bucket for a head. The dummy would be used to practice fencing moves. There would also be a small round table with two chairs, a deck of cards, and some dice on the table, inviting other party members to play. Inside, the setup would be minimalistic—a sleeping bag with an extra pillow for comfort, and maybe an additional blanket (I can easily imagine Tav nestling into some pillows and blankets). 8. After Act 3, what does their life look like? What are they talking about at the reunion party?

Earlier I answered the question about different routes, what a bad ending and a good ending would look like to my Tav.

"Bad Ending" Tav's life would be ruling over the underbelly of Baldur's Gate as the new leader of the Guild, slowly turning into a tyrant, the very thing she despised in her former life. In the reunion party she would talk about how great things are and how she's turning around things in the guild, but the stuff she says are clearly dark and her personality has also taken a darker and more selfish turn. If the player was in relationship with Tav, it's clear the relationship has grown more distant and it doesn't have the same warmth anymore.

"Good Ending" Tav's life has been leaving her rogue days behind, pursuing honest work, getting a proper home for herself and stability for the first time in her life. In the epilogue, Tav talks about how exciting having a place to call their own is and to decorate etc. but also the struggles to settle in the world as a law abiding citizen, after doing thiefing and other shady business for so long. If the player is in a relationship with the Tav, there probably is some domestic musings and while Tav is happy to see everyone in the reunion, she's also eager to get back home with her lover.

BONUS: How my Tav's life looked like after act 3 but before the events of To Defy The Gods?

Tav was lost after the events of Act 3. The tadfools were her first true found family and everyone separating and going on their ways was hard for her. It left her adrift. She also regretted not being able to help Shadowheart out of Shar's grasp. Tav mourned the relationship she imagined she and Shadowheart could have had if Shadowheart wasn't still in Shar's service. Instead Tav clutched onto any scraps she could have with Shadowheart, hurting herself over and over again each time they had to part. Tav's time was spent waiting for the next time they would meet and she was unable to entertain finding someone who was completely available. She was also unable to entertain thoughts of building a home and stable life for herself and she kept doing shady business and moving from place to place, only to return to Baldur's Gate occasionally to meet with Shadowheart.

[kairei-chan]

Whumptober 2024: Prompt #03

"Set Up for Failure"

fingerprints / wrongfully arrested / “I warned you”

-----

“I warned you.”

The thief appeared as silently as a phantom — Shinichi always thought his nickname was pretty apt. “I warned you this would happen, but you didn’t listen. You never listened to me.”

“I did, but I didn’t have to agree with you.”

The youth in white didn’t reply, but he shifted uneasily in front of the former detective’s cell.

Former detective… Shinichi never thought there would come a time when he would be stripped of his flattering title and wear the badge of a criminal — even when it was unwarranted.

As directed, he had willingly left his fingerprints on the gun that was used to kill an important foreign dignitary — and he was arrested in less than a day. Sometimes, he wondered if the sacrifice was worth it. Would those people really keep their word and leave his loved ones alone?

“I know you didn’t do it, yet you didn’t fight back. Why, pray tell?”

This time, it was Shinichi’s turn to stay silent. He wasn’t sure it was a good idea to tell the world-renowned thief that he had no choice. If he didn’t take the fall, his loved ones would suffer. He did this for their sake, because he knew just how far the people from that organization would go if he didn’t comply with their demand.

“Look,” KID finally lost his patience and decided to get straight to the point, “This lock is nothing for someone like me… I can set you free, and then we can—”

He didn’t finish his sentence as he looked at his detective. Shinichi’s eyes silently told him that he had made up his mind to stay — and the revelation was eating KID from the inside.

“They’ll kill you before the trial, Great Detective! You’ll never survive here! Not in this prison!”

“Ah,” Shinichi mused despite his ordeal, “they did say this new maximum-security prison has that sort of… negative incentive, huh?” Not that it mattered; he knew he would be getting the death row. It was just a matter of time.

Shinichi had given up, and KID knew that. And if his detective decided that it was for the best, then who was he to keep insisting otherwise? At least he had tried for one last time…

KID tipped his top hat in his usual gentlemanly fashion, but the reason he did so was to conceal his expression from his long-time rival.

“It was an honor, Great Detective Kudo Shinichi. So long… and farewell.”

“Likewise, The Magician Under the Moonlight, Kaito KID.”

“It’s Kuroba Kaito.”

Shinichi looked a little surprised before the thief continued, “If by some chance we meet again in another life, I hope you’ll find me once more.”

With that, he disappeared in a poof of smoke, leaving behind a single stalk of blue rose.

[leanderfields]

kintsugi ch. 02⦂

prev ← series masterlist → next

SYNOPSIS: Life as a Highborn noble can be as lavish and extravagant as one makes it out to be. After all, money talks in these parts of Eridia. Every interaction is transactional. Even relationships, a horrible realization that you had when turning down one too many marriage– or rather, business– proposals. But when all hope in love is lost, a thief breaks into your bedroom in the dead of night. He’s charming and easy on the eyes, but is your heart the only thing he’ll take?

C/W: vague mentions age gaps, but nothing too detailed or gross; see series masterlist for general warnings

A/N: Enter Elyon!! This chapter is mostly focused on introducing him and setting up the plot, but don't worry Leander is still mentioned ♡

Sunlight poured into your bedroom, illuminated the crevices of your bedroom and pried your drowsy eyes open. You reluctantly sat up and rubbed your eyes, catching a glimpse of the sun peeking out from Eridia’s horizon. You grimaced as a knock graced your ears. Staying up late and rising early was a routine at this point, but it was not often that you regretted the choices made the previous night. Whenever you would wake up after sleeping at an absurd hour, you felt tired. However, today was a bit different. Today, you felt like death. You were on the verge of collapsing. You were seated far from your vanity, but you did not need to look into a mirror to know that the bags beneath your eyes were dark and heavy. 

“Come in,” you called.

On cue, Adaline swung your bedroom door open. She beelined towards your balcony window and drew the curtains, letting the daylight flood your room. A few other ladies in waiting followed her inside your chambers like little ducklings, wheeling in racks of dresses. You yawned while she put her hands on her hips. 

“Good morning, my lady.”

“Good morning,” you replied sheepishly, shrinking deeper into your sheets. It was apparent that she was eyeing the flower vase beside you. And how could she not? Leander’s gold work shimmered and shined now that the sun was out. Many things in your room had gold accents, but Adaline had seen that vase for years. It was different to say the least.  

But the dreaded question never came. Instead, Adaline presented you with the usual: “Did you sleep well?” 

“I suppose,” you said nonchalantly. 

She sighed, “You can take a nap when you are done with the Duke of Cromwell.”

You pressed your lips together. He almost slipped your mind. Almost, that is. He was always on the back burner, a thought you did not want to acknowledge until it came back to haunt you. To remind you of your place in high society. To remind you that love was a prospect not a promise. 

Your father described this meeting as a simple luncheon except for the fact that it was everything, but a simple luncheon. He was a passive man in all regards. He never arranged anything with anyone, always letting them come to him. This was the case even for the Duke of Cromwell. He personally reached out to your father unlike your other potential suitors who wrote directly to you, piquing the interest of your father. And who would be a fool to turn down a Cromwell? 

The Cromwell’s were a distinguished family with a status much higher than yours— or most families in Hightown for that matter. The duke was their pride and joy, a young man that ran the most esteemed brothel in Eridia. Well, as esteemed as a brothel run by nobles for the nobles could be. Lords and ladies would come to get away from their loveless marriages. One single night full of bliss and then it was back to normal. One single night and the Cromwell’s were able to rake in thousands of dollars. Those nights happen every night without fail. 

‘What would the duke know about love?’ you mused as the maids helped you into a dress. 

One fluffed out your petticoats. Another cinched your waist with a corset. Your father probably had the dress tailored for today. You had never seen this dress before. Moreover, the maids typically asked you what you wanted to wear, letting you pick from the racks they wheeled into your room that day. Suppose they wanted to give you the illusion of choice. You could not blame them though. Your father’s words were absolute despite them being your ladies in waiting. You held your arms out as Adaline ushered the sleeves up your shoulders. She then spun you around, allowing you to face your reflection in the vanity mirror. 

The dress was a lovely royal blue color with delicate black lace trimming around the neckline, but when Adaline collapsed a silver necklace adorned with sapphires around your neck, it was not as lovely as you thought. Beautiful as your ensemble was, you could not help but frown. You were a walking Cromwell crest. The duke was the one that proposed this meeting yet it seemed like you were the one trying to win him over. Or rather, your family were the ones trying to win him over. 

From a business standpoint, having a relationship with the Cromwell’s was fruitful. The pros outweighed the cons. Well, technically, there was only one con— you and your feelings. Other than that, there was truly nothing to lose for both families. Only things to gain. 

Your family, the Sciarra’s, were tycoons of the Eridian perfume industry. The Cromwell’s brothel was located by the outskirts of the Amaryllis District which was glazed with sweet, floral fragrances. You did not need to know the specifics of whatever your father and the duke talked about in order to know that a union would benefit both parties. You were certain the Sciarra’s would take a slice of the Cromwell’s pie all while their profits would skyrocket as they would have access to the finest artisan perfume in Eridia for dirt cheap. Or perhaps access to your factories?

Adaline put a hand over your eyes, spraying a touch of perfume behind your ears. You resigned yourself to today’s schedule when she tilted your chin downward, forcing you to look your reflections in the eyes, and just like that, you were ready for your outing with the duke. 

“You look lovely, my lady.”

“All thanks to you.”

She smiled and took your hand, “You will do just fine.” 

You squeezed her hand, allowing her to guide you towards the door and down the hallways of your estate like a child on her first day of school. Not a single word was exchanged between you and your maid as you waltzed your way towards the foyer. You bit your bottom lip. 

Though it was the crack of dawn, it was still too quiet for your liking. You had so many things to say, so many thoughts to voice, but none of them came out. What was Adaline supposed to do if you cried your eyes out and threw a tantrum, demanding that you marry for true love even though you hardly left your manor to meet– let alone love– anyone? Console you with lies? Tell you it will be alright? Tell you that the one for you is out there somewhere? There was nothing she could do for you. She was your servant and you were her lady. Lady… Lady Cromwell… you shuddered at the thought. It was too soon to be thinking about such things. Even if they were inevitable. 

Adaline held your hand a little tighter as you descended the grand staircase that led to the foyer and the front entrance of the Sciarra estate. At the bottom of the steps, there stood a man with the most peculiar pair of eyes you had ever seen. His irises were a piercing electric blue, but his sclera were pitch black. Your breath hitched as he smirked at you. 

“Forgive me, your grace, but I thought you were going to wait outside,” Adaline quipped, letting go of your hand. 

He chuckled and extended his hand towards you. “I realized that it would be improper to let a lady be escorted by a maid while I twiddle my thumbs in a carriage. First impressions are important, mind you.”

You took his hand without a second thought, allowing him to press a chaste kiss on your knuckles, searing your skin hot with his lips. Albeit, it did not leave the same impression as the kiss Leand– you frowned. 

“Then, I will leave you to it.” Adaline  turned to you and brushed off the sides of your sleeves, “Take care, my lady.”

Her back was facing you before you could reply and bid her farewell yourself. You turned your attention back to the duke. 

“Shall we get the formal introductions out of the way?” he asked.

“We shall.”

“Then, ladies first.”

“Greetings. I am Lady (y/n) of the Sciarra household in the East of Hightown. Delighted to make your acquaintance,” you said with a curt curtsy.

He returned the gesture with a bow, “And I am Duke Elyon of the Cromwell household in the Southwest of Hightown. The pleasure is all mine.” 

You smiled. He smiled. Then, you both walked outside to the carriage in silence. Your footsteps were loud and echoed throughout the front yard. The heels of his boots clicked and clacked against the cobblestone. As you got closer to the carriage, the coachman hopped off the driver’s seat and opened the door for you both as you. He lowered his head and closed his eyes, a hand over his heart like a knight swearing an oath. His head was perpendicular to the ground. 

Elyon hummed, almost as if he acknowledged the coachman’s bow and climbed in first. He then turned around and then held a hand out to you. You gathered your skirts in one hand and took his with the other. He squeezed your hand as he pulled you to your seat. 

You smoothed your petticoats out while the carriage shook slightly as the coachman climbed onto the driver’s seat. With the crack of a whip, the horses started trotting. You folded your hands together, feeling his stare on you. Or perhaps he was not staring. The carriage was small. He was seated across from you. His only options were to look out the window or straight at you. You opted for the former, leaning against the window. You held back a sigh as you watched your estate get smaller and smaller in the distance. You hardly lived a life and now you were doomed to marry a man you hardly knew. Your eyes flickered to Elyon. 

To your surprise, he was not staring at all. His eyes were closed. His lashes were long, brushing his cheeks ever so slightly. His hair was as long and dark as night with the tips dyed a chestnut brown. He wore a single silver earring on his right ear, a stark contrast to the rest of his royal blue and black outfit. He sported a suit-like ensemble though the dress shirt was a little odd. It was left open around his collarbone and there were two ribbon chokers around his neck. He also donned a cloak with an enormous amount of fur trimming. Your brows are knitted together. It was summer. Eridian summers were sweltering and unforgiving. Even the early mornings were hot. You pursed your lips and looked down at your sumptuous dress. No matter. Aristocrats adored flamboyance one way or another. 

You turned your head back to the window. Your fingers found their way onto the black lace of your dress and ran their way across the dainty fabric’s bumps and grooves in a smooth back and forth motion. 

“You should rest, my lady. It will be a while before we reach our destination,” Elyon said as you jolted up from your seat. 

“Is your manor really that far from here?” 

“No it is not. It is only a thirty minute carriage ride, but we are taking a detour.”

“What for?”

His eyes fluttered open. His black sclera held the carriage atmosphere with an iron grip. He crossed his arms. 

“Have you not heard?” 

“Heard what?”

He chuckled, “There is a thief running around Hightown as of late. The city police have been pursuing him, but to no avail. All anyone knows is that he only steals from manors and caravans like this one. Your neighbor, the Earl of Sinclair, was his most recent victim. He was robbed last night. I’m not sure of the details, but my social circles have been saying all that he lost was a few magical artifacts in his antique collection.”

You blinked. That must have been Leander. The one who said he was not looking for trouble…

“So we are taking a detour to avoid this thief?” you asked, trying not to let your voice waver. 

“Yes.”

“But would a thief really strike in broad daylight?”

He chuckled again, “Who knows? It is better to be safe than sorry, no?”

“...You have a point.”

Elyon closed his eyes again as the conversation ceased. However, unlike the silence that occurred during your walk to the carriage, this one was comfortable. It felt natural. Less awkward. A little more peaceful. 

You would like to join him and rest your eyes but you were ruminating again. Leander. Leander. Leander. You shifted in your seat. What to do? Turn him in? He was a thief. One that targeted aristocrats. He stole from your neighbor and possibly many other families. But… Elyon never mentioned anything gruesome. So was it safe to assume that Leander was only a chivalrous thief with no blood on his hands? You dared not to press Elyon for more details. The last thing you wanted was to be a criminal’s accomplice. You could already imagine the headlines already: Lady Sciarra Aids the Hightown Phantom Thief’s Great Escape and is Now on the Run! The Sciarra Family Name is Now Forever Tarnished! Oh the Tragedy! 

“My lady?”

“Yes?” your voice cracked.

“Is this carriage not to your liking?”

“Not all, your grace.”

“I see. Forgive me then. You seemed rather skittish,” Elyon said, eyes fluttering open once more. A stern expression crossed his face.

“Nerves, I suppose.” You tried your best to make your smile reach your eyes. 

“I do not bite, Lady Sciarra.”

“How reassuring.”

“But it is true.”

“That it is.”

“I am not looking to trouble you, my lady.”

Your posture stiffened. Did all the men in Eridia say that whenever someone appeared to be distressed? Or was it your cursed luck? First Leander. Now Elyon. 

“I am not troubled by you, your grace.”

He sighed, “This outing is not a marriage proposal if that is what you are concerned about.” 

“And what makes you say that?” 

Were you that obvious? Your brows furrowed. No, you were thinking about Leander just now. Not that Elyon would know. Still… for someone so far off the mark, he hit the nail on the head.

“Call it an educated guess. Like I said, you seemed rather skittish around me.”

“I apol–”

Elyon held a hand up. “I am not offended, my lady. Your feelings are reasonable. I made my debut into society nine years ago. Ten years in a couple of months. Yours was fairly recent if my memory serves correctly and I am no manther. So please rest assured– I have no intention of marrying you.”

You opened then closed your mouth. You did not even know his age prior to this conversation. Your father kept every bit of information about Elyon away from you aside from his name and title. The rumors about the Duke of Cromwell spoke for themselves, but none of them ever described him as the type of man who would jump to conclusions so quickly. Admittedly, the conclusion he presented before you was rational. Sensible, even. If it were not for the fact that your mind was plagued with thoughts about your encounter with a certain thief instead of the situation at hand, Elyon would be right. You were concerned about marriage. And if you knew he was almost a decade older than you, perhaps you would be alarmed too. 

“So this outing is…?”

“A date,” he said. 

“Your grace! You just said you had no intention of marrying me!”

“I do not, but I have a contract to uphold.”

You rested your head in your palms, “My father put you up to this, did he not?” 

“Your father and my father.”

“Are you not the Duke of Cromwell?”

“I am more or less the Acting Duke of Cromwell. I may handle affairs and such, but my father is still the Duke of Cromwell on paper until he passes.”

“So this contract…”

Elyon tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, “You seem well-educated. Would you like to take a gander?”

Your breath hitched. You were indeed educated and you did have a guess, but your blood boiled. He raised a brow in turn as you exhaled slowly.

“Your brothel and my family’s perfume. A union between us would profit both parties in terms of business as well as smooth out any legal proceedings with this joint operation. ”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“But that is assuming we are to wed, your grace. You expressed no desire in doing so, but if that is the case, then what were the conditions our fathers proposed?” 

A wry laugh slipped through his lips as he leaned against his cushioned seat. “I initially reached out to the Earl of Sciarra about business proceedings between my brothel and the Sciarra’s perfumery. There was no marriage in the first few versions of our business contract. That is… until my father suggested a union. From there, my contract was profusely revised by our fathers. ”

You pursed your lips. “Would it not be beneficial to proceed with the original deal and use your status as a bachelor for another contract?”

“Beneficial, yes. However, I have been using that excuse for years now. I have not courted since my beautillion ball. My father meddled with my affairs in order to find me a bride. I suppose he grew weary of my ‘schemes’ while your father grew tired of you turning down every suitor that came your way,” Elyon said with a strained grin. You stared at his forehead. A vein could pop at any moment. 

“Perhaps he wants you to find something else to love aside from money,” you jested, ignoring that last bit about you. 

“So I’ve been told.”

“...Do you believe in love, your grace?”

“Pardon?”

“Love. Like true love. Courting someone because you love them. Marrying someone because you love them.”

He gave you a sideways glance, “I suppose I could believe in it. Like how children believe in Saint Nicholas.”

A pout formed on your lips as heat rushed to your cheeks. You were a fool. Of course, he did not believe in such things. Love was only reserved for the storybooks.

“If you were wondering about the reason I have stopped courting, all you have to do is be direct, my lady.”

Elyon was right, but also a tad bit off the mark yet again. You assumed that love was the reason he did not court after his debut like the hopeless romantic you were, but you were more so curious if there was someone out there who was just like you, someone who believed in fairytales and fantasy novels. Not in some measly piece of gossip. 

“Forgive me, your grace. I did not want to pry,” you replied coolly. Nonchalantly. 

“It is quite alright. I have nothing to be ashamed of. To put it simply, I am bored.”

“Bored?”

“Yes, bored, my lady.”

“Bored of what?”

“Why, courting, of course.”

You blinked. He was beaming. Glowing, even. Almost as if he believed his answer would earn him a gold star. You opened your mouth, but Elyon beat you to it.

“I am kidding, my lady.”

“I am in tears,” you muttered. 

“Humor me a little, Lady Sciarra.”

You hummed in response, allowing a silence to make itself known. The chirps and whistles of birds were audible from inside the carriage now that your shallow heart-to-heart with Elyon came to an end. You stared out at the window, catching a glimpse of the cityscape and the ashy blue sky. Was the Cromwell estate near the metropolitan area? 

“Do you ever feel like courtship only ever demands pieces of you, but not all of you?” he mused, breaking into your brief moment of solitude.

“I would not know, your grace. This is my first time courting.” 

The carriage halted. You planted your heels onto the floor, bracing yourself should you fall. A faint click rang through your ears. You turned your head towards the carriage door and the coachman who stood by the entrance, bowing with a hand over his heart. Elyon rose from his seat and hopped off the carriage.

“Well, perhaps after today, you will go on many more outings and come to know what I mean when I say that,” he said with an outstretched hand. 

“I will be the judge of that,” you quipped as you took his hand, allowing him to help you step off the carriage. 

Once your shoes hit the pavement, you were quick to let go of his hand and turned your attention to smoothing out any wrinkles on your skirt. 

“I thought we were going to your estate.”

“Changes of plans,” Elyon shrugged, “Unless… you want to visit my estate?”

You shook your head.

“I thought so. I would like to believe that almost anyone would prefer a bustling town plaza than a manor with empty halls.”

“You may be right, your grace.” 

This time, your smile reached your eyes without you making any attempts to do so. It had been a while since you went downtown. You hardly had any time for leisure after your debutante. In fact, you hardly left your bedroom– let alone your estate. You paused. Ah, but Elyon was here with you. Bookstores were automatically crossed off your to-do list. 

“Have you ever been to the Amaryllis District, Lady Sciarra?”

“This is the Amaryllis District?”

You took a deep breath, letting the strong floral fragrances fill your nostrils. Of course. There were only two places in Eridia that smelled this pungent– the Sciarra perfumeries and the Amaryllis District. You scanned your surroundings. You never ventured to this part of Hightown. This district belonged to the “cleaner” side of the river, but it was also too close to Lowtown for your father’s comfort.  But despite his warnings, the arts district was not too shabby. It was colorful and lively as any other plaza in Hightown if not more. The only difference was the pink curtains and… your eyes fell on a noticeboard by a building you assumed to be a brothel. 

There were many flyers tacked onto the weathered wood, but there was one that stuck out to you in particular. It had a half-body portrait of a man drawn on it. A man with deep, emerald eyes and a dark trench coat. A scar ran down from his cheek to his crossed arms. You squinted. His nose was a bit crooked, but you were certain that was Leander. Something was not right. Elyon said that the authorities could not find the thief yet there were posters of him in the Amaryllis District. You brought a hand under your chin.

“Something on your mind?” 

You flinched and Elyon’s eyes widened.

“No,” you said, “Not at all.”

“Come, then. Let us go. I have a reservation at one of the restaurants here. Best not to keep the staff waiting.”

You watched as Elyon’s walk away from the carriage. You turned around to see the coachman crack his whip and the horses trot off. The duke was several paces ahead of you at this point, but your gaze still lingered on that poster. You glanced at Elyon’s figure which became increasingly smaller the more you stared at him then you glanced back at the poster once more. You looked left then you looked right. Then, you tiptoed towards the noticeboard and tore Leander’s portrait off with a clean rip.

You inhaled sharply, looking over your shoulder. Everyone around you seemed to be preoccupied with something or someone. You nimbly tucked the paper into the pockets of your skirt and made haste to catch up with Elyon. 

‘You are not an accomplice,’ you chided to yourself, ‘He will clear it up with you this evening as promised and all will be well.’

[rcyaltyfree]

HEY SINCE YOU ASKED 💬 + Akechi FOR REN, POST-P5

[ Send 💬 + [character name] for my muse to talk about that character! ]

Ren lay upon his bed, staring up at the ceiling. The setting sun shone softly through the window of his attic abode, eyes watching the dust dancing through the sunbeams. Fleeting and Impossible to catch, he raises his hand anyway.

Of course, the movement simply scatters them through the air.

He knew that from the start.

". . . Goro Akechi. . . to think, this whole time you and I were both locked up." -- he clenches his fist as a flash of anger takes hold - rememebering the face of the man who put him where he is now. "..and it was the same damn bastard that held the keys."

He lets his arm fall to his side, letting out a resigned sigh. This night was his last night here before moving back with his parents. He was moving away from his new family, his friends, his life as a phantom thief. Moving on.

Moving on. They would still all be friends, obviously - so why does it sting? Why does this pain continue in his chest?

He's just moving on. It's not hard. It shouldn't be hard. They'll still all be. . .

'No. Not all of us.'

Some part of him wished - despite knowing how backwards it is - that it was the real him in that interrogation room. To see Akechi; to hear what he would happily say, knowing it would never escape his lips afterwards. To see him alive as the last thing, and never go through the pain of losing him.

Maybe some real part of him DID die in that interrogation room. Something he would never get back.

it was unfair. There were so few people that Ren could fully trust with who he was - so few that they were all so important to him. And yet one of them never even revealed that fact until it was too late.

"To think he was so close by...yet so far away the entire time. Now that's unfair..." Ren's voice is quiet as he talks to no one - absolutely no one - as the only person he wants to talk to right now is no longer here.

But if he was...what would he say?

"It's stupid, isn't it? You said you hated me. From the way you worded it, you made me out like the ultimate inversion of yourself. That I was the scum of the world that held everything you craved in my hands."

"...then, I must have stolen it all, right? Like a real Phantom Thief, right? So maybe I did. Maybe I have everything you've ever wanted, and I don't deserve a single ounce of it. It's all rightfully yours - so come and take it. Come on! Goro Akechi - If i'm so despicable, then come out and take what you want! Take it!! Come and get it for yourself!" He yells fruitlessly into the empty room - a room now almost empty of any of his own belongings.

(There's nothing here TO take.)

Ren falls quiet, acutely aware that if anyone was listening ,they would think him insane. Even so, he continues on, letting his idle thoughts spill over - airing his grievances to the world. Lest they build up inside him like a rust that grinds against his every thought.

"...I've still got your glove, dumbass. Isn't your hand cold without it?"

..and so it went on. One man's ramblings of words unsaid. At times, he laughed at how stupid it all was. At times, he raged at how unfair it all was. He shouted and demanded that the one lost to him come back and pay for what he did.

Until finally...he fell silent. His energy exhausted, the siren song of sleep finally overcame him. In the silence, another voice speaks...

"Maybe this'll give you some sense of closure on this. Sorry. After all the work you put in for me, I'm still not strong enough to face you on this head-on." Futaba slips something under Ren's door, before tiptoeing back down the stairs, whispering aloud to herself. "I really wish I could say 'I care about him too.' or 'I wish he was still alive too.' "

"...But I can't. I hope you can forgive me for that."

================================================

laying silent on the floor, peeking out under the door in Ren's room....A mock-up calling card. One that calls for an end, one that - just like a real one -- manifests and realises the truth and solidifies 'the way things are' .

Maybe with this, Joker can but put to rest along side Crow. And Ren can continue to live on without Goro Akechi. The heart of Ren Amamiya has already been taken - and the one who stole it is no longer with us; and won't becoming back.

[triscribe]

I have been working my way through the Alternate Living Arrangements and having a wonderful time, but if I am allowed to ask about one thing on the WIP list, I would love to know more about the Thief!Harry AU 💗

- Katheth86 (Chocoduckie86)

Aha, you're the one who's been leaving me a bunch of comments lately! Many thanks, my new friend.

So this would be the AU where, a couple of years before canon, a pair of burglars rob Number Four Privet Drive, and in the process discover a scrawny kid locked in the cupboard beneath the stairs, whom they end up stealing as well. A few forged documents later, Harry Potter becomes Harrison Tanner, and sets off on his path to becoming a chaotic good thief and trickster.

And because the second chapter is taking so long to finish, here, have a few upcoming snippets:

---

“You stole how much?” Ron asks, gaping with astonishment.

Harry grins, more than a little smug. “Final tally came to nine and a half million pounds, from twenty paintings and a dozen old swords.”

Neville’s too stunned to formulate a response, but the same can’t be said for Hermione. “And how much of that did your family keep?”

“Only the half mil. My godfather donated the rest to worthy causes - all the exact opposite of what that bloody author’s been throwing her money towards. And before you say anything, he’s been doing this plenty long enough not to get caught, so I don’t need to worry about the police knocking on our door any time soon.”

“Hmph.”

“Do you always steal that much?”

“Not usually, no. That’s the only big job I’ve really gotten to help with; most of the time it’s small things, like lifting wallets. Liza says she’ll teach me how to swipe jewelry at posh events when I’m older, and Rolfie promised as soon as my feet can reach the pedals, I can be their getaway driver for house burglaries.”

Ron slowly shakes his head, jaw still hanging slack. “What even is your life, mate?”

“Ironically,” Harry muses, grin turning into a smaller, more wistful expression, “Something out of a fairytale.”

---

Easter Break approaches quickly. Neville writes to his gran at least three times in the week leading up to it, seeking reassurance he’s still allowed to spend it with Harry’s family, and in turn promising to be on his absolute best possible behavior.

“Oh, but that’s no fun, Nev. Don’t you want to help us pull off at least one robbery?”

“Harry!” Hermione protests, but Neville ducks his head with a small grin, which was the real goal anyway.

Hermione’s headed overseas while Ron and his brothers are all going home for the holiday, but Harry promises to host all three of his best mates any time they want during the summer. “Yeah, alright,” the redhead agrees, looking a bit cheerier at the thought. “And maybe we’ll help with another nine million pound burglary, yeah?”“Nine and a half, thank you - and why not?”

---

That first day is spent inside the flat, with more storytelling, and some introductory sleight of hand lessons for Neville, and a few different children’s movies played on the telly to settle Rolfie’s sense of nostalgia. Dale shows up in the evening for dinner, takes one look at the extra child in the room, and loudly proclaims they are not stealing another one!

Liza winks at the boys and whispers that he’ll come around soon enough.

[pure-garbage]

Slimy Hivemind? Breaking Locks In The Digital Age!

Lana found a dark room full of shattered glass and smashed consoles. The shadows were deep and long even though the door was broken, barely hanging on to battered, squeaking hinges as light streamed in from the corridor. Lana made herself at home, crosslegged in the shade behind the wreckage. She set the transponder snail gently in her lap, ignoring the sounds of the lab's occupants as they sporadically rushed past her little hideout, shouting about a trail of destruction, rampaging children and escapees.

"Calm-calm library feng-sui," Lana muttered, enveloping herself in a bubble of silence. The usefulness of the tactic was two-fold: it would help her avoid detection from outside and enable her to focus on the task at hand. "Now, little snail..."

The small creature trembled in her lap, unhappy to have been taken from its post. Lana turned it to face her and placed her hands on either side of its shell.

"Don't be scared," she crooned, instinctively reassuring the animal before reach out to it using her haki. "I won't hurt you... I just want to see if you can help me find my friends."

The premise of her idea was simple enough. If she could sense emotions, interpret thoughts from what an individual was feeling, she saw no reason why she wouldn't be able to extend that empathy to the transponder snail. She closed her eyes, narrowed her focus and pushed her perception entirely into the slimy hivemind nestled helplessly in her lap.

Immediately, she was met with resistance.

"Guess this little guy's operating on an encrypted channel," she surmised.

Even so, she could feel the differing wavelengths intuitively, could discern the distinct signals bouncing between the snails in the lab.

"What do you want from me, a passkey?" she mused, brow knitting over closed eyes as she rubbed her thumbs absently over the spiral patterns of the snail's shell.

That was it, she could tell. Lana grinned, pursuing strands of information, bullying her will through the mental noise of the transponder snails and demanding that they yield to her influence.

"Just like a physical lock, the tumblers hold all the answers," she reasoned aloud. The snail's eyes were completely glazed over by now, drifting aimlessly back and forth on their stalks as Lana rummaged through its tiny, simple mind like a thief going through a drawer. "I can figure this out... it's just another puzzle, just another lock waiting for me to open it."

Lana's grin widened in the darkness. She executed the psychic equivalent of a knuckle crack, leading the snail in her lap to shiver a little inside its shell.

___________________________________

Zoro was sweating with exertion by the time he managed to push his perception out by ten yards in all directions.

'I wonder if I could get better range by narrowing the radius.'

He envisioned a strip of haki sweeping out from his person. The next image that came to mind was a radar scope, one thin line swinging around in a circle as it searched for its target. Zoro liked the idea a lot, but before he could try to put it into practice, a shiver swept down his spine and a strong, familiar presence seized his full attention.

"Lana?!"

He could feel her in the room with him, but when he opened his eyes, she was nowhere to be seen. Even so, her aura was suddenly overwhelming, undeniably present. It felt as though she was hanging over his head like a specter.

Zoro glanced up to make sure she really wasn't hovering over his shoulder. The only thing he saw was a video transponder snail in the corner over the desk. He narrowed his eyes, suspicions mounting as he stared down the gawking gastropod. The force of Lana's haki wasn't fading and it seemed to be concentrated around the snail.

"Lana?" he questioned tentatively. He didn't hear a response, but something in his gut urged him to get closer to the transponder snail. He followed his instincts, nudging the desk over a few inches and hopping up onto its surface to put himself on eye level with the snail. Its eyestalks tipped forward, seeming to reach for him sluggishly. The display was puzzling and mildly repulsive.

'Is this snail... trying to touch me?' he wondered, fascination pairing with mystification as he leaned in closer. He reached up and pulled the snail from the ceiling. It made a gooey sucking noise as it released its hold and allowed him to carry it back down to the couch.

As soon as he made contact with the snail, Zoro felt Lana's presence more strongly than ever before. His first thought was that the snail was Lana. Somehow, Lana had been turned into a snail.

'That's stupid,' he scolded himself internally. 'Lana didn't get transformed into a snail. There's something else going on here.'

Zoro reached for the presence of Lana's haki with his own. If he didn't know better...

'This snail feels like it's... pulling me?'

He surrendered to the tug, allowing his perception to essentially be hijacked. The shift was disorienting and he had to blink a few times to interpret the image he was seeing.

"Lana?"

Her face was gray and wreathed in static as if he was seeing her through a screen of some kind. Transponder snail eyes, he realized with a jolt.

Lana grinned down at him and waved intentionally. Her mouth moved, but he couldn't hear the words.

"I can't hear you," he grumbled aloud. Could she see him too? He tapped his ear and made a slicing motion at his throat.

Lana nodded and raised two fingers to her eyes.

"I. See. You," she mouthed slowly, pointing to the snail. Zoro understood.

"Where are you?" he asked aloud. He gestured around him and then raised his hands in a questioning shrug, palms facing up.

"No idea," Lana shook her head, shrugging back. "The others?"

She steepled her hands over her head, miming a hat. Zoro chuckled a little. A straw hat. She was asking after their crewmates.

"Everyone's fine," he assured her, flashing a thumbs up. "Look. I'm here."

He turned his transponder snail around, showing her the room where he was.

"Come. Find. Me," he told her, gesturing from her to him and making a little walking gesture with his fingers.

Lana facepalmed.

"I was just there," she sighed. Zoro raised an eyebrow to let her know he didn't understand what she'd said. She shook her head dismissively. "It's not important. I'll... uh... oh crap."

Zoro watched as Lana trailed off and her gaze grew distant.

Zoro could only see Lana, but Lana was watching the equivalent of a split-screen feed from snails posted all over the island. A battle outside few her attention.

"Luffy's fighting someone," she noted.

"I don't understand," Zoro said emphatically, shrugging aggressively and beckoning at her in an attempt to get her to communicate some details. The alarm that flashed across her features told him all he needed to know.

"Use. The. Snail!" Lana emphasized, tapping her snail's eyes illustratively. "Trouble! Luffy! Fight!"

She smashed her fists together, wincing as the struggle outside took a drastic turn for the worse.

"I have to go help him!" she declared. "No time to meet up! Zoro, you'll need to find your own way! Don't get lost!"

The feed cut off abruptly and Zoro's focus snapped back fully to his own body like a rubber band after being stretched too far.

"I have absolutely no clue what she was trying to tell me," he grumbled. "She's gonna punch me? I'm so confused. Should I wait here for her, or...?"

While he contemplated his next move, the snail in his lap slowly started to escape, oozing away and leaving a slimy trail across his thighs as it went. He let it go.

_____________________________________________

<== Previous Chapter

Next Chapter ==>

== First Chapter ==

[awesomedurraworld]

Tangled Fullmetal Au!

TANGLED AU DUMP! ✨

Now I originally reblogged an older blog, but thought that since a lot of people don't usually read the blogs I decided to make this a whole post!

GIF by gurbets-world

As for tangled Au, of course I have a bit more ideas! Nothing 100% decided, these are the random ideas I have been getting!

Been thinking What job Roy has? Like, is he a thief just like Eaugen? Then the idea of him being an outlaw but helping people came to me- maybe he is just like Robin Hood? Maybe stealing from the rich so he could help the poor ordeal? Maybe he has a teacher’s job + this as a secret gig?

And maybe Roy was married to Riza and they had Al as their son ( undecided if I should make Al their bio or adopt a kid.)

Mayliz mentioned the pan ordeal! And I am 100% with the frying pan! Although I am trying to avoid making fun of Ed’s height ( which I will make a post about as soon as I can.) I can see how Frightened Ed is when he sees a stranger man coming to his tower so he would attack him

Still musing if Ed should have all of his limbs, thinking he shouldn't have either his leg or arm. Maybe the arm so that is why he can't take care of his very long hair, so he needs help with it and I love Roy taking care of Ed’s hair. Maybe he was the one to braid it, just like the tiny Girls did for Punzel!

I think Ed would be so skeptical at first, so scared and stuff. Thinking Van maybe wasn't the best dad, ( honestly, my headcanons have him as an abusive man, which would make Roy’s actions mean a lot whole more to Ed and Al.) still thinking if he was abusive in the Au- but locking a child in a tower is pretty hurtful.

And then there is the last bits where in the movie Mother Gothal when she chained Punzel. Tbh, I think that scene is what inspired the whole au.

For how it happened I am thinking something like this,

So Roy took Ed to his home with his wife and kid and for the first time, Ed experienced what family feels like, a mom’s love, and dad’s love, and a sibling’s love. Homemade meals and beds and soft coverings and other beings around him!

But one night, Ho was able to kidnap Ed from the Mustang household and Roy put 2 and 2 together and used his horse and dashed to the tower and got inside and then

Van stabs Roy as soon as he entered the place.

Exactly what happened in the movie happened there, except I think that Roy was able to kill Ho.

Does that mean Alchem is a thing here? Probably. Maybe that is why Ho kept Ed in a tower? Because Ed is so powerful?

These These are my thoughts so far! What do you guys think? I looked around for my sketches, and can't seem to find the rest, I only found a very BAD doodlish sketch

Definitely will draw more for this Au, concept customs, and stuff! I just need to push a little more before I have free time hehe