#ah yes.... criminal and judges.

[corameiwrites]

𖦹 searching for love 𖦹

pair: jason todd x gn!reader

plot: your shift at a small bookstore is about to end when a handsome stranger walks in five minutes before closing

wc: 2k

pt. 2

A far off chime sounded from the old grandfather clock, signaling the passing of another half hour. That meant it was 8:30, and more officially, 30 minutes past closing time. Normally, you would have been packed up and locking the door by 7:58, eager to get home to your grouchy cat, messy room, and half-written research paper. There was nothing normal, however, about the six-foot something man with biceps the size of your head, meticulously browsing the shelves of your bookstore. 

Well, not yours, but the number of shifts you picked up having to pay the bills for your not-so-cheap Gotham apartment had basically made this place your second home.

So when the very fit and handsome stranger walked in a mere five minutes to closing, you lingered a little. Behind the counter at the front of the store, of course. It was far too scary to go and ask him if he needed help—you would run the risk of embarrassing yourself further. 

Earlier, when he had entered, you made the mistake of welcoming him with a rushed “Good Morning” despite the full moon visible through the store windows. He had glanced in your direction, nodded, and walked further into the store, going to start his long search of whatever it was he came here to look for. 

Which, by the looks of it, he found. 

He set the books down near you, looking at an assortment of random trinkets and bookmarks displayed on the counter. 

You smile, recognizing the titles. “Are you a fan of Austen?” 

His head sprung up as though he hadn’t been expecting you to speak to him. “Uh, yeah. Used to read some of her stuff when I was younger. Thought I’d pick them up again.” 

“Ah, I see. Pride and Prejudice is one of my favorites.” Looking up the titles on the rather out-dated computer, you ring them up on the register. 

“Then I’ll be sure to read it first.”  The corners of his mouth twitch up in a semi-smile as his hands retreat into his leather pockets. An odd choice to zip a leather jacket all the way to his chin, but who are you to judge? It's only now you're looking that you notice the scars littered across his face, as well as the few wisps of stark white hair across his forehead. You look down into his eyes, and though it was only a fleeting moment of prolonged eye-contact, it made you feel far too vulnerable.

 Looking away and vaguely remembering some staff meeting about professionalism, you read the total amount due to him. “Cash or card?”

“Uh–cash.” His face blanks, and he blinks twice before digging through his pockets. His brows furrow. “Sorry, I…” his hands pat down his cargo pants before his shoulders slump. His face turns to one of slight annoyance. “I lost my wallet.”

“Oh.” Frankly, you don’t know what to do in this situation, and by the looks of it, neither does he. It's a little awkward—do you suggest he trace his steps? Call the bank to pause all his cards? But he’s paying in cash. Oh god, a thought crosses your mind. Is he a criminal? Fortunately, your mouth speaks before you even process what's coming out of it. “I could…put these on hold for you, if you want?” 

He runs a hand through his hair, and it's embarrassing the way your eyes track the movement. “I wouldn’t want to be a bother. It's my fault, anyways.” 

“It’s not a bother, it happens to the best of us,” leaning over the counter, you point to a small poster with store hours. “I work tomorrow and Wednesday until closing if you want to come in around this same time, but I could tell my other coworkers of the situation if you come in a different day or time.” 

Silently, he stares at the poster. You recline back to your standing position, mentally slapping yourself for sharing your work schedule with a complete stranger who could very well be a criminal. A hot criminal. 

“...You close at eight?” 

“Yes sir, every day except for Sundays.” Thank you for finally showing up, customer service voice. He frowns, lifting his arm and pushing the sleeve of his leather jacket up before looking at you in shock. 

“You're closed right now?” he asked, though it sounded more like a state of a fact. 

You start to fidget with your clothes. “Technically speaking, yes.” 

His hand flies to his face, semi-face palming. “Shit,” he starts to back away slowly towards the door. “I am so sorry, I didn’t know.” 

You smile at his panic, feeling a little amused despite yourself. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” 

“No, it's horrible, I’m horrible.” You can’t help but let out a small chuckle at his apologetic demeanor. By now he's halfway out the door, but turns back at your laugh.

“Trust me, it’s completely fine. I’ll keep these,” you lift up Pride & Prejudice, “behind the counter. Good luck finding your wallet!” 

To that he nods, leaving and walking down the sidewalk in a rush. You stand for a minute, replaying the strange yet exciting interaction, hoping that the man would come again to claim his books. 

You were absolutely going to text your best friend about this when you got home. 

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩  ♥  ✩˚｡⋆𖦹｡°⋆✮

Jason Todd had lost track of time. Maybe it was the warm lighting that made the strain on his eyes decrease, or the soft music soothing his aching head, or the various earth-tone decorations that made him stay longer than he intended. He had only meant to hide for a couple minutes, enough to get Condiment King off his trail and onto Tims. That was until he spotted Pride & Prejudice on a shelf with the exact cover of the one he read in Bruce's library when he was younger. Blaming it on nostalgia, he picked it up, and before long the quaint bookstore became less of a hideout and more of an actual store. 

In all honesty, he could have spent the rest of his patrol in the place if not for an angry text from Tim cursing him out; something about going MIA and getting the mustard and ketchup smell out of his suit. Snapped back into reality, he found himself with a rather large amount of books he definitely couldn’t fit into his motorcycle bag. 

Through little internal debate, he lowered the amount to three books, Pride & Prejudice, 1984, and This Is It, chastising himself as he made his way to the front. It was reckless spending so long hiding when he was supposed to be out on patrol. Hell, his helmet and guns were thrown behind a dumpster in an alleyway down the street! For all he knew, they could be stolen and pawned by some homeless person. 

But there was just something about this store and its ability to make him lose track of time. 

He hurried to the register, glancing at the super-hero themed erasers. He spotted some of his family's personas, grimacing inwardly. Ever since coming back to Gotham, they had been pestering him to join them at the manor outside of vigilante duties. Personally, he would rather be shot ten times before–

“Are you a fan of Austen?” 

He looked up, a little spooked. Did he totally forget that there was another person here, working? Maybe. Scrambling his head for a response proved a daunting task, and that smile you were giving him wasn’t helping. “Uh, yeah. Used to read some of her stuff when I was younger. Thought I’d pick them up again.”

“Ah, I see. Pride and Prejudice is one of my favorites.” You looked through the books, ringing them up on your computer. You seemed almost pleased with his choice in literature. 

“Then I’ll be sure to read it first.” That knowledge, for some reason, makes him happy. From what he remembers, he also enjoyed the tale of Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy when he was younger. 

He put his hands in his jacket pockets, slouching a little more than usual as he studied your clothing and your face. You were young, probably around his age and good looking, working at a bookstore; definitely not anyone dangerous. He knew his height and build tended to intimidate people, and despite its uses when he wore the mask, off-duty he rather disliked it. He didn’t look kind or soft the way you did. Conscious of his build and the darkness outside, he did what he could to hopefully put you at ease. 

You turn back to the register, clicking a few buttons. “That’ll be $14.33.” you look back up at him. “Cash or card?”

“Uh–cash.” Legally, he couldn’t use cards since he was supposed to be six-feet under. He moved his hands around in their pockets, trying to find his wallet. “Sorry, I…” Patting down his pants, he inwardly groans, remembering leaving his wallet in his safehouse of the week before going out for patrol. “I lost my wallet.” 

“Oh.” Yeah, he's a dumbass. “I could…put these on hold for you, if you want?” Your voice is hesitant and he swears on everything he will always check if he has money in his pockets before entering another establishment ever again. 

Running a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he picked up on, he waves you off. “I wouldn’t want to be a bother. It's my fault, anyways.” 

“It’s not a bother, it happens to the best of us,” leaning over the counter, you point to a small poster with store hours. You're still talking to him, but he looks at your face, noticing small details he hadn’t before, like the unique slope of your nose, the shade of your lips and how delicately your lashes fall over your eyes. When you stop talking, he averts his gaze at what you pointed to. 

“Open Mon.---Fri. 10 A.M. to 8 P.M., Sat.---Sun. 12 P.M. to 5 P.M.” He reads it again, trying to remember the day. Damian wasn’t on patrol, so it was a weekday. “Open Mon.---Fri. 10 A.M. to 8 P.M.” He rereads it once more in confusion. Given the darkness outside, there's no way it wasn’t past eight already. 

“...You close at eight?” he hesitantly asks. 

“Yes sir, every day except for Sundays.” If you were closer, he probably would have teased you about the customer service voice. He checks his watch. His whole body freezes as he reads the time. 

8:34

His head whips to you in confusion. “You're closed right now?”

“Technically speaking, yes.” You seem almost bashful as you answer.

Instant mortification fills his body, and he could hit himself for what he’s done. Not only did he unintentionally skimp out on patrol with Tim in a bookstore, potentially scaring the innocent and hot worker, but he wasted that workers time by wandering around for thirty fucking minutes past closing.  He starts to leave, apologizing to you, and despite your assurances, he can’t bring himself to face you knowing he’s kept you working later than you should. He's halfway out the door when he hears you laugh, and he momentarily pauses, turning halfway to face you. 

You’re smiling.

“Trust me, it’s completely fine. I’ll keep these,” you lift up a book, waving it at him, “behind the counter. Good luck finding your wallet!” 

His throat seems to close up, and whether it's from embarrassment or that smile, he can’t tell. Nodding, he quickly leaves the store, walking in long strides back to his gear. Guilt, shame, and confusion all pile up inside him as he puts on his thigh straps, holstering the guns he put a little more care into hiding. Zipping down his leather jacket, he puts his helmet on, which immediately reconnects to his line with Red Robin. He's met with instant accusations and threats. 

“Wait for me down Fourth and Main, I’ll be there at nine.” He murmurs quickly, grappling to the top of the nearest building before disconnecting from the line. He perches over the edge, watching the lights in the bookstore shut off before you run out, closing and locking the door.

He takes extra care to keep himself hidden from your sight, ducking behind various rooftop structures and grappling to different buildings, silently protecting your late walk home. It’s only when you’ve entered your building and he sees a corner apartment window light up that he leaves. 

He’ll return to that bookstore tomorrow.

[acupofinkedblood]

Broker x reader

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

• Ah yes, the infamous Broker lurking in the dark with that oh-so-enthusiastic smile of his with eyes piercing through the most well-hidden sign of your soul just for the fun of it. Don’t get me wrong, he’s definitely quite the wild card of an option that one can choose. The real question is: Why? You have so much other options. Of course, we listen and we don’t judge. It’s not everyday for you to see someone pointing at a suspicious smiley dude covered in stitches and say ‘Yeah, that’s the one’ out of the blue. Certainly it’s not that of a common point of view after all. Nonetheless, one gotta gives Broker the credit to have such a way to seize your attention. But then how on the SFOTH’s names do you even manage to get this man to reciprocate his attention to you in such questionable intensity? Nobody will ever be able to answer that at this point

• Anyone with a normal functioning sense of danger can immediately pick up something off about Broker. The real question isn’t why, but rather, how. How on Inpherno did someone like him exist in the first place? Him, the infamous Broker, who has been wanted countless times, faked countless deaths only to come back and cause another havoc. The one who was under the charged of murder, manslaughter, gear laundering and various undocumented crimes — The Broker himself — how did he even do that? Asking that how can Broker be suspicious should be a crime, because what is not even suspicious about him? He always has this shadiness going on even when he is just being friendly. Something about him is just screaming for you to flee for your life, yet you can never see it coming to your direction before it’s too late. Who knows what is being hidden under that smile? One should know better than to be involved with someone like him

• But guess that life is full of surprises. Because you out of all people decide to look at him with a look of longing, which is a contrast to the defensive gaze he usually received from folks around. If anyone who is close to you heard of this, you bet that they would react more than just grabbing your shoulder and shaking you like crazy. That’s not just. criminal, that’s the most wanted criminal that has given the Warden himself a huge headache. To have a crush on someone like him is definitely a worrying sign to witness. And hell, where did you even find him? Broker is everywhere — whether he meant it in a metaphorical or actual sense, you get the point — but to locate him requires a lots of effort. Yet you don’t have to worry about it for too long. In this case, he actually showed himself to you after a short while. You did capture his interest somewhat after all, and knowing Broker, he can’t just miss out this lovely opportunity. Call it a mild entertainment before he actually has something else to do

• Still, it’s better safe than sorry. The Broker, despite coming off as this jovial and lighthearted individual, was wanted for a reason. There was no way he will just interact with someone outside of the cult for the fun of it. Information is what he values most, which is why he stalked most of everyone in Inphernal at this point, maybe including you. It’s all for business. Of course, not for the majority of the time, though you get what one means. It’s really just about the matter of time before he reveals his ulterior motive when putting on that friendly facade. And in this case, surprisingly enough, it’s you. For some reason, you manage to capture his heart — Does he even have one? — in such an old fashioned way as he made it out to be. You might fall first, but the Broker fall for you even deeper than you’d expect. SFOTH above, what have you gotten yourself into?

• Just when he realizes his feelings for you, good luck keeping up with him because he will make it worth every single second he spent around you. To tell if he’s serious or just waltzing around you for sole entertainment is pretty hard at first glance. Each gesture of his will send you into a spiral state of questions on whether or not does he meant it. He’s really a monster and a self-proclaimed romantic guy in combination: A little bit of sweet nothing, lingering gaze, endearing action for your well-being and subtle flirtatious compliments…Enough to make you feel like it might be casual, enough to make you unable to sleep thinking about him. He does know how checkmate you right into the corner of your own mind, remember that. He won’t just tell you right away about how he feels about you right away, oh no no, where’s the fun in that? He will dance around you until he finally feels funny enough to spare you by confessing his actual feelings, but nonetheless, the tease won’t stop just like that even when you’re his

• Of course, how can we ever forget about the Cult of True Eye when talking about him? The Family means a lots to him after all. Just a head up, if you actually want to be his official significant other and get treated like one, you’re going to have to join the cult. It’s the same thing with Scythe all over again: Unless you’re a part of them, you’re not going to stand a chance to be with them in a serious manner. If he actually adores you that much, you bet that he will go all the way to try and convince you to join the cult. With that honey tongue of his, you will get the church’s uniform before you even realize it. But that’s not anything too bad! It’s the start of you and Broker together, it’s definitely a day to celebrate!

• If there is anything you have to pay attention to this questionable existence of an Inphernal, then you have to keep in mind that he’s a businessman at heart. He knows how to put his mind into good use, whether it’s a business’ matter or just something personal that he likes to meddling with. The Broker will offer you all of his, but he also expects the other way around. You can’t just expect him to just invest all of his love for nothing, no? This might sound rather confusing, but just imagine it as this: Unlike how normal relationships occur, a relationship with the Broker feels more like a ‘romantic partnership’ where both parties can be benefited in different aspects. Not just in romantic terms, but also the others. In this case, you have officially become his partner in crimes. A good thing about that if he ever considered that, then it’s the sole evidence of Broker’s trust in you, as he saw you as a serious lover! Being his partner in crimes isn’t that hard too, you will manage somehow

• That isn’t to say your taste in Inphernal folks is bad though, because if one dares say, Broker is surprisingly better than you give him credit for. You’re definitely out of your mind still, but one won’t judge you, of course. You did see the appeal of this man that others failed to acknowledge. As the matter of fact, aside from that eerie vibe he brings to the function, he’s actually pretty pleasant to look at. People are wary of Broker because of how dangerous he can be. But you? You let that fly through your mind the very moment you developed a crush on him. Others might see a manipulative criminal, but all you see is the love of your life in all endearment. Maybe he can be a bit of an oddball, but that’s just one of the quirks you love about him, right? How can you not be swooned by that lovely demeanor of his when he is with you? It definitely makes you feel special genuinely

• Broker can be a gentleman when he feels like it. He has his own charm, and maybe that’s why he manages to do these kind of business smoothly. The Broker has a good way with words, especially when it comes to pursuance. Not just his business connections, but he knows how to use it on you too. Mostly in lighthearted fashion, of course. He knows just what will be the right praise to soothe you even in the toughest of times. He will and is going to be a man of his words about keeping you on your toes with his sweet nothing. It does help whenever you’re in a bad mood, especially when he can throw in some advices of his after calming you down with his affectionate gestures, like holding you or massaging your shoulders. Be assured that he will still keep that playful demeanor around you, it’s never a boring moment with someone like him near you after all!

• You already know that Broker smokes. Compared to the various worse habits he had, this one is by far the tamest of them all. If you want to join him, go ahead! He can always used some company of a loved one while he’s having a moment of peace to his mind. Then again, he can’t help but teasing you slightly when he’s at it. Blowing smoke into your face is one of the good examples. But there’s something about the way he does it: Flirtatious yet so effortlessly with that grin he always wear, it can easily drive you out of your right mind. And just saying, but he will give you a smoke kiss if he picks up the hints that you’re fine with it. You don’t even have to ask for it — though it’ll be funny if you do — he knows how to pick up the hints from your body language. What a guy

• Since he did state that he can’t really feel pain, you can’t help yourself but to wonder if he can feel anything at all. Can he still feel your touch? Feel the way you caress your hand against his skin like how he does to you? Broker will make you guess, of course. Though at the end of the day, he will give you the answer, in a subtle way. He always gives you the hints that he can, but that doesn’t help with that poker face of his whenever he holds you. How curious, isn’t it? You can never know which part of his word to be taken seriously and what not. But judging on how he always seem to unconsciously reach out for you, either to have you sit so close beside him while he keeps a hand on your waist or randomly sneak up from behind to pull you into a tough embrace, you know that you can trust him somewhat when he says he wants to feel you. Even when he brushes it off as a causal thing he always does, he does that only to you in a genuine manner, not out of pleasantries

• But of course, the thing you find odd about Broker is not just that. At least based on physical aspects, aside from his glass eye, the stitches across his body certainly has caught your attention as well, no? This might be a bit eerie to grasp, but have you ever thought about that time Broker joked that most of his body parts — which doesn’t include his head — aren’t even his? Has it occurred to you that it’s not a joke at all? You should have realized that by now due to the difference in each part of his limbs, as if he really sew those up together as a replacement to his old ones. And yes, he can remove it too. Pick your jaw up, darling, that’s not the worst stunt he can pull in front of you in the middle of the day. His limbs are removable. The Broker doesn’t even feel anything when he does that, just pure numbness

• That does remind you of that time when he just pick his limb up after being bashed away to the other side of the room then waving it at you, asking if you know how to sew or stitch stuff for a favor. Safe to say he really owes you a lots of potential medical bills just because of the absurd amount of time he almost gives you a heart attack. There was a time when he jokingly took his head off his neck then brought it to you. Though judging on how you looked like you were that close to pass out, he didn’t do it too often. But of course, the stitching him up part. Broker thinks that it’s cute for you to do it for him. Most of the time he only relies on Medkit — or when Medkit isn’t around, then Scythe — to do that for him. And now he has you, his beloved, how can he skip this precious opportunity? It doesn’t even hurt him after all, more like a spa day in some sense when you’re carefully putting him back together. Honestly, it gives him a sense of fondness when seeing a part of your work engraved on his body

• Listen, he will spoil you rotten, but not in the way you are currently thinking about. Don’t you ever forget that he’s a criminal. If you wish for a fancy dinner with him, then worry not, he will set it up for you in an instant. Not in a restaurant, of course. Probably at home or on top of some rooftop for romantic atmosphere, don’t mind the odd blood stain on the tablecloth though. If you wish for pretty things, then rest assured, he will surprise you with tons more. If you ignore the fact that most of them are stolen items, and don’t think of wearing it out on the public too much, people will definitely notice that you’re wearing a stolen item from a valuable collection. He spoils you by committing even more crimes, both for the thrill of it and to please you. Maybe once in a while he can buy you things properly due to the leftover cash he had after a great investment which he sent back to the cult. The Broker loves you, he will probably take his heart out for you if you asked — fair warning, do not do that — so those things one just mentioned are just some very small things he will do for you

• A reminder that the Broker does have a good sense that of style. Hell, you will be surprised with how well he can put each item together to make a good outfit as if he’s a designer. Let’s not mention the stolen fashionable stuffs for now, because you know too well that he will find more than a way to rock the heck out of those. If you ask him to pick your outfit even just for a casual day, Broker will be delighted to assist you with all he got in mind. He’d love to doll you up if you allowed him to, you’re his upmost darling after all. And he will join you in this runaway model stage of a fever dream too if he feels like a dose of fun chaos. Do you realize that he can dance too? Specially waltzing, so you know you’re in good hand when he starts taking your hand and twirling you around. He has good taste, you can’t really deny it when the result is too obvious in front of your eyes

• If you ever wondered why the hell does your phone bills have increased so much recently, just give Broker a glance and you will figure out why. He’s a busy guy, so that’s his favorite communication style to hear the voice of his beloved. Given how much he has to run back and forth in work, it’s only natural for him to call you from time to time with a jaw dropping frequency. His calling schedule is a bit hard to grasp, but those are enough for your call history to extend like a damn scroll. That’s not even the most questionable thing about Broker and his calls. For some reason, he always find out where you are and ring you a call in the exact spot, even when you haven’t told him where were you heading at. Be it in another region or somewhere remote, if there is a phone, then Broker will have his way to give you a call no matter what

• Broker loves to observe you. There is something about taking note of your expression, your appearance and you sweet little quirks that makes him unable to avert his gaze away from you. Don’t get him wrong, he doesn’t mean it in a creepy way as others made it out to be. It’s the ultimate evidence on how much he wants to mesmerize you in details. What do you usually do when you’re happy? How will your demeanor shift when you’re nervous? Do you lighten up when seeing something you like? So many questions he has for you, and the Broker loves to figure it out all by himself by paying attention to you whenever he can possibly. He loves looking at your direction, even from afar or when you’re beside him. Though he does make it pretty obvious. It’s like he doesn’t even blink when you’re talking to him, but just listen in silence with his eye staring at you, having you as the sole focus at the moment. If he notices that you’re getting flustered just because he’s staring, then that’s just another win for him. He probably loves watching you sleep too but we won’t dwell into that too much

• You are his precious apple of the eye, so don’t be so dumbfounded when he keeps his word about keeping an eye on you for the sake of your safety. If he usually stalks the other Inphernals for the benefit of getting valuable information out of them when they least expect it, then now he has to keep a close eye on you so that he can protect you even when you’re not aware of it. And by that one means, yes, he knows everything about you at this point. From your usual routine of the day to the places you usually spend the majority of your time at, he knows every single details of it. Of course, he means no harm, just wanting to make sure that nothing is out of the ordinary when it comes to you! Besides, you don’t ever have to worry about him not understanding you - he has quite the analytical skills, because based on the information he has collected about you? Yeah, he definitely knows you well like the palm of his hand

• Sometimes there might be a good amount of time for the two of you to be separated from each other. Most of the time the reason will probably be that he’s busy with his duty of serving the church or just his investment in general, but at least he still gives you a call every now and then to check up on his beloved. But if there is a period of time where he hasn’t shown up nor calling out for you like usual, then you should know that he has gotten himself in trouble. In this case, the trouble is involved with the Banland itself. Well, it’s not anything too surprising at this point. Even when Broker dislikes going back, the Warden has dragged him back into his cell enough for him to get used to the whole place by now. He will escape again, you know too well of that. But that still doesn’t stop Scythe to bring you with her on this rescue mission regarding the love of your life though. Despite all the hassle, it’s actually pretty entertaining with how Broker feigns a dramatic gasp when you fish him out of his cell like a damsel in distress. Scythe will pick the two of you up and run for your lives, while Broker will seize this opportunity to be all lovey dobey with you. Nonetheless, the amusement is pretty worthy

• Speaking of that, beware of Banhammer or his teammates when you’re minding your business somewhere outside the closed home sweet home. If you ever join Scythe with said rescue mission, then you have to be prepared for the potential danger of those officers can cause because of how they have seen your faces and features by now. A little bit of caution won’t kill anyone. If things are too tiring, you know that the church will always provide you a place to live. Though with how ran down the facility is at the moment, even Broker won’t recommend it. After all, he lives somewhere else rather than staying at the church like Scythe now. Or at the very least, you can live with him! Just keep your head down if you can. In the very least if you ever get captured, then now you will be the damsel in distress while Broker actively makes attempts to bring you out of it. He can withstand the warden’s wrath, but you can’t. The faster he gets someone to save you, the better. Scythe definitely has to take a wine break after saving your ass too many times, so be careful and don’t get caught

• In any circumstances, do not underestimate this guy because of his joyous demeanor. One beg of you to never make that mistake. Those charges he is guilty of are not for show. He can and will break someone’s bones without hesitation if the situation changes in an unwanted way. Sure, he’d love to negotiate, but not when he’s obviously in the disadvantaged position in the argument. If there is no peaceful way to back out, then alas, violence is his second nature. It’s like a walk in a park for him, considering what had he done numerous times before meeting you. One bids those poor dismembered souls a farewell. He won’t ever do that to you though, that’s a certain fact. Yet he will do it for the sake of your safety. After all, he can’t just let his darling suffer without punishing the one who is responsible for it. Don’t be too surprised if you found out your bully has gone missing the very next day. If you confront the Broker about it, the only answer you will ever get is a smile

• Ironically, you will actually be more than just safe with him around. The Broker has quite the keen eye of predicting the worst scenario, hence he has the backup plan to at least ensure his lover’s safety. He might be unable to seek you out every single time of the day, the church needs him after all. But he does have some “little birdies” accompanying you even when you have no clue about it. He spies with his eye that you have put yourself in such a tight spot, and the next thing you know is that he already has the plan to take you to live somewhere else within his reach so he can protect you better. The Broker doesn’t play around with your safety. He can appear to be pretty careless about it in front of your face, saying you can help yourself out just fine, but in reality? Hell, he worried himself out because of you. And if he’s there snatching you away from unwanted troublemakers? Ignorance is bliss, my dear. You will not like what he is about to do to those people once you turn your back away. Whoever messes with you will be messing with him personally

• By all means, he can be a bit — actually, you already know that’s an understatement, he is more than just a ‘bit’ — unsettling around you. But he means well! After all, everything he does is because of how he genuinely loves you. It’s all for your sake, as how he does make it pretty entertaining for the both of you in this relationship. The Broker adores you will all of his, and the fact that you love him despite all of his quirky little behavior — that will definitely send someone crying like a kid — is already so endearing. So rest assured, he loves you in his very own way - as a partner in crime, as a close companion, and the most importantly, as a lover. Even when he doesn’t show it too much, sometimes even waltz around you like it’s a little stage of his, don’t you ever forget that you mean a lots to him

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

[thepartyresponsible]

prompt fill! someone asked for jason todd and truth serum. this was also supposed to fill the request for "who did this to you?" with phil/jason, but i didn't make it to "who did this to you?" part. sorry! i'm trying to keep these under 1k.

anyway, this one's a bit bleak, but educational. here, jason learns an important life lesson: if you go undercover as a criminal, sometimes people believe you. and phil learns to reorder his interrogation questions.

warnings for drugging people without their consent. the drug in question is a fictional truth serum.

- - -

Using this particular drug on a nonconsenting person is a crime in most of the world. A recent amendment to the Geneva Convention marked its use on prisoners of war as a war crime. There’s a blanket ban on its production and use in the European Union. In the United States, administration by law enforcement personnel was ruled a violation of the Fifth and Eighth Amendments.

But SHIELD is not at war. Nor is it a law enforcement agency. And Phil Coulson is not in territory controlled by the United States or the European Union. The man in SHIELD custody undoubtedly has rights of some kind, but the extent of those rights – and who might be obligated to protect them – is currently unknown.

“It’s messy,” he says, to Fury.

“It’s a mess,” Fury replies. “Clean it up.”

- - -

He’s younger than Phil expected. But he has no right to judge anyone for sending their young to die. After all, he looks older than Natasha, possibly older than Clint.

And Natasha and Clint might be dead. In some ways, SHIELD’s no better.

“Your name, please,” Phil says.

“Jason,” the man says, a slow, sleepy mumble, and then his eyes open, and the panic hits.

Phil’s grown familiar with panic. He’s seen it in civilians and soldiers, in diplomats and dictators. He’s seen it every time he’s encountered this drug.

When it was first developed, early adopters trotted out the old lie: if you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear. But everyone has something to hide. Everyone has a secret they would swallow their own tongue to protect, and here’s a substance that takes that choice away, a wonder drug that retains awareness while negating will. A life-saving torture device.

“Fuck you,” the man says, which is far more spirit than most manage.

“Jason,” Phil says, “my agents are missing.”

“Fuck you,” Jason says, again. “That’s what happens.” He’s double-blinking, struggling to focus. Phil’s done this six times. No one's ever managed this level of control. Usually, they’re drooling by now, spilling secrets and saliva into the collar of their shirts.

Something’s wrong.

“You’ll have to excuse me,” Phil says. “We must have miscalculated your dosage.”

- - -

Medical reports back half an hour later. There was no miscalculation. The man has a tolerance they assure him should not be possible.

“We gave him a second dose. He should be amenable now,” the doctor says. “If he doesn’t stop breathing.”

Amenable, Phil thinks. He explores the hollow inside him where the horror should’ve been. It’s a terrible thing they’re doing. He knows that.

But his agents are missing.

“Thank you,” he says. And he goes back to work.

- - -

“You know,” Jason tells him, glassy-eyed, barely looking Phil’s direction, “if you ask the wrong questions, I have to kill you."

It’s an interesting threat from a man who cannot lie.

“And what are you afraid you’ll tell me?” Phil asks.

“Identities,” he answers, chest rising slower than a sleeper’s.

“Ah,” Phil says. “Yes, we’ll get to that.”

“Batman,” he adds, unexpectedly. “Nightwing.” He swallows, clumsily. When he breathes in, he chokes. Phil watches him almost drown for a moment and then he reaches across the table and tugs Jason’s head forward so he can breathe.

He barely has the coordination to breathe, but the contact makes him flinch hard enough to shake the table. Phil wonders who made a creature like him.

“Who do you work for?” he asks.

“Nobody.” And then, almost smiling, voice dropping into a guttural growl, “Justice.”

Which could be good news. Killers with a mission are predictable, once you understand their cause. “And who decides justice? Who gives you orders?”

“Nobody.”

Interesting. Most freelancers don’t work at this level, and the ones who do should have extensive SHIELD files. “Who’s been signing your checks lately?”

“Checks,” Jason says, and laughs. “Fucking checks.”

He’s been thoroughly dosed with a drug designed to make him highly suggestible and meekly compliant. Phil’s starting to understand why capturing him was such a costly undertaking.

“Whose money is in your accounts right now?”

Jason makes a noise, some gusty grumble of complaint, and then lists off a dozen or so of the very worst people alive. The most interesting names are the ones Phil doesn’t recognize, but he’ll have to get to those later. The window is short; his time is running out.

A single dose is risky. Some people never fully recover their independence. They’re rendered permanently docile, suffering from a kind of chemical lobotomy that good people across the globe have outlawed. A second dose doubles the odds of permanent damage. After the third, some people won't even breathe without orders.

They’ve given him two already.

“These people who’ve been paying you,” Phil says, “which of them is paying you right now?”

Jason sighs. “Nobody pays me. I stole that money.”

“You---” Phil pauses, looks at his notes. He re-reads the names, marvels at the insanity of stealing from any of them. “You stole from those people?”

“Stole from ‘em,” he says, “killed ‘em. Well, killed some. Gonna kill the others. It’s, you know. A to-do list. I’ve been busy.”

Phil wonders if he’s been wasting his time, if he’s drugged a delusional man. “You don’t steal from people like that before you kill them.”

Jason tilts his head so he can look up him, furrows his brow in something that is almost a coherent expression of disdain. “You never have any fun, huh?”

Phil might be dealing with someone far more dangerous than he’d predicted. “You do this for fun?”

“Yeah,” Jason says. “And for justice.”

Justice, right. Of course. “And who taught you about justice?”

“My dad,” Jason says.

Which is good. Which might be helpful. Truth has its uses, but, in Phil’s experience, leverage gets more accomplished.

“And who,” Phil says, “is your father?”

Jason’s eyes track his direction but don’t quite land. His mouth closes and then opens again. “Batman,” he says.

“Oh,” Phil says. “Shit.”

[angel-of-the-moons]

Eccentricities

Yandere!Miguel x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, DDDNE, Yandere themes, mental manipulation, obsessive behavior, allusions to violence, blackmail, angst, masturbation, Tyler Stone is also a warning lmao

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Yeah, after a million years, it is me! I'm sorry it's been so slow to update, y'all; things have been... *A lot*. Seems like every time I get a one-up something else happens, like my dad being in and out of the hospital for example.... As I stated in my previous post, this story won't be continuing for much longer!

Part 3

Taglist: @vineberries9 @irmiki @autismsupermusicalassassin @obi-mom-kenobi @rin-matsuoka345-blog @loosecan @6thhokageswife @selarus @heyohalie @sapphire-and-ruby @night-spectrum @famouscattale @thespaceinbetweennothing @lazy-idate @toshimoshiko @saharadesertaj @flaps200 @amelialysm @fried-milkfish @zaunsin @darksidescorner @renareyouhere @vide0-vamp @reverieblondie @bunnibitez @kaqua @peterbparkersburger @tojishugetiddies @aisyakirmann @itslariette0 @xxeclipze @oharasfilipinawife @amber-content @ixanne2006 @miguels-aranita @scaleniusrm @stopxplease @blueapplesiren @ruexvn @jadeloverxd @theitchbbbb @realifezompire

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Pt. 4

You had gotten so used to the quiet and privacy of Miguel's mansion that you weren't entirely sure how to handle when the infamous Tyler Stone dropped by for a visit. You certainly didn't enjoy the energy the man put off, nor the looks he would send your way as you "entertained" him until Miguel arrived home; having sent word to Lyla that he arrived.

You noticed that even Lyla seemed uncomfortable with Tyler's presence, her holographic avatar was actually fidgeting when you looked at her. Whatever went on between Miguel and Tyler must not have been very good, judging by how perturbed Lyla was with the older man.

"So... You're the little mouse that my boy Mike has hired, eh?" Tyler grinned, swirling the wine in his glass around as he watched you wipe down and clean the bar. You were well aware of his eyes tracing the entire shape of your ass as you kept your back turned to him.

Yes, having him leer at you wasn't enjoyable... But you preferred it if he looked at your ass instead of your chest or face. Something about that man's gaze made you very uncomfortable; it wasn't at all like with Miguel. You felt safe with him... Even if sometimes he came home from work with the energy of a man ready to catch a criminal charge. You had chalked it all up to the stress of running Alchemax; and now, having his former boss just show up out of the blue while he was gone...

How the hell did Tyler Stone even get in? You assumed only you and Miguel had the passkey to get in. So, how--

Tyler grinned once again, tapping the rim of his glass with one of the gaudy rings on his fingers, catching your attention once again. "Well, sweet-cheeks?"

You grit your teeth and turn, giving him your best sweet smile, "Ah! Right, yes, sir. I'm Miguel's housekeeper."

"And a damn fine bartender..." Tyler hummed, downing the rest of his wine in one swift gulp, licking his lips of the excess as he eyes you up and down once again. "In fact, I'm thinkin' about snatching you out from under my boy... What do you say? Your job will come with all the perks I'm sure Mike holds from ya... A nice fat check..."

His hands constantly groping you...

Your shoulders stiffened, his offer making your blood curdle; "I--"

"She's off-limits, Stone." Miguel's deep voice rang out from the threshold.

You sighed with relief, looking over at him, holding back a shocked gasp. Miguel looked... Disheveled. His face was sweaty, chocolate locks stringing around his forehead, droplets of sweat rolling down his sculpted cheeks.

He straightened his posture as he stalked towards the bar, casting you a soft look before focusing his attention squarely on Tyler, the look in his eyes from behind his red lenses just exuded one word: murder. You almost swore Miguel was about to reach out to snap his neck, until Tyler clasped Miguel's larger hand in his, shaking it with a laugh.

"Ah, don't be so serious, Mike." Tyler laughed like Miguel wasn't currently staring daggers through his skull. "I was just proposing a business deal with your lovely little maid, here!"

"You wouldn't be trying to poach my own employee from me, would you, Stone?" Miguel asked, his voice relaxing to a more soft pitch; his body language still tense but not so aggressive. You could tell there was some definite bad blood between the two men.

Your fingers fiddled nervously with each other at the obviously thick tension in the air, "Miguel..."

"Ah, don't worry, querida." Miguel assured you with a smile, his gaze softening once it landed on you. "Tyler and I need to have a private discussion. Go ahead and take the rest of the day off..."

You nod, swallowing hard. Something was off, but you weren't willing to risk pissing Miguel off in any way, despite how gentle he seemed with you, even in the face of the former CEO of Alchemax. You quickly placed your cleaning supplies in the cabinet and scurried out of the room, closing the doors behind you.

Tyler didn't fail to notice how Miguel tracked your movements from the corners of his eyes as you left, and a shark-like smirk made his lips quirk dangerously. "Oh, now I see why you're not so keen to let me take her from you."

Miguel scowled at the older man, "Why the hell are you here, Stone? Don't bullshit me."

Tyler pressed his hand over his own heart, feigning innocence. "Why, Mike! I would never bullshit you, my boy... Wouldn't dream of it, in fact."

Miguel glowered, his temper already short from dealing with a troublesome Kraven variant that wrought havoc in another universe, plus an "incident" in one of the labs at Alchemax. Tyler's sudden manifestation was testing his patience.

Oh, he had so looked forward to coming home, having a nightly drink with you... maybe work some aggression off. Maybe he could have convinced you to help...

But now, that little fantasy faded in the light that was his sperm donor's annoying fucking mile-long smile. That stupid fucking face that reminded him so much of his own, sometimes he couldn't stand to look in the mirror.

"Don't play coy. Tell me why you're here."

Tyler raised his thick brows, his forehead creasing from the slight wrinkles, there. "Mike--"

"Miguel." The tall man hissed.

"Mike." Tyler corrected, pouring himself another glass of wine. "I've heard you've been a little distracted, lately. A little... scatter-brained. So unlike you. I came to see what was bothering my boy in his personal time--"

"I'm not your fucking child, cabrón." Miguel snarled, breaching Tyler's personal space and standing almost nose-to-nose, "Now stop. Fucking. Pontificating."

He sighed deeply, frowning softly at Miguel's "mood". Oh, how he hated when he got like this. Too uppity for his own good, too ambitious. And after what happened between them... rather dangerous.

Oh, if he only knew how dangerous he was...

"Fine. I checked your financials and saw you had arranged a payroll to a rather cute houseworker." Tyler peered at Miguel almost boredly over the rim of his glass. "As well as some purchases for very small cameras, a number of which happen to be waterproof..."

Miguel felt the hair bristle on the back of his neck. Tyler had.... He had implanted a bypass-shunt program into his personal files? Without Lyla picking up on it? How the fuck did he manage that?

He must have hired someone to do it. He had to have hired someone to do it!

His fists clenched and his jaw tightened microscopically; but Tyler seemed to pick up on it anyway as he casually sipped his wine.

"Oh yes, I've been keeping an eye on you. Can't let my most promising progeny be left to his own devices for very long, now can I?"

"You--"

"How often do you spy on the girl, hm? I imagine watching her undress is rather titillating." He smirked, "She has a very nice body... Almost wasted just being looked at..."

Miguel grabbed Tyler by the collar of his 10,000-credit suit, bunching his fists and lifting him off the stool, sending some of the wine splashing from the glass and onto the bar top; snarling Miguel spits at him. "You stay the fuck away from her, you hear me, Tyler? If you so much as lay a pinky on her, I will--"

Tyler laughed, completely unfazed by Miguel's aggression. "Careful, now, Mike... Wouldn't want some evidence of your little Rapture addiction slipping out and making its way to your pretty little doll, no?"

Miguel snorted, his nostrils flaring as his face heated up. He dropped Tyler back in the stool, turning to stomp away, his fists balled and chest heaving to control his rage, just barely controlling himself enough to avoid burying his talons in the meat of his palms.

Tyler sighed, downing some more of his glass, "We wouldn't want the public finding out that the great Miguel O'Hara was a junkie, now do we?"

His head was abuzz; adrenaline pumping so hard through his veins, he could feel that primal urge to just reach out and snap Tyler's neck. Hiding or disposing of the body would be easy enough, concealing any other evidence would also be a snap. Unfortunately, if anybody knew he was coming over to Miguel's...

Fuck. Tyler also probably had some kind of implant to contact emergency services in the event his heart stops or he's severely injured. Then, Miguel would obvious be a shoe-in for a brand new jumpsuit; not one of his own design.

The multiverse would suffer, another Spider-Man demonized by the public for murdering a man who outwardly appeared somewhat decent...

Then, it felt like a tension wire snapped; realization dawned on Miguel as clear as a sunny summer day.

Tyler was baiting him. He wanted him to snap.

He wouldn't give in to his cheap taunts.

Miguel forced his body to relax, reaching up to slick back a stray strand of hair, and turns to give Tyler a cool smile, "Well... if that were to happen... I would have to tell them where the Rapture came from. How you used it to control me, manipulate me, threaten to kill me."

Miguel felt sick glee at how Tyler's smile instantly fell, and the Hispanic man tipped his head to the side, his smile eerily calm.

"Oh... You thought I didn't have evidence of that? Now, imagine how the public will react when news of me being your illegitimate son--the result of a disgusting affair--gets out?"

"You--you wouldn't." Tyler spat, throwing the wineglass to the ground and shattering it, the red liquid running out to pool around it, soaking into the grout in-between the tiles like a thin, watery pool of blood.

"Your mother would be--"

"I don't give a fuck what Connie deals with. She's had her dose of karma a long time coming... and it's honestly only fitting that I be the one to deliver it." Miguel sneered, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

Tyler swallowed, glaring up at his own flesh and blood like it was Hercules fighting the lion. Only... it was up to anyone's guess who would emerge the victor of this bout.

But... He knew that Miguel was much larger, much stronger, faster--younger...

It was an uphill battle and he currently had a bullet wound to his knee.

So, Tyler Stone relented in the seething rage that was Miguel O'Hara. He adjusted his coat from where Miguel has mussed it before, wiping up some of the wine on the counter with his handkerchief before tossing it to the floor indignantly.

"Very well, Mike... I'll leave your little toy alone. But... do be careful enough to take care of your toys in the future. Don't want to forget what happened to your last girlfriend..."

That slight sting didn't hurt as much as he'd hoped, Miguel merely jerking his head to the side, his lip curled in an irritated snarl. "Get out of my house."

As the smaller man began to walk briskly out, he gave Miguel a smirk over his shoulder; "Y'know, my boy... some stuff really is genetic. You don't realize just how much like me you really are."

Miguel scoffed, his body finally relaxing as he turned to clean another one of Tyler Stone's messes, wiping the bar you meticulously cleaned for him clean, tossing the piece of cloth into the nearby trash bin, and turning on the little disc-shaped cleaning bot to clean up the shattered glass and suck up the wine.

"Lyla." Miguel sighed as he took off his sunglasses, his hand shaking as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Hey, boss man." She greeted hesitantly. "Whaddya need?"

"Find out how Tyler got into the system. How he got past you. I'm going to upgrade your code later with stronger firewalls, too." He said, staring at her flickering avatar.

"Yeah, believe me... I don't like him getting past me. It feels... gross. Violating." She shuddered.

Despite changing her programming to see the logic in his words by default, Miguel was emotionally attached to Lyla. For a long time, she was his only true friend. She was there for him after the Rapture incident...

And to now watch as Tyler had essentially brute-forced his own program onto Lyla felt akin to some form of assault on her; one of his greatest creations to date.

But... the shreds of his conscience began to thread together as he remembered you. The cameras, the stalking, having Lyla be hypocritical and spying on your personal business...

"You... You know everything I do is to keep her safe--both of you safe, right, Lyla?" He asked softly, staring down at the little robot as it chirped as its cleaning cycle was finished, returning to its charging dock.

"Well, yeah.... I saw the crime reports... saw how that guy probably would have killed her... and... well." She shoved her hands in her pockets and looked up at him, a brow quirking upwards. "I mean... the cameras are just as good for safety, right? Like how people put baby monitors in their kid's room, or to spy on the nanny. Keeps her from getting hurt even where she should be safe..."

Miguel smiled warmly at her. Yeah... she was programmed to see his logic, but... hearing it made him feel much better.

"Thank you, Lyla. Let me know if anything goes wrong with her personal stuff, alright? I want to make sure Tyler isn't spying on her, too." He turned to begin leaving the room, "I'm going to work this adrenaline off. Make sure my Pequeña Ave is relaxing like I told her to, hm? When you're not busy sorting through the bullshit Tyler pulled, that is."

"Can do, boss!" Lyla chirped happily, giving him a little salute. "Have fun gettin' those reps in!"

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You couldn't find Miguel in his office, the lounge, his bedroom, the bar, at the pool... the only other place you could think of was his small gym.

He didn't seem to have had a good day at work, and Tyler's presence only seemed to worsen it when he came home. You wondered what exactly happened between them to make their relationship so hostile in the first place...

But, you shoved that curiosity to the side. You decided to try and give Miguel a little pick-me-up. You remembered the story he told you of he and his little brother sneaking off to enjoy their snack of mango and chili salt.

You cut the mango in half, pulled the large seed pod out of the middle, and halfway sliced the halves into little cubes; and finally sprinkled on the chili salt. Afterwards, you placed the snack on a tray with a nice, ice-cold bottle of his favorite sports drink. If he was in the gym, he would definitely need to replenish some electrolytes after working out.

As you walked down the hall, you noticed Lyla's avatar following you. "Hey, Mamacita." She said. "I'd steer clear of the boss. Mr Stone-head reeeeeeeally made him mad."

You wiggled the tray a bit and gave her a smile, "That's why I'm bringing him this, Lyla. Snacks do wonders for mood improvement!"

She tilted her head, taking a moment to respond. "Oh. Right. Good idea, actually..."

You noticed her seemingly distracted nature today, which was almost unheard of for the AI. "You ok?"

"Yeah, going through my files before Miguel puts in a new update for me tonight. Gonna get me a niiiiice makeover, program-wise." She grinned, wiggling her eyebrows at you. "I'll be pretty indisposed however; one, from going through my millions of lines of code, and two; he's gotta put me out while he works on me."

You chuckled, "Ah, well I'll leave you to that, then. Hope the update goes well."

Lyla gives you a snarky salute before her avatar disappears as you near the gym. As you reached the arching threshold--no door, you noticed some time ago; he apparently liked a bit of an open floor plan when it came to that--you could hear the sounds of him grunting, huffing, and swearing. It sounded like he was working hard.

You round the bend and open your mouth to announce yourself--until you see why Miguel was really making those sounds.

His back was to you, shirt abandoned on the floor by the dumbbells. He sat in his boxers, pants discarded the same way his shirt had been in favor of working out almost entirely naked.

Or, well.... maybe it started with him working out--until he went to the weight bench and it devolved into something else entirely.

The mirrors lining the opposite wall gave you a perfect view of him despite him sitting with his back to you. His boxers were shoved hastily down to his thick thighs, leaning on one hand as his other one slowly stroked up and down his rigid, leaking cock. Miguel's head was tipped back, his eyes closed in frustrated pleasure, sweat making his body shine as though he had almost appeared oiled-up. His usually well-kept hair was messy, tacking to his forehead and scalp with thick layers of sweat.

The sight immediately sent a throb down to your core; heat roiling and pooling low in your belly and had you biting your lip in equal parts mortification, shame, and arousal.

He grunted, grinding his teeth as he tipped his head down again. You quietly jumped back out of sight as he looked down and opened his eyes, growling as his hand circled the head of his dick before twisting and stroking back down.

"Fuuuuuuck." You heard him sigh. "That's it, bebita... fuck, I'm close."

Your heart hammered in your chest as you imagined who he could possibly be picturing in his mind's eye; what dream woman he probably had at his feet, between his legs, worshipping the thick shaft he stroked in his hand

You pinched your thighs together, feeling your arousal already begin to soak through your panties, threatening to breach the fabric of your pants. Your face heated up, flushing with color as the sounds of him pleasuring himself assaulted your ears in the all-too quiet house. Hell, it felt like he was being so loud, his sounds of self-pleasure drowned out the blood rushing in your ears.

You couldn't contain your curiosity, and peek around the corner again. Miguel had his eyes closed again, a blissful crease prominent on his brow as he bucked his hips in time with his hand.

You watched as he snagged his plush bottom lip between his teeth, his face twitching as his hand jerked faster, the thick precum dripping down his cock and coating his fingers, assisting in the glide as he fucked his own hand, his release imminent.

You squeezed your legs together even tighter, taking care not to jostle the tray in your hands and not make any noise that would give you away.

This was... wrong. You should turn around, and leave your treat to him in the kitchen for him to find on his own. You should...

You swallowed the gasp that wanted to come from you as he muttered something to himself, something you couldn't quite make out--before the thick ropes of his cum spurted from the tip of his cock.

Continuing to stroke and pull, to lengthen his orgasm as long as possible; to ride the high further, Miguel rolled his head back with a gutteral moan, his cum splattering on the floor mats below him, his legs trembling.

As he began to even his breathing out, you turned and as quickly and quietly as possibly rushed back down the hall to avoid being caught--and maybe attend to the pressing matter that stained your panties.

Miguel however--

Miguel knew you were there. He could smell your perfume as you made your way down the hall, hear your soft footsteps and conversation with Lyla.

He grinned as he looked into the mirror, his eye tracking where you had once been peeping in on him. He could smell you the moment you got wet; hear the way your heart thudded in your chest as you spied on him.

He had been edging himself; not intentionally of course, but with how frustrated and angry he was, Miguel had been dancing on the edge of a climax for most of the time. Until he caught your scent, the smell of your wet little cunt filling his senses and making his mind buzz with his budding orgasm before driving him over that peak.

He wondered what you thought of the sight. You were aroused, certainly. You very much liked what you saw. He almost hoped you would walk in, and offer your own soft, sweet little hands to stroke him to relief.

But ah, you were a polite girl. Scurrying away like a frightened little mouse before getting caught and possibly pissing him off.

Miguel heaved a heavy sigh as he grabbed his sweat rag from beside him, wiping at the mess he made of himself. Despite the circumstances, he couldn't help but smile.

Maybe getting into your head was going to be easier than he anticipated.

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Part 5: I have no idea Imma be real with y'all

[swtblue]

The elf feat k.hj

⚠️ Warning ⚠️

♪ This post is just pure fiction. This does NOT represent Hongjoong in any way.

♪ English is not my first language so sorry if there's any mistake.

Note: Hi my shining stars! As we are in December and I love the Elf tradition, I thought that it would be nice to write down a few scenarios about the boys struggling to surprise their kids each morning. And here we are with the first one: our captain! It's a bit short I think but I still hope you like it as much as I loved making it. Enjoy your reading!

✨ Love and sparkles ✨

Ah, December. One of the most beautiful times of the year but also one of the most stressful. Between work, organizing the holidays and his duties as a father, Hongjoong is very tired. And today, to top it off, it was his turn to take care of moving the elf before his son woke up but here he is, with said elf looking at him with that creepy smile as if he was judging him from its place on the counter.

The poor man forgot it completely and now his son is about to wake up. Good thing his baby is lazy and it costs a lot for him to get out of his bed. At least it gives him a few more minutes to think something quickly while you wake up that little lazy boy.

But what can he do?

Looking around the kitchen for some kind of inspiration, he comes across the magnificent roll of kitchen paper that clearly fits an elf inside. That's when the most brilliant idea hits Hongjoong. Taking the elf and fitting it into the paper roll, the idol starts to throw the paper roll with the elf inside around the Christmas tree and, just to add a little more malice to the mischief, he tilts the tree as quietly as possible towards the wall, as if the elf had thrown it. Then he runs to hide in his studio as soon as he hears your son getting up.

Hongjoong just stands next to the door in complete silence until he hears his son's little steps followed by big ones, your steps obviously. A few chuckles escaped in anticipation just imagining his son's face when he encountered such a mess. Then his little voice sounds loud in surprise "Makka Pakka!".

Yes, that's the Elf's name. His son chose that one after a very careful selection process they did about all the things he likes.

"What have you done?" and that is his signal to exit the room "What happens, baby?" Hongjoong says, pretending not to know anything about the issue, obviously. The minor, in his tender innocence, goes with his dad as soon as he hears him appear, taking Hongjoong by the hand and leading him to the living room just where the Christmas tree is "See what Makka Pakka did!" That's when Hongjoong brings out his expert actor's vein to feign the greatest of surprises at such a scene "This is unbelievable" the father shakes his head in disapproval, trying so hard to not laugh "Such a mischievous elf we have" You suddenly says, arms crossed over your chest as if you were mad at the elf.

After seeing both your reactions, your son puts both hands on his waist, looking at the tree with a really cute frown and suddenly says "Bad, Makka Pakka. You can't do those things. Timeout for you".

If Hongjoong was already having trouble holding in his laughter from the moment his son put that pose to scold the elf, the poor man had to bite his lip hard to avoid any laugh to escape as soon as the kid punished that little criminal in red.

It can get tiring sometimes, even exhausting depending on what pranks you come up with but, certainly, this whole elf thing is so funny.

[pirateprincessblog]

𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐄

( 𝟎.𝟏 ) 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲.

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨:

normal is good. it's safe. it isn't risky. and yet, normal is boring. normal job, normal family, normal relationship. makes you yawn just while reading, doesn't it? escaping it can cost a fortune, even if it is for a short, fun amount of time. when it gets bad, you don't get to regret. you don't get to complain. you don't get to cry. you don't get to go back. you wanted it. now bear the losses of your own decisions. you'll wish for things to get boring again. you'll wish to never feel an ounce of excitement again. you'll wish to be wrapped in your safety bubble, with your safe little family, safe little job, and safe little partner. and it just won't come.

!𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬! 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞: 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: park seonghwa x oc (alice dawson) x jung wooyoung 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.4k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: dilf!hwa, collegestudent!wooyoung, love triangle, dilf trope, eventual smut, angst, fluff 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: yet to come

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mentions of illness, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of domestic violence, MINORS DNI (18+) 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: this series will be around 10-15 chapters :) please don't hesitate to leave feedback! thank you for reading <33 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

were you ever afraid of thinking about something risky while surrounded by people?

if yes, alice knows exactly how you feel. behind the dusty wooden counter, she hides a book. her eyes abandon the words she has read a dozen times this year already, checking if anyone is giving her weird looks. her thoughts are a loud mess, and she fears that one of those hard-working students might secretly have super hearing powers and is judging her right now. but when she notices no side eyes, her gaze drops on the worn-off pages again. this book set cost her a fortune, and it already looks like it has been through at least two major historical events. heaven forbid that her mother knows how much money she spent on that.

her heart beats faster with each word she reads, fingers excitedly flipping the pages, even though she knows all the plot twists, all the foreshadowing, a few little plot holes that only a small number of people have noticed. she wishes she could read it all for the first time again. the storyline, the characters, the villains, the twists, the tension, the steam. alice's favourite part in all the books. the steamy pages, written by her favourite author, making her sigh and roll in bed late at night as she reread them. sleepless nights spent with her eyes unfocusing and blurring out the words, her thoughts drifting away from the storyline and creating one of her own, using the very same characters. she would sit like that, fantasising, until a sound from the street would bring her back to the original story.

last night was similar, which is why she is barely keeping her eyes open while skimming over the room, checking for odd glares one more time. when she finds none, she continues daydreaming. the villain of the book has captured her heart, no matter the bad things he has done throughout the journey. she might just have a thing for evil, sassy, good-looking men. or she might have a thing for imaginary men with tongue skills.

"ah, your daily dose of porn, i see."

alice looks up, startled. she closes the book, throwing it in the already opened drawer and shuts it with a loud thud, making a few heads turn. the face standing above the counter chuckles, eyes turning into crescent moons as he does so.

"hush!"

"oh, relax. you have like three couples doing no-nos back there in the criminal section. your little mediocre book is nothing compared to them."

the girl furrows her eyebrows. her book wasn't mediocre. it was a masterpiece.

"what did you want?" she asks, annoyed with his teasing this early in the morning.

"i can't come and greet my favourite redhead in town?" the young man asks, his lips still in a teasing smile.

"not if you're going to be loud and disrupt. this is a library, not a bar."

"ha-ha. i forget just how witty my girlfriend is." he rolls his eyes. "luckily, you're pretty to make up for your lack of sense of humour."

"and your humour makes up for your lack of pretty." she tries to poke back, but it just doesn't sound right.

the young man laughs, sincerely, and rests his elbows on the wooden surface.

"you're cute when you try. you'd be even cuter if you were to join me in one of those horror sections. you know, to read. i love me some stephen king. i also love me some puss-"

"shut up, oh my god." alice hushes him, feeling her cheeks starting to burn from embarrassment.

"oh, come on. you haven't been over to my place in days. weeks even, i think."

"wooyoung," she exhales.

"yeah, sorry." the young man suddenly remembers, then scratches his neck from the little uncomfortable situation he has created. "how is your mom?"

"she has lost a lot of hair." alice says, eyes drifting towards the big library windows. "she has also lost a lot of weight. she still refuses to eat. she has already given up on herself."

wooyoung sighs, seeing his girlfriend show different emotions than last week. she has become numb to the whole situation. her mother has been sick for a very long time, and no amount of doctors, medicine, and persuading could convince her mother to start taking care of herself when alice wasn't around. now, alice has given up. she is angry with her mother, and that doesn't allow her to feel sad or bad for her.

"want me to come with you next time you visit her?"

"that would be today."

"yes, sure. of course. just tell me when."

"i finish at two, when rae arrives. i'll wait for you by the car?"

"i'll be there as soon as my classes are over. promise." wooyoung smiles at her.

there's a brief moment of silence, giving space for both of them to think. alice's mind went from fantasising to worrying, and wooyoung hates that he reminded her of the situation and changed her mood.

"baby?" he calls.

she hums, still a little absent.

"you haven't kissed me today."

alice looks at her boyfriend, heart swelling with guilt. her face drops, and wooyoung's eyes widen seeing her saddened expression.

"i'm so sorry," she says, voice almost a whisper.

"oh, no, no! baby, i just- hey, it doesn't matter. i'm sorry, okay? you're going through something tough, and my behaviour isn't quite helping. i'm being a dick."

alice stands up, hands gently cupping her boyfriend's face. her eyes examine his face, taking in his pretty features. she didn't mean what she said earlier, and she knows that he knows too. she smiles softly at him, assuring him that everything is fine and there is no need to apologise.

"i love you." she whispers.

and just like that, wooyoung softens in her hands, lips melting into hers as he finally kisses her for the first time in three days. it has become hard to catch her since she started working, especially since she runs to the hospital whenever she gets a chance. other times, she prefers laying in bed with little to no lighting, doing nothing but laying down and thinking of a way out of what her life has become.

wooyoung wishes he could help her. but what can he do, when they both refuse his help? he now realises where alice's stubbornness comes from. he smiles into the kiss, thinking about her stubborn nature combined with her impatience. she is a little handful, but she is his handful. and he will hold her until his last breath.

༺═━─━────༺༻────━─━═༻

while people tend to hate hospitals, alice likes it. it brings her comfort, knowing that the people around her are in charge of saving lives. she often visited hospitals as a toddler, due to often sickness. she is very prone to colds, and wooyoung has found himself getting mad at her very often because she refuses to wear a jacket when needed.

"but my outfit won't be visible!" she'd complain.

"i don't care. your kidneys are more important than a crop top. and i can't have you with a runny nose again. you know you have a hard time breathing as it is, the cold only makes everything worse."

"you just know it all, don't you?" she'd say, annoyed, while her fingers work the zipper of wooyoung's jacket.

jung wooyoung doesn't have any plans for the future, other than hopefully marrying alice and creating a family with her. he is a college student, yes. but only because his parents forced him to. he doesn't know what he wants in his life. alice is smart. she also doesn't know, so she simply didn't go to college. smart decision. it is crazy expensive, and managing those costs and the costs of healing her mother would be a disaster.

"ms dawson?"

alice stands up, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

"dr clark, good day." she greets, smiling weakly.

"it certainly is a good one, ms dawson. your mother is finally showing improvement!"

alice stands still, not believing what she's hearing. wooyoung notices her lack of response, and gently takes her hand in his, hoping to shake her awake.

"what do you mean?" she asks.

"she ate everything she was offered today, and she took her medication. and yes, we checked under the bed and in the flower vase, there weren't any hidden pills."

"oh, well... that's great."

the sudden change in her mother's behaviour was suspicious to alice. still, she felt relieved. with a thankful smile and a nod towards the young dr clark, the girl took her usual path to room 257, her hand still held by wooyoung's bigger and warmer one. she pushes the door open, her eyes immediately falling on the bed in the corner of the room. out of four beds, only two were now occupied, meaning that the other two had gotten better and were probably at home with their families. it made alice's heart warm.

it made her heart even warmer when her gaze dropped on the woman in the last bed, her head hidden by what seemed like a beauty magazine. fresh flowers stood beside her bed, accompanied by a framed picture and what seemed like a jewellery box.

"mom?"

the woman drops her magazine in her lap, a smile so wide on her face that it made alice's cheeks hurt. god, she looks so different. it wasn't that long since alice's last visit, was it? the woman in the bed wore makeup, her grey hair braided, and a flower head band placed neatly on her head. her nails were painted a golden brown colour, resembling the autumn leaves that tapped on her window on windy days. she dared to say, her mother looked better than her.

"ally, my darling!" the woman calls, tucking the magazine under her pillow.

alice approaches the bed, sitting in the usual stool that was waiting for her under the elevated nightstand.

"eleanor," wooyoung greets, slightly bowing. "you look absolutely beautiful."

"oh, my, this boyfriend of yours. always a sweet-talker." the woman blushes, waving her hand at the young man. "you are so very lucky, baby, not a lot of boys your age are this sweet. let me tell you, just five minutes ago, amber's son came over, had a fight with her over their house and kicked her out! look, her suitcase is right there!"

"mom, please. can you be any more quiet?"

alice looks over at the other occupied bed, and truly, there stood a suitcase. luckily, the woman was sleeping, so she didn't hear her mother's little gossip party.

"oh, don't worry. the poor woman cried so much that she fell asleep from exhaustion."

silence swallowed the room for a while, eleanor fidgeting with the rings on her fingers. she knew alice had questions. and she dreaded that she had to answer them.

"these aren't the flowers i brought you last time."

"no... no they aren't." she trails, looking anywhere but at her daughter.

"so... whose are they?"

a mumble is heard, and alice raises an eyebrow at her. wooyoung catches a glimpse at the framed picture, but when he fails to recognize the people on it, he shifts his attention back to the woman. she looks at wooyoung, as if searching for a way out of the interrogation that is about to happen. but wooyoung sends her an apologetic smile, and rests his hands on alice's hair, moving it out of her face. he feels like she will need it. there is a reason why her mother is acting so nervous, and when alice is upset, she loves to have her hair played with.

"mom."

"hm? oh. right, the flowers. uh... they're from..."

"mom, cut the bullshit. i'm just curious. so what if a friend brought them over? you have a new crush in town? dr clark not cute anymore?"

"oh, no! dr clark is very cute. and very young. and he is married, sadly for me. no, these are from, uh..."

alice grows impatient, a frown already forming on her face. wooyoung senses her tense state, and gently drops his hand on her shoulder, massaging the knot below her neck. she sighs, and looks at him as a way of saying thank you. silent conversations were common between the two, and it just showed how well they read each other. how much they love each other.

wooyoung presses his lips to her temple, and gently caresses her back as her mother prepares to give an answer.

"so?"

"so what?" eleanor acts dumb, still hoping that alice will give up.

"mom. the flowers. the jewellery. the makeup. the nails. the picture."

the girl finally takes the framed picture. she recognizes her young mother, her bright ginger hair falling in waves on her shoulder, green irises almost invisible because of her big smile and closed eyes. the man, however, she does not recognize.

"from your father."

wooyoung halts his movements. alice sits still, her gaze not leaving the picture.

"what?"

"your father. he came every day since your last visit, and brought me all these flowers, made me the crown, even painted my nails-"

"i didn't know they let drug addicts inside hospitals."

wooyoung gulps, watching eleanor's jaw drop at her daughter's numbness to the new situation they have found themselves in.

"isn't that, like, very unsafe? for both parties?"

"you shut your mouth, right now. your father is a good man."

"he is not my father, and he is certainly not a good man."

the woman's face twists into one of anger, hands turning white as she grips the sheets she's covered with. "he is your god damn father, whether you like it or not."

"he is a scumbag. that's all he is. and, he is the reason you're here. isn't it? have you forgotten?"

"alice..." wooyoung tries, but stops when alice raises her hand as a sign to stop talking.

"didn't he throw you down the fucking stairs and smash your head through the window?"

"that was years ago, alice. you were barely four."

"and yet i remember."

"you're acting as if he killed me."

"he drugged you all the time! and you became an addict, just like him!"

the dark past resurfaces so easily, pulling both women under it's veil and swallowing them with grief. so many tears spilled, so many bruises earned, and so many cuts treated. alice was only three when it all begun, and she still wonders how it all escalated so quickly in a span of just three months. from only name calling and occasional yelling, to full fist and kick fights and screaming for help. only for her mother to go back to him, too afraid and in love to let go. and each morning the same. three months of alice finding herself in crossfire, earning new bruises every other day, and crying all night long.

she loved her mother, and she loved her father a little less every day. strangely enough, there used to be days when the house was as peaceful as it used to be before her father became what he became. she didn't know why, or how. all she knew was that she was grateful. and that whatever pills dad was slipping mom in her drinks and food were, they worked, and alice guarded them in the cupboard with her life. years later, she realized what the pills were. pills, powder, injections, you name them. by the time the monster left the house, the woman was already hooked. she craved more, and more, and didn't have any. who was at fault for that? alice.

alice was the first thing eleanor saw in the morning, and the last thing she saw in the evening. she was there, consistently needing attention, food, love. and eleanor was exhausted. she just wanted her happy pills. and what other way to express your frustration, than to punish a child who just doesn't shut the fuck up?

wooyoung presses a kiss on her head, in hopes of pulling her out of her memories. he knew that she was thinking of old times, of the man from the picture. and he knew that won't do good to her.

"what did he want?" she calmly asks, fidgeting with the frame. she wished for nothing more than to burn the picture, and throw it at the old house, letting it burn the pain away. if only it worked that way.

"why do you think he would want something?"

"mom."

eleanor sighs, in disbelief. or defeat. wooyoung can't tell yet. she looks around the room, trying to find the right words so she wouldn't further hurt her daughter. though the damage was already done, and wooyoung couldn't see how she could further worsen it. until she opened her mouth again.

"he asked for money."

"what?!"

"but look, i-it's just for a new place, so we can all be together again!"

"what?!?!"

alice stands up, head in her hands and legs carrying her hurriedly around the room. wooyoung plops down on the nearby empty bed, feeling his heart swelling at the sight of his loving girlfriend lose control over her emotions. but he knows better than to interfere. he just needs to let her do what she needs to do.

"alice, please. i just want a family. a proper family."

"well you sure as fuck aren't getting that from him! how much?"

"what?"

"how fucking much?!"

"all of it! god, just stop screaming at me!"

now the other woman was the one holding her head, while the younger one shot her head up wide-eyed.

"all... of it?"

"yes, yes! all of it! he wants to create a better future for us and you're acting like a fucking lunatic for no re-"

"you- you bitch."

a gasp escapes the young man's mouth, and he looks over to the woman in bed for her reaction. she grits her teeth, trying to keep her composure. wooyoung notices how red her eyes have become, and how glossy they look. she is trying her best not to let her tears spill, but the more she looks at alice, the less control she has. she watches as her daughter grabs the picture and smashes it on the floor. when alice grabs her shoulders and starts shaking her, screaming in her face, she loses it. big drops roll down her cheeks and neck, ruining the makeup she had so carefully put on.

wooyoung hated that he couldn't help. the best way of helping was to stay back and do nothing. no matter what he said, it would only light up the fire in one of them, if not both. so wooyoung settled for glancing over at the stranger in the other bed, giving her a nod as a sign that everything is okay and that she doesn't need to worry. he doesn't know if it managed to calm the woman or not, because he gets pulled into the mess by eleanor. she grabs his wrist, pulling him closer as if asking for help.

"wooyoung can't help you right now! let go of him!"

"wooyoung, please- please! i only wanted to make it better for us-" she hiccups through sobs, desperately clawing at wooyoung's hand.

alice yanks his hand out of hers, and when a loud slap echoes through the room, wooyoung decides it is time to finally step in. alice might get mad, hell, she might even slap him too, but he doesn't care.

"alice." he sternly says, grabbing her shoulders.

"no, we're not doing this! wooyoung, i am breaking my back every day, i am working overtime, running here making sure she eats and stops acting like a child, only for her to give away all my hard work for empty promises?! to who?! a man who doesn't even recognize me anymore?!"

she is furious. she sees red. no amount of comforting from wooyoung's side will make her calm down.

"take me home."

"are you sure-"

before wooyoung can finish, he can only catch a glimpse of her dark red locks bouncing as she rushes out of the door, slamming it shut after.

"wooyoung, please talk to her."

the man sighs, torn between the two women. he hates this. letting people down. but more than that, he hates letting his girlfriend down.

"i'm sorry, eleanor. there's nothing i can do."

he gently picks up the picture from the floor, careful with the cracked glass, and places it on the nightstand. he glances at the older woman one last time, before sighing and following his girlfriend's path.

[azes-ocean]

Duty Bound

Neuvillette x gn!reader, Neuvillette angst no comfort An : Neuvillette my husband came home~ [and I came too^_^] Summary: He remembered but didn’t know everything, really. And he quite hated that. Word count: 1406 Maturity rating: >18 [MINORS MAY READ :3]

Warnings: Angst, I guess a bit tiring to read, injustice, problems with the legal systems

RULES ARE MEANT TO BE BROKEN

:3

ITS ALMOST CHRISTMAS!!!

18

DAYS TILL CHRISTMAS!!!!🥳🥳🥳🥳💯💯💯💯💪💪💪💪😋😋😋💙💙💙💙💙💙💙 Can a judge be convicted? Can a criminal give order? Chaos is just the dark end of judgement. "There can be no order without 'it'"

What a bittersweet memory that was, filled with broken promises and shattered bonds. Neuvillette stared down at Fontaine below him, light illuminating the shape of every building under a crescent moon. The fountain of Lucine shimmered under the light, ripples in the water almost forming the silhouette of a human. Of you. No, what was he thinking? You hair was much messier than the one in the water. Your body was much taller. This-that wasn't you. Or maybe it was. Not that he'd now who you became, after all.

"Right, Neuvillette? Did I get that?" "...Yes." "Okay Mr., Geez. Am I ready to help you carry your burden of saving Fontaine now?" "...You always have been." "Not what you said last time." "Apologies." "Your so uptight! I was kidding. Did you really believe me!?" "No. But I do believe you'd be quite upset if I showed my knowledge of that." "Awww...aren't you sweet? So considerate and husband material!" "Don't tease me."

“Your lucky grumpy, stoic men are my type!”

“…Yes.”

“Your making this awkward!” -- Neuvillette walked along the streets of the Court of Fontaine as rain lightly drizzled around him. He didn't see the need for an umbrella, as usual, ignoring the mystified glances of the people around him. Young melusines waved at him was he walked by excitedly, greeting him with a warm smile. It truly made him happy that the melusines held him with such admiration in their eyes.

He waved back at the small creatures, the smallest of smiles gracing his lips. It reminded him of a child to their parents.

"Melusines are so cute, aren't they!?" "Indeed they are. True treasures of Fontaine." "Awww...look at their ears! Hey! Hey! Can I pet you even a little, pretty please~?" "Y/n-" "A-ah! Ofcourse you can Ms.!" "See Neuvi? Asking is better than taking the immediate 'no'." "I see. Though of course I know that since I asked you, mhmm?" "Yep! No connection though-AW! Your so soft! Your ears are so smooth too! Do you have skincare!?" "..." "No Ms. I'd be happy to help you with your morning routine someday though!" "Neuvillette, I think I love melusines almost as much as you!" "Hm. Perhaps-" "Perhaps we can think of them like our children now!?" "...if they allow it."

“Why wouldn’t they? I’d be a great mother!”

“…I have decide not to comment on that.”

-- Neuvillette sat alone. Paperwork stacked high on his table as he worked tirelessly, reading and signing documents of meager to high importance. In truth, he hadn't had a proper rest in months, but with the new uprising in cases, he had been more busy than usual. 'Scandalous! Lady Furina reported-" "The Duke of Meropide caught-" "The Iudex seen-" Rumours had gotten more fabricated recently. It was sad how Neuvillette hardly had any idea how to deal with managing the publics words. No, that was your job. Was. "Whaat!? Neuvillette! Neuvillette! Did you hear about-" "Y/n. Don't speak too loudly please." "Oh. Er-Right! Did you hear about the scandal!? That daughter of the famous actor fell in love with a thief!" "Really? How interesting. Love does have its ways." "I met her before! She seemed really refined and elegant. I was so surprised!" "Is there proof for this so-called scandal?" "Yep! I saw them!" "Hm. I see. Why is this so interesting to you?" "...Uhm...because it's news. Is there something uninteresting about it...?" "No. Not at all. Apologies, but I have some work to finish. Would you mind...?" "Ack! Sorry, my bad, I forgot your officially a judge and Iudex now haha…you must be busy!." -- Neuvillette was seated on his dining table, eating his normal dinner. He quietly took a drink of water, then passed it to the only other seat on the table. He was static for a few moments, letting his breaths echo through the silent room before taking the goblet away from the empty seat. “I shall drink, then.” He murmured to no one in particular.

It was lonely.

Neuvillette missed the days where you would sit across him, telling stories about your recently acquired gossip or ranting about a co-worker. Then his halls were filled with laughter and liveliness.

Not this all-consuming silence.

“Ooo! Ooo! Right! I remember! Do you recall that boring bitchass-“

“Language, y/n.”

“Ack! Sorry. As I was saying though! Remember the boring, emo, lame co-worker who thinks he’s the main character from one of those Yae publishing house books!?”

“Yes. You talk about him nearly daily.”

“Haha…I guess so…! Anyyywayz! Basically his girlfriend broke up with him and it was revealed he was an abuser! He used his money to pay for silence! And domestic abuse was the least of his crimes!”

“Hm? I have not heard of this. Do you know his name?”

“Uh… P….something. I don’t know.”

“Ah. I see.”

“…Is something bothering you Neuvillette…? You seem…distant.”

“Hm? No. Nothing.”

“Uh huh…girly, of your going through-“

“Do not refer to me like that, please.”

“Fiine. If you tell me whats wrong.”

“There is nothing wrong, y/n.”

-- Neuvillette sat on his seat in the courtroom, a man accused of the severe crime of murder layed down below him. The man yelled excuses and screamed in denial, claiming such unrealistic stories that Neuvilette couldn’t help but feel disgusted with this man’s audacity. “I have told you. You are guilty. There is no doubt. All the evidence-“

“You’re just biased! You just don’t believe I could be innocent so you don’t look at the evidence with a clear mind! Whatever ‘justice’ you judge it with it just pessimism!” The man screamed, resisting any attempts at restraining him. The man’s face was filled with desperation, either for the truth of for a lie.

“…I look at it fairly. I am the Iudex. I am not wrong.” Neuvillette replied coldly, looking down upon him apathetically. His eyes glimmered with a hint of tiredness and exasperation, clearly wanting this case to finish.

“If it was your lover you would have looked deeper! You’d have read it over twice! You’d have-“

“Do not bring her into this. I will punish you even harsher for any attempt to soil her memory.” He shot him down immediately, glaring. How dare this…this…

How dare is nobody.

How dare this criminal.

His jaw tightened as he had to mentally restrain himself to give a life sentence. This man deserved it for his disrespect though. Tsk…

Must he constantly deal with these desecraters? You were a special case to him.

And it didn’t matter anyway how much he reread and went over the case.

It didn’t change anything how much he had desperately scoured for evidence to your innocence.

You were declared guilty in the end, despite his efforts.

It didn’t matter.

Just like this idiotic man’s case.

The man was obviously intimidated by the sudden yet expected show of defensiveness. “The justice system is flawed, Neuvillette!” He yelled, raising his voice as he jerked away from the guards restraining him. They were obviously already struggling with his continued resistance. Neuvillette decided it wise to get this over with already.

“…You are loud.” Neuvillette turned to the audience infront of him, glaring authoritatively, “This is fruitless. The accused is guilty. The punishment will be as is-40 years in the fortress of Meropide.” The crowd cheered, not one protesting against the rule of the judge. The man was forcibly dragged away by the guards, his pleas and curses drowned by the roaring voices filling the court.

But Neuvillette did look into it.

He really did.

Perhaps he was just rattled by the fact you were brought up by the accused.

Though the truth was…

The man was innocent.

Just like you.

Yet no one believed him.

Just like you.

Not even Neuvillette saw the truth.

So now the man who’s name he didn’t bother to learn was sentenced to the next years of his life in prison.

And Neuvillette didn’t know where he would go after that. Neuvillette didn’t even know if he would be recognizable after the hardship.

If he would even live through it.

Just…like you.

Yet this judge was duty-bound to let himself drown in that ignorance yet again.

“If he didn’t perhaps some memory would have flashed through his mind again.”

[loopstagirl]

Mute

For @febuwhump day 1: vocal chords

-x-

“Enough!” 

John smirked as his captor stalked away, frustration radiating from him. He wasn’t having trouble getting John to talk: he was having trouble getting him to talk either in a language he understood or for John to say anything his somewhat limited intellect could handle. 

Shifting position, John sighed. He couldn’t doubt the man’s intelligence that much. Not considering his shore-leave had somehow ended up with him handcuffed to a chair in a warehouse downtown New York somewhere. He’d promised Scott he’d be back at the penthouse for lunch after dropping something off at the office. He wasn’t worried about this man killing him: he was more concerned what his big brother would do when he failed to show up on time. 

“We’re going to try something new.” 

John blinked. The man was back in front of him. John didn’t say anything, just stared at him, acting bored. Yes, he was worried: his hands were cuffed behind him; his captor had managed to whisk him off busy streets without anyone being the wiser; somehow, he also seemed adamant John was able to access his father’s accounts and was refusing to take no for an answer. 

(John wasn’t going to admit that he could: even his dad didn’t know that. John intended to keep it that way.) 

His gaze moved past the man and his heart sank. A camera had been set up. So much for hoping he could get himself out of this without anyone noticing he’d gone. 

He knew how this went. They all did. It wasn’t the first time some low-life criminal had got lucky and attempted to ransom one of them. While they had never got away with it, John wasn’t in the mood to handle his brothers’ teasing that he’d ruined his reputation of being the only one not taken hostage one way or another. Even if Gordon protested that his captors had been of kindergarten age and didn’t count. 

“John!” 

John blinked. He hadn’t paid attention as the man had set up a vid-call with the island. His father’s concerned face was staring back at him from a small monitor. Judging by the tone of his voice, that hadn’t been the first time he’d called John’s name. 

“I’m okay.” John forced a smile. 

“This is how it’s going to go,” his captor said. “Your son is going to tell you what I want. You are going to comply. You will regret it if you don’t.” 

“You’ll regret it if he does,” John muttered. While the man didn’t hear his words, he heard him say something. 

“And you.” He rounded on John. “You’re going to tell your father exactly what I want, or you’ll pay, understand?” 

John didn’t bother answering. He just stared coolly back. 

“Go on then.” His captor gestured at the camera. 

“Downtown New York. Six blocks from the office minimum. Warehouse. Damp smelling, old, can just about hear traffic-,” 

“Silence!” 

The man approached, grabbing a fistful of hair and yanking John’s head back.  

“Middle-aged, Caucasian, brown trousers, green-,”  

John gasped. His mouth stayed open in pain as agony shot from a point in his neck, fire running through his veins as he squeezed his eyes shut. Chest heaving, he forced them open to look at the camera. 

His dad was on his feet, yelling something, but there was a ringing in his ears that stopped John from hearing him properly. He tried to say something... and nothing happened. 

His mouth moved, his brain yelled, and no words came out of his mouth. 

“Ah yes, I thought that might shut you up.” The man sounded smug now. John looked at him in time to see him throw a needle in the bin. The man saw him looking and chuckled. 

“I just paralysed your vocal chords,” he sneered. “Be thankful it’s a targeted drug and the effects don’t spread. But never fear: I have another dose if we need it.” 

He turned back to the camera. “Now, where were we?” 

“John!”  

His dad was ignoring the man, his attention fixed on his son. John tried to speak again, but nothing. He shook his head desperately, staring at the image of his father, rising panic making his breathing pick up. 

“It’s okay, Johnny.” The reassuring note helped him control the rapid rise and fall of his chest. 

“It’s not okay!” his captor screamed. “I’ve paralysed your son’s vocal chords, Tracy. Next one goes in his heart!” 

“I don’t think so.” 

John recognised the cold edge to his dad’s voice. The man had overplayed his hand. He might’ve walked away if he just asked for money and didn’t harm John. Of course, he wouldn’t have got a cent, but he might have kept his life. Now, however, it was a different story. 

“You don’t understand-,” 

“No. You don’t understand. You’ve made a very big mistake coming after my family and my boy. If this is not temporary, no jail on earth will keep you safe from me.” 

There was utmost certainty in Jeff’s voice. But it didn’t reassure John. Not temporary? It had to be temporary! His voice was his life! He’d be no good to his family, to International Rescue, to the world, if he couldn’t speak. 

“You-,” 

Whatever the man was about to say was lost in a tremendous crash as the door was kicked in. John looked, but he didn’t need to. Only Scott would make an entrance like that, and the terrified squeak from his captor meant it had the desired effect. 

In two strides, Scott was across the room, his hands bunched in the fabric of the man’s shirt, almost lifting him from his feet. 

“You okay, J?” 

John stared helplessly at his brother. When he didn’t answer, Scott glanced at him. He didn’t say anything else, not needing to ask but seeing the sheer panic in John’s expression. He put the man down. 

“That’s right. I’ve silenced the know-it-all-,” 

He probably didn’t even see Scott’s fist coming. After checking he was out cold once he’d hit the floor, Scott straightened. He too was breathing hard. 

“No one calls him that,” he spat. He glanced at the monitor before hurrying to John. 

“Are you okay?” 

John shook his head. He tried to speak again and stared at Scott, willing him to understand. 

“It’s alright. I’m getting you out of here.” 

John didn’t pay attention as Scott freed his hands and spoke quickly to their dad. From what he did hear, Scott had already been tracking his signal and was close by. John’s description of his location had helped him pinpoint it even quicker. But he couldn’t listen as his dad returned the favour and told Scott why John couldn’t talk. 

“Let’s get you to the hospital, little brother.” 

Scott helped him up. John pointed at the man, then when Scott frowned, shrugged off his brother’s grip and rummaged in the fellow’s pockets. He shuddered when he realised he’d been telling the truth; there was another dose waiting. Scott took it from him. 

“Understood.”  

The doctors would need it to know what he’d been hit with. Hopefully, it would mean they also knew how long the effects would last or have a counterdrug on hand to help. 

A couple of hours later and John had been examined. They’d taken his blood, prodded and poked around his throat, asked him questions he couldn’t answer until someone had finally given him an old-fashioned pad and pen. 

The examination felt like a lifetime. Scott stayed in the room, but kept quiet after a formidable doctor told him that he either shut up or get out. Just because John couldn’t speak didn’t mean he couldn’t answer for himself. Scott had done as he was told. 

Eventually, the doctors were in a huddle on the far side of the room. Scott moved to sit on the edge of the bed. 

“It’s okay,” he murmured. John held up a hand, asking his brother to be quiet as he strained to hear what was being said. 

“... results are back. It should’ve worn off by now.” 

“We’ll keep monitoring. Let’s do another CT to see if the nerves have been damaged.” 

They left, having no idea their patient had heard them. John looked at Scott, and knew his brother saw the terror in his eyes. 

“It’ll be okay.” Scott took his hand, kneeling by the bed. “I swear, it’ll be okay.” 

John shook his head, blinking through tears as he gestured for Scott to hand him the pad. His brother obliged. 

What if it’s not? 

“Then we’ll find a way,” Scott said. “You know us, Johnny, we always find a way.” 

And if we can’t? If I can’t speak... 

He glanced at the door. He didn’t dare write anything about IR. Scott understood, though. 

“If this is permanent,” his voice shook as he said it, “then we will adapt.” 

John closed his eyes so he didn’t have to look at Scott. He didn’t understand. Scott was a man of action: he let his body language (or fists, sometimes) do the talking for him. But from the moment he’d learnt to talk, John knew that was what he was destined to do. What was the point of having knowledge if he couldn’t share it? What was the point of monitoring the world’s problems if he couldn’t offer reassurance, couldn’t talk his brothers through danger zones? Couldn’t yell warnings or offer comfort from Thunderbird Five after a bad rescue? 

If he couldn’t speak, John didn’t know who he was. 

“J. Look at me.”  

As always, he was helpless to resist the commanding tone in Scott’s voice. 

“We have Brains. We have Dad.”  

John read between the lines – they had their father’s money, which meant they had the best specialists in the world. 

He started to shake his head again, but Scott rested his hands (gently) on John’s neck, stopping the action. 

“We have options, John. Besides, it might still be fine. Just because it’s taken longer to wear off than it should do doesn’t meant that it won’t. Not like the guy was a pro at sticking needles in people.” 

John knew Scott was trying to cheer him up but it wasn’t working. The fact the man hadn’t been a professional only increased the risk that he’d done something irreversible. Scott saw that his efforts were in vain and he stood up. 

“Dad’s on his way. I’ll go and talk to your doctors, find out exactly what they think rather than what we’ve overheard. It’s going to be alright, little brother.” 

He squeezed John’s shoulder, gave him a long, worried look, and left. 

Once alone, John tried to speak. His mouth was open, his throat working, but not even a whisper escaped him. The words were all in his mind, ready to spill out, to tell everyone was he was thinking, what he was feeling, but nothing. 

No matter what he tried, he couldn’t make a sound. 

He didn’t know how long he tried for. It was if he lost all sense of time, eventually coming back to himself only to realise he was out of bed, on his knees by the side of it, hands scrunched in the blanket in his frustration. The silence of the room was deafening him, mocking him with the idea that’s what he’d be surrounded by now. 

With a wordless cry, he swung his arm up, knocking everything off the unit next to the bed with an almighty clatter. His mouth stayed open in a silent scream. Running footsteps hurried towards his room, Scott bursting in, a doctor on his heels. 

“John!” 

John doubled up as Scott dropped to his knees next to him. Strong arms pulled him upright, holding him. 

“We need answers, doctor,” Scott commanded. “Whatever it takes.” 

“Understood, Mr Tracy.” 

The doctor disappeared again. John closed his eyes, trying to focus on the rhythmic sound of Scott’s heartbeat under his ear, hoping it would calm him. 

“I know what your voice means to you, John. It means everything to the rest of us as well. Knowing that you’re watching over us, guiding us through situations that need an eye in the sky viewpoint. Hearing you reassure us that we did everything we could, even when it feels like we didn’t. What you have to say keeps our family together: it always has. No matter what the doctor says, we will not give up. And I meant it earlier: if there is no easy fix, we’ll adapt. No voice doesn’t mean you can’t speak, little brother. I promise.” 

John couldn’t bring himself to nod. He kept his eyes squeezed shut, allowing the tears to leak out as Scott gently rocked them both, as if John was still the little boy who didn’t understand why other children picked on him for always knowing the answer. 

“I promise, J. It’s going to be okay.”  

There was something safe about Scott’s arms. He didn’t need to speak for his brother to know what he wanted. They stayed there, Scott either not noticing or uncaring that John was soaking his shirt. After a while, he dozed off, exhausted by the day’s events. 

“How is he?” The quiet voice drew him back to alertness. He was still in Scott’s arms but as he regained consciousness, he felt a soft blanket being placed on his shoulders. 

“How you’d expect,” Scott said. “Still can’t speak. The guy who did this to him?” 

“In custody.” It was their dad’s voice. “About to get hit with everything our lawyers can get on him.” 

“Good.” 

“I’ll take him,” their dad offered, but Scott’s grip tightened. 

“I’ve got him.”  

“Virgil’s gone to find coffee and Gordon and Alan are checking the penthouse is secure if we need to stay in town.” 

“It is secure. He wasn’t taken from there.” 

“I know that, and you know that, but your brothers don’t, do they?” 

Scott gave a small chuckle that John felt reverberating through his entire body. No doubt their siblings needed something to do, and John was glad they weren’t all crowding him when he couldn’t reassure them. 

He tapped Scott’s forearm with one finger. His brother’s hold changed until he helped John sit up. John pulled the blanket further around his shoulders, although he wasn’t sure if he was cold or not. 

“Hey, kiddo,” his dad said warmly. “Wanna let your brother off the floor?” 

He took his father’s outstretched hand, allowing him to draw him first to his feet, then into a hug. John smiled weakly when the man drew back. 

“Still no luck, huh?” 

John shook his head and glanced away. It was bad enough that Scott had seen his emotions overcome him. He didn’t want his dad seeing them too. 

“Don’t mind me,” Scott pretended to grumble as he got to his feet. “I’m just the one that’s had a sleeping lump on me for the last hour or so.” 

“You’ll survive,” Jeff said lightly. John appreciated that they were giving him something else to focus on.  

He reached out, touching Scott’s arm and nodding in appreciation. Scott smiled. 

“Don’t mention it.” 

John sat down on the edge of the bed, absently rubbing his throat, wondering, praying, that it was feeling any different. He couldn’t tell.  

He pulled the pad towards him, flicking to his last message to Scott and turning the paper to face his father. 

If I can’t speak... 

He was only supposed to be home for another couple of days. Alan had come down early so Brains could run some maintenance. John was due back on Thunderbird Five by the end of the week. They needed a plan, needed a contingency... 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” his dad murmured. “We’ll deal with that as and when the time arrives. I’ve spoken to your doctors. They aren’t sure why the drug hasn’t worn off, but have a few options of things they want to try. We’re nowhere near the end of the line yet, Johnny.” 

He nodded glumly. They were speaking sense. He’d be the first to tell one of the others not to panic; there was still time and alternatives before they needed to dwell on worst case scenarios. But it was apparently a lot easier reassuring them than it was himself. 

He drew his knees up, hugging them to his chest, feeling young and vulnerable. His family appeared around him, gentle touches and words of reassurance as they tried to make him feel better. But every time he tried to say something, nothing happened. 

Gordon and Alan exchanged worried looks. Virgil was pouring over his chart, murmuring suggestions out loud to Scott, who was watching John and probably not understanding a word. Their dad was once again talking to the doctors somewhere out of sight. 

They’d sat around a bedside, all of them together, countless times over the years. Maybe it was a good thing that John couldn’t tell them to just leave him alone. He was feeling crowded, slowly suffocating under their concern. 

When he finally looked up, he felt Gordon’s eyes on him. There wasn’t pity or sympathy, but understanding. He, more than the rest of them, knew what it meant to lose the one thing that defined who you were and not be sure if you were going to get it out. 

“Everyone!” Gordon called, waiting until the voices had faded away. “Get lost.” 

Alan opened his mouth to protest, but Virgil looked between Gordon and John and grabbed his arm, pulling him out.  

Gordon followed them to the door, poking a finger in Scott’s chest.  

“You, stay.” 

“Yes, sir,” Scott said sarcastically but Gordon was already leaving, calling after the other two to wait up. 

“Budge up,” Scott said, climbing onto the bed next to him. He reached for the TV remote, flicking it on and channel-hopping until he found something vaguely interesting. John wasn’t paying attention to the show, and he doubted Scott was either, but the feeling of his brother’s shoulder pressed against his said more than any words could. 

It was late by the time the doctor returned. His dad had joined them, flicking through his datapad but content to not speak. John highly doubted the other three had gone back to the penthouse like they were supposed to, but were no doubt lurking in the hospital somewhere, waiting for news. 

“We’re going to try something,” the doctor said. He held up a syringe. “With your permission?” 

Scott shuffled out of the way. John looked from the needle to the doctor, and shuddered. 

“I’m here, J,” Scott murmured. His dad also stood up to stand the other side of the bed. 

“We both are.” 

John couldn’t watch. He closed his eyes as the doctor approached. There was a sharp scratch that made him suck in an involuntary breath, but nothing like the pain from before. He swallowed hard. 

“Give it a minute, and try and speak,” the doctor instructed.  

John did so. 

Nothing. 

Not a sound escaped him. 

He looked at the doctor, desperate, but the man was frowning. 

“I hoped that would work. Right, let’s see what else we can do. Don’t you worry, Mr Tracy, we won’t let this beat us.” 

John wasn’t sure which ‘Mr Tracy’ he was talking to, but the doctor hurried out of the room, muttering to himself. 

“I’ll find out the plan,” Jeff said, squeezing his shoulder. “Don’t worry.” 

He went after the man. Scott grimaced. 

“I won’t ask if you’re okay,” he said.  

A treacherous tear slipped from John’s eye, but Scott caught it on his thumb.  

“You heard the doc, Johnny. He’s not given up. Neither should you.” 

John nodded, not able to look Scott in the eye. He couldn’t fall apart on him, not again. Scott seemed to read that in his expression. 

“I’ll give you a minute,” he said. “Fill the others in.” 

Gordon had always needed someone by his side when he was injured or sick. Virgil always wanted Scott. But John had preferred his own space and knew that Scott was trying to respect that now. His brother turned away, heading to the door. 

STAY! Screamed John’s mind. 

“Stay.” 

Scott whipped around, grinning. John blinked at him. 

“What did you just say?” 

Slowly, realisation crept upon John. He hadn’t just said it in his mind. He’d spoken the word, out loud. 

[cherrylovelycherry]

“Childe took all the love that belonged to me, I guess.”

pairing. neuvillette x fem!reader cw/genre. angst, lovers to strangers. masterlist! requests open!

“Childe, the 11th of the Fatui harbingers, is considered guilty.”

Your heart dropped upon hearing Neuvillette’s cold tone. The next thing you knew, you witnessed Childe battling numerous waves of guards. As he was about to turn into his Foul Legacy form, Neuvillette got up in the blink of an eye and attacked him mid-transformation, apprehending and knocking him out.

“Take him away.” He instructs to the guards. When his brooding dark blue eyes met yours, they immediately softened.

Y/N watched intently as the Chief Judge, Neuvillette, knocked out his other Fatui friend, Childe, and found him guilty.

He put his hand to his heart as he unconsciously grimaced in disgust and pain at the tremendous blow Neuvillette had dealt to Childe.

Her reaction… was quite odd. Neuvillette was puzzled as to why you sympathised with Childe, of all people. As the court was being dismantled, he slowly approached her.

“I know you were friends with Childe. But please… try to be objective about it.”

The opera house emptied in an instant. Y/N crossed her arms at Neuvillette's sudden proximity.

"Objective?" She asked. 

"You knocked him out, Neuvillette." She continued, looking into his dark blue orbs.

Her cold glare stopped Neuvillette mid-step. “Childe was about to kill everyone in this courtroom… including you. Your attachment toward him is… strange, Y/N.”

“I do not wish to quarrel..” He paused for a moment. “Please, don’t take your anger out on me.”

"Ah... you never want to fight, Neuvillette." She commented, mimicking his words, feeling a little bad about the fact that he had knocked Childe out. Y/N knows very well that he is a Fatui, but she knew that he wouldn't be able to kill an innocent.

“I cannot be lenient towards criminals.” Neuvillette sounded almost irritated. “Do you know how many people he’s killed or affected?”

“I cannot overlook these atrocities… I will not.” His words were cold but you still felt he was trying so hard not to let his anger get the best of him.

“Please, Y/N, you cannot be this naive.”

...but, maybe...

”Why… is Childe important to you?” He asked cautiously.

His heart pounded at a rapid-fire pace, as if he knew the answer. ”Is it… love?”

“You… like him?”

"I'm not the naive one, Neuvillette."

At her next words he felt a heavy air in the atmosphere, his tone cautious. Y/N turned her head slightly when she saw the strange, unreadable expression on Neuvillette's face.

"Hm?"

"I only care about him, Neuvillette."

"Oh... I see..."

But... he still had this feeling, as if...

You could tell that Neuvillette was puzzled by your answer, for the question had left him pondering as well. His eyes widened at the thought.

"You still care for him... in a different way, don't you?" He sighed. He could no longer hold it in.

He paused for a moment, looking away from you. "I know."

"I know you like him."

"Yes, I'm honest, Neuvillette. I care about him, it just seems to me that you overreacted by knocking him out."

Everything was going well until she heard his other words. Her heart skipped a beat, her purple eyes hesitated in anguish, until she took a deep breath and calmed down.

"No, I don't like it" She spoke again, her tone was...strange. As if the annoyance from before was gone. Y/N also looked away as she scratched one arm.

He was still clearly confused by your words. "...You admit that you care for him, but... not like this?"

Neuvillette raised an eyebrow at your words, but... there was still something inside him that told him you were lying.

At this point, he began to feel frustrated again. "Why are you lying, Y/N?"

"Why don't you just admit it?"

"Um... it's a bit complicated..."  She spoke after a few seconds.

Until his heart skipped a beat again at the thought of this situation.

"But... why do you care so much? Why do you insist so much, Neuvillette?" She started to get defensive, he felt like this was some kind of questionnaire.

"Do you like me or what?" She spoke in a defensive tone, his words sounding a bit abrupt without meaning to.

“Y/N…” He hesitated at your question, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“…”

“Yes.” Neuvillette replied. “I like you.”

He paused for a moment, glancing at you. Your words stung, but… he understood that he couldn’t be mad at you.

This… is an unexpected turn of events.

"You see? There's no reason for this-" Her words were interrupted by that sudden declaration. "I like you",his words rolled through her mind. She honestly hadn't expected Neuvillette to affirm her earlier question.

It all seemed to make sense now. But at the statement, Y/N froze.

Her heart skipped a beat, this was not what she had expected.

You could see Neuvillette's eyes widen, as if he'd said something he... shouldn't have.

You could tell he still had feelings for you, no matter how hard he tried not to admit it. He quickly regained his composure.

His dark blue eyes met yours for a moment before his expression slowly softened and his words were gentle.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I..." Neuvillette sighed. "You know I can't lie."

"Ah..." She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose in irritation.

"Then... we'll talk about it." She said with a sigh, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

Your lack of enthusiasm... hurt Neuvillette's feelings a little at first. He expected it to be... different. But he understood that it was, among other things, the passage of time that had changed things between the two of them.

"...You... like Childe very much, don't you?..."

Y/N swallowed hard. Neuvillette had asked that question again.

"...I..."

"It's... I don't know, Neuvillette. It's kind of complicated." She spoke looking away, a little uncomfortable talking about her love affairs especially with him.

"..." Neuvillette sighed, his tone of voice soft as when he first expressed his affection for her. He never took his eyes off her but he kept trying to ignore his feelings once again....

"...Do you still... have feelings for me, Y/N?"

"...!" at his question, her gaze focused on him with an expression of surprise.

Soon that expression changed to hesitation.

"I don't..." She began.

"I don't know, Neuvillette. It's not clear to me either." She continued to avert her gaze, neither allowing herself nor wanting to see the hidden anguish she learned to read in Neuvillette's blue eyes.

“…Y/N, look at me.” His voice sounded stern to an extent, but you could still make out a hint of… tender love in Neuvillette’s tone.

“I have waited a long time for an answer.” He paused shortly after. “After all, I… still love you.”

"..."

There was only silence.

A despairing, heartbreaking silence to Neuvillette's misfortune.

Y/N intertwined her hand with the other, as if seeking her own mental calm, as she took in a sharp intake of breath.

"...I'm sorry, Neuvillette." She spoke, her voice was in the form of apology and regret. Her heart wasn't speaking for her, it was her mind, however, she now had to hold herself as a priority instead of always prioritising others.

"I don't love you anymore." She sentenced. A cold breeze made her shiver. 

Though she knew it wasn't a cold air, it was the tone in which his words had come out.

Rejection hurts, yes... but Neuvillette almost expected it.

His love is unrequited. But he is grateful for your honesty.

Tears welled in her eyes as he tried to hold them back.

He sighed slowly and looked away from you again, taking a few moments to digest everything. His tone was soft again.

"...I see." He paused briefly. "Does Childe hold a place in your heart, Y/N?"

It sounded masochistic to want to know more about the feelings her heart now held, but he couldn't refuse to ask.

"Yes." she affirmed.

"My heart now has room only for Childe." At first her voice wavered however she pulled himself together.

She looked into Neuvillette's light blue eyes, which she loved long ago.

Y/N had learned to read those mysterious eyes of hers and, pitifully, saw only bitterness and sorrow within them.

Neuvillette stared into your eyes for a few seconds before muttering to himself, almost so that you couldn't hear it.

”I was expecting that, but… it’s still painful for me to hear it…”

“... I see.” He muttered once again, his eyes closing slightly as he turned back to face you.

There was nothing else he could do or say, as he still loved you… but, you didn’t love him anymore. He was left speechless for quite some time.

"I'm sorry..." She apologised again.

She really wanted the feelings of pure love she had felt for Neuvillette before to remain in her heart. But it didn't happen and Y/N couldn't do anything about it.

"I must go now... goodbye, Neuvillette." She gave him a small bow, as if to thank him for all they had been through together, and without looking into his beautiful eyes, which had looked at her with love not more than two years ago, she turned away, standing still in her place, hesitatingly. Her body would not let her move towards the exit. 

“No.. wait…” Neuvillette spoke quietly.

“Before you go… I would like to tell you something.”

Silence.

“I…” He paused mid-sentence, almost at a loss for words. He took a few deep breaths before speaking “Even if you do not love me anymore, I am grateful to have known you.”

“...Thank you, Y/N.” He bowed his head ever so slightly.

Those words echoed momentarily in his head. He took a deep breath before turning only his head and giving her one last smile. That smile that always was and always would be for him.

She did not move, a small but small part of her hoped he would continue, however, that was not the case.

The wait lasted no longer, as always he would say no more. She released the air from her lungs that she had been holding in without realising it.

Y/N turned her head, again in the direction of the door, taking hesitant but firm steps.

Neuvillette watched you walk away, his expression turned from bitter to… heartbroken.

Your lack of love towards him hurt him quite a lot. A lot more than he expected it to be.

“... Y/N.” He murmured, his voice trembling.

“... I wish you all the best for the future.” You could tell his voice was almost breaking apart, as he slowly took a deep breath and sighed.

He still wanted to keep in touch with you, but he had no choice but to let you go.

If only he had said more words like that, she would not have had the willpower to just walk away. She would have returned to him.

She opened the big doors, and without further ado, stepped out.

Neuvillette slowly turned around, his gaze directed towards the ground as he tried to take in everything.

...Childe is in her heart now, not him.

His chest felt heavy.

“Childe took all the love that belonged to me, I guess.”

He let out a sorrowful sigh in the end.

…

Within two minutes of closing the doors, thunder rumbled in the sky and a few drops began to fall, turning into heavy rain.

©cherrylovelycherry do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[sunnynwanda]

Supervillain gets sick. Very, VERY sick. Will someone help him or is life about to get much, much worse for the master criminal?

Supervillain is sick

The air feels cold against their clammy skin, sending chills down their spine and arms. Their chest movements are uneven as they try to suppress another fit of coughs choking on their throat. Supervillain squeezes their eyes shut, waiting for it to pass. Their eyelids are heavy as lead when they try to open their eyes. They attempt a deep breath but end up wheezing through another cough.

Superhero be damned. 

That ice-cold bath in the frozen river must have been the last straw. They had landed on the bridge to wipe the perspiration off their forehead and run a hand through their damp hair. Meningitis was the last thing they wanted to die from, not after such a brilliant career as a master criminal and head of everything underground. Superhero didn't entirely mind the state of affairs in the city either. Their battles were nothing more than a warning. A display of power on both their ends to ensure no one attempted to defy the balance they had achieved.

Supervillain huffs out a shuddering breath, pressing a palm against their chest. It hurts all the way up to their throat and head. Their back feels stiff despite the softness of their couch. They did not expect the push and had to regroup under the surface, loosing precious time and, apparently, their lungs to the water.

The room is getting too hot, so they throw their blanket off, allowing the air to touch their burning skin. They inhale sharply at the sensation before realising they are no longer alone in the room.

"That's not a good idea," Supervillain glances in the general direction of the voice. What an astute observation. Had they not been this exhausted, they would have jumped up or searched for a weapon. Superhero shakes their head, walking out of the shadows.

"I'm not known for good ones," Supervillain admits, earning a low chuckle from their nemesis.

"How long have you been burning up like this?" Superhero asks, seizing them up. Supervillain raises an eyebrow watching Superhero point at their eyes. Ah, yes. Thermal vision. 

"What day is it today?" They ask. Their mouth is dry, but when they take a gulp of water, it feels stale against their tongue. "I've been down since Monday night."

"Are you out of your mind?" Superhero's voice goes unusually high. It must be about a week then, Supervillain assumes. They suspect it is pneumonia, and judging from the frown in Superhero's brow, they must be correct in that diagnosis. They want to ask how bad it is but opt for a safer route.

"I didn't exactly throw myself into a goddamn frozen river, did I?" They retort before going into a violent coughing fit. Superhero pulls them into a sitting position, rubbing circles on their back until they calm down. "You did."

"I know," Superhero looks ashamed, which they thoroughly enjoy despite the fever and weakness. They lean back against the couch, resting their spinning head. Dehydrated, Superhero mutters under their breath. "What do we do?"

Supervillain has to suppress a laugh at the risk of going into another uncontrollable fit. Their chest hurts from constant coughing. "How would I know? You're the ex-doctor here."

"There's no such thing as an ex-doctor," Superhero smiles, collecting their thoughts. They need ibuprofen, coughing syrup, some antibiotics, rest and lots to drink. "I wish I could listen to your lungs."

"Can't you do that with your eyes?" Superhero can't help the laugh that escapes their lips.

"Just how clueless are you?" They don't wait for a reply, marching into the kitchen only to come back with a new glass of water and some medicine in their hand. "Take this. It'll help you sleep while I make run for the pharmacy."

For some unfathomable reason, Supervillain obliges without question. They must be really weak, Superhero figures. They drape the blanket over Supervillain's form and find another for when their fever drops and they start shaking. They make a cup of lemon tea and place it on the coffee table, ordering Supervillain to drink it before their return.

Superhero knows who is to blame for the ice water bath, yet they can't help but wonder why there's no one taking care of the master criminal. No henchmen, no followers, no minions. Just them, alone in their lair. Their life behind the curtains feels eerily identical to Superhero's.

They glance back, wondering who and what they are fighting for and find no answer. Would anyone notice if one day Supervillain went missing? Seeing them now, they could as well be gone, and no one would come looking for their lifeless body. They could die alone in their living room, and no one would know. Would anyone notice if it were Superhero? They didn't know. They didn't want to know.

Hi, lovely anon! I might have taken this into a slightly different direction from what you expected but I hope you still find it fun. Thank you for the request :)

Masterlist

[i-am-a-l0st-gh0st]

We listen to a lotta true crime- Wrio x Gn!reader- Part 3

But it's alright, she'll be fine t/w- prison, Wriothesley flirts(?) with you, kissing (consent cause consent is sexy) summary-you've been wrongly accused of trying to murder your ex-husband and wriothesleys determined to get you out

Part 1, Part 2

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Taglist form!

The kiss that had happened the previous day had felt like a dream. The way his lips were so soft and gentle. Wriothesley was just perfect. The whole night you sat there blushing and kicking your legs like a little girl, anyone who walked in would’ve guessed what happened.

The next day Wriothesley came to your room once again. “Y/n wake up.”

His voice was stern and his face wasn’t much different. He walked right in sitting down next to you on the bed. “The Knave contacted me, She heard you were in prison.”

Your family has supported the House of Hearth for many years and Arlecchino was like a mother to you when your parents died. You grew up and eventually backed the orphanage financially, which she was very grateful for. The news had reached her ears because of Lyney.

He was one of your closest friends and you too always stuck together. Makes sense he would worry.

“She sounded terribly worried and asked what would happen. I told her about our plan and she said she can help in any way.”

“That's great! We have someone on our side.”

“Oh and also your court hearing is in a week.”

“What?”

“For the appeal.”

“Ah yes.”

You too continued to talk and figure out how you could win the court over. Over about an hour you could fell Wriothesley moving closer and closer, till you ended up in his arms. It was nice and warm, can’t say it helped you think too much but it was nice. Your ex-husband had never shown you affection the way Wriothesley does to you.

A week later

(Look I honestly have no idea how court things work, I have tried to write one before, but that story never finished.)

You and Wriothesley walked into the courtroom, but only one of you was confident. You were sweating and was almost not breathing properly. Wrio noticed this and began to help you. “Hey y/n, look at me okay? Its gonna work. And if it doesn't you can come back down to the fortress with me.”

“Wriothesley, I have a life… I need to get back to it.”

“I see.”

The judge began to silence the room and started the proceedings. She called you to the stand to present your brief. You felt like so many eyes were watching and almost couldn’t take it. THis was something you had to do… If you wanted out that is.

You took the stand and began to speak.

“I had an unfair trial as I barely had one at all. My ex-husband framed me for attempted murder for what reason I don't know. I was out with some friends all day and had hardly seen him, the witnesses are here. When i got home the police were already at my house and my husband was one the floor covered in what seemed to be blood. The next thing i knew i was in prison and now i am here. There is no evidence that i even tried to murder my husband, no finger prints and no other forms of DNA. Thank you for your time.”

The judge seemed to think over your statement before inviting your husband to the stand. After the proceedings, it was time for a final verdict.

“The defending party is declared not guilty.”

You and Wriothesley in happiness. You had won, you were free. You weren’t a criminal. You felt a large pair of arms pull you in for a hug.

“You won…”

You hugged him back pulling him into a tighter embrace, how could you leave him behind?

After you had recovered from the shock of winning Wriothesley took you out to dinner.

“So whatcha gonna do now?”

“Go back to my normal life.”

Wriothesley seemed slightly hurt, he wasn’t really included in your normal live, as he lived underwater. He knew he couldn’t get too hurt because he’d only met you, what a week ago?

“I’m assuming I’m not included.

“Wrio.. I really like you, I'm just not quite sure how it would work.”

“May i have this last night with you?”

“You may.”

Taglist

@pandragonsoul, @atsukawolfcat, @milkwithspicyicecubes, @pookiebearcave. @c0smouche, @with3ringh3ights, @kitsunechan707, @kpopmenace143

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Funfact : I love asking for part 2...

So if it's not a problem : part 2 of the Reader with a criminal past ??

-Crow Anon

Hiya! Hope this is okay, I wasn't sure what exactly to put aha!

Warnings: discussions of previous crimes, nice strauss? (lol)

Hotch left you alone for the remainder of the journey, suspecting that you needed some time alone, which you were grateful for. You were, to put it bluntly, shitting bricks. It had been expunged, it technically didn't exist anymore. But that didn't mean it still wouldn't bite you in the ass.

Towards the end of the flight, Hotch sat back down. "It's going to have to be included in the reports." He said, his voice understanding.

"I know."

"Which means Strauss will see it."

"Yeah." You gave a soft sigh. "There's no promise she's not going to majorly overreact about it, is there?"

"I can't make that promise, no."

"Ah shit." You gave a small sigh. "She won't fire me though, right?"

"I don't believe so, no."

The rest of the flight dragged, with you wanting to do nothing more than crawl into a hole and hide for the rest of eternity. She was probably going to tear you a new one.

She approaches you half an hour after you land. "Agent (L/N), we need to talk."

You give a small nod, "Yes Ma'am." You stood, following her to her office, where Hotch was stood. You give him a small nod. "I'm assuming this is something to do with the case?"

"You would be assuming correct, Agent (L/N)." Strauss said. "Please, take a seat."

You did so, Hotch sitting in the seat next to you. "I feel like I'm in the Principal's office," You mumble quietly, Hotch hides his amusement (but you can see it in his eyes).

"It has come to light that you have a criminal record."

"Had, Ma'am." You said, "It was expunged."

"And why, exactly, was it expunged?" She asked, tilting her head.

"Because, Ma'am, the Judge recognised that I was a child and I made mistakes, and I was sorry for those mistakes." You answered.

"And what, exactly were these crimes?"

You looked down at the file in her hands, "Ma'am, you already know and the file is right there." You said, "But theft, a couple cases of assault, few others."

She watched you closely for a moment before sighing and turning to Hotch. "Do you believe this coming to light will impact his ability to work?"

"No, I do not." Hotch answered.

"Very well." She said, "I suppose there's nothing else to say on the matter."

You frowned slightly, "That's it?" You asked.

Strauss fought the urge to smile, "Yes, that's it." She stated, "Agent Morgan also had a record that was expunged, it would be unfair to treat you any differently."

You gave a small nod, "Thank you Ma'am."

"You are both dismissed." She gave a curt nod of the head and turned to the stack of files on her desk. You and Hotch stood, making your way out of the room.

"Guess I was just making a mountain out of a mole hill." You looked at Hotch and gave a shrug.

[archivalofsins]

All the times that Yuno has hinted at wanting the audience to give her a 50/50 or say nothing omitting other notes I have on prisoners appearance or general attitude after trial one,

"About forgiving or not forgiving people, I don't think you'll be able to choose."

People tend to project their best case scenario on others. Stating that they believe they will do x or be incapable of doing x. I.E "You wouldn't hurt me." - "You won't do that." This is usually to allude to their desires while playing on the other persons morality and character. Though it can backfire if the other party takes it as a challenge or as the person speaking saying they are inept or inadequate which Es does-

I won't let something like that pass. Are you saying that you doubt my capability to do so?

"Ah, no that's not it. It's different to what you're thinking, prison guard." "You know those people who just want to convince themselves? So, they intrude on other people's affairs even though it's not their place- I despise them."

"They only do that to make themselves feel better. Don't they? Those people don't actually end up doing anything."

"No matter how many chilling memories I had to go through... Those people never gave me any warmth."

Umbilical

"Am I a bad girl? Please don’t answer."

(-273.15°C)

"This chaotic situation you've wrought with that job of yours- Is it fun?" What are you trying to say? "Are you personally satisfied? I mean, having forgiven and not forgiven. The prison is like this now." You mean the conflicts between the prisoners? "Yep! Kotoko-san, who you forgave, went super violent and then injured people came rolling in one after the other." Later "Ah... I don't have much interest in things like ethics and morals. Doesn't your stomach not inflate?" That sounds like quite a dangerous ideology. "No, but seriously, I really do think so... That there are lots of people who think, "I have to protect ethics and morals" then end up constrained and miserable. They should just live in a more easygoing manner."

"It's not like I want to win the discussion. I'm just saying what I think."

Using the direct translation here, "Doesn't your stomach not inflate?" to highlight this is once again Yuno asking Es isn't it not satisfying doesn't this not fill you up and leave you wanting for something. One could say it doesn't give that full tingly floating on air satisfied feeling. Are morals and ethics really enough of a metric to get to satisfying conclusions is a answer necessary for a satisfying conclusion?

Though Yuno does state she would have been find with not being forgiven or found guilty,

"Even if I was scorned by you, I would have been okay with being told I wasn't forgiven. I don't believe I'm not in the wrong. I'd accept it." ... "Despite that, you arbitrarily assumed things about me and sympathized with me. Even though all I did was make a rational decision of my own free will." I'm sorry, but that's the sort of thing Milgram is.

Then, I hate Milgram.

This is a side note but I find it interesting that Yuno consistently takes attention away from the abortion point she brought up. More so focusing on her work to the point that Es is like I'm not here to judge that.

I believe it depends on the degree. "Yes, yes. Of course, I think criminal offenses fundamentally aren't good." ... "But immoral acts that don't cause anyone misfortune do exist, right? Just like sugar-daddying. Because it's been deemed ethically wrong I was hiding it but... Is someone being troubled by it? It's a win-win engagement isn't it?" - The wanted wanting the wanter. The overlap, isn’t that some sort of perfection? ... It's as I said before, I have no intent to pursue the rights and wrongs of your acts outside of murder. However, the reality is that that is connected to your murder.

Please stop bringing up things that have nothing to do with your crime but it does have to do with your crime. Yuno, literally alluding to the fact that her work was in fact hurting people just to see it go over Es' head again. Then this topic just sort of fades.

They go into talking about something else.

Es just kind of doesn't combat her statement at all when she says it's not hurting anyone. Despite that just being historically untrue about the profession she's in. Mostly because people tend to cheat on their spouses with people in Yuno's line of work all the time. Something that does negatively impact the spouse, destroy families, and also if not done safely cause considerable health risks to clients and workers alike.

What do you mean it doesn't hurt anyone?

She specifies in trial one just how much this can hurt not only the client but the worker themselves. It mostly hurts the workers since they're held to a higher moral standard than the people usually seeking them out and paying them (while at times cheating on their spouses in the process).

She discusses the harm it can cause in her first trial interrogation,

"For example news outlets. They always make a big deal out of adultery, inappropriate comments, immodesty, and so on- Right? And then they start criticizing the people who make an appearance there. Don't you think it's ridiculous?"

So, she isn't ignorant to it.

To the contrary she seems to know the harm it causes when it comes to public opinion quite well. She even states that's why she didn't disclose the fact that she did that. So, why is she pretending like it's harmless here when again in her previous voice drama the first instance of news outlets stoking controversies was in regards to adultery. Something that people can and have for a long time committed with people in Yuno's profession.

Is it a win-win situation when one party has to take more responsibility than the other if what they are doing is found out and it's never really the person with the spouse, money, or affluence getting the short end of the stick but the person with the job?

No.

Yet, Yuno points out that she doesn't have to worry about those things. She did what she did because she wanted to not because she had to in any way shape or form.

"I'm not pitiable. My family gets along super well. And I'm not particularly struggling for money. I decided, of my own free will, to do it because I felt that it was necessary for me."

So, this is as she says in Tear Drop,

"The overlap, isn’t that some sort of perfection?"

Tear Drop

"Don’t weigh me measure me against your morality." "Just shut it, will you? You know it all."

"I can’t smile well anymore. It’s because of you."

“Let’s reload the warmth.”/“Let’s just do it, please smile?”

In closing,

Yuno in Milgram constantly, "That sort of treatment won't leave me satisfied."

The audience,

"Surely if we continue to vote her innocent she'll realize that she has nothing to feel bad about that her feelings are in fact unfounded. If we just keep using radical acceptance she'll realize she can let her guard down and be happy eventually." It yells and clamors so loudly it misses the part where she said she'd be able to accept a guilty verdict more than an innocent one.

Along with the myriad of times she stated that this sort of superficial sympathy given in order to make oneself feel good because one found a reason someone was worthy enough for it in their eyes does nothing for her and that the sort of people who behave that way are the one's she hates the most.

Probably has nothing to do with that I hate Milgram statement at all. She's probably super pleased now because she's accepted the publics opinion of her into her heart and was finally won over by kindness. Yippee everyone was so nice and everything was solved~ Isn't that fantastic?

"Can you not forgive without some extreme reason? Then, alternatively, if there was some extreme reason, could you forgive?"

The reality is that such sides of the issue exist.

Even though the act itself is the same?/ ……don’t tell me, did this murder seem smaller to you than the murders of the other prisoners? Thought-provoking!

[lurkiestvoid]

Headline 14h ago - Meta announces removal of fact checking

Headline 10h ago - Rump hints at economic war to annex Canada

Headline 9h ago - women can now be referred to as 'household objects' under new Meta guidelines

Headline 8h ago - Rump hints at military force to annex Greenland, Panama Canal

Headline 7h ago - Biden bans medical debt from affecting credit score

Headline 6h ago - Rump again alludes to WW3 if Israel isn't chilled out by Jan 20

Headline 5h ago - Rump says Gulf of Mexico to be renamed Gulf of America

Headline 4h ago - Rump team admits Jack Smith found evidence of vast criminal conspiracy

Headline 3h ago - Rump judge temporarily delays release of Jack Smith's Special Council Report

Ah, it begins again with gusto.

If y'all also memory-holed 2016-2021 like the rest of us, be prepared for the face-melting speed at which Shit Starts Happening in the coming weeks now that the election has been certified, and yes even before he's sworn in, whether or not he's allowed to do whatever it is.

No, it will not slow down, stop, or get better. It will keep getting faster, more, and worse.

It will be A Lot, just to even keep track of it all. Just like last time.

I do not have the energy for it, but if no one has already, there should be a good handful of blogs + mods prepared and dedicated just to covering as many headlines/stories as possible. It would be Important and possibly Dangerous Work. And even though I recognize it needs doing, I also recognize it is far outside my ability to reliably provide.

[hollow-prior]

Hurt People, Not Pets (The Rules of Vigilantism)

This is part four of a planned five-part mini-series involving Daredevil and Deadpool teaching Spidey about the unspoken rules of vigilantism. I started the series years ago and currently, this is the only part I ever finished. Ah well. Part of it might as well see the light of day

Fandom: Marvel (Daredevil, Deadpool, Spiderman)

Warnings:

Canon-typical violence/fighting.

Descriptions/mentions of dog fighting and animal murder.

There was a new vigilante on the scene.

That in and of itself was hardly cause for concern. Every so often some newly-enhanced shitbag showed up on the scene, wearing a handmade costume and bearing an alias that could only have come from a random word generator. 

Darkwar, Redfuel, Gangrene. They were all terrible.

Though, as Foggy liked to remind him, somebody named Daredevil didn’t exactly get to judge. Let those without sin cast the first stone and all that.

As far as Matt was concerned, that was different.

Matt had gotten stuck with a name he didn’t particularly want; they did their damned hardest to choose their own. They got their asses handed to them by common criminals and were sure to let whichever mugger or thug it was know their ‘superhero name’.

In the long run, though, he supposed it didn’t matter who chose their name. These new vigilantes popped up occasionally to bumble around and play hero. They didn’t last long. 

They never did.

Apart from getting in the middle of an important mission and screwing the whole thing up occasionally (Yes, ‘Jem Spell’, he was still mad about that), they weren’t a big problem. For the most part, they stayed off of Matt’s radar which, let’s face it, was better for everyone involved.

This person, though? He was different, at least according to Peter.

The teenaged wallcrawler had shown up during one of his fights, jumping in and taking on his share of the crooks with a cheerful, “Hey Double D!”

All throughout the fight he kept up a steady stream of chatter, his words going in one ear and out the other. After so many fights alongside him, Matt was used to filtering out his voice until it was little more than background noise.

The majority of the scumbags were already scattered across the pavement in various states of consciousness and, with Spidey’s help, the last few were quick to join them. Spiderman webbed them up and called the police and, despite Matt’s better judgement, he let him.

Something more important had caught his attention.

With the adrenaline of the fight wearing off, everything started to come into focus again, his senses spreading further throughout the secluded alleyway. A pipe in one of the buildings adjacent was leaking, a steady drip, drip slowly coming into focus as another sound began to make itself known.

Thump, thump, thump.

The heartbeat wasn’t the quick-paced thump-thump-thump of Peter’s or his own steady beat. It was something else entirely. Before he could move or say anything at all, Peter looked over.

“Wade,” he complained. “You could have helped!”

Wade hummed in acknowledgement and Matt could just picture the shit-eating grin he wore under his mask. “You and Red had it covered."

The sound of sirens came from a few streets over and without saying a word, the three made the unanimous decision to relocate. After all, bashing heads in the name of vigilante justice was generally frowned upon by officers of the law. They'd already learned that rule, thank you very much.

Once they were up on the nearby rooftop, Matt turned to them. “What are you two doing here? Talk.”

Peter was the first to speak. “We have a new target.”

That news was met with a raised eyebrow and threatening silence. Wade took over. “Red, dearest, there’s a new fuckhead to kill.”

“No! No killing,” Peter admonished, shoving Wade out of the way to take over once more. “Double D, I know you’re picky about who we uh- work on but this guy is terrible.”

“Everyone we deal with is terrible.”

Peter made a noise of frustration and finally, Matt conceded. With a sigh, he motioned for them to speak. “Fine. Who is it?”

There was a pause as Peter and Wade looked at each other, like they hadn’t expected him to give in so easily.

“He goes by the name Predator. You know the human trafficking ring? Well, some of them are involved in a dog fighting ring too. That’s what Predator’s been tracking down.”

Deadpool took over from there, pushing Peter aside with a gentle shove and taking his place two inches from Matt’s face.

“Mr. Predator-What’s-His-Face is taking down the dog fighting ring. Only problem that poor, sweety Petey has with this is that he’s taking down the people and the dogs.”

“He kills them, Red!”

While his teammates were perfectly capable of making complete sense on their own, their words might as well have been gibberish.

It took him a moment to piece the puzzle together.

Well. That certainly wouldn’t stand.

“What kind of intel do you have on him?”

—-—

Two nights later saw the three of them up on a rooftop, a fair distance away from their usual spot. It had taken hours of dedication and a lot of patience but, finally, they had gotten the information they needed.

Of course, most of Matt’s time had been spent corralling the other two rather than actually interrogating his informants, but it didn’t matter.

They’d gotten what they needed in the end.

In just short of an hour, there would be a group of the city’s worst thugs arriving for a show. Already, Matt could hear the dogs snarling and growling within the run-down warehouse.

It didn’t take long for Predator to show up.

The first thing Matt noticed was his heartbeat. Loud and fast, pounding away with a barely concealed anger that coursed through him.

Matt was familiar with the feeling. 

From the snickers and snarky comments coming from the left of him, he could gather that the guy had a pretty… intense costume. Black and covered in silver spikes, with a mask straight from a low-budget horror movie if Spidey and Deadpool were to be believed.

Just as he opened his mouth to tell them to shut up, there was a sudden commotion from the building next door.

All previous amusement was forgotten as the sound of shattered glass rang. Matt didn’t need his enhanced senses to hear the piercing screams that followed.

The three of them took off like a shot from a gun.

What remained of the window pane shattered as Matt crashed through it, followed closely behind by Spidey.

Deadpool chose a more… ostentatious entrance.

He came in through the front, kicking the door down and practically screaming the words to some 2010s pop song. The singing – if you could call it that – continued throughout the ensuing fight and, annoying as it was, Matt couldn't help being impressed with Deadpool's lung capacity.

Matt ducked to avoid a flying fist, popping up to deliver his own blow immediately after, and was met with the chorus of some god-awful sailor song.

After the fight, he would tell Deadpool that he hadn’t known he was there. He would say it was an accident, he got too caught up in the fight. But in the moment, he was all-too-glad to shut him up with a fist to the mouth.

The three of them ducked and weaved, working like a well-oiled machine, as their opponents began to drop like flies around them.

While Spidey was more acrobatic, jumping and flipping over whoever was in his way, Deadpool was all muscle and sharp blades, cutting down anyone brave enough to stand in his way. The two of them were complete opposites, with Matt's style falling somewhere between the two extremes.

By the time the fight was over, the three of them were breathing heavily. The sound of loud barking pierced through the post-fight haze and, as his senses returned to him, Matt’s focus shifted to the reason they were here in the first place.

Predator.

The man in question was standing just feet away, a slight wheezing coming from his leather-clad chest as he heaved in breath after breath. He wasn’t as used to this as the other three and it showed.

Without a glance at the them, he began to approach the dogs tied up in the corner, serrated steel blade in hand.

Deadpool was the first of them over there, throwing an arm around Predator’s shoulders and pulling him in for a side hug. Given the height difference between them – Predator was about five seven to Deadpool’s six three – it made for a bit of an awkward maneuver. 

“Somebody’s been a naughty, naughty boy,” he said, swaying from side to side and pinning the guy’s head against his chest, wrenching his neck with each movement.

To his credit, Predator fought tooth and nail to get free, cursing under his breath all the while. Against Deadpool’s hulking form, it was no use.

The other two watched the proceedings, making no move to intervene. Matt had been on the receiving end of that treatment far too many times, he was more than happy for it to happen to someone else this time.

When Deadpool finally released his captive, shoving him towards Matt and Spidey, the two were on him like white on rice.

Spidey caught him as he stumbled, steadying him quickly before letting him go as if he’d been burned. Not seconds after he had released the man, Matt was in his face, teeth bared in the Daredevil snarl that had sent much braver people running for their lives.

“What the hell!?!” The man took a staggering step back, his back slamming into the support pillar behind him as he tried to put some distance between him and the devil. “What's this 'sposed to be?”

Daredevil moved, pinning the man against the pillar in the blink of an eye. He leaned in close, his voice barely a whisper as he spoke. “A little arachnid told me you’ve been picking fights with the dogs."

Predator tried to protest but a quick slam of his head to the stone pillar shut him up.

"Now, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to go home, pack up that costume, and forget you ever wore it.”

"And? What if I don’t?”

His question was met with a thoughtful hum, as if Daredevil was simply pondering the question.

Out of nowhere, he slammed Predator against the pillar once more, a loud crack ringing out.

Leaning in close, he hissed something far too quiet to hear. Whatever it was had Predator blanching, frantically shoving at the devil’s chest with all his strength.

Matt just grinned, a feral bearing of teeth. The action was designed to intimidate and by God, it worked.

Daredevil released his prey, allowing the man to stagger back a few steps until he hit the wall. Predator took a few seconds to gather his senses before he was off like a rabbit, scrambling away from the run-down warehouse.

With that dealt with, Matt turned.

A little ways away, Spidey sat crouched on the ground, trying to convince the dogs to accept some belly rubs from him.

Given that said dogs were snarling giants, straining to escape and just barely held back by only the chains around their necks, he wasn’t making much progress.

Matt found Deadpool over in the opposite corner of the room, cooing and speaking to something on the ground.

A step closer revealed it to be a rat.

A hulking, beefcake of a rat.

Such a creature was a staple in New York, as fearless as Daredevil himself. Which may explain its tolerance of the massive, masked human looking back at him. As Deadpool chattered to the rat, telling it all about his day, the creature simply stared at him, nose twitching.

Standing in the middle of the abandoned warehouse, listening to Spidey coo at the dogs and Deadpool monologue to the rodent, Matt was hit with the realization that these were the people he worked with every night to keep his city safe.

...

Dear lord, New York was screwed.

[sugaflare]

tami reviews

drama name : The Judge from Hell (2024)

season : 1

my rating : 9/10

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ah yes who doesn't like to see women committing violence and taking revenge on those who deserve it ? I'm a huge fan of it tbh. This is a story about Justitia, who is punished to go on earth and k word 20 unforgivable criminals and send them back to hell but she possesses the body of Kang Bitna who is also a judge who presides over the criminal cases. The story follows the journey of Kang Bitna who never gives a deserving verdict to the criminals and instead makes them feel exactly how they made their victims feel and it's just so satisfying ???? This also follows the story of officer Han Daon who's been suspicious of her since day 1 and tries his best to catch her red handed (spoiler they instead fall in love lmao). There's also the concept of how hell works with its demons and their ranks. So yeah if you like court dramas mixed with mysterious criminal activities and fantasy elements (literally my three fav genres combined ohmygawd this kdrama was made for me) I would definitely recommend this drama to you. For me personally, I LOVED the cast and the character development and their acting and the storyline and all the plot twists and the fluff and comedy in between (I still wish there was a plot twist at the end but it's okay not everything can be perfect) but yeah this is the type of drama that you can't help but binge watch and that's exactly what I did and I'm in love.