#damien mention in fic

[somanyfandomsorkinafs]

WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT MORE FUNNY INTERACTIONS FOR PETER IN GOTHAM FICS.

(okay so Spiders are my hyperfiction animal of the month and we gotta talk about it!)

^ hyperfiction do hyperfiction. like, Peter would NOT like Nightwing just for the fact that he’s blue. Spider’s HATE blue. Like actively. (It’s funny considering that Spider-man is red AND BLUE)

But Peter WOULD like to hang with Robin, Red Robin, Signal and Red Hood. (Green is spider’s favourite colour. Other colours they are known to like is Red and yellow)

PETER SHOULD BLEED BLUE!!!!! Spiders have blue blood and if we are saying that his human dna and Spider dna is mixed then Peter has red AND blue blood. It’s freaky/pos

If Peter is part jumping spider then he should wave to people as threats!!!! Jumping spiders literally do the fake slit your throat thing with waves!!!!

His limbs should just randomly move weird. Like how a hyper motive person’s body might contract weird, his should do that. It’s trying to work like a spider(extend and then flex) but his human body Don’t work like that!!!

Also his super hearing? More like super vibrations! Through walls! He can hear things through walls! (He learns too much cause of it…)

He should get to move into the Wayne manner and immediately just make a clutter spot for him to nap in. He sleeps in the darkest parts of the house. He falls asleep in fresh laundry cause it’s warm. His room STINKS but he’s so happy about it…. It attracts flies and he’s even happier.

LET MY BOY BE MORE SPIDERY!!!!!!

[zilaphone]

Smosh fic writers + readers I have a question: when you write/read characters like the Chosen, Augustus, Brianna, JDB etc- do you picture their exact cast member as you write them? a younger them (a good chunk of fics have them in high school)? cartoons? I'm genuinely so curious

[soup-scope]

do you think imp!angel smiled as they were executed

[schrijverr]

Shapest Tool in the Shed

A look into Eliot and how he views himself, his past and his intelligence.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: suicide ideation, self esteem issues, guilt, mentions of violence

~~~~~~~~~

Eliot never graduated high school. He has always looked old for his age and army recruiters with quotas to meet are more than glad to pretend they believe the kid in front of them claiming they’re eighteen.

So, Eliot disappears into the thrum of the army when he is sixteen – sixteen and a half, as Eliot will point out often to his mother back when he still calls home. Though, those calls end quickly, he has nothing to go back to anyway.

Quickly – quicker than someone his age has any right to do – he starts climbing ranks as the missions he gets send on get more and more dangerous. Eliot, however, doesn’t care. He’s proud of himself, of his skills. He might not have been the smartest in school, but he has found something he is good at and he relishes in it.

Joining the army at such a young age means that it is made difficult to develop a conscious. The violence is encouraged, ruthlessness rewarded and death is seen as natural. So, Eliot never really does.

He just moves into ops so special that he’s not even sure the president knows about them, doing things no human should be capable of doing without feeling remorse. There are truly two types of ways to go from there: wetwork or suicide.

Eliot rolls from specialized missions into wetwork with the ease of a seasoned professional at age 23. Seven years he served his country and now he serves his own bank account.

In his time in the army, he was often the youngest on the team and people always treated him like the baby, until they were out there in the field. Eliot had the experience to back himself up and while he might not have known what the hell Einstein or Newton are on about, he picked up enough skills to survive and those are way more valuable.

Those survival skills also include how to remain under the radar. How to function without being seen by the government when they have to be able to deny your existence. It’s knowing how to remain invisible, how to hide money, how to find water and food in the wilderness, what danger to avoid and how to blend in.

Eliot does not view himself as intelligent, but he is smart and he knows what he needs to get the job done. He picks up the skills he needs to survive. It’s either that or get killed, nothing special about it.

It takes him two years to build up a solid reputation in his line of work. Two years of staying out of sight of those that want him in prison and in sight of those that want to pay for his services. Two years before he ends up on Moreau’s radar.

Damien Moreau.

Somehow, it feels unavoidable that he ends up in front of the man. Anyone, who is someone in their business, has heard of Damien Moreau. Every hitter worth something has a job for this man on their resume. It’s been a build up. Something that had been coming for a long time.

So, Eliot finds himself in front of Damien Moreau. He’s still young, no longer naive, but with more confidence in himself than is probably good for him. It’s only much later that he’ll realize that taking his first job for Moreau is the stupidest thing he has ever done in his life.

However, Eliot does not realize that just yet, so he accepts the job from Moreau with a grin on his face, the amount of zero’s behind the number flashing in front of his eyes.

Eliot works together with Moreau for three years. In those three years he gets closer and closer to the man as the jobs he does get more and more brutal. He adapts to the work, growing to feel secure as he succeeds. Soon Eliot Spencer is the best in the business. No one to fear.

Being on top of the game, however, comes with an unforeseen setback. Eliot has never really been the best at something. He was good at a lot of things, physical things. But suddenly, he’ll look at the younger recruits and cringe at their mistakes, mentally mapping out how their behavior is going to get them killed one day.

For Moreau, these are the grunts that will do the less intricate work. He does not care if they live or die. Those who will serve him well, will live, those that will not, won’t.

Eliot then also realizes that he is their leader. He is the one in charge to organize their stings and these kids are the ones, who are supposed to have his back.

If there is one thing the army taught him, it’s that the people you’re attacking with can make or break a mission. Eliot might be skilled, very skilled, but there are certain things he can’t do alone and if these are the ones to have his back, then he’ll be screwed.

He’s going to have to take these kids under his wing and teach them at least basic skills, if they all want to make it to tomorrow.

Taking those kids under his wing backfires in the oddest way.

He starts to feel responsible for them, starts to care about their well being. Starts to care if they die. He has built these kids from the ground up, taught them what they needed to survive and when they don’t, it falls on him to carry that blame.

So, his road to redemption starts selfishly. It’s heartbreakingly in character for him and he’ll hate himself for the rest of time for it. But it is the step he needs.

The first time, one of his men dies on a mission and he feels guilt about not being able to return his body to his family, Eliot knows he is screwed. He hasn’t made the effort to bring a comrade’s body back home since he was 21 years old. He hasn’t cared about anyone dying since he was 22. Now at 28, he’s suddenly thrown back into caring; the emotion foreign to him.

Suddenly, Eliot starts to feel the need to get out. To get away from Damien Moreau and his entire operation. It’s not even that the man asks him to do worse, he has already done his worst and at the time he didn’t care a bit, didn’t flinch at the innocent blood on his hands. It is only in hindsight that he starts to feel sick at his actions.

Sparing the General had been self serving. Eliot might have regained guilt, but he still is a selfish man at heart and the General is his ticket away from Moreau.

So, he gets out.

He flees.

And then he hides. He hides and tries to deal with the fallout of getting slammed out of that disassociative uncaring state he has lived in for many years now and into a life of shame and guilt and fear. A life of revulsion at the person he has become.

Eliot has to find peace in what he has done, knowing he can never undo all the hurt he caused and never repent for all the lives he took. That he can’t go back to that kid from Oklahoma, who thought the army would save him from the horrors of high school.

He also has to come to terms that he never thought he would feel like this. That he had convinced himself he was above what he had seen break so many others in his line of work. Much like leaving the army, those in wetwork had two endings: remain uncaring till death or loose your mind and take your own life.

Right now, he is leaning hard against that second option, the first forcefully taken from him, all by that stupid kid. That kid, who had been so proud the first time he won a fight, who always managed to make a joke despite the danger they went into. Who looked with unseeing eyes and a bullet hole in his head.

But he also knows, that taking his own life, would be a coward’s way out. And Eliot prides himself on not being a coward. He is going to live through this, that he vows. He’s going to make it through and not let Moreau win, not let him take the rest of his life.

However, this is the moment where he realizes that taking that first job for Moreau, has been the stupidest thing that he has ever done.

Not just because of the destructive path the man lead him on, a path Eliot had already been walking before him. But also because Eliot has intertwined all of his being into Moreau’s business and now, he has not a cent to his name and will have to look over his shoulder for the rest of his life. Maybe if he had gotten that diploma, he wouldn’t be here now.

He has no skills next to death and if he wants to see his redemption through, he will need money, a job. Saying yes to the contract to kill again, weighs heavy on him, but he doesn’t see another way to be able to move on.

The compromise he makes himself, is no guns. If he is doing this, he is giving his opponents a fair chance and himself room to get defeated, to take the punishment.

Eliot will never be sure what Toby sees in him that night, when he is looming in his kitchen, knife in hand. Lurking and waiting for the lone cook to return for prep tomorrow. Doesn’t know why Toby would quirk a brow at him and merely say: “Your knife form is all off.”

But Toby does and Eliot is shocked to the core. His skill in weaponry is one he is proud of, the only one he has developed over the years and to hear it be critiqued piques his interests. That curiosity leads him to ask why Toby would say that and Toby merely informs him that he’ll be cutting no food if he holds the knife like that, before showing him how cooks use their knives.

It is the second time that Eliot does not complete his mission, that he does not leave his target behind dead and bleeding. Toby lives and this time, it is not out of a selfish reason. It is hardly anything, but it feels like a big step for Eliot anyway.

He stays and talks with Toby for the rest of the night, learns the other has been to prison and the hit on his head is from a former gang buddy of his. Learns that Toby now teaches other ex-cons how to cook, so they can make something off themselves. Learns that Toby has an empty spot for him if he wants to take it.

Eliot knows that he is no ex-con. What he is, is way worse and integrating back into society will always be out of reach for him. But he is closer to them than most other people. Ex-cons often don’t finish high school, get caught up in things bigger than them until they don’t know how else to live, they know violence and the fear of getting caught.

So, Eliot stays and Eliot learns.

Cooking, as it turns out, is something Eliot is good at. It’s something he enjoys and something he can use to push out all the emotions that threaten to overtake him. He can put the guilt of what he has done into pasta, wrap up the shame in the dumpling dough, mix the fear into the sauce he’s stirring and display the revulsion at himself on the steaming plates.

His 29th year on this planet is the first in twelve years wherein Eliot Spencer does not take a single life.

He has learned a non-violent skill and feels human again. Hell, he just feels again. He knows that he has more skills than the killing he gave himself credit for. He can fix cars, has picked up multiple languages and can plan like the best of them. However, Eliot will never feel smart again, fears giving himself that label, because it makes him blind.

Eliot is just a guy with plenty of skills. These skills are limited to the physical for the most part, not things that he can put on a resume, but they’re enough to market himself. Like he had already suspected, Eliot is not cut out for the civilian life. He has tried it, but he will always feel like he is putting those around him in danger.

He only stays with Toby those first two months, skipping town after the man who put a price on his head died in a shoot out with the cops. Then he travels around the world, picking up more ways to cook food and hiding from those that still have it out for him. His name carries enough weight that many don’t try, but he is intimately aware of the ax hanging above his head and the lack of funds that can carry him to safety.

So, he decides to go in a different direction. Retrieval is close enough to his old job that his skill set and reputation come in handy and pays well enough for him to rebuilt the safety net he used to have.

When changing career paths Eliot also decides that he will no longer kill and no longer use a gun. The two rules have kind of already existed in his own mind, but he makes them explicit to himself and people looking to hire him. He is turning over a new leaf.

Of course, Eliot knows that he cannot undo what he has done. He cannot make up for it and he cannot pay the universe back what he has taken from it. Eliot Spencer is a terrible man and he is aware of it. He is not looking to make up for what he has done, he just doesn’t want to make the bloodstain on his person bigger. He allows himself to be stupid enough to believe that that will be enough for him.

Retrieval can be kind of fun. It feels less intense than wetwork, while giving the same adrenaline kick and good enough pay. People will never pay the same for a statue than a man’s life, however, the amounts would be enough to send a normal person spinning.

In his new line of work, he also encounters one Nate Ford. By the time he gets into working with artifacts at 29, Nate already is an established name to watch out for and by the time Eliot turns 31, the man has chased after him on a few occasions.

And Eliot must admit Nate is good at what he does. However, Nate should also be lucky that Eliot isn’t doing his old job anymore, because he is terrible at securing a place and often times it would have been easier to eliminate him as a threat than try to work around him, but Eliot manages.

Well, he manages most of the time. Nate never catches him, but he does outsmart Eliot and gets the stuff Eliot stole back. It’s infuriating, but Eliot knows he is not the most intelligent out of the two of them. He’s not the most intelligent out of most people in the world. He didn’t even finish high school.

Then Nate Ford disappears from the scene, falls off the face of the earth for a few months. Then falls into a hole of alcohol. With a man like him, people talk and Eliot heart aches for the loss Nate endured. Eliot knows what inhumane looks like – he still calls back on that part of his life to dole out threats he won’t live up to – and what IYS did to Nate is inhumane.

However, Eliot can’t ruminate long in what happened to Nate, nor does he care very deeply. He isn’t the man’s friend, hardly knew him.

Plus, while retrieval isn’t the same as wetwork, it is still very dangerous and with Eliot’s past, he continuously has to be on high alert or it will all come crashing down on him again. And selfishly, Eliot wants to live. He is starting to like who he is becoming and starting to be at peace with who he used to be.

So, he doesn’t really think much of what happened to Nate Ford until two years later, when the man is in charge of a job.

Eliot can be honest with himself and admit it is a surprise to see Nate playing for their team. He has always been as honest as they come and Eliot knows that what they’re doing now is far from honest work, but with the turn his life had taken, Eliot can’t blame him for taking the payday and he hears how the man justifies it to himself.

Eliot can also be honest with himself and admit that Nate is good at what he does. He is obviously very clever and a good strategist. When it all goes south, the way he plays Dubenich right back can only be described as masterful.

And another thing Eliot can be honest to himself about, is that taking down Dubenich felt good. Really good.

It felt good in a different way than a good, clean kill used to feel, different than what winning an evenly matched fight feels like, different than what a good retrieval feels like. It felt like he is actually making a difference in the world. Taking down a scumbag like Dubenich prevents people getting hurt in his path, instead of Eliot hurting people. He’s protecting them.

The payout they get from the job also doesn’t hurt. The amount makes Eliot’s head spin and his head is hard to spin after all the payments he has been offered for his services throughout his lifetime.

That check, which Hardison hands to him, is his ticket to safety. There is still the chance people will come after him of course, that will never go away. However, he’ll have the funds to disappear if they do. And what this money really does, it ensure that he can say no to whatever job he wants. It is retirement money. Eliot will never have to fear again that he’ll have to resort to wetwork to keep himself alive.

With that safety, he craves to feel more of that good feeling. He has always resigned himself that he’ll never be able to make up for what he has done and, while he still believes he won’t, the work makes him feel like he can at least turn the ocean of blood into a pool.

And it seems Eliot isn’t the only one who felt good while on the job, because all of them return to Nate, ask him to lead and want them to be a team.

Eliot Spencer is pretty sure that coming back for the second job, is the only smart thing he has ever done in his life.

Working with the team is the best thing that happened to him. All of them are highly skilled in their areas and Eliot learns more than he is willing to admit from just watching them. From being allowed on their team.

If he allows himself to be honest, he can admit that he isn’t sure why they’d want him there. He has never been a good person and they’re aware of it, at least on some abstract level, so why they would even want to be near him is beyond him.

However, he can recognize special, so if he can take the hits so they don’t have to, then he’s more than happy to protect them. He has always been better at taking this hits then thinking.

He is more than happy to protect the team, to feel like he’s keeping this bit of goodness alive. To feel like he’s doing good by keeping them safe, instead of keeping safe the riches of someone who got them through carnage. Just the fact that he is protecting instead of hurting is more than enough, he can take the punishment, repay the hurt he doled by getting hurt for them.

And he is grateful that the team lets him, that they recognize him to make the calls he has to make and that they trust his judgment in the situations he knows best.

It’s not that he’s smarter than them, he tells himself. He knows he isn’t. Grunts like him just repeat the same steps over and over again, see what works for others and what doesn’t. It’s one big dance they all do.

But that doesn’t mean everyone knows the responses, Eliot does. Eliot knows risks, one of the only things he has had to get good at. One of the only skills he honed.

So, he knows it’ll be safer for him to take the beating from Tank, rather than risk the team in one of Nate’s convoluted last minute plans after they’ve already been made. And he knows how to respond to the kidnappers when Nate and Maggie are taken.

What throws him for a loop about it all, however, is that the other seem to respect him, seem to think he is knowledgeable.

Sure, Hardison continuously makes fun of his punchy hands and how he doesn’t understand tech and Parker gets an odd amount of joy of poking at the bruises he got by trying not to kill anyone as he fights, while Sophie calls the fighting barbaric and Nate uses him as human shield more often than not.

However, when Nate puts him in as a grifter, no one questions his choices and they all assume he can do it. When a new language pops up they turn to him to see if he speaks it and when it all turns south, Nate refers to him to get them out and everyone follows what he says.

A part of Eliot can’t help but think of those kids he was in charge of under Moreau. The ones that didn’t make it on the dark days. How much it hurt to loose them. How much worse it will be if anything ever happens to the people under his care now. How easily they trust him with their lives when he isn’t the brightest out there and one mistake can end up with them dead.

Eliot feels like he doesn’t deserve their trust, but revels in it anyway. Feeling human is something he hasn’t done until he was 28 and feeling positive about being alive is a novel experience that has only come once he met the team.

Slowly, he starts to feel like maybe he doesn’t have to get their trust, their faith in him. He just has to accept it and play his part in keeping them alive.

Naturally that means it come crashing down. He already doesn’t deserve the trust they put in him and now he’s lying them and putting them all in danger by allowing them to go after Moreau without speaking up. Without warning them of the dangers of that man. Without telling them all he knows about how Moreau runs his operation.

The guilt is eating at him and he makes another stupid decision. His whole life is already made up of stupid decisions, what’s one more? He’s only ever done one smart thing and that is stick with the team, he’s not putting them in danger when it is his past haunting them.

He decides to go after Moreau himself.

Of course he still has the team’s back while they go after his former boss, he is just also going behind it, so they won’t ever get to their final destination.

Eliot reasons that if he can kill Moreau, before they get close, then no one but him will ever have to know about his past. About how stupid he has been. How many people he’s hurt. No one but him and Moreau, who’ll have a bullet in his head.

Moreau loved having him as a secret weapon, few people know he worked for him and his leaving Moreau’s side has been kept under wraps to avoid Moreau seeming weak. As far as the dirty underbelly is concerned, Eliot is still out there, doing Moreau’s bidding.

It’s not a reputation Eliot is a fan of, but it helps. He knows how the silent shadow of Moreau has kept some people off his back these past five years. Let him be peaceful. Allowed him not to have to kill again.

He will have to kill again.

Yeah, he knows that is a pessimistic way to look at it, but there is no other way to defeat Moreau and he knows it. He has spend years in the man’s operation, he knows how hard it will be to come close to toppling it over. How smart Moreau is. Should he live, he will find a way to break out and rise to power again. It’ll only be a matter of time.

So, Eliot has resigned to breaking his no-kill streak to take down Moreau. Anything to protect those who have taken him in, who somehow see good in him.

Finding Moreau isn’t hard – Eliot has kept tabs on him ever since he left – it is finding an opening to take him out that is difficult. If he had Hardison at his back to track Moreau’s digital moves or Parker to look for unseen entrances or Sophie with her way of getting close unnoticed or Nate’s planning, he might be more successful, but he can’t involve the team in this. He’ll have to do it in his own stupid way.

Not that he isn’t cautious, of course. Eliot’s one skill next to violence is risk assessment, as stated before. He knows how to not rush in unprepared. How to not get killed. It’s the whole thing that got him in this mess in the first place.

Just like he knows it’s easier if you have good people at your back, but how those people will be at risk of dying if either of you don’t know how to assess the risks. If either of you do something you shouldn’t have. He can’t risk the people at his back again, when he has the most experience in what he is doing. When him dying matters less than them dying.

Eliot works alone, he knew that back then too and if he involves other people in that sort of job, they get dead.

Naturally, this plan of his also doesn’t work out for him. The pressure on the team gets bigger and before he can take a shot on his own, Nate is already hounding Moreau and will not be swayed differently. Eliot understands Nate not listening to him about it, he doesn’t have the mastermind’s brain and he never tipped his hand as to why he might know how dangerous this is.

A part of him knows that if he speaks up, they’ll think twice about it, but then they also might just kick him to the curb. He would get that. But then they would go after Moreau without him there to keep them safe and why he might be dumb, he isn’t stupid enough to let that happen.

So, Eliot stays quiet and Eliot plays along.

However, he makes sure to get assigned to get the auction details from Moreau and volunteers Hardison to with him. He is the smartest person Eliot knows and he needs some smarts at his back before he does something stupid again. Plus, Hardison trusts him the most. He hates himself for it, but Hardison is the one that won’t question him if he has to do something and who’ll play along if needed. Eliot wants him there.

At the elevators Eliot realizes that if he doesn’t take charge now, they’re never getting in and if they do, they’ll be blown in seconds when he is recognized. So he does something stupid and gives the guards his real name and hopes Hardison’s smarts will balance it out.

Standing next to that pool, Eliot realizes that thinking he would be able to face Moreau again is one of the dumbest things he has ever done.

Fear grips him as he is face to face with the man, who made sure Eliot would never find peace ever again. It takes all his energy not to let it show. To not let slip how terrifying is of Moreau in front of him and for Hardison in the pool behind him.

Eliot will say yes to anything if it means Hardison will be able to come up for air again. If the other dies due to Eliot’s own stupid decisions, he’ll never be able to live with himself.

So when all Moreau wants is to have some General dead, then Eliot will do that without any hesitation. He already knew going after Moreau meant ending his no-killing streak.

In the end, he doesn’t kill the General. It’s almost ironic that the two times he thwarted Moreau it involved not killing a General.

More surprising is the fact that the team doesn’t immediately send him away. Not even Nate, who has witnessed the carnage that can be Eliot Spencer. The person he used to be without a soul, without remorse or a conscious. That heartless killer.

They’re a little mad at him of course, but they seem to understand why he didn’t want to tell him, how much Moreau scares him.

And when they keep him away from Moreau during their second con they run on the man, it doesn’t feel like distrust. Instead it feels like they’re keeping him away from his personal devil, so he won’t have to go through that again. It feels like he’s being protected and no matter how much his mind screams at him that it should be the other away around, his heart can’t help but feel safe.

After they take down Moreau, Eliot throws himself into keeping these people safe even more than he did before. Putting his body on the line is the only way he knows how to make up to them for the man he used to be.

He scales a mountain, getting Parker back safely. He takes a carnival ride to the face, because Nate told him to do his worst. He takes on a cartel to get Hardison back. Subjects himself to torture because Nate asks, goes back to his roots and tortures the interrogator right back when Hardison is taken again. He even contemplates killing again, so Nate won’t ever have to come close to being who Eliot used to be.

He doesn’t, though. He doesn’t, but it’s close.

When he holds the gun to Dubenich’s face his hand is shaking. Killing in that warehouse took more out of him than he thought. Not killing has soothed his soul like nothing else has ever since the kids under his command died.

Eliot knows that he will give up that peace of mind if Nate asked it of him. If the man wanted someone dead, Eliot would pull the trigger.

But Nate hasn’t asked for this death.

Sure, he wants the man dead. Hell, he wants to kill him himself. A thing Eliot can’t let him do, because he knows what it will do to Nate and he doesn’t deserve that. And if Eliot does it now, he will save Nate that fate.

He should do it.

He should go back to that far away state where he didn’t really exist in this world and neither did his actions. He should pull the trigger and kill Dubenich. Protect Nate from becoming anything that is close to what Eliot is.

However, his hand is shaking and selfishly he disarms the gun instead of shooting it as he prays that Nate will be smart enough not to do what Eliot did.

As Eliot prayed, Nate does not kill someone. The two end up dead, but Nate is intelligent and he doesn’t need to get his hands dirty for the world to do as he wants. Doesn’t have to use brute force to bend it to his will. Doesn’t have to be stained like Eliot is. A part of him hates Nate a little for how easy it comes to him.

The team moves to Portland and Eliot follows without question. He would follow them anywhere, no questions asked.

The others probably know that, so Eliot is a little surprised at the Brewpub and state of the art kitchen Hardison has waiting for him. As if Eliot needs an insentive to stay, even as Nate and Sophie start to drift off and it becomes clearer and clearer that five are going to be three soon enough.

Eliot isn’t stupid enough not to see how Nate tests their abilities more and more. How they fill the gaps Nate and Sophie will leave. Can’t help but wonder why Nate think Eliot will ever be enough without them. Parker and Hardison are smart, but Eliot’s stupid might weigh them down. Wonders if Nate is assessing if he can handle it or if he’ll be a liability.

Fuck, Eliot doesn’t want to become a liability.

Nate and Sophie deserve a good retirement, so Eliot tries his hardest to prove that he’s good enough to be an asset. He takes all the hits that come his way, works on characters with Sophie and tries to think what Nate will do when a mark just won’t bend.

The most obvious move Nate makes is sending the three of them to DC for a small con, even Eliot can’t miss that one.

The con they’re there to run goes off without a hitch, but before they can skip town and avoid consequences for their crimes Eliot gets a Call. The capital is completely deserved there, because it’s the type of call he used to get before. Before the team, before his conscious, before the lives of others became valuable to him.

Eliot can’t ignore what is about to happen. Can’t ignore that someone is going to die today unless he does something about it. He is a good guy now. He protects others. It might be stupid, but he tells the others as much and they, maybe equally stupidly, trust him enough to come with to stop it.

A part of Eliot blames himself for not walking away when he had the chance, because what they uncover in the end is way bigger than any of them can handle. Eliot knows that, the second he sees who is on the hit list. And it becomes even more clear when Vance fills them in on what needs to be done.

Vance is a military man, who Eliot worked with between 21 and 23. Vance might have been older than him, but at the time Eliot had more experience than the other. Eliot went into wetwork, while Vance was smart enough to accept a suit position before his hands were so stained, he no longer felt the need to serve.

Eliot knows what Vance has done. Knows how smart the man is and how he uses it to get people together and dance to his tune. Knows that people die under Vance’s command, just like they’d done under Eliot’s.

Hardison and Parker cannot, under any circumstance, die. Eliot won’t let it happen.

However, Eliot also isn’t as bright as either of them and maybe he has grown soft with having people to fall back on. People who are so intelligent and who have the skill to get Eliot out of situations he can’t get himself out of. So, Eliot lets them stay.

With every new thing they uncover about what is happening in DC, Eliot regrets bringing the two with him, but sending them away is impossible. This needs to be stopped or they’ll be at risk anyway and Eliot knows this is beyond his own capabilities to stop. He punches problems, not solve those that are unpunchable.

But when Hardison panics, a small part of Eliot wants to validate that fear and get him to run and not look back. Get him to leave Eliot here while he can get out of harm’s way.

But at that point they know there is no getting out of harm’s way. They either stop it or are all in danger, no gray area to operate in.

So, Eliot is more open about his feelings than he has ever been before and tells Hardison how smart he is, how amazing his brain is and that he just needs Hardison to point him in the right direction so he can solve this problem in the way he knows well: with a good punch.

It is enough to calm Hardison. They both know this is how their team works. Hardison the brain, Eliot the punch and Parker with solutions to the problems they didn’t foresee.

He fears for her life, but god is he glad she is there with them. That she is smart enough to board the train, to bring that diamond to cut the glass, that she knows to keep Hardison safe, that she remembers how fire kills it.

Eliot doesn’t mind getting shot twice to keep them safe. He can take the punishment and he can protect the people who do the good, who are righting the world. He can aid in their struggle for justice, even if it will never cleanse him of his own sins.

The three of them work well together and he has no issue saying no to Vance when he asks. Nate will be leaving and these two will need someone to point in the right direction so he can punch the problems that are punchable.

It’s only when they get to their hotel that Eliot’s worldview comes crashing down yet again, much like it had back when he was 28. Now at 38, ten years later, it happens again and in a very different way.

After throwing away his crutch – which isn’t the smartest thing he has ever done, but not the dumbest either – Hardison and Parker have supported him all the way back to their room until he can collapse on one of the beds.

He is exhausted and glad to sit down. The other two are clearly still too wired from their day to even think of taking it easy, both still buzzing with excess energy, which they try to pour in fussing over Eliot.

On an abstract level Eliot appreciates their concern, but it’s quite unnecessary. He tells him as much and they ignore him after giving him a look.

Luckily, they ease up a little bit anyway and when they deem him cared for enough, they go back to poking and ribbing him. Parker is poking his shoulder, while Hardison sends him a smug look and says: “So, I’m the smartest man you know, E? I’m flattered.”

Eliot bats Parker’s hand away and plasters on his best grumpy expression. He can’t let Hardison know how high he has him in his mind, the other will become insufferable. No need to show any genuine emotions, he thinks as he grouches: “It’s all comparatively, Hardison. I never even graduated high school, not that hard to be smarter than me.”

Instead of gloating further, like Eliot expected, Hardison frowns, smug face gone, and asks: “What do you mean by that?”

Later Eliot will blame the blood loss, but in the moment, the question just catches him off guard and without meaning to, he replies: “We both know I ain’t smart, just ribbing you back a little.”

Hardison’s frown deepens and he says: “Eliot, you’re very smart, what are you on about, man?”

Next to him, Parker nods and repeats: “Very smart.”

Eliot meanwhile can only look at the two with, what must be, shock on his face. There was a time Eliot considered himself to be smart, but with hindsight he realizes he has made too many stupid decisions to ever be it. He has made peace with it. To hear from two of the smartest people he knows that they think he is smart is tilting his world.

Much to his horror, he can feel a flush overtaking his cheeks and he looks away as he tells them: “No need to lie to me. I’m a little hurt, not in distress. I can handle the truth, you know. I punch things, you guys just point me to who. I don’t mind. We all have our things.”

“Are you playing with me? Is this a joke?” Hardison asks, practically demands. “Eliot, you speak multiple language and are skilled in so many martial arts, not to mention all your culinary knowledge and frankly terrifying Rolodex of distinct features, sound etcetera. And your grifting manipulation skills.”

“Those all require smarts,” Parker adds. “And you are very tactical, good at coming up with exit strategies and plans of attack. That’s not easy either.”

Eliot blushes deeper under the praise, but waves it away in the end as he shrugs: “Those are just skills, both of you have basic criminal skills. I’m not a mastermind like you’re shaping up to be Parker or a literal genius. I’m just a guy who joined the army before getting out of high school.”

“You keep bringing up high school like that is a measurement of any form of intelligence instead of just if you can remember stuff,” Hardison says. “Not to mention that Parker never even went to high school and-”

“She’s street smart,” Eliot protests, because no one will insult Parker’s intelligence when he’s around, not even Hardison.

“I know,” Hardison rolls his eyes as Parker points out: “So are you.”

Before he can protest more, Hardison says something that shuts him up. “And – as I was saying – I also never graduated high school.”

“What?” Eliot can’t help but exclaim, never seeing that coming.

“Yeah, man,” Hardison shrugs like it’s nothing. “Me and school didn’t really jam and Nana could use extra money more than anything school could teach me. I dropped out to help, then never really looked back. Not like I needed a degree with my job.”

Eliot’s whole view is shattered like that. It isn’t like he didn’t know that high school wasn’t indicative of much, but a part of him assumed that those around him had more education than him, that his failure started there. But that internal bias has just been shaken up.

“What you do isn’t easy, E,” Hardison tells him intently as if to drive the point home, just in case Eliot missed it. “You’re one of the smartest people I know.”

“I’ve always thought you were very smart too,” Parker agrees. “You know things, makes me feel safe that you’re there to help me find a way out. You think like me. We’re us. I like us being us together.”

And Eliot really hopes the blood loss is substantial enough that he can blame the moist eyes and choked up voice on it as he says: “Thanks, I- uhm, I’ll try to see it like that.”

“We’ll be here to remind you,” Parker informs him happily as she crawls into bed next to him and snuggles into his good shoulder.

“Yeah, man, we won’t let you forget you’re our own smart ass,” Hardison smiles as he sits on Eliot’s other side, letting their legs press together while being cautious of his injuries.

“You’re the smart ass,” Eliot ribs, aware that Hardison probably let him have that easy comeback so they could leave the emotional talk behind them if he wanted too.

“And still you put up with me,” Hardison says, letting his smile turn back into that smug little grin from before.

“Sadly,” Eliot grouches, but he doesn’t mean it and they all know it.

So, yeah, Eliot never graduated high school. He has made some stupid decisions in his life and lived the consequences, but he has learned from them too and picked up all sorts of skills that make him a smart hitter, who made it to 38 already.

Eliot hasn’t disappeared into a shallow grave before he could reach proper adulthood like so many around him have. Instead he found a family who want him there and make sure he has them to come home to, alive and well.

Quickly – quicker than they had any right to – they made themselves comfortable in his heart and he can’t be mad, because the work they do feels good and they all work well together, both as five and as three. They have found something they’re good in and they relish in it.

Nate and Sophie leaving when they do means that the others have to refind a balance. But they have been taught and mentored, given room to learn how to swim, before getting thrown in the deep end of the pool. So, they’re prepared to say goodbye when the moment comes.

And when they go, Eliot feels comfortable in promising that he will keep them safe till their dying day. That he has the skills and intelligence to keep Hardison and Parker alive until they all retire together. It took him a while to get here, but he is finally comfortable with who he is and what he can do. What he does.

Eliot is smart enough to run with the best thieves in the world that more than counts as being intelligent in his book. And it’s not like Hardison or Parker let him forget it, they’re stubborn like that.

[tony-andonuts]

I slightly changed the base plot for my dip fic idea to fit the plot of BLU better 😳😳😳

Also could just be headcanons too but:

Pip was at the pond while Stans gang was telling everyone about the movie, and Damien was sitting next to Stans gang when all the kids went to see the movie (canon). So Pip notices that Damien hasnt showed up to school since they all went and watched it, and decides to check the theater. And then the true part of the fic begins

[waywardsalt]

god i just realized. cuz the bellum x linebeck fic takes place in a light au and therefore the events of (and around) ph didn’t happen so if i plan this out right i could actually write linebeck’s brother as a character and not some vague backstory figure

[anxiousnerdwritings]

I am going FERAL over this imagine:

So basically Bruce brings reader home to be his new daughter/the boys' new sibling but Uh Oh! They now want you carnally and reader is just like "you said you wanted me as a daughter/sibling, wtf is this" and being their platonic darling is better than being shared between them romantically so reader tries to come off as innocent and child/sibling coded by being like "yeah I've never actually kissed or dated anyone before aren't I just so innocent" and the boys are like :)))

So then Dick says you can call him your boyfriend "just to feel it out" and Tim starts blatantly stealing your panties and Jason says he can give you your 1st kiss so you can "practice" with him and Bruce offers to teach you how to touch yourself and (and him) and when you try to walk it back cause the boys are being Freaks they're in their delulu era so eventually you end up tied to the bed with the boys and Bruce drawing straws over who gets to take what 1sts (like 1st date, kiss, virginity, ect).

And Damien is just in the background absolutely SEETHING cause the the boys and Bruce's Horny Time keeps interrupting his Mommy Time with the reader

And reader using Damien as kind of a shield cause what are they going to do, feel you up in front of a CHILD? Like just, "Stay Platonic :))"

Just that kind of pseudo incest makes me Feel Things (*/∀＼*)(///∇///)

I'd love your thoughts/a fic based on this! Ty ❤️

TW: Brief mentions of pseudo incest(y) scenarios/behavior, manipulative tactics, yandere tendencies

(Okay so I’ll answer this with my thoughts for right now.)

I know I primarily write incest(y) related topics for my Game of Thrones/ASOIAF stuff but I have been tempted to/curious about branching it out into some of the other fandoms I write for 👀. (I’ve had a few ideas rolling around in my noggin for a bit if anyone is interested.) So I would be willing to give this a try. I’m down to experiment with some new stuff, within reason of course.

I imagine the Reader being older (probably 19-23), maybe even having been a runaway of sorts or not having a very stable home life, so when they’re given the ‘offer’ to become part of the family they’re looking to fulfill a familial void they’ve never experienced or have forgotten how it’s felt like. I definitely see Bruce and the rest of the boys keeping a very close eye on the Reader before they decide to finally bring them into their family, basically full on stalking them from the moment they caught their attention (you know how the Batfam works). It wouldn’t be a surprise if even before the Reader was with them physically that the boys developed a more carnal desire for them. At first, their intentions were completely platonic, but with all the lengthy observing and information gathering of their supposed-to-be-new-family-member eventually something changed in how they all saw their darling.

I really see the change in their obsession starting with either Dick or Tim first. Especially regarding some accidental or purposeful peeping Tom foolery. I feel like Bruce would be the last to fall victim to the change in direction or at the very least he’s the last one to admit to it. If Damian is younger than I see his obsession staying strictly platonic, but if he were much older than I could see him involving himself to the same depths as his family.

At first, I see things happening subtly. Knowing that at the very least a few of them are already in an obsessive-romantic headspace in regards to their darling before they even physically become part of the family the guys would try to be as welcoming as possible without revealing their true intentions. They don’t want to scare you off right away, they want you to walk into it semi-willingly at least. But the interactions with the Reader would show something else. The lingering touches, the being much closer to you than really necessary, the heated grazes over your clothes here and there that leave you wondering if that actually happened or not. I also kind of like the other members not being fully aware of each other’s change in obsession, everyone giving each other the side eye until it sets in and then all out war of who gets the darling to themself unfolds only to eventually end up with them working together and agreeing to share. That’s when Bruce’s heel-turn is revealed.

Once things get truly amped up, the interactions with the Reader really begin to escalate. The boys would walk around shirtless more often, all of them trying to get their darling to look at them, to really look at them. Eventually, it’s not just them being shitless but either them in nothing but their underwear or nothing at all. They start out as accidents but eventually it’s pretty loud and clear that the guys want you to see them, all of them, to even touch them and feel them to your hearts content. But thats not all, of course it’s not. The touching of their darling only gets all the more intense, to the point that you know damn well that they’re touching you and they want to leave you wanting for more. So much more. The Reader’s innocence and lack of experience would only spur them on even more. They absolutely thrive off of it. They all want to be your first, your first everything. There will be a lot of secret ‘lessons’ being given behind closed doors and telling of “Don’t tell Batdaddy or he’ll get real mad.” “Don’t let Jay know, or he’ll want to punish you for not doing this with him.” “Let this be our secret, (Name). Something just for you and me.” “Can’t tell anyone about this or they’ll ruin it for the both of us.” And they only get even worse from there.

I can’t see Alfred being okay with this in any situation, whatsoever. I think he especially would feel like Bruce and the other boys completely took advantage of the Reader and he would try his best to aid them in trying to keep up with the platonic intention of this entire fiasco. He would be a total cockblock, even going as far as helping Damian in his cockblocking endeavors. Alfred’s intention would be to play both sides so he knows how to help the Reader when it comes to Bruce and the others but it wouldn’t take too long for them to figure out that Alfred is working against them. Like, Alfred was all for the familial-platonic obsession but when things started getting more romantic he was ready to shut that shit down ASAP. You can’t tell me he hasn’t, at least a few times, locked Bruce, Dick, Jason, and Tim out of the house to give the Reader some peace and give Damian his much deserved allotted time with them.

Speaking of Damian, he is a menace (as per usual) but even more so than normal. He really doesn’t take too well to the new direction of his father’s and brothers’ obsession for the Reader. He thinks it’s pretty messed up but he sincerely likes and cares about the Reader and he wants them to stay, he wants them to continue being a part of the family forever so he’ll let some things slide. Some. He even may be willing to look the other way when it eventually comes to Bruce, Dick, Jason, and Tim baby-trapping the Reader if it means this whole ‘family’ thing becomes set in stone with the arrival of a new ‘sibling’. But for the most part, at least early on, Damian would be a huge pain in the ass for the other family members. He feels like he needs to step in to save his darling from the others and their ulterior motives. He’s all his parental/older sibling figure needs, at least at that point. He may even try to runaway with them to keep them safe from the others. Hell, he may even get his mother involved if he was desperate enough, especially if he saw the Reader as a parental figure. Or maybe even another Justice League member to either adopt him and the Reader so that he could have that family experience he was promised with the Reader. Or he would be completely content just living the rest of his life just him and the Reader, platonically of course.

It would either take Bruce or Dick to have a talk with Damian to get him to come to some agreement to allow them to continue with what they’re doing in regards to the Reader. I think Dick would get away with manipulating Damian much better than Bruce could. I think Damian would have some opinions about his father especially throughout this whole situation. Especially since I see Damian being very observant of how Dick, Jason and Tim are behaving towards the Reader early on and picking up on the fuckery taking place, even going as far as telling Bruce about it under the belief his father would be on his side (not ever fathoming the idea of his father also doing similar things to the Reader without him ever knowing). As far as Damian knew his father was completely platonic towards the Reader, as a ‘father’ should be. Right? So understandably Damian feels not only betrayed but also disgusted when he finds out that his father was and still is taking part in, acting in a similarly depraved fashion as the others.

Eventually, I could see them coming together and being one big ‘happy’ family. But it sure as hell comes at a price. (Usually the Reader’s freedom and sense of self outside of the obsession they’ve been dragged into, to drown in alongside their yandere(s).)

[ladyelissarose]

I love your fics! Can i please have a Miguel O'hara x Fem Reader where she bumps into a abusive ex and she gets scared/uncomfortable. So Miguel being the protective and territorial person he is steps in and handles the situation (maybe even fights the guy), and Miguel gets all sappy and soft letting her know he loves her and will protect her always. Fluff plzUwU

‘Protector’

Miguel O’Hara x girlfriend reader

Warnings; 4k!! mentions of abusive ex, sad flashbacks that involve some violence. Like *Choking and screaming* Little bit of angst, panic attacks mentioned too. But I squeezed in more fluff than y’all can imagine! Please be careful with what you want to read. Enjoy

Summary; after not being in a relationship for over a few months, you start to try again with an adorable scientist, Miguel O’Hara. Overall he seems very sweet and kind at the start of your growing relationship, but you can’t help but worry he might be like you ex. Until one day he proves to be the total opposite.

Author’s note: Hiiii love!!! Thank you for this request!! I’m so happy I got one! So I hope this meets your expectations, let me know :) much love and hugs!!

Diing Diing!

The clanking bells alarmed you that a customer had just walked into the large 3-story library you work at in New York City. A smile went up your face as you waved and greeted a couple of college girls who passed by with smiles and their little coffees.

This library in particular was special to you, it had a great view of the magnificent city, many customers came by and 99% of the time found what they needed, it was a place of a new fresh start after leaving an abusive relationship, and better than all of those things aforementioned, it was the place where you found Miguel O’Hara, your new boyfriend.

Miguel was a scientist, he worked at Alchemax and came by often to the library to retrieve books he needed for his job. He was always a regular customer as your boss had mentioned, but he said he came by more often when you started working there everyday.

Which was true, you saw him very often, maybe 8 times in a span of 5 days, he walked in and out with a new scientific book or one about chemicals, and you’d be the one to check them out.

It wasn’t hard to miss him when he walked in, he had a broad form and looked very different from the rest- oh and he always wore that white coat that made his arms bulge out more than they should, and really shape his V back perfectly.

Every time his curly jet black hair was always combed back with his calloused fingers as he would approach the front desk and ask you how your day was, even if you had seen him earlier that morning.

Flashback-

“Hi! I-uh.. came to get these checked out... how’s your day been- like so far?”

You beamed a smile at his sorta shyness, which wasn’t normal for him. He wasn’t particularly hyper and such, but his speech was always confidently spoken. Nonetheless you took the 1000 paged book about Chemistry and scanned it while responding,

“It’s been a little busier, now that college started for the kiddos, they’ve been in and out of here like crazy. But overall good.”

His warm brown eyes hadn’t met yours as one of his hands were stuffed in his pockets and the other inched for the book in your hand, but he smiled and replied,

“Oh that’s nice, just don’t.. uh overwork yourself corazo- ma’am.”

You giggled while putting the book in its paper bag while suggesting,

“You can call me corazen- Is that how you say it?”

Miguel finally let his eyes look at you and you could see he held a slight uncertainty, but he did correct you kindly,

“It’s corazon.. i-it means ‘heart’.”

‘Awww... that’s so sweet... Damien would have never said that.’

Warmth filled your insides and you could’ve bet a million dollars that your cheeks were beet red, it wasn’t a doubt you found this mountain of a man absolutely adorable like a puppy, and extremely hot. You slid the book in a paper bag towards him carefully and added,

“Well thank you for correcting me-“

You then read his tag and went on,

“Dr.O’Hara... would you like anything else?”

For a second time his eyes locked on yours, and he took a deep breath before rapidly taking out his hand out from his pocket. You gasped lowly and flinched back at the action, your eyes wide. But Miguel caught your action and felt guilty for scaring you, and comforted you immediately with his words,

“Sorry! Umm.. ay coño.. just call me Miguel.. and.. would you like to go out at some time?”

You were now a couple feet away from the desk, but when you saw the little paper he had put out on top, you slowly came back.

A frown made a small line between his eyebrows, you too felt back for scaring away, but you couldn’t help but have that kind of reflex to certain gestures. You couldn’t meet his eyes after what you did, but his gentle voice gave you a slight confirmation that it was ok,

“Corazon?... it’s ok if you can’t-“

“I can! Yes.. yes... I’m sorry-“

“Please don’t be.. it was me that was weird then-“

“You’re not weird I swear... I was the one that acted dramatically-“

“You’re perfect.. I swear that you are.”

Honesty and adoration was read all over him, something you’ve never seen in another man but could detect. With a warm smile you made the move to agree with him, though you were hoping he was right.

“Ok...”

Miguel first smiled then wore a frown with a question,

“Ok.. as in the date or-“

You quickly quipped,

“Is it too much to ask for both?”

With a shake to his head Miguel tapped the table and took his bag,

“For you? Not at all corazon.. at 6 tomorrow.. because you clock out at 5 right?”

In surprise at how he knew when you got off of work had you smiling a bit brighter, as you couldn’t remember the last time someone remembered something so small about you.

“Yes! Ah.. thanks for noticing, and giving me time.”

With a wink and a last wave Miguel sweetly promised,

“You’re worth all my time.”

End of flashback-

You never thought that being 6 months into your new relationship would be leading after that first date with Miguel.

And you have never been happier than ever. He was the absolute most gentle person ever, he never lifted his voice and was calm in every situation. He was the total opposite of what you dragged yourself into with your last relationship... which was toxic and abusive.

Damien was the asshole’s name, and with him, degrading words were always shouted at you, new bruises would appear around your wrists or neck every time he got angry, your lipstick was never smeared from being kissed and loved... instead your mascara was always messed up and painted teary lines down your cheeks.

You’d flinch when a voice was raised higher than normal or you’d panic for a second at someone moving too fast towards you. As in the past Damien would scream at you endlessly and out of no where sprint towards you to lay his hands on you to hurt you. But now as you had run away from him and started a whole new life far away- as so you thought.

You worked hard to be more normal and confident, and read people and understand that some moved the same way but had different actions and intentions behind them.

Like when Miguel would reach suddenly to brush your hair behind your ear, you had to learn that he was caring for you, and not going to choke you. Or when he’d come from behind you to hug you, day by day you grew to accept how he was loving on you and not going to drag you away to hurt you.

So little things like that, you were trying to give a chance to think differently of, so you could heal. And to not say the least, but Miguel had seen the trauma you were in from when you first dated, he had seen and heard how you asked for reassurance on everything you did, and even apologized your heart out when you accidentally laughed a little louder at a funny moment, or when a drop of coffee landed on his shirt, face filled with dread and worry at what he’d say or do to you.

But ever sense that night, Miguel swore on his life that he’d never let you go, and that he’d protect you forever from whoever would want to cause you harm. And he also knew, that if he ever ran into your ex, it’d be the last time he ever did.

—————-

Diiiin Diiing!!

The library was already close to closing time, so when you heard the ding, you called out to let them know,

“Hi! Welcome to-“

In horror you dropped the books you were holding, letting them crash onto the floor and even allowing the hard cover book land on its corner onto your foot. The day you hoped would never come, finally came.

In all his wicked glory, stood your ex, Damien, at your counter. With an erratic heartbeat and shaky hands you moved down to the floor to pick up the books, feeling like the helpless little girl you were when he had you. Fear wasn’t enough to describe what had you losing your breath and movement, as venom came out of his mouth.

“Wow.. even after all this time your still a clumsy bitch huh? Pathetic.”

Words cut sharp like knives at your heart and you could feel how deep into your gut that tossed stone of words went. Instantly it was like if you went to robotic mode with him, like if he had control over you. His black eyes bore into your now glossy eyes as you fixed the books on the counter and replied with a stutter,

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to drop it- it was an accident-“

“An accident like how you dropped your coffee on my shoes or how you step on my brand new shoes at your cousins wedding? You’re an accident. A mistake- like how’d you even get the job?”

Shrugging slowly was all you could muster, words hanging in your throat. But a harsh slam of his hand hitting against the counter had you jump and responding verbally,

“I-I’m not sure.. my boss thinks I’m efficient and qu-quick.”

And in that moment you had a very quick slip up in your mind, making you scold yourself and remember Miguel’s words, which were honest and uplifting,

‘Don’t be weak!! Remember what Miguel said- Never let anyone tell you you’re not good enough at what you do. You’re perfect and strong, stand up for it.’

You then took a deep breath and said forwardly,

“I’m good enough for this. So just- just please leave me alone.”

A dry laugh met your ears along with more degrading words,

“You’ll never get it huh? No matter what you do without me you’ll never be good enough. I gave you power-“

He gave you the power of fear, fearing all the time, the power of tears, that you cried every night after a scandal he put up. So you worded confidently,

“No you didn’t. You were toxic and abusive. The only power you gave me was to fear you.. but that’s over. Now go-“

You tired really tried your best to stand strong, but it didn’t work out well and it opened old wounds when he dared to raise his voice and slam his hand on the counter again,

Bam!!

“TOXIC?! Wow! Look at you calling the kettle black little girl. You see, you were the toxic one for always disobeying me and saying ‘no’. You were toxic for not letting me love you like I wanted to- I TRIED OK? I did! That you didn’t like rough and all was your little immature and weakling problem, but that’s what happens when you don’t play nice with your daddy.”

Internally you bled as he slashed you open with every word and movement, making you feel less and less like the person you had become.

Miguel’s words fading in your mind as Damien added a new one and went on like a broken record. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until you let it out as a gasp when he slammed his hand again and demanded your attention,

“HEY! Aren’t you listening?! Do I have to hit the side of your head so it clicks? Don’t you remember how well that method worked?!”

Diiiing Diiiing!!

Miguel had just walked in with your favorite dinner meal from the coffee shop near by, carrying his on the other hand so he could join you for his little break too.

Just as you had dropped your stuff in fear, so did he.. but he felt a deep concern instead. He witnessed a man half his size tower over the counter and lean towards you with an accusing finger, shoulders visibly moving in aggression.

But what choked his air was your face- oh god how he hated the look of fear on you, it was as if death was standing before you. Miguel immediately walked up and called out to you first, not wanting to scare the man and cause more to happen, as he didn’t know what was up with him.

“Amor? What’s going on?”

The man whipped his head towards Miguel and only smirked at him and said to him while still staring deeply,

“Sir you’ll have to come back later-“

Huffing in disbelief at this guy’s audacity, Miguel turned his attention back to you and saw tears coming down your eyes, making him ask right away,

“Amor, what did he do to you?”

Blocking you with his body Damien bit,

“Why are you assuming I did something wrong?”

At seeing your teary eyes and wet cheeks, Miguel instantly grew defensive and very angry at the man that stood in front of you being an asshole. Miguel knew by his tone that he had probably done something to you, and that only made him more furious... until it clicked for him, who he was.

‘That’s the bitch.. Damien. Mierda.. your so going to wish you never walked in here.’

With an authoritative voice Miguel called out to you,

“Go to the back, and don’t come out.”

He wouldn’t want you to see the ugly side of him that came out when he defended those he’d kill for. He wouldn’t want you to accidentally translate his harshness towards enemies as that he could probably hurt you too with those same hands. No, he o my wanted you to see and know that his hands would only show love and care to you.

So you taking the chance that you knew Miguel wouldn’t dare let Damien come after you, you ran to the back immediately and didn’t look back. Knowing you’d probably pass out from seeing more of the monster that hurt you so much.

———

Miguel back up front then cracked his knuckles and threatened,

“And you, step away from the counter-“

“Why should I? I haven’t done anything to her-“

“And you won’t, ever again. Now I suggest you go and leave her alone-“

“And what are you going to do if I don’t huh? You think I’m scared-“

“Que idiota... You will be. The only fighting you know is how to hit women... try hitting me. I dare you.”

Thinking Miguel wouldn’t try anything, as he was a much larger man, Damien stupidly went at him. But being Spider-Man in disguise had its perks to self defense and fighting skills. So reaching close enough to him, Miguel then side stepped and watched Damien fall forward, hence letting him catch his back collar and slam him to the ground.

Breath knocked out of his lungs at the single action had Damien laying on the ground trying to catch air, but Miguel refused it to him when he hovered over him and held onto his neck tightly with one hand, constricting the airway.

“Thought you liked choking? And pain?”

Damien’s face turned red and Miguel’s heart pinched at the thought of his love and life being in this painful position, because of this low life monster under him. It only made him growl and add to the fire and squeeze harder, not caring about how Damien silently cried for release,

“Hm? Hijo de puta.. vete al carajo... and never come back. If not I’ll make sure you never do.”

And with that Miguel slammed his back one last time to the ground, ignoring the small crack he heard, and then got up, lastly spitting out in a loud voice,

“Now get the hell out! I don’t want to see you around her ever again!!”

Like a cowered dog Damien scurried away, running out the door and going far off, not caring about the weird looks people gave him for how crazy and scared he looked.

Miguel didn’t give him a second thought before darting towards the back room to get you. When he approached the door he knew it’d be locked, so he knocked gently and called out,

“Amor? It’s me.. Miguel. Can you open up?”

Sniffles and hard gasps were heard on the other side, causing him to freak out a bit and call to you again,

“Baby it’s ok. Amor I’m here and it’s safe-“

“I-Is he gone??”

Miguel could hear your short breaths between words and he could feel it in his gut that you were hitting panic mode. So as soft as possible he tried to tell you,

“Yes amor.. he’s gone. I promise, open the door por favor.. I want to see you.”

Silence filled the room a bit. It he then heard the smallest-

click!

As always Miguel never degraded you but instead praised you, even for the smallest things, like unlocking the door.

“Gracias amor, good job baby.”

Slowly he opened it and his heart ripped apart at the sight of your cowered form in the corner of the closet, breath hitching and your small hands trying to wipe away the large tears that rained down on your stained cheeks. With his arms opened to you Miguel did his best to word out everything and let you know what he’d do beforehand,

“Ok amor, I’m going to come to walk to you... can I touch you-“

Your hand inched for him as you whimpered,

“I can- I can’t breathe. hel-p me.”

Hearing you hiccuping for air had Miguel grabbing your face gently, pulling you towards him slowly as he tried to talk you through it to calm you down,

“You’re ok amor. Respira.”

His hand laid on your heart as he led yours to lay on his, he wanted you to work on matching your breathing with is. His other hand held the back of your neck gently and leaned your forehead on his as he went on praising and comforting,

“Just like that amor, breathe. You’re doing so well-“

“I feel so sc-scared.. like if it’s all in my throat-“

“I know amor-“

“I didn’t know what to-to do-“

“It’s not your fault-“

You tried to push away and bury yourself in dark thoughts of untruth,

“But it is! I let him... how could you lo-love someone like me that folds- Mmph!!”

Miguel wouldn’t have it, he loved you too much to let you drown in hurtful thoughts, so to silence your head and words, he had pulled you in for a deep kiss.

Instantly it had helped you stopped thinking crap about yourself and doubt everything with Miguel, and it helped you calm your breathing as you felt him move his lips against yours softly yet firmly. Your hands wrapped around his neck and brought him back closer to you, not wanting to let go. Miguel then pulled away, but only enough to mumble coherently,

“I love you *kiss* and you’re safe *kiss* I won’t hurt you *kissssss* I got you amor *kiss kiss* I’m not going anywhere without you *kiss*.”

The kisses in between confirmations had calmed you down right away, feeling his hands embrace you and run over your arms and waist gently had got you to stop fidgeting as well. With a one last kiss to your head, Miguel slowly stood up, helping you stand as his arms wrapped around you, he then suggested to you,

“Let’s go home amor, c’mere. Tomorrow’s your day off anyways and we can get up late to and rest.”

You were about to walk out in hand with him, but Miguel had different plans as he was feeling still protective over you and wanted you close. He crouched down a bit and worded,

“Jump and wrap your legs around me-“

“Mig-“

“It’s ok amor, don’t worry about anything.. I got you.”

No more doubt rested in you at the thought of him carrying you, so you gladly accepted and jumped in his arms. You looked small in his arms, but you felt so safe and secure as one of his large arms held you up. He grabbed your bags of food and let you hold them as he helped you clock out and lock up.

Your head rested in his neck as your arms wrapped around him, when he had taken off his coat to drape over you. He didn’t mind to walk you home to your apartment that was two blocks away, as long as you were with him he was content.

Once home you both ate comfortably and soon were cuddling in bed, Miguel the whole time held you close and promised to keep you safe, letting you know that you’d never see your ex again, and when you asked how that would be possible, he stated,

“Just let me take care of it Amor... you’ll be ok. Now rest baby.. I’ll be here with you in the morning.. I texted my boss that I won’t be coming in. So sleep amor.”

You lifted your head off his chest and pecked his lips as you thanked him,

“Thank you... for everything. I don’t deserve you-“

Miguel held your cheek and insisted,

“You deserve all of me and more.. and I’ll remind you everyday until you believe it.”

He kissed away your tears and kissed you once more as you nodded,

“Ok... I love you.”

“I love you so much more. Te voy a amar... por siempre.”

And with that you had passed out in his arms, cuddled close to his chest, your heart beats synchronizing as one.

Miguel made sure you had passed out deeply, before sliding out of bed and kissing you back to sleep as he covered you completely and made sure you were ok, before leaving the place. He had a promise to keep, and he intended to do it as fast as possible.

—————-

“He’s yours.”

Officer Jefferson Davis looked at Miguel with a frown as he saw the beat up Damien in who he knew as Spider-Man 2099’s hands. Jefferson grabbed Damien and asked,

“Well what did this punching bag do?”

Damien cried pathetically as he tried to reach for Miguel,

“He’s crazy! I didn’t do anything! Aren’t you supposed to fight villains and not civilians?!?”

Miguel stood tall and interrupted him,

“You harassed the library lady today, and threatened to hurt her. Villains hurt people.. and you like to hurt women.. so that makes you a villain. And I’m not going to let that happen.”

Jefferson nodded his head in agreement and replied to Spider-Man,

“That’s good enough to lock him up for a while-“

He then pulled Damien towards an Officer as he added,

“-you look like the kind of loser that pulls those stunts- damn my wife would beat your ass. Get him in cuffs and to the station. He doesn’t deserve a hospital-“

“But I think he broke my arms!-“

Jefferson rolled his eyes and huffed,

“Good! Now you’ll have another reason why to not hit women!”

Once he was dragged away, he went to thank Spider-Man,

“I appreciate this. It’s hard to catch these guys sometimes, but I’m glad you keep an eye out for them and for the community.”

Shaking his hand Miguel responded,

“It’s not a problem.. just.. just keep in him there for the longest time you can.”

Jefferson understood without needing more, so he promised,

“I’ll make sure of that. Now I need to go make sure that happens-“

With a salute Miguel bid,

“You do that Sir. Have a goodnight.”

Saluting back Jefferson smiled,

“You too Spider-Man.”

Back at home, and in your arms, Miguel smiled to himself at seeing your peaceful self, knowing you wouldn’t be hurt by Damien ever again. Softly he placed a kiss on your cheek and whispered,

“He won’t hurt you again.. te amo.”

Now he held you close to him and soon fell asleep to the sound of your breathing and warmth against him. Both of you sleeping soundly in peace and security.

Spanish translations:

Corazon- heart

Te voy a amar por siempre- I’ll love you forever

Que idiota- what an idiot

Hijo de puta- son of a bitch

Vete al carajo- go to hell

Respira- breathe

[queenie-the-court-jester]

If there will be a part two for yandere online friend, once I found out im pregnant, I will cause a miscarriage on purpose and blame him for the lying, the cheating, the drugs, EVERYTHING. Tormenting him for his betrayal, because it’s not fair that he messed around with another girl while I was there for him when his own family wasn’t.

(I know i was aware high school love wasn’t gonna last but i love being petty and holding on grudges brings me joy.) 🥰💅

you're more fucked up than me dawg 😭 but at the same time it's understandable?? In a way?? But then again that isn't any better than the yandere... This will be the first, and last darkfic I will ever write

Tw: self abortion, guilt tripping, toxic relationship, mentioned non-con, this whole fic is a warning in itself, self harming, suicide. readers be warned,dead dove do not eat

🥀no no NO! WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS!? WHY WOULD YOU RUIN EVERYTHING HE WAS SO CLOSE TO ACCOMPLISHING?? you were supposed to love the baby.. all in all, he goes into hysteria when he sees you on the floor of the bathroom. Blood all over the tiles and toilet

💔calling 911 and breaking down, sobbing uncontrollably as they load you onto the stretcher and go to the hospital. When you wake up, he expected you to call the police or scream for help. But you just.. stared at him? No emotion..

🥀you stayed in the hospital for a week, he stuck to your side like glue. The nurses always commented on how much of a loyal boyfriend you had, but they were met with silence. It unnerved them a bit but they just brushed it off as you processing the miscarriage

💔when Damien took you back to his house, he boarded up the windows and doors. Adding multiple locks all while looking like he was hyperventilating. Images of you bleeding flashing through his head. the doctors said it was a miracle they even managed to save you

🥀he froze when he finally heard you speak for what felt like the first time in weeks.

"this is all your fault. You did this to me."

"d-darling please! Let's not go there.."

"you're a worthless pathetic bastard. I hate you."

💔he slowly goes back into his old destructive habits, cutting his arms and smashing solid objects against his thigh or legs. Making himself feel the pain you must've felt, always crawling back to you. Bloody and bruised, begging to be forgiven

🥀he starts making up stories. Saying the girl pushed herself onto him, or he wasn't thinking straight when it happened. He'd be so unstable you could even manage to get him to off himself if you pushed him farther, taking his money and leaving his bloody corpse in the shitty house he called a home. Did he seriously expect to raise a family here? Pfft, what a weirdo..

[petite-phthora]

Shouldn’t have digital evidence when you have a family of hackers

[DP x DC fic]

[Love at first... murder? - part 14]

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Part 1

Ao3

---

Text in italics and in-between ' means it is said in sign language

'For example.'

If an entire scene is written in italics, that means that that scene is a flashback.

---

When Jason glances at where Danny and Ellie were, he sees nothing. He’s too relieved to really care much about how they got out of here so quickly.

He’ll ask Danny about it later.

Probably…

“Red Hood.”

“Bitch.” Is his response.

Jason is slightly disappointed, but entirely unsurprised, by the lack of reaction he gets.

“Who were they?”

“What were those civilians doing on the roof?”

“Where did they even go?”

“Just some informants for a case I’ve been working on.” Jason says, not giving anything about them away.

“Which case?”

“Did they attack you?”

“Yeah, who took a bite out of your arm? And more importantly, how did you taste?”

“Steph, I don’t think now’s the time—”

‘Medical assistance?’

Jason follows the Bats’ gazes towards his injured arm. He resists the urge to hide it and instead crosses his arms, trying to play it off.

“No, this is from… a cat.”

“A cat?”

“Yes. A stray cat. Bit me.”

“Tch. It’s obvious Todd is incompetent when it comes to caring for animals. For it to attack you like that you must have done quite poorly. What did you do to it?” Damien glares at him in an accusatory way.

“I didn’t do shit, Demon Brat. I was just scanning the street when it bit me outta nowhere.”

“Well, excuse me if I don’t believe you, Todd. You clearly must have cornered, threatened, or hurt it in some way for it to react—"

“Yeah, yeah.” Jason cuts him off and rolls his eyes, even though none of them can see it through the helmet. The energy is there.

“Animals hate me, and I can’t take care of them for shit. Now, can we move on to why you’re all here on my turf?” Jason stares them all down.

Before anyone else can speak up, Dick starts talking.

“Can’t an elder brother just visit his younger sibling every once in a while?” Dick asks with a totally innocent grin.

“No.”

Dick shrugs. “Worth a shot.”

“While we originally came here to interrogate you about your involvement in the disappearance of the Joker, these imbeciles wanted to use the encounter as a way to simultaneously confront you about your new… beloved” Damian says, gesturing towards the others sounding completely done and unimpressed.

‘Got them flowers?’

“So how was the dinner? And the observatory? Do they like the stars? What’s their name? Hobbies? Age? Appearance? Interests?”

“Are they hot?”

“Seeing as you picked up a bouquet of sweet peas in costume, and didn’t take a detour to your apartment or safehouse before your location started glitching, I have to ask. Are you dating a civilian as Red Hood?” Babs speaks up over the comms.

Tim stays suspiciously silent, not asking any questions. Jason cuts them all off.

“Where the hell did you even get this information from?”

“Tim snitched.”

“Drake mentioned it.”

“Tim.”

“Timmy told us.”

“Red Robin informed us about your outing.”

“I hacked some cams to see you pick up the flowers, but Tim was the one to say you were on a date at the time.”

Tim raises his finger and opens his mouth as if he’s about to speak up and defend himself. He then stops, seemingly considering something before dropping his hand back down and just shrugging.

“If you didn’t want anyone to know you shouldn’t have gone out as Red Hood when getting the flowers and taking them out to dinner.

“Besides, I tried to respect your privacy and redirect everyone somewhere else to keep them off your back. But they interrogated me, and I’m sorry.” He says, not sounding sorry at all. “It just… slipped out.”

“You didn’t try that hard—"

Tim shushes Steph and cuts her off.

“Besides! Babs also stalked you! Through the cameras! And, I didn’t say that much. I just told them you were on a date.”

Jason glares at them all through the visor of his helmet. Meanwhile, Dick crosses his arms and pouts.

“Yeah, Timbers—” “No real names.” “— wouldn’t tell us anything! He used his lack of sleep against us.”

---

“So Timmy, I need you to tell me everything. Pretty please?”

Tim raises his finger and opens his mouth as if he’s about to speak up. Then his eyes roll into the back of his head and he starts falling backward.

Dick yelps and manages to catch him before he falls onto the ground and hits his head.

“Damn it, Tim!” He whines. “Passing out like that should not have been the power move that it is.”

“He can fall asleep after this?!” Steph’s incredulous voice pipes up.

Dick’s gaze moves from Tim over to where Steph was previously half-dying due to Tim’s monstrosity of a drink. She’s standing by now, clutching the mug in a death grip. She’s twitching every now and again, her foot tapping the floor rapidly.

“Ehm, Steph? You okay?”

“Mhmm, think I’m having a stroke”

“Oh, that’s not good—”

Dick cuts himself off as Steph starts to stumble. He moves closer to catch her in case she falls as well, but luckily she manages to save herself from falling, clumsily moving to sit down on the floor instead.

Once seated, she lets her back hit the floor. She also lets go of the mug, letting it spill onto and roll around the floor of the cave.

“Y’know, I think I’m just gonna stay here for a bit. Maybe do some stalactite gazing. It’s riveting stuff, I tell you!”

Dick lets out a small sigh and nods a little.

“You do you, boo”

He gets a thumbs-up in response.

---

“Why are you actually here?” He cuts them off, already done with their bullshit. “Don’t start the bullshit about the ‘date’ again. Either talk business or leave.”

He privately notes the lack of green in his vision.

They all glance at each other before Batman steps forward and speaks up.

“What is your involvement in the disappearance of the Joker.”

“I don’t have anything to do with the Joker’s disappearance” Jason vehemently denies, arms still crossed.

“Are you sure about that?” Babs’ voice pipes up over the comms.

A hologram forms above Batman’s gauntlet computer. The hologram shows a picture of Jason in his Red Hood costume without his helmet grinning at the camera. He’s holding up the camera selfie style and seems to be in one of the alleys of Crime Alley.

The most intriguing part of the picture is the figure next to Jason on the ground. There, in clear view, lies the dead body of the Joker. His head seems to be caved in in a way that shows he most likely died on impact, hit by something that had a lot of force.

Jason pauses at the sight of one of his most precious keepsakes.

“Of course you hacked my phone” He scoffs, clearly unhappy.

Jason turns back to look at the Bats and watches their reactions to the revelation the Joker is most certainly dead. Dick seems to have some sort of weight lifted off of his shoulders. Cass doesn’t give anything away.

Damian is unimpressed, scoffing at the hologram and likely already mentally criticizing the technique. Steph seems to be more relaxed, “Damn, Jason, this totally looks like that one Grant Gustin next to the grave meme,” while Tim seems to be having some kind of world-shattering epiphany.

He then eyes Batman’s tense posture. Jason shifts slightly, getting ready to fight if it comes to it.

“Red Hood. Did you kill the Joker?” Batman grinds out slowly, pinning Jason with a soul-piercing stare. Jason carefully eyes Batman’s tightened fists before locking eyes with him again.

“No,” Jason answers honestly.

Jason and Batman are locked in a stare-down, neither speaking another word. The tense silence goes on for a few seconds before it’s broken by Dick casually putting his arm around Jason’s shoulders in a friendly gesture.

“Welp. Seems like he didn’t do it, B. If he says he didn’t, I believe him.” Dick speaks up.

Jason and Batman both untense a little, the moment broken. Jason lets out a small grumble and shrugs Dick’s arm off his shoulders. Dick lets him with a smile.

“Wait, so you just found his body dead in a ditch somewhere? I called it!” Steph pipes up.

She holds her hand up for a high-five. Cass gives her one.

Jason shrugs nonchalantly “You could say that.”

“You may not have killed him, but it’s clear you’re covering for the actual murderer. Who is it and why are you protecting them?” Batman asks, not letting it go.

“You may not believe me, B, but it was just a freak accident as far as I could tell.”

If you call a meta one-punching the Joker in self-defense a ‘freak accident’.

It’s not like Danny meant to do it. Ergo: accident.

“Nothing more, nothing less. I found him like that. All I did was get rid of the body and wipe some cams. Not that those would have been much helpful if let unwiped anyway.” He shrugs, unconcerned.

“Do you know what caused the files to become corrupted this way? I’ve seen corrupted files before, but this is something else…” Babs says over the comms, tone curious.

“Nah, they were like that even before I wiped them. Might have something to do with whatever took the fucker out. Don’t know though, and I don’t care.I’m just glad the city’s finally rid of that bastard.”

“Amen to that!”

Batman’s glare moves over from Jason to Tim, who meets his gaze headfirst and just gives him an unimpressed stare in return.

“You gotta be honest, B. There’s not really anyone gonna be missing him…”

“Now, if that’s all. I gotta go. I’ve got some work to do, cases to solve, groceries to buy. Y’know, not everyone has the freedom to walk around dressed as furries beating up bad guys 24/7. Some of us have a life.” Jason cuts in.

“And since when are you the one to have a life outside of being a vigilante?”

“Oh, you know, since somewhere around the time my gruesome murder was finally avenged,” Jason says sarcastically.

“Who knew that that would be something that would make it feel like a weight is lifted off of your shoulders and that it would finally bring some peace into your life?

“Let me know if you find the guy who did it, okay? Feel like this was a great service to the community and it deserves a nice reward. Might bake ‘em a cake or something. Maybe some cookies… ” Jason pretends to think.

“Where’s the body?” Batman asks, ignoring Jason’s sarcasm.

“And when are you going to introduce us to your new partner?” Dick chimes in as well.

“Not telling you, and never if I can help it. Now, goodbye.” Jason grinds out before leaving.

Jason turns and runs to the edge of the building, making his way over to the next building and leaving the Bats behind on the roof. As he gets farther away from the other vigilantes, the last thing he hears is Steph speaking up.

“Is it just me or did that conversation involve a lot less… green-eyed rage than I expected?”

Now, it’s time to plan that next date…

---

Taglist:

@i-always-say-yea @uraniumwizard @why-must-i-be-like-this @griffinthing @i23432i @imsotiredfanficlovertm

[spacedace]

I've been working on a dp x dc fic that has rather quickly become the home of the "Jazz is Gotham's Favorite Psychiatrist" au I posted about a few days ago and I've just really fell in love with the idea of Queer Platonic Murder Gremlins Damian & Dani/Elle being absolute terrors to their family and deciding to get married when they turn 18 for the sake of avoiding various people trying to date/marry them to get to their family's respective shit (the Wayne's money & social standing in Gotham as billionaire socialites, the Nightingale's massive power and influence over the Infinite Realms as the royal family).

Damien casually mentions he and his demon beastie Elle got married the day before without even glancing up from his food and completely derailing what was actually turning out to be a pretty calm family dinner for once. His siblings are losing their shit because what the fuck Damian, Bruce is having a crisis - he didn’t even know they were dating??? And he just found out Elle's sister/guardian is the mysterious doctor that he thinks is making some of his rogues disappear??? Damian didn’t even invite them to the wedding has he completely failed as a father?? - meanwhile Alfred is just there knowing full well that the two kids are little Aro/Ace menaces - he bought them each their first Ace ring for Pride this year he knows what's up - and deciding "actually I have something to do in the kitchen" and letting the chaos reign.

The Nightingales are fully aware of what's up (Danny was the one who had to do the presiding over everything in the Ghost Zone side of things and Jazz is a notary on top of everything else and signed off on all the paperwork on the human side) and are just enjoying all the various entities that were pushing for an arranged marriage between themselves and Elle for power or whatever bullshit having hissy fits over losing to some human kid. They're especially having fun not telling Constantine the specifics of the whole thing and letting him sweat it out over the fact that the Crown Princess of the Infinite Realms apparently just married the "Demon Heir" whoever in - literal - hell that is and she now is in possession of all his soul contracts.

[hayleythesugarbowl]

Could you do headcanons for dating Shayne Topp from Smosh? I’m kind of obsessed with him rn lol

shayne topp x reader headcanons

｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist • shayne x reader fic ｡⋆୨୧˚

a/n: ok, sorry this took so long and i hope you enjoy!! im kinda obsessed with him too ngl but shh 🤫 🤭🍒💌

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

dating shayne would include…

ok so like when you were a new member at smosh he was the first to show you the ropes as the sailors say

you became friends with all of the cast really quickly 

and maybe developed a bit of a crush on shayne 

you and courtney hung out often and talked about it 

shayne immediately started liking you and constantly tried to impress you 

he was honestly so scared to ask you out 

but eventually he made the first move

everyone says that they all saw it way before you guys did 

like they placed bets on when you’d get together ian won

the man is a perfect boyfriend 

ever the gentleman

any time you even mention it being a little chilly he’ll give you his jacket 

which definitely smells like his cologne tell me I’m wrong

or put his arms around you 

he takes you out for picnics 

and long walks where you just talk 

you and shayne read together too and it’s so cute

like imagine resting your head on this man’s chest just reading into the night 

you and him and damien hang out all the time obviously 

so many game nights 

he definitely got you a card once that said “you’re my favorite pizza place”

he takes you on so many fun little adventures

posts about you constantly

he always tries to cheer you up whenever you’re upset by making you laugh 

and it works 

always rubbing circles on your back 

and EYE CONTACT 

like you’ll look over and he’s just admiring you 

he thinks (and tells you) that you’re such a creative, talented person 

he definitely played music on the jukebox at a restaurant one time and insisted you dance with him 

much to your embarrassment 

but you loved it

he actually loves it when you run your fingers through his hair 

you make each other laugh constantly 

definitely calls you babe 

he said i love you for the first time on camera because it just slipped out

he then assured you afterwards that he really meant it

“i think I’m falling in love with you y/n”

your first time reading the bible (if you got that reference i love you) he was so sweet and gentle 

he always says he’s so lucky he found you 

“No seriously, you saved me from dating. I don’t know what I’d do without you” 

he loves playing with your jewelry 

you two always win at couples games 

loves getting you gifts that are really specific and thoughtful 

he definitely lost a bet once and, dressed up however you wanted, went out in public and smiled the entire time  

he gets kinda flustered performing in front of you and everyone thinks it’s so cute 

like you’ll watch his old acting jobs together and he’s nervous about what you’ll think

but amidst your teasing you assure him he’s so so talented

you guys will fall asleep together on the couch and it’s so adorable that your friends almost don’t wake you up with an air horn and tease you for it

almost 

he just loves you so much and you’re so happy together <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you enjoyed!! i really hope this is what you wanted (and please keep in mind that it’s after 2am as i’m finishing this lol) let me know if you want any other smosh headcanons <3🎀

[pedropascallme]

Learn A Thing (Or Two)

Pairing: professor!Damien x f!Reader

Summary: "He caught your gaze as he continued his lesson, and you tried not to crack under the knowledge that he, too, was waiting for the clock to strike four o’clock. As he spoke in the fast, calculated manner that usually came about when he was lost in thought, you decided to take a small risk, instead of dwelling morosely on the way the class was eating away at your time with him."

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI) implied age gap (Damien is his actual current age, reader is 20-22), student/teacher relationship, biting, spanking, p in v, oral (f receiving), dom/sub dynamics, brattamer!Damien, dirty talk, degradation, praise, mild exhibitionism, one (1) singular use of the word 'daddy,' reader gets gagged, mentions of German literature (obviously), I have never thought about refractory periods ever, if I missed anything please let me know!

AN: He's baaaaack!!!! This was inspired by as ask from the lovely, one and only @hedoublehell !! It took longer than it should’ve for a fic of this caliber BUT it is done now and it’s for YOU!!!!

Damien was a skilled lecturer. He was capable of holding an audience of students at full attention for hours on end, never misspeaking, and only occasionally finding himself veering into digression.

You loved hearing him talk, hearing his voice echo around the fluorescence of the lecture hall while his words flowed with ease and enthusiasm. What’s more, you liked the way he looked doing it: button-down shirt hugging his arms in all the right places, leaning back nonchalantly on the table in front of the room. His head tilted to the side as he listened to someone in the back row speak their mind, and you enjoyed the glimpse you got of his neck straining at his tie.

All of it made you more than just a little aroused, and you could feel yourself beginning to slump in your chair. You were happy to listen and nod along, but displeased that he insisted on using up the full two hours of allotted class time.

Fridays were the worst to get through. By the time you got to his class, you were burnt out and ready for the weekend to begin, itching for the day to wrap up so that you could get him all to yourself for the next sixty-or-so hours. It was a little selfish, you could acknowledge that, and perhaps a bit immature, though you felt anybody in your position would feel the same way—you couldn’t just bag a man like Dr. Damien C. Haas and not spend all your time waiting for a moment of stillness so that you could grab him by the collar and kiss him until your lips were puffy.

You weighed your options: engage in the conversation happening around you, sit pretty and listen well, then jump on him the moment you got him alone; or act out to make the time go by faster. You'd done it before, yearning for him and making it a problem for the both of you while he tried to keep his composure at the front of the room. And though he could chastise you for it, you knew he liked when you got a little bratty. No matter how many times he’d punished you for acting up in class, talking back and arguing his point a little too zealously in an effort to make him slip up, you knew he’d be content to see you do it again.

He caught your gaze as he continued his lesson, and you tried not to crack under the knowledge that he, too, was waiting for the clock to strike four o’clock. As he spoke in the fast, calculated manner that usually came about when he was lost in thought, you decided to take a small risk, instead of dwelling morosely on the way the class was eating away at your time with him.

You waited for his eyes to flicker over to you again, before slowly uncrossing your legs. You flashed a glimpse of your clothed core. Removing your gaze from him, you opted instead to glance back at the clock, as if to remind him of the time constraint and what awaited him. You crossed your legs again.

Any outsider would've seen it as something as simple as you shifting to get comfortable, but you saw Damien squeeze his hand around the edge of the desk he reclined on. You knew the gears in his mind were turning, steadily thinking up an appropriate consequence for your action.

You played with the hem of your skirt, the picture of innocence. He cleared his throat, calling your name. You straightened back up nonchalantly, fingers still toying with your skirt. 

“Did you want to say something?” He cocked a brow, taunting you silently. He was daring you to give yourself away, to misbehave again. Not as a student—he knew you’d never risk a smudge on your reputation of academic prowess, and he appreciated and respected that—but as a lover.

“Oh, yeah, actually,” you played coy, tapping your pen on your desk before bringing it up to let the cap rest on your bottom lip, “You keep saying that the Ring cycle is a marvel of German artistry, but isn’t it true that Wagner was more inspired by the Norse sagas than he was by the German literature?” You put the pen down and watched as it rolled over your desk. You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth and made eyes at him. “So couldn’t you say that, overall, it’s really the epitome of Western European storytelling?” Again, you uncrossed your legs, keeping them spread for just a fraction longer than you had before. You wanted to ensure that he got a good look before you daintily crossed your ankles.

The way his jaw ticked said everything. You just smiled, waiting for his answer.

He’d been mistaken to call on you; he put all his cards on the table. He had to give you his undivided attention, unable to tear his eyes from the space between your thighs while under the pretence of hearing you out.

“Well—well yes…but I think it's easy to see how it can be both important to Germany and to Europe at large,” he smiled, collecting himself and his thoughts, “Though you do bring up an interesting point; Der Ring was a real turning point in the understanding of a quote-unquote Germanic culture as it’s understood in history today.” Several hands went up around the room, and even as he scanned the class, his focus was still on you.

You checked the clock again and let your expression speak for you; we’ll be here all day if you let us keep talking about it, you smiled, wouldn’t it be easier to deal with me now, before I get even more distracting?

“You know...it’s gorgeous outside,” Damien sighed, glancing at his watch, “Let’s continue this conversation on Monday.”

You’d won the battle, and the taste of your victory was made sweeter by the knowledge that he’d be making you pay for it soon.

“Don’t we have forty minutes left?” Someone behind you blurted, and you heard a few sighs around the room, half-muted by the sound of bags zipping shut.

“Happy Friday,” Damien shrugged, and the room was soon buzzing with gracious thank yous tossed haphazardly over the shoulders of students as they dashed out to the hallway, eager to begin their weekend. “You still have to do the assigned reading!” He called after them, and several of the students he was more familiar with laughed him off.

You pretended to follow the example your peers had set, shoving your things into your bag. You rose from your chair, and Damien knocked on your desk gently, leaving his knuckles on the wood when you looked up at him.

“I’d love to hear more about the perspective you shared,” he played as the doting professor, and not the man that wanted to fuck you where you stood, “Why don’t you come up to my office so we can talk.” He began to walk up the aisle that led out of the room, before shooting a glance back at you, “Unless you have other plans?” His smile was wide and inviting, but his eyes gave away his desires, lighting a fire in your stomach. You slung your bag over your shoulder, trailing behind him.

You caught up quickly, shuffling along next to him through the long, empty hall.

“Professor,” you were saccharine, purring, “Did you dismiss class early just so you could spend time with little old me?”

“You’re being a brat,” he whispered through gritted teeth, placing a hand on your lower back as he walked you to his office.

“You love it,” you shot back; punishment was imminent no matter how badly you acted out—within reason—and you were having too much fun to lose the attitude now. “Unless that’s just your campus ID in your pocket.”

“That, and I’m happy to see you,” he muttered, unlocking the door to his office and all but pulling you into the room behind him.

You stood with your hands clasped in front of you, watching him lock the door and awaiting further instruction. He tossed his keys onto the desk, and they landed on the wood with a tinny sound that echoed slightly. You squinted, momentarily lost in the noise, which left you unprepared for the way he came up behind you. Suddenly, he had an arm wrapped around your midriff, his other hand flying upwards and gripping your jaw, leaving you to lean your head back against his shoulder.

“So impatient,” he nipped at your ear, and you whimpered at the low timbre of his voice. “You know that?”

“You were the one who called class off early, Damien.” You felt his fingers press harder against your cheeks, the flesh of your mouth rubbing against the dull outer grooves of your teeth. “Is it because you couldn’t wait till we got home?” You pushed your ass back against him. You let a whine catch in your throat when you felt the way his cock was straining against the confines of his pants. “Needed to drop everything for me now?”

His thumb stroked your cheek. “College building is the best place to teach you a lesson.” He kissed your temple, “I think someone needs to learn some manners.”

“Yeah…” You tilted your head back further against him, trying to find his eyes.

“What was that?”

“Yes, sir.” You quickly corrected yourself. You sighed happily when you felt the hand he had on your waist creep under the hem of your shirt, grabbing at your bare skin.

“Do you need me to remind you how to behave?” He leaned down to ghost his lips over your neck, “Help you learn some patience. Teach you not to flash me while I’m trying to do my job?”

“Yes—yes, sir,” his hand had found its way to your chest, and he tweaked at your nipples alternately. “I’ll be such a good girl.”

He huffed a laugh through his nose. “Good girls don’t show their teachers their panties.” He tightened his grip on one of your breasts, and you hoped that each individual finger would leave an imprint deep enough that you could make out his fingerprints. "Especially not while they're wearing them."

“So take them off for me…” You whispered, lips parted and finding yourself less and less able to ignore the way his cock pressed into you.

He took a deep breath behind you, exhaling a soft growl.

“Please, sir,” you knew it would take more than that to get him where you needed him most, but you were more than willing to go through the motions. Tentatively, he removed himself from you, guiding you forward to face the bookshelf that took up the entirety of the far wall in the office.

“Put your arms up, baby,” he instructed, a hand on your elbow guiding you to stretch until your palms rested on the wood, your fingers bending to hold the position. He pulled you back by your hips, forcing you to bend. He pushed a knee between your legs to spread them, and when you felt his thigh against your cunt, you mewled. “You ok? Do you think you can stay like this?” He dragged a hand down your side.

“Yeah,” you mumbled into your shoulder, “I like this.” 

He nodded. “Good. Good, baby. That’s my girl.” He pressed a kiss to the back of your head before kneeling behind you.

Damien flipped up your skirt, placing both hands on either side of your ass and kneading gently before he let them drag downwards over your thighs. You moaned loudly when he bit down onto the supple flesh, and although the sound was intoxicating to him, he knew the risk it posed.

“Have to be quiet for me, baby,” he reminded you, “What would people think if they heard your pretty noises coming from my office?”

“I don’t—” you gasped when he bit into you again, “Probably think you’re a good lay.” That earned you a spank on the thigh.

“Or they’d just think that you’re a whore,” he ran two fingers between your legs and over your clothed cunt, groaning at the feeling of the soaked fabric. He pressed the fingers gently against your clit. “Are you a whore, baby?”

“Just—just for you, sir.” You squirmed at the friction.

He spanked you again, and you yelped much louder than you should have. His fingers moved from your clit, both hands working in tandem to slip your panties down your legs. He rubbed a hand against your calf, helping you step out of the fabric once it had pooled around your feet, and taking the panties in his fist. He stood, moving to stand next to you.

“You’ve been awfully talkative today,” he brought his thumb to your mouth, and you sucked obediently on it while he spoke, swishing your tongue back and forth. “I think I should shut you up. Is that what you need, baby? Do you need daddy’s help to keep quiet?” You nodded, and the smile that etched itself onto his face looked downright devious. “Open. Open wide.”

You let his thumb slip from between your lips, opening your mouth and letting your tongue loll out just enough that the tip of the muscle hung over your bottom lip. He placed a hand on your jaw, keeping your mouth open for him while he stuffed your panties inside. The fabric sapped your mouth of any moisture momentarily, before your salivary glands began working double time to combat the dryness.

When you looked up at him, Damien let a moan slip past his parted lips. “God, look at you,” he let his hand slip from your face, and it settled on the nape of your neck, “Pretty little slut, gagged with her own soaked panties…” His hand moved from your neck, running down your spine. He watched you arch under his palm, “You’re going to be quiet for me now, right?”

“Y—ss—r,” you choked on the wadded-up fabric in your mouth, words meshing together, garbled.

He moved behind you once more, kneeling so that his face was mere centimeters from your core. He grabbed handfuls of your ass, kneading the flesh with both hands as he spread you apart. The tips of his thumbs barely grazed your entrance where they sat on either side of your slit, pulling and pushing the meat of your ass. All at once, he pressed his mouth to you, lips parting for his tongue to swoop over the moisture escaping from your hole. You gasped, throwing your head back and letting out weak sounds, muted by the lace between your teeth.

“So good,” he licked his lips, savoring your flavor, “God, it tastes so fucking good, baby. I think you get sweeter every time.” He dove back in, fingers pressing into your thighs as he traced your folds with his tongue. “And so fucking wet, Jesus Christ—did you get wet like this just teasing me?”

You nodded, flimsy moans escaping the obstruction of the panties as you arched further into him. You tried to get him to use his fingers, to fill you up with him and let you feel the stretch that you loved so much, but this wasn’t for your pleasure—it was for him. All day he’d been waiting to have you to himself, all day he’d been watching you act out, and now he just wanted to bury himself in you; coat himself in your need and remind you that he was in charge. He needed to get his fix of the delicacy between your legs.

The wet noises that filled the room were pornographic, and if people could hear it from behind the locked door, you knew they would have no questions about what was happening. Damien licked stripes up your slit, punching his tongue into you, lapping at just the right spot. He was enjoying himself; groans left his throat in the moments he could bear parting from your core, muttering your praises between flicks of his tongue.

He stood back up; the buckle of his belt jangled, followed by the sound of his fly coming undone, and then his cock was pressed against you. The warm, taut skin of his length slid between your ass, and you sighed gleefully, jutting your hips back against him. The thought alone of having him inside you made your clit pulse. 

“Think you can take it like this? Without me getting you ready with my fingers?” He asked, his voice a sinful whisper. You didn’t know how to respond; you could, you knew you could—but even if you couldn’t, you would try. You made a noise of uncertainty, wiggling your hips for him. “Yeah, you’re going to.”

You bit down on the fabric in your mouth when he pushed into you. With one fast, hard thrust, he bottommed out immediately, and you cried out, still muffled by your makeshift gag. He groaned behind you, letting you get used to the familiar, wonderful stretch of his cock as he watched you swallow his length.

“Good girl,” he commended you, chest heaving, “Look at that, so tight, taking all of me.” He pulled his hips back slowly, his hands finding your waist. “Knew you could do it.” He thrust back into you, just as hard as he had the first time. You were thrown forward slightly, elbows knocking against the bookshelf. You squeaked, the sudden ache in your arms and legs countered by the way his cockhead nudged the most delicate spots inside of you.

When he set the rough pace you'd been hoping for, your moans became more wanton. You found it harder and harder to stay quiet; the spit-saturated panties that hung from your lips sagged on your tongue and became more malleable, and any noise you let out easily found its way around the cloth.

Damien squeezed your thigh. “Quiet, baby,” he cooed, “Much easier to get fired on a tenure track than you might think.” He was laughing, purposefully channeling his energy into finding your g-spot so that he could watch you battle with your voice as you tried to mute the effects of the pleasure he was bringing you.

You let your head fall to the side, resting it on your shoulder as all of your attention fell on the way his cock pressed against your walls. “’M s—r—eey,” you tried to use your manners, the material in your mouth keeping you from engaging in proper etiquette.

He delivered an especially sharp thrust, and your knees bent beneath you. Maybe he took pity on you, maybe he just wanted to make sure you stayed still, but he reached forward, hand coming to a halt just as the tips of his fingers grazed your chin. “Open, baby.” You did as he said, and he removed the makeshift gag from for mouth. “Good girl, keep it open for me.”

He unraveled the panties, cold and wet in his hand after soaking up all the moisture from your tongue. He shook them back out into their original shape before twisting them into something more akin to a rope. He looped your head through his arms, both hands holding either side of the now stretched-out panties as he placed them back into your mouth. He kept his grasp on them, tugging you back against him for leverage to fuck into you.

With your head pulled back, you were forced to arch as far as you could manage, resulting in a delectable change of angle. You could feel all of him; every ridge and vein dragging within you as the tip of his cock repeatedly licked at just the right spot, causing you an overwhelming surge of bliss despite the slight sting at your cervix.

You knew you couldn’t scream, but you wanted to. You wanted so intensely for him to hear how much you were enjoying the way he manhandled you. You let whimpers fall quietly from your lips, gnawing at the gag as he dragged your cunt over his cock, pulling you into him. Your arms, still pressed against the shelf above you, threatened to drop as they struggled from lack of blood flow, but you were too lost in the haze of lust as it circled your core to recognize any discomfort in your fingers.

Damien pulled you backwards with the gag, your ass flush against his hips, his cock stretching your walls. A wave of your arousal gushed over him. The gasp you let out was drowned out by a rumble from behind you, rising from his chest; proud of himself for being able to make you respond like that, proud of you for being able to take what he gave you so well. He repeated the motion, nearly pulling out of you, before quickly pushing himself back inside the waiting warmth of your cunt. His moan came out rushed, tinged with amazement, and you wanted to bottle the noise.

“Fuck—” He removed your gag, tossing the fabric onto the floor. You licked your chapped lips, drooling. “Need to touch you, baby.” He placed his hands on your hips, leaning forward to kiss between your shoulder blades. He paused, pressing his cheek against your back, “If you make a fucking sound, you don’t get to cum. Ok?” His lips felt soft against your back, his words cutting, his voice sweet. “I’ll fuck your pretty mouth instead.”

You nodded, mouth shut but eyes wide, afraid he’d make good on that promise and leave you high and dry. Even though you loved going down on him, feeling the weight of his cock on your tongue as he pressed into the back of your throat, you thought you’d explode if he pulled out of you now.

“Good girl.” You could feel his nails making crescents on your skin, his hands hungry for you after being allocated to holding your gag for so long. He removed his grasp from your hips, trailing his hands upward to slip beneath your shirt and grab your breasts. He moaned when his palms grazed your hardened nipples, quickly moving to roll them between his fingers. You bit back a whine, closing your eyes and enjoying the way he played with you.

His pace was unforgiving, and slick dripped from you to create a filthy sound that served to heighten that of skin-against-skin. You tried to focus your breathing, fighting the moans that threatened to escape your mouth as it hung agape.

But when his hand began to sink lower, fingers dancing over your stomach until they fell to your clit, you let out a strangled noise, unable to hide the pleasure that shot through your veins the moment the pads of his fingers made contact with the swollen bud.

"Fuck—like—just like that, oh my god," you disregarded his rules and his warnings, unable to contain your delight.

Damien was quick to deliver a sharp smack to your ass. “What did I tell you, hm?” Another spank, this time to your thigh, "What did I say?" His hand moved from your clit, palm pressing into your stomach.

“N-no sou—nd,” you choked out a whisper, “I’m sorry, sir—I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll be g—be a good girl for you, sir. Promise, I’m sorry.” Tears welled in your eyes and you bit your bottom lip; you craved so badly to cum on his cock that you’d say anything to make sure he didn’t fulfill his prior threat of disallowing you to finish.

He bent forward, pressing a hand to your cheek and forcing your face against the bookshelf. “What else are you sorry for, baby?”

“Being a br—at,” you grit your teeth, swallowing a sob of pleasure as you quietly moaned your apologies, the hardcover book spines pushing against your cheek. “I was a—I was a brat, I was acting like a whore, sir. I’m sorry, I’m reall—y sorry.”

His strokes became slower, more intentional as he pressed his chest against you. He crowded you against the shelf, drawing his hips back barely an inch before gently thrusting back into you. It did nothing to relax the fire in your lower stomach, still hitting the delicate spot on your front wall that made your vision go white around the edges.

“I could stop right now,” he cooed, voice quiet, cloying, “Leave you right on the edge.”

You tried to shake your head, eyes darting back to throw him a pathetic look from your peripheral in a hushed plea. “No…” The forced silence you’d endured had caused your voice to go hoarse, “Please.”

“I know, baby,” he pulled out of you until just the head of his cock rested against your entrance, barely penetrating you, “You wouldn’t like that at all.”

“Please, sir,” a tear slid down your cheek. You needed to feel all of him. You needed him to feel all of you; to know the heights of pleasure you were able to reach thanks to him. “God, please, I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” He mused, voice gravelly, still moving his hips just enough to make you clench around nothing, the head of his cock teasing your entrance. “Then shut up and take it.” He punctuated his sentence with a rough thrust, spearing you on his cock and watching your eyelids flutter over the whites of your eyes as your pupils rolled back. You opened your mouth to scream, before quickly pursing your lips. “You know I’d never do that to you, baby,” he panted out behind you, moving the hand he had pressed against your cheek and opting now to hold your hips steady, “Can’t deny myself the opportunity to see my pretty girl cum for me.”

You let out a shaky breath, smiling against the fabric-bound books you rested against, sure to have indentations on your cheek when you moved. Damien’s grip was tight, but every thrust still managed to make you veer forward. You felt the coil in your abdomen tighten, a spring being pressed down into your core.

He knew you were close, the telltale flutter of you around him and the dazed expression on your face gave you away. His hand sunk back down over your stomach and his fingers brushed your clit. He watched you knit your brow and clench your jaw as you tried, straining, to follow his orders.

“Good girl,” he pressed two fingers to you, “Wish you could see how beautiful you look, finally listening to me.” He lessened the pressure he applied to your clit, and you whined, “Are you going to keep listening, baby?” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder. Pushing himself as far into you as your anatomy would allow, he paused his ministrations; his fingers hovering over your clit, his hips still. “Gonna stop being a fucking brat? Stop acting out in class—stop acting like a slut and trying to distract me?”

"Mhm," you nodded vigorously, lips parted to allow the panted breaths you took in and out.

“I don’t think you’re telling me the truth, baby,” he smiled against your skin, and you whimpered helplessly beneath him. “But—fuck—” he felt your cunt squeeze down on him tighter, “But I wanna see you cum for me, anyway. Taking it so good.” You breathed a sigh of relief, and he chuckled, pressing firm on your clit and beginning to move again, “Keep being good for me, baby—come on.” He urged, rubbing circles over your clit, his other hand keeping your waist in an iron grip as he rolled against you.

The spring that had been coiled so perfectly within you snapped. You felt your thighs tensing, limbs shaking as the chill of your orgasm washed over you like a cold, heavy rain after a drought.

“That’s it,” Damien heaped praise onto you, still rocking his hips into you, relishing the way you pulsed around his cock, “That’s my good girl. What do you say?”

“Tha—nk you, sir,” you croaked, “Thank y-you for letting me cum.” You felt dizzy with glee, your body in a happy medium between heavy and light. You relaxed against the shelf, trying to savor the way his cock continued to drag within you, heightening the already overwhelming pleasure that ran through you from head to toe.

“Fuck—you’re welcome, baby,” he moaned as it became increasingly harder to stave off his own high. “Christ—shit, you feel so good,” his movements became more frantic, “Gonna cum, baby.”

“Yes—fuck, yes. Please,” you moaned, pushing your hips against him in time with his thrusts, “Inside. Please, inside.”

“You don’t deserve it,” he growled, “Be good for me like this, I’ll fill you up as much as you want later.” His hands were all over you, frenzied sweeps of his fingers grabbed at as much of you as he could, “But you don’t deserve it after your fucking attitude today.”

“Fu—god, please,” you knew that any effort in trying to convince him was futile, but you couldn’t help but beg.

“Gonna paint you, baby. I’m gonna paint you with my cum.” He was groaning through his words, hands finding purchase on the globe of your ass and squeezing hard, “Cum all over your ass and let it drip down your legs, get your pretty skirt all messy.”

His snarled tone and the frenzied motion of his hips had you keening for him, and just as the fire of your first orgasm had fizzled out, you could feel your second approaching.

“And you’re going to take it, aren’t you? Gonna thank me and beg for more.” Damien was smiling, voice smooth, but his movements proved how hungry he was for his own release.

“Ye—s,” you moaned, “Ple—ase.” His words made you feel weak in the knees, unable to form a coherent thought after hearing the filth he muttered to you. He felt so deep in this position; his cockhead pressed kisses to your cervix while his balls, drenched in your slick, smacked heavy against your clit.

“Bratty fucking cumslut.” He moaned, and it was all you needed to reach the apex of pleasure once more. Damien cursed behind you, too caught up in his own enjoyment of the moment to have expected your second orgasm. He delayed his own gratification for a beat longer to enjoy the way your walls throbbed around him, to feel the way you trembled.

He pulled out seconds later, fisting his cock and spilling onto you with a throaty moan, watching intently as his spend dripped over your ass and down towards your shaking thighs.

“Fuck,” he muttered after regulating his breathing. Once he had tucked himself back into his pants, he swiped a finger through a rope of his cum on your ass, rubbing it into your skin. He brought his hand to your lips and you licked the digit clean, humming around him, not missing the way his breath hitched when you circled your tongue around the pad of it.

When you released his finger with a wet pop, he placed his lips on yours, wrapping both arms around your midriff. His only thoughts now centered on showering you in affection; he led you in a soft, fond kiss, mouths closed to enhance the tenderness between the two of you.

He held you tight, letting you curl into his chest. He reached to flip your skirt back down, and the fabric clung to the mess on your thighs. Slowly, he backed up, arms still wrapped around you when he lowered the both of you into a chair by the desk, pulling you into his lap and petting your hair.

“Is it bad that I think it’s…it's kinda hot that you have the spine of Tristan Und Isolde indented into your cheek?” He chuckled, fingers coming up to trail a feather-light touch over the texture that had etched itself into your skin.

“No, actually,” you laughed quietly, shoulders bouncing, “I was hoping you’d dig my new look. Thinking of doing the cover of the German to English dictionary on the other cheek.”

“God, you really know how to drive a guy wild.” Damien pressed kisses to the top of your head, and you hummed.

After a beat of silence spent nuzzling one another, he cleared his throat, “Was that alright?” The biting tone in his voice was gone, replaced by tender whispers and soft kisses aimed at your scalp.

“You always ask,” you muttered into his neck, “And I’m always more than alright.”

“I—I know,” he dropped his chin onto the crown of your head, “But what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t check with you…”

You pressed your face into him, smiling against his skin. “Boyfriend?” You echoed, and you felt him tense a little beneath you.

“Is that—I just kind of figured…but if not, that’s fine, we don’t have to—”

“Boyfriend…” You giggled, and you could feel his heartbeat pick up against you where your body pressed into his. “Took you long enough.”

“Yeah, well,” he laughed quietly, “You’re a little intimidating.”

“Intimidating?” You perked up, grabbing at his cheek, “Your cum is running down my ass. I'm effectively glued to your thigh.”

He groaned, leaning his forehead against yours. “I’ll do laundry when we get home.” He stared at you for a moment, eyes up close gazing into your own. "You know, even when you only do it to act out, you say some really fucking smart stuff."

"Yeah, well...I learned it all from my favorite professor." You giggled

“Pretty, smart, perfect girl,” his eyes closed as he sighed.

“I'm all yours,” you confirmed. Your eyes closed, too, as exhaustion began to catch up with you. Damien let out a happy noise. You spent a few minutes contentedly slouching against him. Then you forced your eyes open, leaning on his shoulder and pressing a kiss to his cheek, “Let’s get out of here."

“You have somewhere to be?” He smiled, teasing. He helped you ease yourself onto your feet.

“Yeah,” you turned to face him, straightening out, “Gotta do laundry with my boyfriend.”

"Well, then" you watched him puff up slightly, tongue between his teeth as he grinned, "We should get you home to the lucky guy."

[ratherbeme]

Hello dpxdc fandom!

I'm hoping someone can help me find a specific prompt post - it had little fic snippets that have infected my brain and I can't find it again!

Danny and Damien twins

Damien forgot to mention to batfam until report arrived, post fall of league

Danny originally "undercover" at Fenton household as punishment, started lying in his reports to protect himself and his friends and family

Batfam comes and gets him and think he has no real personality because he's been undercover so long-- not helped by the fact that Danny becomes this robot to avoid spilling secrets because he's a bad liar

If anyone can remember this post I would MAD appreciate it!!!

[kilarthmac]

Let's talk about Caelum.

I'm gonna preface this with saying that everyone is entitled to their opinions, and if once you're done reading this you decide you don't want to follow me or you want to block me, that's completely up to you. I'm not trying to change your opinion or attack anyone who has a different one than mine, I just wanted to put my two cents out there.

I also wanted to say that whatever your opinion on the matter is, it's yours and yours alone, and you should respect the opinions of other people even if they don't match up. I personally do not sexualize Caelum, but I do think he is an adult with childlike characteristics, and those two statements are not mutually exclusive. He can be an adult, but he also doesnt have to be put in adult situations.

It's okay to have strong feelings one way or the other about this topic, but it is not okay to harass people or go on a witch hunt for those with the opposite opinion to give them shit about what they think. If you disagree with someone and do not want to see their stuff on your timeline, just block them or scroll away. You alone are responsible for your own dash, you cannot make other people responsible for what you see on your timeline.

All that being said, I do not like how the fandom treats Caelum and Empathy Daemons in general.

My stance on the matter is that Empathy Daemons as a whole are adults, but because of how E'Laetum created them, they tend to have childlike characteristics. Those who say that Empathy Daemons are ALL children blatantly ignore the fact that Regulus is an Empathy Daemon as well, and that he has been shown to have adult tendancies (his BA, getting possessive over his charge, etc) while also maintaining his childlike characteristics (telling his charge a bedtime story to sleep, having a very one dimensional view of himself and his charge, etc). This is where I have a problem whenever I see people try to say that all Empathy Daemons are children. Regulus is clearly an adult. There is no "reading between the lines" about this.

Caelum is also an Empathy Daemon, but he is a very different character than Regulus. He is a lot more childlike compared to Regulus. He gets his words mixed up, he likes sweets, he likes hugs, etc. But in his most recent video (Your Bakadere Empathy Daemon Friend Visits You), even he says that he almost went down a path similar to Regulus' until Delphinus stepped in and assigned him to Freelancer, and that stopped him from falling (timestamps from 2:40 - 3:18, and 8:45 in that video). It may be uncomfortable for some people to think of Caelum as going down the same path that Regulus did, but this video clearly shows that he had the potential to. Caelum and Regulus are not as different as one may think.

Erik has also said himself that D(a)emons step out of the Elision Well as adults and they do not age. Of course they don't know everything so they still have to learn, but that's not the same as being a child. On top of the most recent Redacted 101 video, take this screenshot from Wonderworld (previously Redacted Records, when Erik was still in the server) from 2020, where Erik talks about how D(a)emons coalesce.

He even mentions how in earlier Caelum videos he didn't know what he wanted the d(a)emon life cycle to be yet, and that's why he had Caelum state that he was a "kid daemon" at one point.

Not to mention the fact that in the official timeline, it shows that Caelum coalesced in 1999, and is even older than Damien.

At the end of the day, Caelum is a fictional character. Whatever someone ends up deciding to make of him is their choice, this is a fandom after all. If it really bothers you to see what certain people make, block them and move on. DO NOT berate them for their headcanons or fanart or whatever else. People are allowed to have their own headcanons, make their own fics, and draw their own fanart. This is a fandom space, and people are allowed their creative liberties.

Anyways, that has been my two cents. Feel free to voice your opinions in the comments if u want to, but please please be respectful and don't attack anyone.

TLDR; I don't sexualize Caelum but I do think he and all Empathy Daemons are adults (ex: Regulus), everyone should respect everyone else's opinions and just block what they don't want to see on their timelines, and the fandom needs to chill out lol

[thealexanderfiles]

DCU from a Marvel fans limited perspective

recently i've accidently been sucked into the DCU universe, mostly Bat family, if i'm being honest, and although i've never watched a single movie/episode, this is what i have gathered from purely reading the occasional fanfiction/lots of tumblr posts

SPOILERS i guess

There are A LOT of batkids

Bruce Wayne adopts these motherfuckers like they're some kind of limited edition pokemon set

no one is actually sure how many there are but if you have black hair and blue eyes and live in gotham, Batman doesn't care if you've got parents or not. you're coming home with him

There appears to be five Robins and Batman goes though these children like a chainsmoker with a pack of cigarettes

people die a lot

Thats okay though because people come back to life a concerning amount as well

Jason Todd died and came back to life by being dumped in a pit of magical water

Damien Wayne is the only biological child of Bruce and he mentions this a lot

Dick Greyson was the first Robin and the first adoption and i think he and Bruce got in a fight and he left to become Nightwing

Jason Todd stole the Batmobile's wheels and became the second Robin. after he came back to life he became Red Hood

Tim Drake was not an orphan, he just fit Bruce's target demographic and was conveniently close (I mean come on, it's like express shipping) He is also some kind of super-genius. He was the third Robin but became Red Robin/Drake

Stephanie brown(?) was the fourth robin(?), not sure for how long. People get upset when other people forget. I think she's called Spoiler or something

Damien Wayne is the final Robin. Hes this assassins son and im pretty sure Talia dropped him off at the Wayne Manor and said, "I had him through the terrible twos, you get the teen years'

Not entirely sure if Tim runs Wayne enterprises

Brucie wayne is the funniest fucking thing i swear

He's so stupid

not sure is Tim, Dick and Jason follow Bruce's lead and become absolute airheads as well

Alfred is a butler

Alfred has guns

There's someone called Duke and Cass knocking around

The Justice League think Batman works alone

someone in the JL is allergic to the colour yellow

there is a concerning amount of Danny Phantom x DC crossover fics

sames goes for Miraculous

Tim Drake is Bi and for some reason people don't like that

internet is divided on whether of not Batman is a bad dad

#OnlyInGotham is a thing?

Gotham is like an australian NYC

the Riddler is a not funny, less aggressive version of the Joker

apparently Alcatraz and Arkham are different prisons but thats on me

there's a whole group of superheroes out there, each have strong powers and they decide to leave the most dangerous city to the member that has no powers and dresses up as an anthropomorphic bat and runs around the city causing copious amounts of property damage with his children

there is a girl called barbra? Gordon

there is a criminally small amount of content for the girls

for some reason people ship the bat kids together, ike, anytime you have to remind yourself 'its TECHNICALLY not incest is Not Good'

Clark Kent is running round acting as if his reading glasses are the only thing standing between a normal life and CHAOS and the worst thing is that he is right

i am a MCU fan and i was SO sure that Deadpool was MCU but now i'm not so sure

Fandom likes to have this troupe that Bruce wayne doesn't believe batman exists when obviously the superior troupe is that Gotham is pretty sure they are exes

teen titans and young justice are a thing but i cant figure out which robin is who.

Damien Wayne has enough animals to open a zoo

who tf in the batfam are metas?????

Batman has definetely used the Tired Dad voice on villains and the Brucie Wayne voice on the JL

Bruce Wayne has contingency plans if someone discovers his contingency plans

THERES A PLACE CALLED THE FUCKING BAT BURGER???????

it took 2 robins until batman realized that a small child running around in a vest top and speedos was not the greatest idea

Someone needs to tell me, like right now what's going on, where to start and what to read. bc rn im LIVING on chaotic fics