#but civilians are killed almost every day

[venerawrites]

Helloo! could I humbly request relationship headcanons for Sasuke before and after the war? as in the difference between him then and after? I always thought he'd be a lot more mature and his views on things might change? especially since before he never would've had the time to actually consider things like romantic relationships and such to a deep extent? I'd love to hear your thoughts! I wish you a good day/night!

(fem reader or gn!neutral is up to you! I'm okay with either!)

author's note: hi, lovely! I am so glad to get a request for Sasuke, as he is one of my favourite boys, but I don't really get the chance to write a lot for him. I guess the "after the war" Sasuke can be a bit OOC if you follow Boruto, but as I haven't watched it and I don't really agree with how most of the characters developed... I just kind of wrote the way I envision it. I hope you enjoy! <3

BEFORE the war

It is very hard to imagine Sasuke having a relationship with someone during the time when the only thing that plagued his mind was the idea of revenge.

If he was to get interested in someone, I would imagine it would be a civilian/retired ninja during his travels with Team Taka. (I don't really imagine him falling for a ninja tbh)

I think even here, we have to separate before and after Itachi's death...

Let's roll with the idea that he meets his s/o before killing his brother. During this time he won't be really interested in forming a relationship - for a really long time he won't even understand what is that funny thing inside his chest and why he feel the need to visit his s/o's house every few months.

Sasuke has the tendency to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants, so I imagine that this is how he will behave with his s/o the same way - he will visit his their house at random times, always staying for different periods of time; demand that they heal him (if his s/o is a healer or had any basic medical knowledge); he would buy stuff for the house from the local market or leave some of his own (such as some of his clothes), almost as a way to establish a claim over them/their property.

He would never put a label on the type of "situationship" him and his s/o share, but it is clear to both that whatever is going on is deeper than a friendship.

Still very cold and reserved - would share very minimal information about his past or his goals, preferring to either sit in silence or ask his s/o questions.

Kind of grumpy and rude ALL THE DAMN TIME.

He didn't want to entertain the idea of having feelings for someone, yet he couldn't stay away. The intentions of his visits were always masked with some type of "excuse" - he was in "hiding"; he needed somewhere to "heal"; he wanted a "break" from his team etc. Yet he couldn't help but feel annoyed he was getting distracted from his main goal and he was taking it on his s/o in the form of snappy comments, rolling eyes, constant huffing and just in general bad attitude.

A silent protector - he would check on his s/o quite often, sometimes not even visiting their house, just watching from a distance to make sure they are okay. I imagine during this time he would be highly alert and worried Itachi may try to target his s/o, so he may even act a bit controlling by banning them from leaving their house after dark or letting any strangers inside.

Now Sasuke after killing Itachi and learning the truth about his clan... is a COMPLETELY different story.

We all know his mental health completely collapsed during this time and his mind spiraled downward. This would affect not only his actions, but also his relationship.

For starters, he would clearly establish that he consider them as "his" (if it was not clear before, it is now). His paranoia that everyone is after him, fueled with the fact that he not only wanted a revenge on Konoha, but also the belief that he needs to start rebuilding his clan soon, would push him into constantly trying to persuade his s/o to leave with him.

Now I've said that before, but I don't see Sasuke with the shy, agreeable type of partner... so most likely his s/o would just cuss him out and tell him to leave.

Lot's of arguments, jealousy and gaslighting - Sasuke is literally a walking RED FLAG during that time.

He also is not the type to give up easily, so even if his s/o tries to 'break things off', there is no getting rid of him - his s/o is HIS and he would make sure not only they understand it, but that the WHOLE WORLD does. Nobody loves like an Uchiha after all...

AFTER the war

If you expect head canons based on Sasuke's personality in Boruto... you better stop reading here! I've never seen Boruto, but I've read enough to know that (at least for me) almost all of the OG characters are ruined. So here is my interpretation of what type of partner Sasuke would be after the war...

Firstly, let's start with the fact that he will be by himself for a long time while travelling during his "exhile". Even if he had some type of partner/crush before the war, it is unlikely their relationship would survive after the war.

(which is quite good actually, because as I mentioned above, such relationship would be highly toxic and dysfunctional!)

I think at least a few years need to pass for him to really find himself, find his purpose and accept his past and that of his clan. He has been through a lot of trauma which needs a lot of healing and self-discovery.

Like mentioned above, I don't think he would fall in love with a ninja. In fact, I believe someone who is not really part of that bloody and cruel world would be perfect for him and he would finally have the chance to be himself.

Someone with a lot of patience would suit him well, because while he is more mature, I think he would be very insecure. He never really formed any significant bonds with other people, so he is unsure how to proceed and how to properly treat his s/o.

Definitely friends-to-lovers type of love story.

Sasuke after the war would be more patient and calm, but still fiercely overprotective. I still think he would scold his s/o of they are too careless or too trusting with strangers, he would be nearly as controlling as his younger self.

Tbh I never understood the character development in Boruto, because in my opinion adult Sasuke would totally want a quiet settled life with his partner, away from battles and more bloodshed.

It's already settled in him to be a provider and to be honest I imagine him as a very traditional male figure - the head of the family, the one taking care of his partner and kids, providing protection and security.

He still has a lot to learn and overcome, but the main thing that sets him apart from his younger self is the willingness to listen to his partner and work on himself.

He is still occasionally rude and snappy, and to an outsider way too cold and reserved toward his partner, but to his s/o it would be obvious that he does try to show affection in his own way - waking up before everyone else, so he can prepare breakfast; unconsciously shielding his partner (and kids) with his body in public; small gifts, most of which handmade; subtle touches on the arm or the lower back...

Overall, a piece of work... but definitely one that is worth it!

cc artwork: Christian Benavides

[medicinemane]

Like I've said, I try not to talk about it too much because it is a heavy topic, and I don't want people overwhelmed and burnt out to the point it all feels hopeless and they tune out

But the reason I do sometimes share stories like that last one about Ukraine is... I just... I really want to make sure people understand what this war is about

If russia pulls out... they fail to expand their territory and they have to go back and lick their wounds... that's it

If Ukraine gives up... they die. Towns under russia occupation are bad. Real bad. I don't share most of it because of how horrendous it is. Then people not under occupation can still have a missile hit their house at any time for not reason

It's literally a matter of life and death vs colonial ambitions

So I try to keep from bringing it up too often cause I understand the fatigue we all feel from all the horrible news we get, but this is why I feel so strongly about this, and this is why I hope that you, whoever you are reading this, also at least generally support Ukraine even if you can't keep up with all the details

I just don't want any more kids dying in missile strikes

[cacw]

adding onto that one I feel like they put too much emphasis on how bad bucky feels about killing while he was the winter soldier as if he hadn't killed what must have been countless people beforehand

[lass-us-slay]

Lois feels her throat close up, feeling a growing lump she cant force down. And can’t help but stare at the boy. And her body feels like it’s unable to even move, frozen in place because-

God that’s a child, just a little boy tied up like he… he’s some experimental animal, like he’s not even human.

And for a moment she just stands there, until the boy opens his eyes. And oh god those eyes, those eyes look so tired, and scared. Like he’s seen some horrible monsters that plan on eating him, and to be fair… maybe it’s not so far from the truth.

Those piercing icy blue eyes that hold so much fear (fear a child- a boy no less- should not be holding) is what makes her come to her senses.

And distantly she can see more resemblance between this boy in this… cell… and her baby boys best friend.

Like being snapped from a trance Lois comes back to reality. And further steps into the room, closing the door behind her (because so god help her she’s not going to get caught, not when there’s a CHILD (whose mind you, maybe not much older Jon) is being help captive).

She can tell the boy is staring intently at her movements, trying to discern if she’s like the rest of the people here.

And before she even starts talking, she clicks on her recorder. After what feels like forever she swallows the lump in her throat that thought it could get comfortable her throat.

Not today, or any day lump!

“..Hello, I’m- I’m Lois Lane with… god kid what…” Fair to say Lois lost her voice as quickly as she got it.

Ugh this isn’t you Lois! Focus, this kid needs you. She internally scolded herself, as the kid continued to stare at her. God did he even have enough strength to speak back from how thin and brittle he looks..?

With a deep breath Lois shoved away her own problems, she could work on it without the kids life in danger at this very moment.

“Can you speak..?” She asked walking over to the cell that held him like an animal unworthy of human care.

As she was about to touch the cell keypad she fell short. Unable to continue with the action as she heard a small, weak and hoarse voice. It made her heart break a little at how weak it sounded.

“Don’t… to-ch-…” The boy sounded out, taking a moment to clear his throat.

“Is’ not… go-na end well..” he continued, moving to sit up from his laying down position on the floor.

Lois could see his hair stick to his face and neck from how sweaty he looked. He looked so tired from the simple action of sitting up. More than how he looked before.

“Why not- I’m not leaving you here.” She stated with a ‘no argument tone’ that Jon always commented on.

“They’r not gonna.. give me’ up so easy…” He spoke back, Lois wanted to retort that. Say that she could get him out but…

She knew she couldn’t, this is a government funded facility. And she broke into it. She may be stubborn, but she she’s not foolish.

“I’ll find you a way out, I promise. So just tell me anything and everything you can think of about this- GIW. Their purpose, who they are, anything”

She almost pleaded as she stepped away from the cell with clenched fists. Barely being able to not look away from his icy winter eyes, which reminded her of Bruce’s eyes.

The boy, for his part just nodded weakly. Having moved to lean against the calls glass wall.

“M’ names Danny… Daniel Fen…Fenton..” he stared, Lois for her part. Started taking pictures of the room, and… Danny himself.

“M’ from… Amity, Amity Pa-k-“ he took a moment to clear his throat.

“Amity… park.. Illinois.. uh.. GIW is’- .. means, Ghost. Inves-tigation- Ward.”

“Ghost? Aren’t those superstitions?” She instinctively asked.

As the boy explained roughly about how ghosts were technically ecto beings. Lois opened up a drawer with, which lucky for her held some important information.

Taking pictures of those documents which were mostly about the boy -Danny, who looked so much like her Jon’s best friend but with Bruce’s eyes- it made her heart stutter.

They’d already had his internal workings down on paper… they had- god it made her wanna puke and feel nauseous… it’s wasn’t until she heard the next words from Danny that made her freeze

“They uh- … the last I remember of th- the outside.. was… March..?” Danny, the poor boy got out from his sore, haggard throat.

It had to hold onto the drawer for support… it’s July.

The GIW had had him for 5 months.

Her breath shuddered as she forcibly got her composure back, she couldn’t waver now. The boy will freak if he finds out.

“…Ho-w.. long..?” The poor boy asked. It made Lois purse her lips to stop herself from indicating just how much time had passed. Good thing her back was turned on him.

“Not.. not too long.” She had a feeling she didn’t convince him from his silence.

Straightening herself she put the files back. She got her evidence. With the files back in place she looked back at the boy, so similar to Jon. Her precious baby boy.

Only to find Danny back on the floor, no longer leaning on the glass wall of the cell. There was green sorta gas’s filling it now, shit did she trigger it-

“Kid—“

“S’ kay’ ma’am… their’ cmin’ back…” He managed, looking up much more tiredly at Lois now.

“Kid you with me?!” She scurried to his side, the solid thick glass separating the two of them. If only she had Clark’s strength, just this once.

“Go… their’ cmin’ back… please’ just-.. don’t get caught…” Danny looked straight into Loises eyes. As drowsy as he was, he made sure not to slur his last 3 words together.

All Lois could do was nod, and silently promise herself, and the kid that she was going to do everything she could to get him out. And destroy the GIW.

Looking around quickly she found a little body hole behind a the large mass of drawers and crates towards the back.

Luckily was still able to somewhat see the kids cell from her position. And hastily pull up her phone to record. With the brightness all the way down of course, she doesn’t want to get caught.

Not after find out out what they’d been doing with a fucking child.

Several men in white came in, all of them holding either guns or what looks to be tasers, with two of them having a pole on hand. Lois couldn’t help but think is those were even necessary… he’s a child

And seeing them talk to him like he’s an animal, even going so far as to calling ‘him’ and ‘it’. It made her blood boil.

But not as much as when they tased and beat him when he tried to move away from, or fight back at them. She couldn’t help the small flinch at his muffled grunts and slight whimpers in pain as he took the beating.

She caught the one of them saying why he was acting up now… god Danny was doing that on purpose… for her. To add more to what she has.

And as much as she appreciates it, she wishes he didn’t do that… he’s a child, he shouldn’t have had to do that.

After a 1 minute and 24 seconds (according to the recording) Danny finally gave out. She couldn’t properly see him but she could tell he was heaving hard, trying to catch his breath. The guards with the poles moved and-

And she felt pure rage at how they forcibly moved him with the poles attached to his collar. Keeping him a distance from themselves as they moved him, like a feral dog on the streets.

But it was the fact that Danny was barely making an effort to fight back, and being dragged around carelessly and cruelly by his neck was what got to her.

But she forced down the drive to go up to them and fight them herself. Because again, they’re the government. The only good that’ll do is just for her anger. It’s not gonna help Danny.

It’s not gonna help the poor boy that looks so much like her boy, Jon’s best friend.

It’s not gonna help Danny whose being treated like a feral animal by these people (Can she even consider them people from how they are treating a child?).

So she bites her tongue, waits until they leave.

And begins her search of the facility.

With her phone recording and her recorder having been turned on since she fist spoke with the boy.

Lois Lane, the best reporter and investigator of the Daily Planet. Makes her way around the facility, fitting into the white clad sorry excuse of people, with a uniform she found in one of the boxes.

———

Much later, as the morning rays of dawn shed light upon Metropolis’s waking buildings.

A certain woman with black shoulder length hair, and clad in a white suit exits a building near the outskirts of Metroplis.

Her hands are clenched in tight fists as she walks out of the facility’s grounds. As she walks towards the City to where she last parked her car, she brings up her phone once more.

Having recorded all she needed within it, she calls a certain man of steel.

“Hey Lois, where are you?” A man’s voice spoke after not even the second ring.

“I’m coming come right now, but I need you to get ready. This may need a certain man of steel.” She responded back, not even acknowledging his question. For realistically he already hears where she is right now.

“Understood-“ as Clark was about to continued Lois cut him off.

“We need all hands on deck, especially Batman.” Lois could feel Clark tense from this far away as she continued her way back to the street she left her car at.

“I see, I’ll let him know. Your safe thought right?” He asked, that lovable goose, oh how he brought a small, painful smile to her face.

“Yes I’m safe, is Jon okay..?” She suppressed a wince at how her voice cracked towards the end. The image of the broken and beaten boy coming it the forefront of her mind.

“Yes of course… is he somehow involved?” Lois almost lost her footing at the idea. And the tense voice of Clark just amplified the fact that- the kid.

Danny had no one… she saw the little note on the files, on how they’ve been ‘brainwashed’ and were forced to be ‘put down’.

Danny had no one to care, and it broke her heart to think of something like that happening to her boy, to her little Jon.

“Never.” She answered firmly. No way, over her dead body.

“We’ll talk move when I get back.” And with that she ended the call. Having neared her car she reaffirmed her resolve to absolutely crush the GIW for what they had done to Danny.

She’ll make sure they are sorry for doing all they did to him. She has all the evidence.

All she needs now is time to shut them down.

Time that she doesn’t have.

Time that Danny, doesn’t have.

"This better get on the front page" Lois mutters under her breath. She's currently hiding in a crate that's being transported into a secretive "government" facility that calls themselves the GIW. No official data has been released as to what that acronym stands for. A new facility of theirs opened up in Metropolis and Lois is determined to find out what this organization is doing behind closed doors. From the rumors she's heard it sounds like it's Project Stargate level of crazy. This might get her another Pulitzer Prize.

Lois feels the truck holding her, and many many pallets of lead lined crates, pull to a stop. After that it's a blur of muffled words spoken by GIW employees as they unload the truck. Her crate gets picked up by a forklift and moved somewhere deep into the facility. Perfect.

After ten agonizing minutes, the forklift stops and lowers the crate into an unknown room and drives away.

Lois waits.

She has a thermal reader to detect if anyone is inside the room with her that (thank you Bruce) works through two inches of steel and lead.

The only thing she saw that was noticeable was an oddly large cold spot in an adjacent room.

Well it's now or never.

Lois moves cautiously, slowly opening the lid of the crate from underneath just enough to crawl herself through and then slowly put the lid back, careful to not make a sound.

She turns away from the crate and goes to investigate that cold spot.

Past a door, through a short hallway, and inside a high security cell, Lois saw the source of the temperature anomaly.

It's a boy. A boy no older than her son… A boy who was emaciated, collared, handcuffed, and covered in gauze.

A boy who looked near identical to her son's best friend, Damian.

[christianstepmoms]

Not to downplay the persistent 10 month long carpet bombing of an entire city, but there's something particularly insidious about making a tens of thousands of civilians Pagers remote detonate simultaneously. like that requires an obscene amount of coordinated knowledge to infiltrate a countries entire phone network, reverse engineer tens of thousands devices to cause their batteries to overload and fucking explode, all at the same time.

In the minutes it takes to deploy long range explosives you can almost see how somebody would be able emotionally distance themselves from causing mass slaughter, but this took time to prepare. Every single minute, hour, day, month a year it took to plan, code, hack and coordinate this was done with persistent unbridled malice and intent to hurt and kill as many people as possible with particular consideration and subsequent disregard for collateral.

Israel must be destroyed. Every single Israeli soldier and government employee, bottom to top needs to be executed.

[gojosatorubrainrot]

Scars don't define you💫

Summary: Gojo starts to feel insecure about your love for him because of his scars

Feat: Gojo Satoru x reader

Content: fluff, mentions of Gojo vs Sukuna fight, reassuring, body insecurities, husband!Gojo x Wife!Reader. Ch 261 doesn't exist lol

Wc: 1121

Author's note: Hi!! I've never thought I will ever be doing this but here we are! Encouraged by my gojo friends in discord to continue this drabble🥰 Sorry in advanced for my poor grammar, English is not my first language 🫡

The Shinjuku incident meant a reborn for the the strongest sorcerer, and you, his wife as well. You almost lost the love of your life by the hands of the King of Curses. At first, you thought everything was over when you saw him laying down on the floor, his lifeless body starting to be covered by the heavy snow storm that had began to fall minutes earlier.

You felt useless, after all, you were a non sorcerer, so,as a civilian, you didn't to have another choice than staying where Shoko and the others were watching the battle being broadcasted.

But its been a long time since that jumpscare and you thanked every existent God and also Shoko for bringing your reason of living back to your arms.

Satoru and you both were laying in bed together, you are running your fingers along his scarred face; each fingertips of yours feeling every single injury of his skin.

As you continue with your doing,he closes his eyes at the softness of your sweet touch, at first, he enjoys it a lot, he always loved the way you did it, always being careful as if he was a glass meant to break, but fear set up on his mind;he thought you hated his scars, that you despise them and  those marks ruined his pretty face, that you wouldn't love him anymore and, eventually, you would leave him alone as everyone did during his life, but this time, he wouldn't have a reason of living because you are his everything.

He doesn't even want to think how a life without in it would be, how alone he would feel again just like he did after Suguru's departure.

When that event occurred, when he was ordered to kill his best friend, he has never felt so useless as a sorcerer, but most of all, as a human being, so that was the reason he chose to stay alone for the rest of his days, to prevent someone from getting hurt by the mere fact of being involved with him. That was his idea until he met you at his favorite kikufuku store. He didn't believe in love at the first sight until he met you nor how does it feel to be in love until you.

you, his everything

He was afraid of losing you again, but now it was because of his appearance, he hated those scars because that meant you won't call him pretty angel or pretty face ever again. On the other hand, they were his reminder of a second opportunity, an opportunity he would take advantage of. His second chance to make things right and spend as much time as he could with you: not spending nights working or on mission trips, only with you, his home.

Now he is debating if telling you or not about his insecurity with his scarred skin, because he thinks you would laugh at this and ignore him, but call him silly for thinking that.

As he thinks about that, he sits up, preparing to get his shirt on. You can see how the mood changed, how an intimate moment filled with love and adoration became one filled with insecurities and non spoken words. He is looking for his shirt to put it on and leave the bedroom towards the balcony, so he can spare his mind off a little bit.

You wonder why he was feeling troubled and why he decided to ignore you and not talking with you as he has always done before. You are hesitant about ask him or not, you always wanted to give Satoru his space, you always respected that because after some time, he will come to you and tell you everything between thousands and thousands sorry for not telling you before.

All you can see now is his scarred back, and your intuition is screaming at you to do something so he could open himself up to you. After few seconds, an idea popped up in your mind; while satoru has his head between his hands, you approached to him slowly trying to not get noticed.

Satoru, who was lost in thoughts, suddenly felt your plump and soft lips along his scared back, giving it small pecs and smooches, replacing your lips with your small fingers tracing every single scar. He didn't understand what you were doing so he let you do so. Suddenly,he feels something he has only felt with you and you only: loved, adored, cherished, he was seen as a human, not a pretty face as he has been called few times, the strongest weapon for the jujutsu society, he was Satoru Gojo for you, your Toru.

He turned his head to where you were tracing your fingers and stared at you: you were focused and determined to make him feel alive again.

His small chuckle made you look up and meet those blue eyes you fell in love with many years ago;

"Hi sweets" he whispered without looking away" What are you doing?"

"Hi Toru" you giggled at that nickname he gave you only when you both were in an intimate moment "Nothing, just admiring your beauty" you responded never looking away from his mesmerizing blue eyes.

"Nothing about me is beautiful, princess" he said defeated. "Look at me" he pointed at his scarred skin, despising it, hating it.

"I'm looking at you, Toru. I'm always looking at you and all I see it's the prettiest, the most caring, loving man that I've ever met" you said putting his face in between your hands "I love you,Toru. If you ever think those scars will stop me from loving you, I must tell you don't me well. These scars are telling me that you are here" you give him a kiss in the tip of his pinky nose "alive, with me in our home"

After yours words, Satoru’s eyes immediately fill with tears, but before you notice, he closes his eyes to stop them and leans his head to your warm and reassuring touch, a warm feeling inside his chest arises.

He feels so grateful with you, you are his everything.You stopped caressing him at the moment he opens his eyes, blue like the ocean itself "I love you, angel" he says at the same time you started caressing the scar across his cheek.

"I love you too, Satoru and remember that you can tell me any trouble or inconvenience you are living through, okay? I'll always love you until my last breath" you said finishing the sentence with a quick kiss, which is immediately reciprocated 

With this Satoru knew that he would never feel alone again.

[azrielbrainrot]

Silent Voices Speak

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Description: Both you and Azriel find yourselves with some sleep related problems. Who would have thought you could be each other's remedy?

Warnings: barely any angst

Word Count: 3400

Notes: I can't believe it took me so long to write a new story in the healer!reader universe, they're my first babies. Hope you enjoy!

Healer!Reader Universe Masterlist

The killings hadn't stopped. The, by now, tripled security slowed them down and allowed the Inner Circle to be made aware of any disturbances quicker, and the bodies hadn't been found by any innocent civilians since then either, thankfully saving a lot of fae from having to witness such gruesome sights, but the killings hadn't stopped.

Your research has given you some clues as to the motives behind the murders, though you still can't fully understand the ritual behind them. None of the information you've gathered has helped in stopping them from happening or finding the people responsible for them. Amren has traveled to the Day Court and is now searching the High Lord's extensive libraries to try and find more information on a lead she got but, for now, there wasn't enough to make anyone feel safer.

The streets of Velaris felt lifeless, bars and restaurants closing earlier than usual given the unofficial curfew every fae seemed to have set for themselves. The City of Dreamers, heart of the Night Court, was scared of the dark. Apart from the killings, that was what weighed the heaviest on the Inner Circle's minds.

Feyre and Rhysand had been forthcoming with information, letting the public know they were actively searching for the killers and sharing some of the details as a means to stop the rumors that kept going around that were only exaggerating the already awful murders the more they spread. Of course, they'd been careful not to reveal any of the more gruesome details, or the fact that everything pointed to the murders actually being sacrifices to what could be an old God or even worse.

Those had been the details keeping you up at night as you were now, sipping on chamomile tea in hopes of relaxing your body enough to get some sleep without any unwanted thoughts filtering through and spoiling it once again. You wanted to help as much as you could, and weren't considering talking to Rhys and backing down as Azriel had suggested multiple times, but you weren't used to witnessing this much cruelty, not like this.

When you'd been stationed as a healer during the war, you saw a lot of awful things, some of them you won't ever forget, but this felt different. Everything about these killings and the motives behind them had set off every alarm in your body.

The cup was empty before you realized, bringing it up to your mouth only to be met with nothing. You let out a sigh and look over to the comfortable bed, knowing you had to at least lay down and try to fall asleep, no matter how frustrating it was to toss and turn for hours on end or get woken up by terrifying dreams. At least this bed was a lot more comfortable than the one you had at home, it almost made you want to ask Rhysand where he got it from although you probably would never be able to afford it.

You're not entirely sure what brought it on but, after coming back from yet another fruitless mission, Azriel asked you to stay in the townhouse with him. You tried to decline, not entirely comfortable with staying at the High Lord's house indefinitely. You've spent some nights up in the House of Wind when you were helping with research, but this was different. You didn't want to take advantage of Rhysand and Feyre's kindness, but Azriel insisted, a tormented look you weren't used to seeing painted in the shadowsinger's face, and so you ended up accepting.

Just remembering your talk that night made you feel hopeless, wanting nothing more than to make him feel better and take some of the unbearable weight off his shoulders somehow.

“I'm not sure this is necessary,” you try to reason with him, “There haven't been any attacks in the city, with so many eyes on the streets it would be impossible.”

“It also seemed impossible for them to be able to hide for so long but even my shadows are blind to them.”

“I can't stay at my High Lord and Lady's home."

“I can't sleep not knowing you're safe,” the admission feels heavy between you, prompting you to study his face carefully, taking note of the fear and desperation behind his request. “I wouldn't forgive myself if something happened to you.”

“Azriel…”

You don't know what to say, not sure what this means for the two of you.

“Please.”

But with that little word he convinced you, not caring if it was Rhysand's house you were going to sleep in, or anyone else's, as long as it made Azriel feel at least a bit more at ease.

Your relationship has been changing ever since that fateful night when he kissed your cheek goodnight. It's a silly thought even now, that something so inconsequential as a peck to the cheek would end up meaning so much for the two of you.

Ever since that day your talks have gotten longer and more frequent, Azriel has also flown you to and from work a few times, has taken you on multiple outings that you can only classify as dates at this point. But things hadn't gotten further than that and more chaste kisses on the cheek.

The timing wasn't right. Not with everything that has been happening and the troubles filling both of your minds, the long hours Azriel had been putting his body through trying to find even the smallest clue about these murders, and your assistance in any research the Inner Circle needs as well as providing mental and physical aid to a terrified city.

Your feelings for him were impossible to deny - even though you've certainly tried to when everyone else asks about him, especially your High Lady, who you've come to learn is an avid busybody, - and you were more than confident that he cared for you just as much, but the timing wasn't right, and so you've been stuck between acting like friends and so much more.

You were still thinking about the shadowsinger when your head hit the pillow, making yourself comfortable and letting your thoughts wander around warm hazel eyes and shy smiles, hopefully lulling you into a peaceful sleep at last.

Rushed murmurs and harsh breaths take you away from the soft grasp of sleep. You try to ignore them at first but as the words grow louder, you try to decipher them confused. A flurry of shadows filters into your room, flying over you when you open your eyes to try and ascertain the situation. You can barely see them with the low lights the moon rays covered by dark curtains provide, but it almost feels like they're tugging at you, urging you to get up.

The thought that Azriel could be in danger makes you leap out of bed, foregoing your robe or slippers as you follow the frantic shadows to his room next to yours. Only hesitating at the door for a moment, knuckles raised against the intricately designed wood as you considered knocking before barging into his room unannounced, but another string of groans and panicked breathing assault your ears, prompting you to open the door.

Your eyes land on the shadowsinger immediately as he lay restless on his bed, blinking a few times as you adjusted to the dim lighting, his room being even darker than yours. A small sigh of relief escapes you when you find him unharmed, although you soon realize that the noises you heard were the result of what appears to be a particularly consuming and terrifying nightmare.

He had struggled so much in his sleep that the sheets were completely thrown off, laying by his feet as his body tossed and turned uninterrupted. A light sheen of sweat covered him, telling you he'd been at this for a while. There was a familiar glint of blue on his nightstand, as Truth Teller and two of his siphons lay close by. You tried not to linger on the fact that he didn't appear to be wearing anything else aside from underwear for too long.

Some of the shadows that swirled around the room meet the ones that had brought you here, moving over you once more as if asking you to save their singer. You wanted to help them, but you're not entirely sure if you should he seeing him like this, if he'd want you to see him so vulnerable.

Aside from that, waking up someone when they were so immersed in a dream, especially a nightmare, could be dangerous and bring more harm than good. Still, you couldn't leave him like this and go back to your room, so you decide to try and call his name softly, hoping the noise or familiarity will be enough to help him wake up in a more organic way.

“Azriel?”

You hesitate in the doorway, feeling like you were already invading his space, but as another weak cry escapes him your body moves on its own. You're at the edge of the bed before you even notice, repeating his name and shaking him softly so as not to startle him too much.

The pain was evident on his face. You didn't know what he was dreaming of but you knew you had to pull him out of there fast. You've never seen him so distressed. Watching him like this felt like a chain was tightening around your heart and lungs, making it hard for you to breathe or think.

At a slightly harder push, his eyes open, one scarred hand moving to grab your wrist, stopping you from touching him, as the other met to the nightstand, finding the hilt of his dagger. His hazel eyes were open wide, clearly disoriented by not only the nightmare but also having someone in his room. You expected nothing less from the Spymaster, of course he couldn't be so easily caught off guard even in his own room, but the tight grip was becoming too much, and you knew it was bruising, not being able to stop yourself from cringing softly at the pain.

As he understands the situation, wide eyes blinking multiple times as the waking world comes into focus, he drops your wrist and pulls away from you, sitting up and almost bumping his head against the headboard in his rush.

Neither of you moves or speaks for a moment, his heavy breathing the only thing that can be heard in the dark room. You wanted to turn the faelights on, to properly check on him, but Azriel always prefered the dark, feeling much more at ease surrounded by it. In fact, his shadows had hurried to him as soon as he woke up.

When his wide gaze settles into a frown, hazel eyes dropping to your wrist, you decide to speak up. You know that look and this was not the time for any other worries that might be growing in his mind, certainly none that concerned you.

“Azriel,” you whisper, not wanting to startle him, “Are you okay?”

“Did I hurt you?”

“No-”

“I shouldn't have hurt you,” he says, more to himself than to you, haunted eyes never straying from your wrist. You had only wanted to help, but now it feels like you made it worse by coming here.

“No, it's my fault. I know better than to wake someone up from a nightmare,” you swallow, throat suddenly dry, “but it looked like you were in pain and I couldn't leave you like this.”

He seemed unwilling to listen to you, a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head the only answer he gave you as you told him it wasn't his fault. Azriel is always too aware of himself, never allows himself any mistakes, as if he thinks he has to prove himself worthy of the life he leads. You don't even want to know what's going through his head now that he's convinced himself he hurt someone he cares about.

You let out a sigh when it was clear he wasn't going to say anything or acknowledge you further, you could almost see him receding into his own mind, getting consumed by his betraying thoughts. If you had listened to your training, you might not have ended up in this situation.

Slowly and very carefully, you move closer to him, giving him time to push you away or stop you if he wanted to. You only stop when your bare knee brushes his thigh, the warmth of his skin spreading through yours. Reaching for his hand, you interlock your fingers and squeeze softly, his eyes finally meeting yours.

“I shouldn't have grabbed you like that.” The pain was evident in his face, and it hurt you far more to think he was beating himself up than your wrist ever did. “I'm sorry.”

“There's no reason to be sorry,” you smile up at him, trying your best to soothe him, “You were disoriented and moved to protect yourself, that's all.”

He still looks unwilling to let go of his guilt, but you can see him settling back into himself, his usual calm expression falling over his beautiful face. He lets go of your hand in favor of cradling your wrist, carefully inspecting it as if he was looking at a broken bone and not at a bruise that would be completely healed within the hour. Caressing the soft skin with his thumb lightly, the scarred skin and affection behind the movement causing goosebumps to erupt.

“You didn't answer my question. Are you alright?”

Azriel looks up at you then, a conflicted look falling over his face once more. It seems he had been too focused on your wrist to remember the nightmare, and the fact that you'd seen him like that. You're almost positive he hates the fact that you've seen him like that even more than whatever haunted his nightmares. He's always been an extremely private person, so you can't even imagine what it feels like for him to be seen in such a vulnerable light by someone he barely knows.

“Did I wake you?”

“No,” the expression on his face telling you he doesn't believe it, “You didn't. I've been finding it hard to sleep with everything that has been going on.”

“You're safe here.”

“I know, I've just had too much on my mind.” It feels like you're doing this wrong, you're the one that should be worried about him, not the other way around. “Your shadows came into my room and I heard movement so I came to check on you.”

Disapprovement flashes in his eyes, directed at his shadows of course. You'd find it adorable how he treats his shadows like misbehaving children if it weren't for the situation. Hopefully he won't be too harsh on them, you can almost feel the lecture coming. You're not entirely sure how much they can feel, if they can at all, but they had done good in going to find you, even if Azriel reprimanded them for it.

“I didn't know they could do that without you being conscious. They were very helpful,” you smile down at the dark wisps stationed over his shoulders. He clearly didn't agree with you, a soft scoff escaping his lips, but you hope this is enough for them to know they can come to find you in this type of situation from now on. You don't want Azriel to suffer on his own when you're there for him.

“Thank you,” you look up at him in surprise, “You didn't have to come. It was only a nightmare.”

It's not as surprising that he doesn't want to tell you what the nightmare was about, or even change the subject. If he wants to pretend this never happened come morning, you're more than welcome to oblige, as long as he feels better and knows you're always ready to lend a helping hand.

“You can come to me for anything, Azriel,” your hand finds his once again, thumb caressing the scarred skin on the back of his hand. “I'll always be here for you.”

He holds your gaze in an intense stare, the swirl of emotions written in his eyes becoming almost too much to bear, and still you're unable to break away from the all-consuming hazel. It seems like the world stops around you for a moment, and there's only you and him.

As your surroundings return slowly, you suddenly become too aware of the position you're in, of what it would look like if someone walked in. They would find you sitting on his bed, right next to him, lost in his eyes, hands clasped together between you, disheveled hair and half lidded eyes. The lack of clothing only added to the sight, you had never been so conscious of how short and thin the nightgown you wore to sleep was. You can only be grateful that Azriel doesn't sleep completely naked, though his underwear barely leaves anything to the imagination, and your imagination is desperate to run wild.

Heat rushes to your cheeks as the thought settles in your mind, clearing your throat softly to try and break yourself out of those thoughts. Looking up at the suddenly captivating pattern painted on his dark navy walls when his gaze becomes too much. You could swear you saw the corner of his lip rise as he likely noticed the effect he had on you. This was a good thing, it was like the Azriel you're used to, but you needed to get back on track.

“Do you think you can go back to sleep?” You try to untangle your fingers from his but he holds onto your hand, unwilling to let go of you just yet. “I can get you some tea to help you relax if you can't, or maybe we could go for a walk instead?”

Tiring him out could be a good idea, although his body is probably beyond exhausted from the long hours he's been putting himself through. Maybe tea was the best option.

“Can you stay with me?”

His words cut through your racing thoughts, your lips parting in surprise. You had half expected him to kick you out of his bedroom when he came to, inviting you into his bed was the last thing you would have seen coming.

“What?”

“I think I can sleep if you stay,” he whispers, “but if you don't feel comfortable-”

“I don't mind staying,” you rush to assure him with burning cheeks, thankfully matching his own, “You just caught me off guard that's all.”

Azriel offers you a tired smile and, with a wave of his hand, fixes the sheets, moving to the middle of the bed so you have enough room to settle next to him. Your movements are painfully awkward as you lay down next to him, all too aware of every inch of your body, heart beating out of your chest.

While you're in the middle of deciding how to safely position your hands, stiff body frozen in place, he takes matters into his own hands, an achingly fond smile playing at his lips, his hand falling to the small of your back and pulling you in closer to his body, his scent enveloping you.

Azriel closes his eyes, breathing out a soft, “relax.” Your hand finds his chest, body slowly but surely melting into him as you do as he says and will your mind to stop wandering. Letting the soft beats of his heart calm yours, you decide to listen to your body, and fall into him, arm wrapping around his waist as you inch even closer, your chest finding his, tangling your legs until you can't know where you end and he begins. His grip on you tightens as a satisfied sigh escapes him, one heavy wing falling over your body, until you're impossibly close.

Your face now only a breath away from his, your nose bumping into his chin as he drops a soft kiss to your forehead and nuzzles into you, breathing you in. You almost catch yourself purring as you lay in his arms, completely surrounded by Azriel.

Tangled up in each other's warmths, sleep found you both easily, finally allowing you a few peaceful hours of sleep after the grueling weeks you've endured.

[dcxdpdabbles]

More cave boy? <3 <3 <3

Constantine kept throwing him long looks. Ever since the core test, the British man couldn't stop staring. Sometimes, he would glance at him, look away to shake his head, and then quickly glance back and start the whole cycle over.

Danny wasn't really sure why he was behaving this way. Much less why John Constantine felt the need to send a message to everyone in the magical community a message.

There was a large group of people wearing the most ridiculous outfits he'd ever seen—and his parents ran around in jumpsuits daily—peeking at him from every window, doorway, and, in that one girl's case, a shadow. They all stared at him like a natural miracle was happening before their eyes.

If you asked Danny, the worst part was that they didn't say anything. They just stood there, menacingly, in silence, staring. Bruce and the others had tried to get rid of them, but all the magic-user had done was a scurry to the edge of Bruce's property and camp out there.

He was sure he saw a boy with a cat praying to him at one point. The boy fully bowing low, hand on the ground, and muttering in ghost speech of gratitude for being in his presence.

Danny couldn't figure out why.

Constantine had yet to be evident on the issue either.

The man had been much more focused on explaining why he had been so disrespectful when he first woke.

Apparently, the day they found his cave, he had detected overworld energy in such high density and frankly alarming robust levels. He had assumed that a demon, an evil ghost, or even a trickster god had targeted the alternative version of Bruce Wayne.

Everyone knew the phrase "Get noticed by a higher being" never ended well in any legend, regardless of where the myth originated. Humans have always suffered in some way in those tales—most times, the human's death was the best possible outcome.

It would make sense why Danny had been thrown into a different dimension despite being a mere civilian—or as civilian as a version of Bruce Wayne could be if this was the case. He was worried that the young boy was in danger from forces far beyond human compression and had decked his room with every protective ward he knew.

He had almost demanded Danny be moved to the House of Mysteries since the death covering him had been so thickly layered over his soul. Then Danny woke up, making it evident that he was the cause of the energy, not the guiding light attracting the power like a month to the flame.

Then Constantine figured that Danny had been killed by the higher being who was done playing with him. Whatever happened in that cave meant that Bruce's alternative had lost, and now that higher being was pretending to be Danny.

The reason?

When Danny had first been found getting dangerously close to the Batcave, Constantine had been one of the first Bruce had called for some tests (tests that he was unconscious for while being held in that glass cage). He had confirmed that Danny had no magical power, so they wrote him off as meta.

The second time Constantine saw his unconscious body, he was significantly less human because he had been Phantom for literal days until he passed out. His magic had been reported as such, so Constantine had reacted accordingly, believing that the Ghost King seal was the only deserving revenge for the boy he allowed to perish in such a horrific manner.

He wanted Danny's body back from whatever was pretending to be him when he woke. Constantine just wanted to help him rest. He was not expected to threaten the King with his own seal and apologized profoundly once the confusion was cleared up.

Danny had no idea what the magic trench coat man was talking about. What King Seal? That was the badly done carvings he did with Jazz two summers ago!

What King's Guard? That's just a badly drawn photo of Fright Knight that Dan made!

What King's Cry? That's just a recording of Danny singing badly to a radio song Tucker made!

None of this made sense, especially this royal mystical treatment he received. Thankfully, the Waynes were on his side about it. They still treated him like Brucie, but there was one notable difference.

"You're majesty," Jason said with a mocking bow. "Your carriage awaits."

Danny frowns. "What?"

"Tim finished your ship."

"Oh," Danny stood quickly, a rush of impatience and slight wonder overwhelmingly developing in his chest. He'd been here for literal months, almost a full year. Danny never gave up on his idea of going home, but that was more of a stubborn hope that he would see his world again.

With each passing day, he felt that his home was getting further and further away.

And now, here it was, within reach. He didn't know what to do with that knowledge. Other than race down to the cave with his heart beating a mile a minute. He's so close. So close.

Out of his eye, he spots a woman in the window wearing a strange outfit and pressing her hands against the glass. Her silver bracelets gleam as she offers him a quick smile.

Danny swears he had seen her coming and going through the manor when he was pretending to be simple Brucie- Wonder something- but she now offers him a deep down on her knee bow. He checks Jason's reaction, but seeing that he hasn't noticed, he walks by her with a tiny head nod.

He cares more about going home, not manners.

"Hey Danny," Jason calls, falling in step with him. "I've been meaning to ask. But.....your parents are alive, and everything thinks you're this big shot in the afterlife....are you like me?"

"No, I'm caucasian," Danny tells him while mindlessly changing the arms of the clock that should open the Batcave to him.

Jason laughs. "No, kid. I mean about dying."

Danny squints up at him with confusion. "You're not a ghost."

"No, but I did die. I just came back." Jason tells him with another laugh, but this one is bitter. Danny considers the question, then shakes his head.

"No, I technically never left. I died and lived and died and lived and died and lived again." He makes a circle with his hands. "It's a cycle of being on the line between worlds, not one side completely on any given day."

"You are a god then." Damian comments, suddenly at Danny's elbow. Danny has no idea where the kid came from, only barely stopping himself from screaming as the younger boy puffs up his chest. "Of course, my father would be a god."

"Wait, if Bruce is a god in one world, maybe he has the potential to turn into a god in everyone. That would explain how he strengthens the more people know of him- the more they believe in him." Tim calls from across the cave, where he is typing on the computer.

He pauses and twists around with a look of manic curiosity. "That could mean he passed along powers to his children- Jason, what if Bruce made you a demi-god that day he adopted you, and that's how you came back? That's how all of us come back!"

"The dots are connecting," Dick shouts from the top of the cave, waving his two forefingers around. Danny had no idea why he felt the need to climb high places to do the splits between two rock formations, but he found that Dick tended to do that often. "The Justice League was right....we bats aren't human!"

Danny raised a hand. "I'm not a god. I'm not a King. I'm just a kid from Amity Park who wants to go home."

The others don't pay him any mind, so Danny leaves the Bats to gather around and compare notes. All he can see is the ship resting on a ledge. It resembles Fenton Tech so much that for a second, he feels an overwhelming sense of homesickness.

Soon, he thinks, running his hand on the smooth metal. Soon, I'll be home.

"I call dibs on the godhood of delinquents!"

"You can't just call dibs on godhood, Duke."

"Yes, I can. I have two godly fathers now, which means I have double the demi-god. I'm a mostly-god; I outrank you, Tim."

"I am Stephine, the demi-god of purple!"

"Steph, what does that even mean?

"All things purple answer to me."

As soon as the Waynes focus.

[rambling-at-midnight]

Pros and Cons of Midnight Snacks (Part 3; final part)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Civilian!Reader

Summary: Just minutes after discovering his secret identity, it’s time for you and Jason to clear the air about how the two of you actually met.

Word count: 3.4k

Your heart is racing a hundred miles a minute when you make it back to your apartment. And not just because of the five sets of stairs you have to walk up, although that's pretty bad.

You make sure that your roommate isn't home, then usher your cat out of your bedroom and open the window. You sit on the edge of your bed, nerves twisting in your stomach.

No, you can't stay still.

Also, your cat's scratching at the door, furious that he's been locked away.

You decide to wait in the living room instead.

His approach is soundless. You don’t hear him come through the window, or when he opens your bedroom door, but your cat meows happily and you turn around to see your six-foot-two lying boyfriend looming in your apartment.

“Is your roommate here?” he growls through the mask. Your cat yowls at his feet, wondering why Jason—the Red Hood—hasn’t begun to lavish him with attention yet.

“No, so you can take that off.”

You’re a little pleased with yourself for figuring out his identity so quickly. Unfortunately, you’re much less pleased with him for messing with you. You’re not mad that he didn’t tell you his vigilante identity; you’ve known each other about a month, which is nothing in the grand span of a lifetime. You’re not a pessimist, but you are realistic, and you’re not sure if your relationship is going to work out yet after a week and a half of dating. Any disgruntled ex-girlfriend could reveal his secret identity to the press—not that you’re that type of person.

No, it’s smart to be cautious with his identity.

So wearing a costume that displays one of his most unique features isn’t the brightest.

Also, now that you think about it, Jason wandered into the library the day after the Red Hood walked you home.

So you’re not exactly worried, but you are a bit cautious. You’ve seen that Netflix show You, where that perfectly charming man kills every woman he’s in a relationship with. If it came down to that, you wouldn’t be able to beat Jason in a fight.

Also, you don’t want to fight in front of the cat.

With a click and a hiss, the mask—more a muzzle—comes off, and there appears your handsome boyfriend, a little disheveled and sweaty from the five-story climb to your window after stowing his bike. He’s still beautiful, and it’s such a shame. He could have been the one, had he not stalked and lied to you.

You think.

You’re going to find out.

Jason’s eyes dart to your dominant hand, which is hidden behind your back with your trusty pepper spray ready to go at the slightest sign of aggression. “I take it I’m in trouble,” he says, light, almost joking, and bends to pick your cat up. The little bastard squirms every time you do that, but he settles right down in Jason's arms and gets to purring.

“Jason—” You start, then falter, because you don’t actually know his last name. Or his middle. “Jason,” you say again through gritted teeth, trying to make it as menacing as possible. “I think we have something to talk about, don’t you?”

“Y/N,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Yes, I am the Red Hood. I couldn’t tell you bec—”

“I don’t give a shit that you’re the Red Hood,” you interrupt.

Jason’s mouth clicks shut. He gives you an odd look.

“Well, that you didn’t tell me,” you amend. “We’ve known each other a month. It would be pretty pathetic if you couldn’t keep the secret that long. Everyone in the city would know by now.”

“Okay,” he says slowly. “So what are you mad about, exactly?”

“That I was right!” You exclaim. “You were stalking me! I thought you just liked coffee and reading, but you were following me the whole time. You even offered to beat yourself up. What else about you is a lie?”

“Okay, whoa,” he says, holding his hand up, and if you weren’t mad before, you’re getting there now. He has no right for you to motion to calm down. “Okay, I’ll admit it. I guess I kind of did start this all out by following you.”

Your hands fall limply to your sides. Now that he’s admitted it, all the wind is out of your sails. You’ve never been so disappointed to be right. Secretly, you were hoping he would write it all off as a freak coincidence so thoroughly that you’d have no choice to believe it, all the way up until he strangled you. “Okay,” you say calmly. You hear your own voice, but it’s from very far away. “Are you going to hurt me now?”

“What?” He looks aghast at the very thought. “No, no, I won’t—why would I—No.” He’s so firm in the reply, so utterly certain, that your grip loosens on the pepper spray. He might be a really good liar… or he might be telling the truth. “No, Y/N, I really like you, which is why I asked you out, and even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t hurt you anyway because you’re my friend. And you’re a good person. The Red Hood punishes criminals; he’s not some crazy serial killer.”

“I mean, you kind of are,” you mumble. You’ve seen the statistics. He ruled through fear for several years. But, like he’d said earlier, he’s reformed himself. He still kills people, though, but you find that it doesn’t bother you as much as it should.

“I am not—” Jason stresses, looking you right in the eyes— “the kind of man that hits women.”

There’s a story there, in the way he says it, but it’s not the time to ask. You’re not sure that your fledging relationship is ready for it, either, but you’re still curious. You’re also curious about why he killed so many people when he started out. You’re curious about everything about him. You think you could listen to him talk for hours about himself and you still would only touch the surface of everything that makes up Jason.

“Okay,” you say. His eyes track your hand as you set the pepper spray down on the counter.

He repeats it like a question. You’re a little surprised, too, but— “Jason, I wouldn’t have agreed to be your girlfriend if I wasn’t sure that you’re a good person. But I need you to tell me about how we met.”

“You mean the robbery?” He looks confused. “That really was just a coincidence. I heard that something was going down and stopped by. I had no idea who you were before that night, I swear.”

“Okay. So why did you follow me to the library?”

“Oh.” Jason coughs. “Yeah. Okay, well, the first day, I actually was following you.”

You slap the counter with an open palm, triumphant. Your cat hisses at the sound. "I knew it!"

"Wait, wait, just hear me out. I was following you to make sure that you didn't die of blood loss. Or sepsis. Or gangrene. Or—"

"So you were stalking me... because you cared?"

"It's how my family shows love," he shrugs.

Your eyes widen. Because you hadn't considered it, but if he's a Bat—and he is, judging by the red shape on his chest—then his family is the Batclan. "Oh, my God. Batman is your dad."

Jason folds his arms over his chest like he's self-conscious about the symbol. "Yeah, and I've got the weird attachment style to show for it."

"Wait," you blurt out. "The brother you were supposed to meet in the coffee shop—were you supposed to meet Red Robin?"

"Um..."

You can't believe you were almost in the same place as the actual Red Robin. "Wow. Is his civilian identity as cool as his superhero one?"

"Please don't tell me you're a Red Robin fan," Jason says, his voice pained. "We might actually need to break up."

"Do you think I could meet him sometime?" you whisper.

"He's a huge loser," Jason tells you. "He's short and scrawny and actually pretty ugly beneath the mask. He looks like a troll. Also, I think he watches Andrew Tate videos and moderates Reddit forums in his free time. You really don't want to meet him."

You can't stop grinning. "There's no need to be jealous, Jason. Red Robin's way too young for me, but I think it's cool that he uses his brain to fight crime."

"What, and I don't?" he scoffs.

"Okay." You hold up a hand, determined to get the conversation back on track. "So you wanted to make sure that I wasn't actively dying. Why'd you keep coming back?"

"Well, then I thought you might be a supervillain," he said casually, like that's a normal thing to spring on someone.

You just gape at him.

"You treated a gunshot wound like it was nothing!" he defended himself shrilly. "Most civilians would be a little more concerned about an open wound in their side."

"I'm a medical student. Doctors make the worst patients."

"Yeah, well, Gotham has a pretty bad track record of doctors becoming supervillains, so excuse me for trying to curb a new one before she had the chance to turn."

You cross your arms. "What did you think would happen, Jason? I'd accidentally take a dip in Gotham River and the bacteria in there would travel from my side to my brain and make me go crazy?"

"I mean, yeah. That's pretty much exactly what happened with Harley Quinn."

Well, shit. He's got you there.

"Okay, well then why approach me at the coffee shop?"

Jason raises his eyebrow. "You were the only one there and I had a spare coffee. Am I not allowed to do nice things?"

"It was right after I told the Red Hood that I thought I was getting stalked. Did you do that on purpose?" you accuse.

"No, I swear. I didn't even know that you liked that place. Red Robin mentioned liking it.” Oh, my God, you and Red Robin like the same coffee shop. “I just… kept showing up after I saw you there the first time." He must be scratching your cat too hard, because he wiggles out of Jason's arms and runs over to his food bowl, looking at you pleadingly like he's been starving for a hundred years, even though your roommate texted you earlier saying that he'd already fed him. "I was planning on disappearing from your life and telling you as Hood that I'd, I don't know, threatened the dude or whatever, but..."

"But what?"

He shrugs. "You're pretty, Y/N. You're smart. And you were funny when I talked to you as Hood. Is it a crime for me to want to make a friend?"

"Just a friend?" You squint at him.

"Yeah. Just a friend." Jason tousles his hair again, and this time you let yourself admire the way the muscles of his shoulders and upper arms flex at the motion. "Believe it or not, I've never been in a relationship before. This wasn't what I was expecting—I never expected anything—but I'm happy. You're happy... aren't you?" He's pleading now, and it tugs on your heartstrings.

You sigh, but take a step closer to him. "Yes, I'm happy, Jason." It's definitely not the most conventional way to start a relationship, and most other people would be running for the hills by now, but this is Gotham. You moved here and stayed here because you fit in with the crazy. "I just need you to tell me one thing." Step. "One honest thing."

"Of course," he says immediately. Big green eyes pleading for you to bridge the gap between your bodies, to forgive him.

"What's your last name? I can't date someone whose last name I don't know."

For some reason, he grimaces. "Uh... my full name is Jason... Peter... Todd." His voice gets quieter with every word, until you're straining to hear his surname.

That rings familiar with something in your memory. You frown. "Jason Todd... not like Jason Todd Memorial Library?" Usually with memorials, the person they're named after is dead, but Jason's real and in front of you. Also, wasn't Jason Todd the kid that Bruce Wayne adopted several years ago?

The corners of Jason's lips turn down. "Yeah, I wasn't thrilled with your choice of study locations at first. But it is quieter than my apartment. B adopted too many fuckin' kids, and they always find my place, even when I move—"

"Does Red Robin hang out at your apartment a lot?" you ask, just to see him scowl.

"No, he's never there, and I'm going to dropkick him off a roof the next time I see him unless you stop talking about him."

"Okay," you say. You're close enough now to put a hand on his forearm, so you do. "I'll stop talking." You have to get on your tiptoes and pull the back of his head a bit, but you kiss him, and somehow it's even better than the first time.

Jason's lips are a little dry, but not chapped, soft and pillowy. He blinks when you rest back on your heels, looking dazed like someone hit him over the head with a frying pan. "Am I forgiven now?"

"Mmm..." You pretend to think it over. His hands snake around your back and pull you flush against him, stomach to stomach. "I think so," you say through a gasp, which might be embarrassing if he didn't bend to kiss you before the words had fully left your lips.

You kiss for a little while after that, shivering when his hands slip beneath your jacket. Not quite up your shirt, but getting there. He's got huge hands, and he grips your waist firmly, using his thumbs to gently rub at your hipbones as he pulls you even closer. That small contact, so gentle yet also a little greedy, heats your body from the inside like an inferno.

You're starting to bend backwards now, and the hand on the back of his neck is less there to pull him down and more there to keep you up. Are you lightheaded? You might be. You breathe in through your nose, but it doesn't help.

Jason may be inexperienced, according to his own testimony, but he doesn't kiss like it. He kisses with his whole body. He keeps leaning forward, moving his lips against yours with the single-minded intensity that took you by pleasant surprise the first time you kissed. Soft but firm, pressing against you, in a way that makes you think he'd really like to crowd you against a wall and cage you in. Not that you want to escape.

When you're bent over, you take Jason's chin in your hand and slowly push his head back. He resists at first, eyes fluttering as he chases after your lips, but you're about to fall over, so you murmur, "What's the plan here, babe?"

"No plan," he says, voice low and gravely in a way you've never heard before. Jason looks at you from beneath his long lashes. A heat flashes in his eyes. Something flutters in your stomach, bigger than butterflies. Maybe birds? Maybe robins.

And then you feel his hands on the bare skin of your back when they slip beneath the hem of your shirt. You gasp and jerk away on instinct because his hands are so warm, so calloused, but he's got a good grip on you; you're not falling anytime soon.

Then your entire world shifts as Jason yanks you upright, at the same time pulling the hem of your jacket and shirt up enough so he can see your wound.

"Oh, my God," you groan, embarrassed and a little amused. "You little pervert, were you doing all that to distract me?"

"No." Jason's voice is still gravely. He looks at your hip, then stares at your mouth like he's making a decision. He kisses you again, a firm press, and nips at your bottom lip before he leans back to squint at the scar. "Is it still bruised?"

"Yes," you sigh, covering your eyes. You're embarrassed for reasons you can't quite explain. Maybe because he's pulling your shirt up and you're not quite as firm everywhere as he is. You're pretty sure champion bodybuilders aren't as firm as he is. "It's gotten much better, though. See? No infections or anything like that."

He measures the scar against his hand: it's about two fingers wide, and one finger long. It scabbed over a while ago, and now that the scab's gone, it's just a shiny pink patch of skin.

"You could have stitched it anyway," he sighs.

"I don't care." You grab him by the chin and force him to meet your eyes. "I don't care about scars. Mine or yours. Most of the time, they're sexy. And apart from me, you're the only one seeing it." His hands clench your waist at the words, then loosen. He sends you an apologetic look. You continue, "So as long as you don't mind it, then nobody does."

"I wish it had never happened to you," he sighs.

"Well, it did. But it wasn't your fault and we can't change the past."

Jason's still mulling over your words when you start to work at his belt. He makes a choked noise and grabs your hands. Doesn't push them away, just holds them still right where they are. "What are you doing?"

"Well, I showed you mine." You grin up at him. "It's only fair that you show me yours."

He snorts. "You don't trust your own handiwork?"

"It's a follow-up appointment," you say. "To make sure everything's healing normally. Now take off your shirt, Mr. Todd. This veterinarian's apartment does, after all, moonlight as a strip club."

He undoes his belt buckle with one hand, and you have to make sure that your mouth isn't open. That was probably the hottest thing you've ever seen in your life. "You ready?" he grins, cocky in the way he only gets when he's flirting with you. "One look at me and you'll forget all about Red Robin. Forever."

"God, don't bring up your little brother while we're making out," you groan.

"Good to know that you plan on kissing me some more tonight," he says casually. Then he peels off the skintight gray shirt, and every thought wipes from your mind.

His muscles have muscles. And, somehow, despite your apartment's shitty lighting, he's glowing. His pants sit low on his hips like he's a model or something.

How has no one ever dated him before? He's actually perfect.

The longer you stare without saying anything, the more uncomfortable he looks. Finally he says, "I know I've got a lotta scars," his native Gotham accent bleeding through a little, but you stop him with a hand on his chest. He's warm and firm and soft, just like you thought he would be.

"My God," you whisper. "You're beautiful."

Jason goes beet red.

"And the one I stitched is healing up nicely," you continue, tracing your fingers lightly over the slightly raised line.

His whole body shudders. He swallows almost violently, eyes clenched tight like they're in pain. Then they fly open, and you gasp, because they're glowing green. Not metaphorically glowing. Like, actually glowing.

Jason kisses you again like he's trying to herd you. You don't know where's all right for you to touch, so you cup his face with both your hands and pour everything that he gives you right back at him. Warmth, affection, something bright that you can't name.

Then you lean back. Your lips disconnect with an audible pop.

"Hang on. Is Bruce Wayne Batman?"

Jason's chin drops down to his chest. He groans, deep, and you pretend that warmth doesn't pool in your stomach at the sound. Voice thready, he says, "You know, talking about my dad really kills the mood."

"Oh, my God, he is." You pump your fist in the air. "I'm two for two. Who's the world's greatest detective now, Batsy?"

"If I kiss you again, will you shut up about Batman?" Jason asks.

You grin. "I don't know. Maybe you'll have to find out."

He does.

And you do.

You've decided that the Red Hood is your favorite superhero, anyway.

~~

Forever taglist:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit  @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

DC taglist:

@evalynanne @mismatchsposts

[the-modern-typewriter]

I love love all your writing and jealous villains / possessive villains always make me kick my feet!! Can I request a hero that’s been under appreciated by the city and getting hurt / almost killed by civilians they were meant to protect? And the villain finds the aftermath? ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

"My god." The voice was strained. Familiar. Them.

It really wasn't the hero's day, was it? They released a slow, pained breath, pushing themselves gingerly off the grimy, rain-puddled street. "Enjoy the show?"

"What show? You could have taken them. You should have taken them."

The hero grunted. They straightened. They wobbled.

The villain appeared out of the shadows, at their side, in an instant. It took the hero a moment to realise that the villain had placed a steadying hand on their arm.

The villain's face was harsher in the streetlight; all firelit edges, beautifully demonic, orange pinpricks glinting almost red in their furious eyes. Rain spat down, soaking into the villain's hair and clothes. They didn't seem to care.

The hero did a double-take. The flippant comment they'd been about to make died in their mouth.

"How much did you see?" the hero asked.

The villain's jaw clenched. "I just got here."

It was an unexpected confession. On closer inspection, the rapid rise an fall of the villain's chest suggested they'd been running.

"Huh," the hero said.

The villain's gaze raked over them, taking in every bruise and scrape and bit of blood. "You didn't fight back. Why didn't you fight back? You could have pulverised them. Made them fear ever hurting someone again. That's what you do if I attacked you."

The hero shrugged, awkwardly. They eased their arm free of the villain's grip.

"That's not an answer," the villain snapped.

"I would have killed them. Normal people can't deal with my powers."

"So better to let them nearly kill you?"

The hero shrugged again. Everything ached; they weren't especially in the mood for hearing about how wrongly they'd handled getting the flying spit kicked out of them, they weren't in the mood to explain how the villain was different. Even at war, it was easier with them.

"You're in uniform," the villain said. "They knew who they attacked."

"Oh." The hero hadn't realised. The truth of it struck them like a low blow and their shoulders slumped, as if it wasn't already far too late to brace and curl into a foetal position to guard the heart of them. "Right. Yeah. Well, bold move on their part!"

They tried for chipper. They failed completely.

The whole time, they'd been so preoccupied, they'd thought the strangers had no idea. A wave of stupidity, prickling with humiliation, washed over them. Their eyes felt hot.

The hero swore under their threat.

"I'm going to kill them." Possessiveness threaded low and heated through the villain's voice.

"I don't need you to do that."

"I know. It will be my absolute pleasure." The villain grabbed the hero's arm again as the took a step and stumbled. "They shouldn't-"

The hero could feel themselves beginning to shake, a myriad emotions welling up inside them, threatening to explode, as they listened to the villain's insistence that really no one else should be allowed to touch what was theirs.

"I said, I don't fucking need you to do that."

The villain went quiet. Still.

The hero closed their eyes again, already regretting their sharpness. A treacherous tear rolled down their cheek. Christ. That was all they needed, wasn't it? Cherry, meet the top of the garbage pile. They swiped furiously at their face and didn't say sorry. They couldn't say sorry. They'd never stop, they were sure of it.

"What do you need?" the villain asked.

The hero glanced up at them, startled.

It wasn't that the possessiveness was gone from the villain's face, only that the burning of it had finally cleared enough for the hero to see what lay beneath it.

The care, the sincerity, in the villain's question felt like a knockout blow. They didn't know what to do with it. They had no armour for it, no shield.

"What do you need?" the villain asked again, softer, when the hero said nothing. Their other hand rose, cupping the hero's cheek. "You want me to get you home? Your leg's screwed. You can't walk."

"I can walk." The hero looked down at their leg. They could...well, it wouldn't be fun walking. They eyed the villain. "Seriously?"

"Well, I'd prefer to hunt the bastards down and kill them, but I also do an incredible taxi service, yeah."

"Thank you."

The villain looked almost as uncomfortable as the hero felt. They shrugged. Their jaw worked, eyes narrowing when they caught sight of the hero's injuries again. The hero could feel the villain's fingers flexing against their skin with barely leashed violence - and, yet. It was leashed.

The villain dropped their hand.

"My car is this way. Can you - can I - I can help you get there. If I'm allowed."

"You're asking permission to touch me?"

The villain glared at them.

Despite everything, the hero managed a weak smile back. "Yeah," they said. "You're allowed."

The villain nodded, wrapping an arm around the hero, before pulling them up into an unexpected bridal carry. They were strong. All lean muscle and warmth against the hero's frozen body.

"I'm going to get blood on you," the hero said.

"Because nobody has ever bled on me before ever."

The hero huffed.

They let the villain walk them out of the alleyway, brain still sluggishly working its way through all of the implications of the villain's sudden appearance.

They'd come running when - what? When they learned the hero was in trouble? When they learned that the hero wasn't fighting back to the full extent they were capable of?

Thoughts were hard and the villain's car was warm, the heating soon on full blast.

Thank you. It welled in their throat again. The hero choked on it.

They didn't think they'd ever been as well looked after as they were that week.

[matan4il]

Every once in a while, the magnitude of the Hamas massacre hits me all over again.

I'm not sure most people get it even now.

In absolute numbers, it is one of the three deadliest terrorist attacks in human history (second or third worst, depends on which estimates you trust for the Camp Speicher massacre), but if we take it in relation to the size of the population in the attacked country (which we should, because terrorism by its very nation seeks to victimizes through psychological trauma the entire target population, and not just those who were physically affected during the attack), then what Hamas did IS the single deadliest terrorist attack in the entirety of human history.

But it's even more than that.

Never, in any other attack, have the terrorists taken over as much land as Hamas did on Oct 7. ENTIRE TOWNS were under complete control of the terrorists, some for SEVERAL DAYS (I specifically remember watching a report on one town, where combat with the terrorists was still taking place on Oct 11, meaning on day 5 of this terrorist invasion into Israel). ENTIRE TOWNS WERE OCCUPIED. BY TERRORISTS. There's not a single Hollywood action movie dealing with such a scenario, because NOTHING OF THIS SCALE HAS EVER HAPPENED BEFORE. Imagine waking up and hearing in real time that the northern half of the American states Washington, Idaho and Montana has been taken by terrorists, who are driving through the streets freely, as they murder, pillage, rape, torture, maim, burn and kidnap people, and almost no one's there to stop them.

And then imagine the world expecting the US government to just... let the terrorists retreat to the other side of an international border in the north, after having murdered over 40,400 American, most of which are civilians, almost 183,000 more injured, and while taking with them across the border over 8,450 American hostages, to God knows what awful fate, for how long, or if they will even ever come back alive. Entire communities and regions would be devastated, without knowing if they'd be able to rebuild. The total would be more than 230,000 Americans directly impacted (I've adapted the real numbers from Oct 7 to the size of the American population... Remember the horrendous 9/11 attack, which saw 2,977 victims killed and a few thousands more injured, and think of what would be the emotional punch of over 230,000 direct victims).

Imagine expecting the US to let that go, and allow those terrorists to continue existing and ruling the land on its northern border. Imagine expecting the US to do so while this terrorist organization openly declares that it will repeat this large scale massacre whenever possible, until the entire country is destroyed.

And please don't come at me with "Fine, Israel can react, but not like this." Unless you have the military expertise to explain exactly how Israel can protect its people from this attack ever being repeated, and to free all our hostages, without civilian casualties (despite Hamas intentionally using them as human shields, and even directly causing Gazan deaths), unless you can translate the vague "not like this" into something practical, some actual guidelines on how this urban war could have been fought differently, even though there's no historical precedent to support that this is possible, "not like this" is just wishful thinking at the expense of the safety and right to live of Israelis.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[reasonsforhope]

Early mornings are chilly in Los Romero, a village high up in the mountains of western Guatemala. As in other predominantly Mam villages – Indigenous Maya people who have lived here since pre-Columbian times – households come quietly to life before dawn. Isabel Romero, a grandmother with long black hair, used to feel somewhat trapped in hers.

“I was afraid of speaking because I was cooped up at home. I didn’t go out,” she says, explaining that like many Mam women, her days were dedicated to the hard work of running a household with little money, and she rarely spoke with other women. “I worried a lot and had headaches.”

Residents of Los Romero live mainly from subsistence farming, growing maize, beans and squash, or grazing livestock. Almost 50% of the population is Indigenous in Guatemala, Central America’s biggest economy, but they do not share in its prosperity. Indigenous women in particular are discriminated against and dispossessed, with a life expectancy 13 years lower, and a maternal mortality rate two times higher, than the national average, according to the World Bank.

In Romero’s village and throughout the region, a community-based collective of women’s circles has been quietly improving Indigenous women’s lives, empowering them to find voices that have been suppressed through centuries of marginalisation.

It was a long process, but Romero’s headaches and fear are now a thing of the past. These days she gets out to workshops, meetings and women’s circles. She shares her knowledge of weaving traditional textiles on a backstrap loom and has a leadership role in the women’s group she co- founded: Buena Semilla (Good Seed).

The initiative emerged from Maya Mam women’s experiences, when French physician Anne Marie Chomat brought them together for interviews for her doctoral fieldwork in 2010- 2012. The simple act of gathering with others and sharing their experiences had a profound impact on the women, many of whom are still dealing with the traumatic legacy of Guatemala’s civil war.

During the 1960-1996 armed conflict between leftist guerrilla groups and the military, more than 200,000 people were killed, overwhelmingly Indigenous Maya civilians killed by the army. Another 45,000 were ‘disappeared’. A truth commission concluded that the state committed acts of genocide...

“There’s so much chronic stress and other issues that are not being addressed,” says Chomat, Buena Semilla’s international coordinator, who now lives in Canada. “So much healing happened in that space of women connecting with other women, getting out of their houses, realising: ‘I’m not alone’.”

Once Chomat’s fieldwork was finalised, several participants decided they wanted to continue meeting and with Chomat came up with the idea of women’s circles. With the help of a grant, the project got going in 2013 and now more than 300 women in two municipalities participate every week or two in circles, each comprising roughly 10 to 25 women.

Wearing traditional embroidered huipil blouses and hand-loomed skirts, the women gather, arriving on foot via the dirt roads that weave through the villages. They meet in a home or community building, or outside when they can for the connection with nature. The circle opens with a welcome and a prayer and then the group engages in breathing and movement exercises. Next up is discussion of the nahual, the day’s name and energy according to one of the interlocking ancient Mayan calendars, traditionally used for ceremonial practices. “Here in Santiago Atitlán it is only maybe 20% of people who speak about [knowledge of nahuals], so we are reviving it,” says Quiejú.

Then it’s time for the sharing circle. “More than anything, it is speaking what they have in their hearts,” says Quiejú. But every time and each circle is different, even though the leaders all work from the same guide, she says.

Sometimes circles will have a guided meditation. Sometimes they’ll have a workshop to learn weaving, or another skill that can help them earn money. Sometimes they eat together. Sometimes they cry. Often they laugh. No matter what, they generally end with a group embrace...

Only 1% of Guatemala’s national health budget is designated for mental health, and nearly all of that goes to the country’s one psychiatric hospital. Most mental health professionals are concentrated in the capital, offering psychotherapy and prescribing medications. For those in rural areas, there is little discussion of mental health or access to services.

“There is nothing for the preventative side, to work with families, to work with communities,” says Garavito. However, he emphasised that the concept of buen vivir (good living) among many Indigenous peoples in Latin America, which includes the traditional festivities, ceremonies and community of everyday village life, inherently incorporates good mental health. “Mental health is a fundamentally social concept and that has been a historical and common practice among Indigenous peoples, without them calling it that.”

...Financial constraints also pose challenges. Since 2020, Buena Semilla’s budget has been funded through crowdfunding and small grants. Staff and leaders all work part-time and many volunteer unpaid, but most circles now meet bi-weekly due to a squeeze on funds...

[Note: If you'd like to help, you can find out more and support Buena Semilla here, at their website.]

Despite the challenges, interest keeps growing. Elsa Cortez joined a circle earlier this year, motivated by her sister’s positive experience with Buena Semilla. In her mid-20s, she lives with her parents and as well as helping to run the household, she weaves belts, drawing from a basket full of spools of brightly coloured thread. She did not go out much before.

“There was a mentality that women were only supposed to be in the home or should only do certain things. That’s how we were raised,” she says. “My family was like that too.”

Thanks to Buena Semilla, those dynamics have started to shift in some families, including her own, says Cortez. Now she is exploring the idea of starting a circle specifically for girls, to help build their self-worth and self-esteem.

“It used to be difficult for me to socialise or chat, but now I am starting to socialise more easily,” says Cortez. “In the group I feel like it is psychological therapy every time we meet.”

-via Positive.News, December 8, 2023

[graphicpepsi]

secure (nsfw, mdni)

OR what happens when König is having a rough time at work & takes it out on you. starts a lil angsty

You could always tell when König was having a rough day.

When long talks turn into short, gruff responses; when soft, delicate hands on your body turn to rough, firm slaps- not that you minded, of course- you loved it when he got rough. For the past week he had fucked you to sleep every single night- pounding into you mercilessly- disregarding whenever you asked if he was alright with a wordless hand on your jaw, or a hard kiss to your lips that took every single thought in your head away.

But tonight was going to be different- you were determined. That's why when he came through the door at eleven pm, rushing to get his hands on your waist, you pushed him away hard enough he knew you wanted him to stop. He looks at you, face twisted into a confused expression.

"König, you need to talk to me." You say, crossing your arms and hoping he can't smell the arousal radiating off of you. You can't help it, he's just so big, towering over you like that-

"Later." He says shortly, moving to kiss you again. You step back.

"König, no, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, love, I just wanna-"

"Stop!" You exclaim, "Just stop! god, don't you want me for anything more than sex?"

You hadn't meant to say that because you knew it wasn't true. He looked alarmed.

"What? Of course I do, schatz, where is this coming from?"

"That's the longest sentence you've said to me all fucking week, König." You say, exhaustion evident in your voice.

You sigh, collect yourself and take his hands in yours.

"I'm not mad at you Köni, I just- I'm worried about you. And I'm tired of feeling like a sex doll."

"You're not a sex doll," He says plainly, "You know that."

"Then why're you treating me like one?"

"I thought you liked it when-"

"God, you're not getting it, König." You run a hand through your hair, leaving his hands to drop to his sides once again. He stands stiffly in the hallway.

It's silent between the two of you for a few minutes. He stares at you, while you stare at anything but him.

"You think I'm using you for sex." He finally says, breaking the silence. "Fuck."

"You're treating me like a one night stand, König, if you're bored of me just fucking say it." You spat, even though you prayed silently that wasn't the case.

Of course it wasn't.

He engulfs you in a hug so quickly and so tightly you think you might pass out. It's only when your hands fly up to rub his shuddering back that you realize he's crying.

"Oh, Kö, I'm sorry I don't mean that, I'm just upset."

He shakes into you, and you suddenly feel sick with guilt.

"I killed a teenage girl." He whispers, so quiet you hardly catch it. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, love, I just- you're the only thing that distracts me."

The sudden confession caught you off guard. He had killed a young girl?

"What happened?" You ask, pulling partly away from him to study his teary eyes.

You both sink to your knees in the hallway, and somehow, even at this height he's still a foot or two taller than you.

"You know how they are in the republic, sending out innocent civilians in front of their soldiers, thinking no good man could shoot-" His words fall into sobs again, his shoulders heaving with every inhale. You've never seen him cry like this.

"Shh, it's okay," You say, because you're not sure what else you can say. It's not okay, and you both know that, but your delicate hand on his shoulder is enough for him to half believe you.

"I know you wouldn't do a thing like that meaningfully, Kö."

He nods, tears still steaming down his face. You wipe them away with your thumb, cradling his face in your hands. He shuts his eyes almost shamefully.

"I could never be bored of you, could never live without you," he says breathlessly, and you get the feeling he's hoping you can't hear him.

After a few seconds he's calmed down tremendously, enjoying the feeling of your hands on his face.

"This is what I missed." You say, "My boy."

He opens his lidded eyes to look at you.

"Thank you," He whispers with a sigh, and it's you that leans in to kiss him this time.

His lips are salty with tears, but you relish in the feeling of his mouth against yours in the soft, loving kind of way.

For the first time in over a week, it's you who deepens the kiss, and he gently guides you until you're sitting on his lap.

"Let me fuck you properly, schatz," He whispers into your neck, pressing soft kisses over the purple marks that litter your skin. His thick accent next to your ear makes your pussy pulse against his growing hard-on. You sigh, relaxing into him- something you haven't been able to do for too long.

He picks you up, mouth still on your neck, and carries you to your bed. He places you on it like you're made of glass. You take your shirt off and König's hands are almost instantly on your tits, squeezing them softly like they're the most delicate things he's ever held.

You take his hand from your chest and put his thumb in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it as you look up at him. Fuck, he thought you were pretty like this. Perfect tits on display, sucking on his thumb, pussy dragging back and forth on the bed for any kind of friction- and it was all for him. He loved doing this to you.

He loved fucking you just fine; pounding into you with a hand on your throat, slapping your ass and denying your orgasm- but god did he love it when you got so worked up like this, so worked up over nothing.

He peels his shirt off, throws it across the room. You could whine with how slowly he takes his belt off. You're completely exposed for him now- jeans forgotten somewhere on the bedroom floor along with your shirt and underwear.

"Kö-"

"I'm coming, baby," He whispers, finally done undressing and climbing on top of you. You can almost hear his heart with how fast it's beating. God, you're wet for him.

He presses a light kiss to your lips before bracing himself with a hand on the bed frame- and god was that a sight to see- his muscular arm extended out above you with the other holding your jaw gently, trapping you intoxicatingly. You can see the way his hand flexes as he starts pushing into you, his veins growing bigger ever so slightly.

"König- yes, god, more-" You murmur, eyes threatening to screw shut at any moment.

"Fuck, love." He grunts into your ear, "Such a pretty little pussy."

He's fucking you now, thrusting into you harshly as he looks into your eyes, at your face.

You've missed this so much. Just him on you, fucking you proper, muttering sweet things into your ear with a voice threatening to break because of how good you feel around his dick.

You claw at his back because you know he loves it. Loves to wake up to see your hand prints and nail marks all over him.

"Kö, Köni I'm close, Köni-"

"Sh, being so good baby, good girl," He whispers, fucking into you hard and slow.

You practically cling to him as you let yourself go, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes with how fucking good it feels to come on his cock. So full, so good.

König pulls out and comes on you soon after, replacing his dick with his fingers inside of you to fuck you through your orgasm. His cum spills all over your tits, splattering a few droplets on your lips and jaw which you instinctively lick up.

Fuck he loves you when you look like this.

All fucked out, panting, lips parted and face flushed- he thinks he could look at you forever.

"I missed that, König." You say softly.

"Me too, love, I'm sorry." He kisses your cheek, "I love you so much."

You say nothing- just burying your face in the crook of his neck with a content sigh, inhaling the scent of sex and cologne that sticks to him.

A/N: hehehehe i love him. thanks for reading if u want me to write something specific lmk, otherwise i'll just write whatever my horny for cod men brain comes up with. Later y'all

[sahisan]

— curiousity killed the cat.

featuring . pm!dazai osamu.

tags . suggestive, so slight nsfw. civilian!gn!reader. dazai's a bit sick. just pmzai things yk (he's scary). weapons described (he has a gun). blood mentioned. gunplay mentioned (brief suggestive description). wc 1.8k.

author note . this is so random i don't even know if the paragraphs do well together bc i just poured my most random thoughts into it and i was sleepy and barely managed to proofread it. yep. i imagined mostly 20-22!pmzai here.

dazai hid many things. he hid them well; years of being on constant standby, awaiting, on guard about anything enemy or not related. he hid in the shadows no matter day or night, but the shadows didn't always necessarily mean him only scrambling around in narrow alleyways or in the safety of the headquarters—in reality, he spent little time in the latter, nor did he 'lurk in the shadows' often, unless on a mission.

he hid everything from everyone, including you; of course including you. and the thing that bothered him the most was you finding out about what he does. did. has done. keeps on doing every day. not only does he not want the port mafia's countless enemies to know about you, but dazai also dreads the thought of you getting even a little bit closer to the truth of what he does for a living. he thinks of how he might slip one day and just reveal his true nature, intentionally or not, and either let you be disgusted and scared or kill you immediately because you might report to the police; it bothers him in both ways.

dazai avoids the area of your home when out at work. he makes sure to put on some casual clothes before visiting your place. when things are bad, work routine and you colliding together closer to night, he makes sure to hold a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide in his inner pocket to quickly wash away the stains of blood from his clothes. he keeps a bit of cologne there as well, to hide the stench of blood he usually reeks of during the day—he doesn't even use cologne daily. if you need him right after work, he disposes of his weapons, giving them away to the underlings that follow his word.

everything is always under control.

like tonight. he'd had a "kill and dispose" assignment, after which he'd had to go to yours and spoil you with a movie night he promised you. ah, the long-awaited respite from everyday bloodshed.

yet he was still on guard; he always has been, but today was busy and rough and all he needed was your embrace and a movie as a background noise while he showered you with kisses and cuddled you with neverending hugs.

and dazai forgot.

already at your doorstep, already having ringed the bell by your front door when dazai looked down at himself and—

fuck.

there was a small but clear blood stain right next to his tie. ah. how great. he definitely won't have time to remove it, but he might try to win some time to divert your attention from it if you notice—and you will, if he doesn't do anything about it.

with the door opening, dazai threw himself at you, literally waltzing into your apartment, hip to hip, your left hand in his right and his left hand at your waist, he led you through the corridor in an almost hasty improvisation of a dance, causing his tie to sway just in the right direction and have you giving him a look that screamed "you and your antics again?". good.

"ah, you look especially divine tonight," he mused, nuzzling your neck and making you place your chin on his shoulder; very good, the stain was out of your sight at least for now, and he couldn't be happier about that. "i haven't had dinner yet but i already know what i want for dessert."

distract. distract and avert and keep away—best tactic of dazai's that rarely failed, and he was used to putting it to use everywhere he could, including you. you could be perceptive or gullible, didn't matter—it worked wonders on anyone and will continue working for as long as he wanted to.

dazai swayed you around a few more times, dancing his way into your living room while humming a nauseatingly sweet, random tune he made up in his head a second ago. hip against yours again, he let a content smirk wash over his lips.

a clank. soft, quiet sound of metal clanking once echoed through the room, and it was almost eerie silence aside from his barely audible humming just as his hipbone met yours.

that didn't sound good, considering the only thing on his hip was—

ah. dazai forgot two things tonight.

in reverie about cursing himself head to toe in his mind, he lost the sensation of your touch until it felt too suspicious and he was too late, you reaching for the side hem of his coat and tugging it away from his side to reveal it to the light. you were always so curious, and he couldn't tell whether it was bad or good for him in general.

the soft clink echoed once more as your fingers grazed the object, and his eyes narrowed. the gun. shit. in his distracted state, he'd forgotten to dispose of it along with wiping away the blood.

dazai's hand shot out from beneath the coat, and he knew he wasn't doing himself a favor by raising his hand to grab yours, only revealing the holster further, but he didn't necessarily give a shit right now. he ought to do more than care about the gun right now, like a proper boyfriend, first being calming you down and assuring you it's not loaded and isn't as scary as it looks and that you shouldn't be afraid and the second being change of course of the conversation so seamlessly that you forget about the weapon for the rest of the night at least (unfortunately, the last sentence never crossed his mind).

but when did dazai ever go according to an adequate plan?

his hand held yours in the air, palm gliding up and down your inner forearm, trying to, first, soothe every negative emotion that might come up on the surface of your face, as well as keeping your curious hand away.

"ah-ah-ah, how naughty," dazai purred, voice dripping with false sweetness even as his eyes glinted with dangerous amusement; what he was supposed to be doing absolutely slipped from his thoughts the second he sensed the quickening of your heartbeat and breath and the cautious halting and tensing of your body against his, and he was already getting hard just from this. sick. "what did i tell you about wandering hands, hmm?"

he ground his hips against yours once after that, letting you feel the growing hardness in his pants. distraction. that was the key. keep you focused on his body, on the pleasure he could give you, and you'd forget all about that pesky gun in no time.

“careful there, baby. wouldn’t want you to accidentally shoot yourself,” he said with a twisted, growing grin. his other hand, previously holding your left one, slid away from it to cup your cheek, thumb brushing along your jawline in a mockery of tenderness, visible eye looking down at your mouth.

"i'd hate to see those pretty lips marred by blood."

and yet, once he'd lifted his eyes up to yours, dazai could feel you tense under his touch, heart racing beneath your skin. he knew that look in your eyes, that widening of your pupils; he was all too familiar with it. fear. he had been so focused on the thrilling, twisted satisfaction the situation brought him momentarily, that he hadn't noticed how his actions were affecting you. his grip on your wrist loosened, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your inner wrist.

dazai sighed, deciding it was time to stop scaring you with both his demeanor and the weapon, even if it wasn't what he wanted right now at all; he had a switch to pull off, an appearance to keep up in front of you. ah, but how he'd love to prolong that moment for just a little longer: your fear palpable in the air, that scared glance you cast at him once, the trembling of your hands, hitch in your breathing and increase of your heartbeat.

maybe later.

"easy, easy," he murmured, voice low and soothing even as his mind raced. he tapped the holster twice. "it's not loaded, see?" a lie. "just a little souvenir," a lie. the gun was always loaded, ready to be drawn at a moment's notice, but you surely didn't need to know that. he'd already subjected you to more horror than a civilian would need to witness.

dazai leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he spoke. "you know i'd never be involved with these types of things and would never hurt you, right?" honey-sweet, dripping with false sincerity words. what he was absolutely best at was lying and manipulating, and he couldn't even control it anymore; if he needed you to believe, he will make you believe, one way or another.

"but you also shouldn't go poking around where you don't belong," he purred lowly with an audible dangerous lilt to his tone, lips now moving lower and ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck. "who knows what kind of trouble you might find yourself in. curiosity killed the cat, you know. you never know when you'll be the cat. and I'm not sure i'd be able to live with myself if something happened to you."

dazai could try to keep you away from his sicko tendencies and mind and thoughts that were all over the place and mingled together; the thoughts of protecting you from all of this meeting the ones of putting that gun to better use that just shooting people. and right now, he was barely holding it all in.

think of it this way: the thoughts of keeping his precious favourite civilian away from the corrupted knowledge and pain and feeling you tremble in fear underneath him, with the barrel of his gun tracing over your bare skin and getting dangerously close to where you'd need him most? oh, did the latter make dazai's stomach contort with desire and hips buckle up into yours. he would have to think more clearly about this later when his head wasn't a wreck of everything at once, but now...

"you want to play with something hard, baby?" dazai murmured in the end, all sultry and beaming with desire. "i'll give you something much better than a piece of metal to wrap your pretty fingers around."

dazai was sick and his mind twisted and he didn't get how he could ever keep someone like you by his side, but he supposed it was fate; and for as long as fate was merciful to him, he would make good use of it.

"but behave, hmm?"

[haruchi-slit]

"WHAT GOES AROUND

COMES AROUND"

synopsis: you're a strong love curse who loves to manipulate her opponents mind and emotions and satoru and suguru who was meant to take you out for good but things change..

warnings: p in v, mouth fucking, cunnilingus, threesome, geto never defected, suguru and satoru as teachers

the two men were supposed to be in their vacation but no, no, no, the higher ups said: "fuck your vacation, exorcize this curse instead" and they had to do it.

satoru and suguru were called and got assigned to take you down by end of the day, for you wreak havoc and disturbance to the civilians and other exorcists around japan, you were jumping city by city in order to not be caught but, they got tipped by a civilian that you're near their location after you had been seen fighting a sorcerer, the two men took the mission with no other options left, they took the folder containing your information...and your weakness.

you were feared by many for your ability to manipulate your opponents minds. you were known for your skills not only in combat but also in reading and exploiting your opponents thoughts and emotions.

one of your favorite techniques was to make your opponents sexually aroused. It was a simple yet effective way to distract and weaken your foes.

by using seductive words and gestures to make them lose control of their desires, yeah it was one to make your opponents lose.

however, there were consequences...it was your weakness, everytime you overuse your curse technique the effect of your power reflects to you.

you might be powerful, but luck isn't always on your side.

"fuck-!" you huff as you clenched your hands into a fist. you have just knocked out an above average sorcer, you pulled your hair back and started to catch your breath, you were preparing for your escape until you heard cackling voices and distant murmuring, it made your ears perk up, before roaming your eyes to your surrounding,

"show your self, fool!" you shout, which only made the chuckling voices louder, you feel your sweat trickling down your spine as you shout, you were nervous and definitely vulnerable right now, you knew you should've not overused your curse technique.

as you huff heavily, two figures stepped out off the bushes near you, you tried to stand properly but to no avail you dropped on your knees. they were there the whole time, watching you fight their kind, they emerge with a annoying smirk plastered on their stupid faces.

"no need to stress, babe" the man with snowy locks teased, which made you cringe "how long have you been there?" you struggled, with your voice shaking almost uncontrollably, "long enough to see you struggle with your own curse technique" the raven haired man shrugs, still smirking like an idiot while your body was getting hotter and hotter while the interaction flows thru, you knew you couldn't fight right now but there was no choice.

you need to escape,

so you punched their guts to make a distraction and ran for your dear life, you tried to run as fast as you can but only to be cornered by them, "what the fuck do you want!" you shout, "you've been literally causing disturbance and sucking souls from our sorcerers" the long haired guy sassed with furrowed brows "and you're telling us what do we want?" the white haired man adds,

"I'll kill you both" you threaten, "but you can't your powers are useless" the man with white hair spoke once more, "let me go, can you? i r-really need to go" you used your cursed technique as your last resort and it's the worst idea you've done, I can't blame you though you didn't have any choice.

you flicked your eyelashes at them, as your irises formed into a whirlpool, trying to control their mind- but they remained unfazed. They could see through your every move and were not affected by your words or actions. your curse technique reflected back to you, making you much vulnerable than before, you dropped down to your knees as you feel your cursed technique effect your body badly and there's only one way to get out off this and it's a really bad idea.

you are fucked, literally.

some moments past...

"anghn~ fuck! " you'd stammer as the two men nibble on the valleys of your neck, leaving passionate marks, while the atmosphere gets thicker and thicker with your arousal,

"no more actin' though?" the long haired man laughs, "could've told us you're feeling some..." the white haired man pauses, "things earlier instead of trying to suck our souls" he continues, with attitude, continuing to nibble on your plump skin.

"you fuck-ing! humans-ack!" you winced, once you felt someone bite your neck, "we have a name, you horny little curse." the long haired man stated, "he's suguru, I'm satoru. I'm sure you already heard of us" the white haired man said, yanking your skirt up, "you're so fucking wet..." he grumbles, tugging your panties off, your breathing became uneven, while your pussy pulsed and gripped around nothing, your eyes became hazy and you felt your head almost spinning.

your body shivered as soon as satoru laid his tongue on your cunt,

"ahghh-!" you squeaked, barely standing on the ground, satoru notices it, and quickly placed your thigh on his shoulder. it feels so good, it felt so deadly, your body tingled everytime suguru trails kisses on your neck, it was electric, it felt unreal.

"mgh- don't! don't stop!" you'd wept, as you subconsciously jerk and buck your hips on the bridge of his nose-

"enjoying it?" suguru teased, drawing his calloused fingers on your perked nipples, earning a satisfied moaned from you, "d-don't stop- please.." you begged desperately. satoru gripped your shivering thigh on his shoulder before lifting it up and adjusting his mouth to your clit, once he was satisfied, he drew tight little circles and made sure he never missed a spot, your eyes flutter shut, as your eyeballs falls deep- deep in your skull, "so-" satoru pauses, sucking your juices dry, "fucking-" he pauses again, letting his tongue feast on your luscious cunt, "sweet.." he closed his eyes looking like the luckiest man on earth, as you came. hard. your juices dripped so appetizing, he looked so appetizing.

suguru reaches down on your sopped pussy scooping every cum he can gather on his finger tips, you flinched on his touch, he then placed his finger tips that's dripping with your cum in his mouth, swirling his tongue on his finger tips making sure he savors every last bit of it, "you're right. she's sweet" suguru agrees.

"bend over, curse" suguru commands with a smooth and suave tone as your body quickly moved on it's own, it felt good, too good even.

you placed your hands in a tree nearby before spreading your legs evenly, "good girl.." he purrs before unbuttoning his pants off, revealing his raging pale pink tip, he lets his pants pool down on his knees before he grabbed a handful of your ass, he slides his cock up and down, painfully slow as your body jerked on it's own before he finally aligned his member on your entrance, slowly sliding his cock gently in your gummy walls, "hmff!-" you'd try to suppress your moans as suguru continues to slide his thick cock in, "goodness" he huffs "you're so fucking tight" his face contorts into a pleased emotion, as you feel him fill your cervix, you felt satoru come to your side with his leaking tip out, his uniform tugged between his mouth, revealing his chiseled abs, "don't forgewt mfh", he teased, but you barely understood what he said, you glide your free hand to his cock, palming his cock back and forth, while suguru pounds you with no remorse, that you struggled to stand properly, "ahm!" suguru pounds hard and again and again and again that you've lost count.

you can see satoru's face contort into a fucked out state, his abs flexing and bulging as your hand moved up and down, "k-keep goin'" he struggled to talk, his eyes fluttering shut, damn he's so fucking gorgeous.

as suguru feels your walls clench harder and harder he grips your waist, supporting your body as he pounds deep, so deep in your hungry cunt, "fuck, fuck- ahmn!" you moaned as suguru lifts your leg in the air placing it in his waist, "fuck- you're soo fucking deep- ahg!" you wailed, as suguru reaches the deepest spots of your pussy, as satoru took the opportunity to shove his cock in your mouth,

"mmn! -nnm!" you gawked as satoru pushes his hips with caution, "breathe, baby- fuck your mouth feels so good.."

suguru places your leg down gently before grabbing both of your arms behind your back before pounding once more, "I'm gonna come", "I'm gonna come" was all you can chant in your pretty head as you clenched suguru's dick, you can feel your abdomen move and clench and with suguru's final thrust you came, cum gushes down to your leg as both men continued to thrusts in sync, "you're so cute.." suguru murmurs, "wonder if curses can get pregnant" he banters, with satoru responding with a chuckle, "i hope s-so", and with satoru's last trust he came, inside your mouth, "mhmmnn-!" he hums in pleasure, letting his cock rest in you for a while, while suguru cums soon after, "s-shit.." he grunts, before thrusting in you again pushing back his cum in you, satoru takes his member out your mouth, the three of you catched breaths, before satoru kneeled down to kiss you.

... moments later after satoru and suguru arrived in the school...

"WHAT?! YOU LET HER GET AWAY!?" principal yaga shouts, "we'll catch them, don't worry" satoru assures, chuckling

[lana-llama-in-pajamas]

Francis mosses x fem! reader

thick as blood

sweet as milk

"god i am down bad" you groaned getting up getting into the shower, it was.....nasty, the grout and limescale made a public bathroom seem more hygienic

but you didn't have time to think about it so you cleaned up and got out trying your best to not touch a thing, you looked over the makeup guidelines for your uniform, it had to be exact in order for the agents that came in to not suspect you. matching foundation no eyeshadow, black mascara and complimentary blush with matching lip stick

you looked in the mirror one last time before rushing out.

7 am sharp you sat at your desk watching Francis be the first heading out the door giving a small wave to you, your heart fluttered waving back. a few more residents left leaving you with a bit too much free time. most of them wouldn't come back till lunch and as stupid as dopples are for them to appear now is suicide, you look around and see a letter at your desk so you open it

dear agent 591138 it has come to my attention that no one has filled you in on your working conditions fully so I am here to do it for you. your working hours are 7am to 10 pm every full week then you will get the following work week off, we understand this is rather confusing but just know your best interest is our priority (among other things) this gives you time for recreational activities and self mental care. you do know how everything in the office works but we did just throw a gun to you like a baby. your DDD issued pistol has DDD issued bullets so we can verify the killing of the dopples or in serious cases murder of innocent civilians. an agent will contact you intermittently to check your mental health. best regards , agent 907811

what a letter. did they call you a baby with a gun? your 25.

you decided to open the filing cabinet under your desk to place the letter just to find it riddled with boxes of said bullets. you place it over them and close it staring straight into your reflection of the glass "ok lets just breath and get through it" you assured yourself before reaching into your bag for a bagel and milk, odd combination yes but its what you had in your icebox. you started to worry about your food supplies through the week from what you remember you had bread some fruit jam and POSSIBLY not rotten eggs to hold you over but you knew for a fact a grown person was not going to survive on jelly sandwiches. you looked to the phone wanting to call a cousin that lived nearby to get you some things but you decided against it for now, maybe at the end of your shift you could leave them a message with the operator. soon the middle of the day came and Nacha came in with her daughter looking rather feverish "hi so sorry we had to come back in early she's coming down with something" Nacha slid both their papers and ids through the slot holding her baby close, you looked over the info and all was in order. you even studied them and before opening the door "maybe a doctor would help more?" you asked not wanting to sound mean " oh we went to the pharmacy right before coming here, they said its probably something the kids are passing around" nacha responded happily, this woman was really upbeat it almost scares you " oh good, get better kiddo" her daughter coughed a quiet "whatever" before her mom chastised her passing the now opened door.

you looked to their papers, specifically Anastacha's.... then your stomach dropped. her eyes. her stand offish demeanor yesterday and today, you had a sinking feeling about her relationship to Francis but you weren't sure so you decided to drop the idea for now...

2 dopples came in, horrible replication so you just dropped the shutter and called the moment they spoke.

the phone rang and you picked up "hello, this is agent 907811 the one that sent the letter" the voice was manly but upbeat (imagine Gladiolus from final fantasy 15) you nodded to no one "oh hello, a little unprofessional to make wellness calls in the middle of my shift no?" you asked playfully to test the waters on the guy " intermittently, remember?" he said matching energy "noticed you got 2 already, might get more not to jinx ya" you hummed in agreement as he continued "anyway to make it easier for you instead of calling us and explaining the situation I want you to just say my name and ill know to send our boys in yellow, to save time and lives right?" he kind of lingered on the right so on que you answered "right." "great! ok the names rex." he spoke quick "wait really?" you asked absent for a minute "well no my real name is classified but everyone calls me rex, and whenever you dial 3312 it puts you straight to me~" he made you smile hearing his happiness so you giggled "well ok will do rex, time to get back to work" "yes ma'am" you heard hanging up. dreamboat was infront of you already sliding his papers to you "sorry about that Mr. Mosses" you read over the file, a blush overcoming you "boyfriend?" he asked catching you off guard "n-no, the DDD" you almost got up to let him know you were serious but fixed your seating position instead "mmm...ok" you thanked your god he had very prevalent verbal ques, made your job easy "were do you get your milk from?" he asked taking back his papers "my old apartment, believe it or not the DDD moved me in yesterday with everything I had" you chuckled thinking he took his job a little too serious and didn't want enemy milk on his turf "i give you milk now." he almost declared in an odd way. you turned red imagining unholy thoughts "the farm i deliver for also delivers here. the buildings day is Monday but ill grab a case for you tomorrow" he walked in before you could even form the words thank you but on instinct you shut the door behind him.

you tried to calm your blush to no avail, the way he just announced his caring for you! the way he said it made you swoon "i give you milk now" god it was weirdly hot!! you almost swore you heard a bit of a Russian accent when he said it. you kept holding your face praying to go back to your natural color "doll you look like a tomato" another male voice said "oh Mr. Gauss, I apologize its just allergies" you looked away for a minute before doing the usual "its winter. your a horrible liar" he tapped the glass teasingly "all is well, good day Mr. Gauss" you spoke restrained trying not to be angry with the fact he had no issue calling you a liar opening the door for him "see you later doll". you sat there a little peeved to say the least, munching on your slightly stale bagel you continue your shift.

the next morning you woke up to knocking, your heart raced putting on your robe and ran to the door opening it "its 7:30" francis looked down at you looking almost disappointed "oh my god really?? shit thank you for waking me up" you left the door wide open as you rushed to put on a fresh uniform and stuffing your makeup bag in your purse. francis watched you rush from bed to bath sighing and looking around, he placed down five bottles of milk on your counter and opened your ice box "how pitiful" he spoke looking at the carton of barely any eggs and a few rotting veggies. he took it upon himself to leave a milk out and put the rest in making you a single piece of toast. you looked actually quite presentable considering your rushing you walked towards the door hitting something hard "ow" at first you were going to cry because Francis just watched you almost break your nose but you looked up to see him looking down. god did he smell good. like bourbon and vanilla, thank god axe body spray wasn't invented yet. "I made you toast. I have to get to work." he furrowed his brows at the last bit and left you, you look to the counter to see well enough he set the toast with jam on a small plate and a glass of milk at your table.

days had passed and soon it was your friday

it was almost 10 pm but you had to stay an extra hour because the twin models were at a party. you've never really had a full conversation with them but they were nice to you even complimented you on your hair once, finally they came in beautiful gowns that made you get up to see them fully "y/n! so sorry it took so long!" Selenne said raising her hands up air hugging you from the glass which made you chuckle "its my job to see your safe return, beautiful dresses by the way" you placed your hand on the glass to match hers "why thank you, we'll show you the details in a bit" Elenois smiled passing their papers to you, you matched them up everything being in order "you should come to a party with us" selenne jumped a little visibly annoying her twin "sel she has a job to do. a stressful one at that she doesn't need more comingling with the upper-class that watches your every move" elenois huffed taking the ids back "oh actually my days off start tomorrow" you smiled "oh. nevermind, wanna wear airtight dresses and flirt with politics?" elenois laughed making you raise an eyebrow smiling, selenne slapped her sisters shoulder giggling "shes a little tipsy, yakn-" the girls went silent. all of you looking to your left to see it.

a dopple.

a twin dopple.

it was horrifying. a giant sharp mouth filled its face, no eyes no nose it snarled stretching its arm out to the girls as they screamed. you quickly opened the door hearing your own heart beat quicken with every thought, "get in the office NOW" you yelled banging on the glass to get thier attention, they did as told rushing passed El pushing her sister in forcing Sel onto the office floor next to you. the dopple sprung passed the door before you could shut it, it tripping and grabbing onto elenois' leg with its yellow claws you ran up your mind swimming from thier screams, you punched the side of its head forcing it to go down before turning its attention to you. you grappled with it on the floor yelling at the girls to get a grip and lock the main and office door, they were trembling...blood from Els leg soaking her dress as she held selenne nodding to you closing the door and locking the main one from the office. you were bloody , your fist scrapped its teeth cracking the bone a bit as you threw it againt the door earning another scream from the twins it snarled and screeched as you ran towards the stairs unclipping your gun from its holster going up a floor "all residence stay in your homes a dopple is in the building" you yelled repeating the phrase as you heard them all scamble yelling and some of the men even starting to descend the staircase before you hit the first step. the monster stood before you on the bottom step bleeding from its maw "YoU pICk uP A GOosd fiIIgHT MakeSS yoU moRe DeLishessssss" you trembled aiming "Fuck You" POW POW the pistol shot hitting its stomach, its screeches hurt your ears but you slowly backed away as it crawled to reach you it was fast ripping off quite a bit of your skirt as you kept pilling the trigger knowing it had no more than 8 rounds finally it hit its chest making the thing go down by the second floor.

you laid there on the steps breathing heavy hearing almost nothing as everyone crowded around you asking questions and tending to your leg, but you heard nothing.

you got up pushing poor mia to the side backing down stairs passed the body pulling it by the leg to the main floor and leaving it at the end of the steps, everyone but Nacha and nat following for obvious reasons. you walked to the office opening it with your key seeing the twins holding one another sobbing looking up at you, they smilied running up and hugging you close you could start to hear their voices thanking god and thanking you...the gun was still in your hand so you walked passed them slowly sitting in your chair and placing the gun on the desk everyone ran to the girls to inspect them as you dailed the number "....rex....i had to kill it in front of all of them.." you croaked "coming now kid hold on" his voice sounded shaky but you were still processing everything the smell of blood and what seemed like rot, the stinging sensation of your cuts and bruises...the sounds of your residence begging you to answer them. oh.

you breathed in a sharp breath finally being able to sense everything "please step away from the body" you stated to the mcoolys looking over at it "you really killed it" the older one spoke in shock "oh dear your skirt " gloria took off her head scarf to cover you but francis stopped her taking off his wrobe and placing it over you "the ...blood" you managed to get out "fuck the blood right now" he stated mia dressed you in it as the twins blocked you making sure your panty hose were no longer exposed, all of the men looking away either in respect or fear of thier wives.

DDD came escorting everyone upstairs as the other half stayed downstairs to clean up "didnt think we'd meet this way" you looked up from the chair the shmidts brought out for you to sit as DDD officers looked over your wounds. it was rex. a taller man in casual business attire with salt n pepper hair "you did good kid, you saved those girls and the rest of them" he held out his hand to you , you shook it nodding "thank you" he nodded back letting go to speak with a yellow suit qietly "well it seems theres no fatal injuries on any of you , they dressed your wounds so now you rest" rex looked down at you . some would say you looked like a beaten dog but maybe that was just rex "your one tough bitch y/n." he walked off with the hazmats in tow, "i think its time for you to rest baby...you look close to passing out" gloria squeezed your arm as your eyes fluttered, you were passing out and fast "ill take her home" francis spoke up "and we'll stay with her" El and Sel spoke together "she cant sleep in those clothes" el added , everyone agreed as francis picked you up slowly treating you like glass to your apartment the scent of his shampoo and his warmth made you pass out holding him tighter

you could almost hear him stiffle a tear as he held you closer.

end part 2