#fbi!au

[northernbluetongue]

🐺🐺🐺

MY SON STILES IS IN THE FBI!!!!!!! MY DREAM AU HAS COME TRUE!!!!

[kjwaikiki]

You know how Eli looks like Stiles. Well I have a headcanon and it is not that Stiles got pregnant through magic.

My headcanon is simply that Eli’s mom looked a lot like Stiles, which could be considered a little mundane until you consider the comedy involved with a stepdad Stiles and Eli being out together in public.

People assume Stiles is Eli’s biological father until one of them corrects said person. I want it to be Eli in which case he can go two ways (both are hilarious)

1. Eli jokes about his dad having a type.

2. Eli jokes about how he always knew his dad and Stiles would get together because look at him (Eli gestures to his own face and then to Stiles) it wasn’t rocket science to figure out the old man was a little hung up on Stiles.

I just think the implications are hilarious. Stiles would never feel insecure ever. If anyone asks him how he remains so secure in his relationship with Derek all he would have to do is gesture to Eli.

All I’m saying is it takes a special type of pining to have a son that looks and acts scarily similar to this one high schooler who you went through multiple brushes with death with, saved their life, had them save your life, and shared many very emotionally charged (possibly tender) moments with.

[falafels]

pt.22!! <pt.21 pt.23>

tag gang @andrewsleftarmband @blurryhour @you-know-i-get-itt @notexactlythatgirl @strangeoffputtingrat @tessasilverswan @minyard-05 @carbon-dated-gal @bisexualchaosdemon @stormiiflies @watercoloureyes01 @vampire-overlord @iron-sides @azure-wing @buffalo-fox @ohgodnotagainplease @pink-hydrangea @jaywalkerss @ohmynoggin-blog @cosmic-marauder @min-getoutofmy-yard @plazybones <33

[rizlowwritessortof]

All the way up to the president? Wow. Can't wait to find out the 'devilishly delightful' plan!

amoralism | seventeen

SUMMARY: You and Dean Winchester are the top agents from Major Crimes. You’re also assigned as partners on the same case- a crime syndicate is running loose and buying out most of downtown New York. He hates you cause you hate him. You hate him cause you think he got in his position with his daddy’s influence. But this case is personal to one of you more than the other- and you may be getting too personal for comfort.

TW: Chuck. Short chapter.

Song Inspo: Feeling Good by Michael Bublé

SERIES MASTERLIST

egotism

Chuck Shurley liked to think of himself as a man of routine, a person of simple tastes despite the complicated world he occupied. Running a country wasn’t easy, but some things could be counted on to stay the same. Like breakfast. No one could mess with his breakfast.

He sat alone at the enormous dining table in his residence, wearing his favorite plaid bathrobe over a pair of faded pajama pants. A steaming mug of coffee sat beside his plate of toast, eggs, and bacon. Chuck always ate the same thing for breakfast. Not because he particularly loved it, but because it required no decision-making before the caffeine kicked in.

He reached for the toast, then paused to inspect the slight over-toasting of the edges. "Again with the burnt crusts," he muttered to himself, his eyebrows knitting together in mild disappointment. "I swear, they’re trying to ruin me one piece of toast at a time." He sighed and took a bite anyway, wincing slightly at the crunch. He'd have to have a word with the kitchen staff later. You’d think the President of the United States could get perfectly toasted bread, but no, that seemed to be asking for a miracle.

As he worked his way through the rest of his breakfast, Becky, his assistant, entered the room. Becky Rosen was efficient to a fault, carrying a clipboard like it was a weapon and wielding it with the precision of a fencing champion. She had a spark in her eyes that sometimes bordered on unsettling, but Chuck had learned to appreciate her, enthusiasm and all.

"Morning, Mr. President!" Becky said, almost too brightly, her smile like the sun peeking over the horizon. "Big day ahead! You ready to dive in?"

Chuck raised a single eyebrow at her cheerfulness, sipping his coffee. "Becky, it’s barely seven. How are you this chipper already? Did you have a breakfast of espresso beans and optimism again?"

She ignored his comment and plowed on, flipping through her clipboard with the kind of vigor reserved for game show hosts and emergency responders. "You’ve got a cabinet meeting at nine, then a briefing with the Joint Chiefs at ten-thirty. Lunch with the Belgian Prime Minister at noon—please don’t make any more jokes about waffles this time."

"Well, what else do they even do?" Chuck grumbled into his mug, muttering about syrup diplomacy. Becky gave him a look that managed to convey both exasperation and fondness.

"After that," she continued, "there’s the energy policy speech at two, then a fundraiser dinner at seven." She paused, her eyes flicking up from the clipboard to meet his. "And remember, sir, try to keep the jokes about solar panels to a minimum. Not everyone finds renewable energy as hilarious as you do."

Chuck leaned back in his chair, sighing dramatically. "It’s a crime against humanity that more people don’t appreciate my sense of humor. Do I have to wear a tie for all of this?"

"Absolutely," Becky said without missing a beat. "And don’t forget the photo op with the children’s charity this afternoon. You need to look like you care."

"Perfect," Chuck said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Kids. My favorite. Do they come pre-stickied, or do they just ooze jam on contact?"

Becky didn’t dignify that with a response, just handed him his schedule and turned on her heel, leaving Chuck to his now lukewarm coffee.

With breakfast done and his day outlined in painfully precise detail, Chuck made his way to his dressing room. The space was a cavernous expanse filled with suits that could have outfitted an entire department store. He stood there, hands on his hips, staring at the rows of ties like they were enemies that needed to be defeated in some twisted neckwear combat.

"Alright, which one of you will make me look like I’m competent today?" he muttered to himself. He finally settled on a navy suit and a maroon tie—classic, authoritative, but not too stuffy. As he buttoned up his crisp white shirt, he caught sight of his own reflection in the mirror. For a moment, he allowed a smirk to cross his face. "Looking good, Mr. President. Looking good."

Just as he was about to adjust his tie, his phone rang, the shrill sound cutting through the quiet of the room. Chuck’s brow furrowed as he reached for it. Very few people had this direct number, and even fewer had the gall to use it at this hour.

He glanced at the screen. The name simply read: Lucifer.

Chuck blinked, then rolled his eyes to the ceiling like he was looking for divine intervention. "Oh, great. Of course." He took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for whatever chaos was about to unfold, then hit the answer button.

“Lucy!” Chuck said, trying to keep his voice light. “What a surprise. How’s the underworld these days? Still hot and full of despair?”

There was a pause on the other end, then a smooth voice, dripping with amused malice, responded. “Chuck, my old friend. Still trying to play the role of the charming statesman, I see. You know, you’re not fooling anyone with that tie. Maroon? Really?”

Chuck forced a laugh, tightening his grip on the phone. “What can I say? Red’s a power color, and it hides the bloodstains when things get messy. So, what can I do for you, Lucifer? It’s not every day the Prince of Darkness gives me a ring.”

Lucifer’s voice was as smooth as silk and twice as dangerous. “Oh, nothing too major. Just a little business proposition, let’s call it. Something I think you’ll find… tempting.”

Chuck’s eyes narrowed slightly, though his tone remained light. “Tempting? Lucifer, you know that’s your whole brand, right? I mean, if it didn’t come with a side of betrayal and eternal damnation, you might’ve made a great salesman.”

There was a low chuckle on the other end of the line. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Chuck. But this is strictly business. I think you’ll want to hear what I have to say.”

Chuck’s playful demeanor slipped for a moment, replaced by something sharper, more calculating. He knew that tone, knew it all too well. Whatever Lucifer was about to propose, it wasn’t going to be simple. And it certainly wasn’t going to be good.

“Well, Lucifer,” Chuck said, his voice losing its casual edge, “you’ve got my attention. What kind of deal are we talking about?”

And just like that, in the space of a breath, Chuck Shurley’s morning went from a mundane blend of burnt toast and tie dilemmas to a potential crisis involving the literal devil. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, his tie half-knotted, and muttered under his breath, "Why can’t it ever just be about waffles?"

The line crackled with a hint of static, and Lucifer’s voice dripped through the receiver, smooth and menacing. “Oh, I think you’ll find this deal quite… devilishly delightful.”

Chuck rolled his eyes again, a half-sigh escaping his lips. “Oh, good. Puns. This is going to be one of those days, isn’t it?”

And with that, he braced himself for whatever nightmare Lucifer had in store, already lamenting the loss of his predictable, if slightly burnt, breakfast routine.

TAGLIST:

@goldngguk @sweetpeachbombshell @slut-for-stiles @staple-your-mouth @daddyscrimsstuff

@dob-4-life @marcis-mixtapez @nonoreas0n @gabrielasilva1510

@lucyholmes13 @pandadork-blog1 @nicolstancu @malusinhaaaa @dybalabandolero

@a-cup-of-nightshade @tomatoessoup @sh0rtcakee @fall-06 @mckaykay-fandoms

@b3th13

@demonxangelomegaverse @deanwinchestersgirl87 @capailluiscedove @i723l-interrupted2323 @niyomiii

@all-the-fan-fic @eviekinevie8 @sunflowerlover57

@1-800-dean-winchester

@darichvep @idk-usernme @supernaturalmarvel3000 @ega2025 @deanbrainrotwritings

@targaryenluvs @bucky-hydra-hoe-barnes @leigh70 @aintnowayboi @ripoffsteveharrington

@gleefulleve @sacrosankta

@riteofpassage77 @eevvvaa @thedevilortheangel @thorsballhair @barbienotdoll

@4e1h3r @wolfieblue03 @kianaleani @vicky199625 @sassyslut2003

@impyrz

@didisull @miwp @lastcallatrockysbar @rizlowwritessortof

@zepskies @angelbabyyy99

@autisticgothic

@yourgoldengirls @deansobsessedgirl @mrsjenniferwinchester

@aylacavebear @lailawinchesterr @brightlilith @arcanaa @hobby27

@lyarr24 @ximm19 @deanbrainrotwritings

@a-girl-who-loves-disney @jeneelsworld @deans-spinster-witch @deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist @kayleighwinchester

@k-slla @muhahaha303 @suckitands33

@dean-winchester-is-a-warrior

@katherineeekai @freefallthoughts @angzls @deans-baby-momma @syrma-sensei

@cheynovak

[xulips]

at first it was a quick mfen doodle. and somehow. i don't know how. it became a full fledged shitpost au

[bunnieswithknives]

Alive Beetlejuice AU that I am rotating in my brain rn. He is so so bad at acting human, he doesn't even bother looking the part and he has no idea how much money is worth.

[angellic4l]

la vita è bella - s.r

in which; sunshine!bau!reader and season2!spencer see a foreign film together after work.

content: fem!reader and season2!spencer, they’re so in loveee, fluffy fluff, mentions of drinking but no one actually does it, brief mention of spencer’s germaphobia, mention of the holocaust and ww2.

a/n: i wrote this all in one go bc my draft that i’m working on is so not ready, so i apologise if it’s bad. also, la vita é bella means life is beautiful, the Italian name of the film, which is why i called the fic that. WAIT I JUST READ IT AND I NEED TO SAY I DON’T THINK ELLE IS MEAN I LOVE ELLE! anyway, kisses!!

After a pretty rare, uneventful day at the BAU - just hours of paperwork, filing, reports, and a lot of team banter - the team of profilers begin to pack up. Coats are lifted from the backs of chairs, bags slung over shoulders, chairs put under desks, and a chorus of contented sighs coming from the agents.

The team, bar Hotch and Gideon, begin to make their way to the elevator together, walking in a huddle on their way out of work while making light conversation about their plans, considering everyone’s getting out early today.

“I say we all go the bar, a few drinks, maybe some darts, and lots of fine women,” Morgan suggests with a smirk, patting Spencer on the back when he says ‘fine women’.

Elle and JJ laugh, the thought of Spencer trying to talk to ‘fine women’, as Morgan called them, an amusing thought to the two of them.

Spencer, who’s walking in between you and Morgan, pushes his glasses up his nose with his index finger, his face sporting one of his infamous looks you’ve come to know, his brows furrowed as he silently questions Elle and JJ’s laughter.

“Actually, I was going to go and see a foreign film downtown, if any of you want to come. It’s an Italian film, but I can whisper translate, called ‘Life is Beautiful’, which is kind of ironic because it’s about a Jewish man and his son becoming victims of the holocaust, but-“ Spencer’s cut off by a comment from Elle about him being ‘dorky’, his face loses the small smile he’d had while talking about the film, and his once gesturing hands fall to his sides.

You think your heart might’ve actually shattered at the sight, Spencer’s dejected look never becoming easier to see, no matter how many times you do see it. The other three agents agree to go to the bar together while you and Spencer remain silent, walking in step with each other.

“You coming, sunshine?” Morgan asks, looking past Spencer to gaze at your face, Elle and JJ turning their heads slightly to look at you stood behind them, all of you coming to a stop at the elevator doors.

“No, I think I just want to have a quiet night in. I hope you guys have fun, though,” you reject them, a small smile on your face because only you know what you’re actually going to do.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

All of you step out of the FBI building, JJ, Morgan, and Elle splitting off to head to the bar, Spencer walking through the parking lot and starting his journey to the metro station, while you wait for the other 3 to be gone.

It’s not because you’re embarrassed of Spencer, no, you wouldn’t have cared about offering in front of the others, but you knew he’d probably be teased for it, and that’s the last thing you want. He’s so sweet to everyone, unbelievably kind to you, but everyone teases him regardless. It hurts your heart every time he goes quiet after being told to ‘shut up’ or someone comments on his rambling.

Once you’re sure Morgan, JJ, nor Elle are in earshot, you hurry over to Spencer’s slender figure that’s slowly dissipating, emerging with the dark night sky, becoming nothing but a shadow as he gets further.

“Spence! Wait, come back!” You call out, quickly realising his long limbs are no match for you and he was getting further by the second.

Spencer stops almost immediately, spinning on his heels when he hears your voice. He could recognise it anywhere, your sweet, melodic voice engrained into his brain; it’s one of his favourite things about you, how each word you speak seems to be infused with honey, ringing out sweet and soft.

Although, even if your voice is sweet and soft, despite the fact that you’re shouting, adrenaline spikes in his body - Why are you shouting him? Are you hurt? Are you okay? - the questions plague his mind, increasing his heart rate faster than anything ever has before. That’s saying something, considering he sees dead bodies, crime scenes, and confronts serial killers almost weekly.

Spencer’s legs have carried himself over to you before he’d even processed it, his own mind had distracted him, thoughts had clouded his head, and he only realises he’s stood in front of you and that you’re okay when he hears your melodic voice again.

“Spence? Spencer? Are you okay?” You ask, brows furrowed ever so slightly and pink lips pouted to express your concern for the brunette boy.

You didn’t ask him to ‘snap out of it’, make a joke about him being stuck in his big brain, or say ‘are you even listening?���. No, you just asked if he was okay. Spencer smiles softly at that, another gentle reminder that you really are an angel personified, despite his agnostic beliefs, regardless of whether he prays to a God or not, you are angelic to him.

“Yeah, yes, I’m okay,” Spencer reassures you, the soft smile on his face still there as he looks down at you. His brain catches up after he stops being dazed by your seemingly divine presence, in his opinion.

“You called me over, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s okay. Could I come and see that movie with you? I know some Italian and you said you’d whisper translate.”

Standing in the middle of Quantico’s parking lot, the pair of you clad in thick coats due to the recent spike in cold weather, your head tilted back so that you can look up at Spencer and his tilted down so that he can see you. You watch Spencer’s face go from a small smile to a full blown grin, his teeth peaking out from behind his pink lips making your heart warm in your chest, winter weather aside.

“Yeah? You’re serious?” Spencer asks, you nod.

“I’ll drive us there, no need for the metro. I’ll take you home, too,” you say, dangling your keys on your ring finger. The pair of you begin to walk to your car as Spencer explains what the movie is about, not being cut off this time.

In the car on the way there, he starts to talk about WW2, rattling off all of the details he knows about it, mainly ones he thinks will be relevant for context to the film. Smiles rest on both of your faces as he does so, his hands moving frenetically as he talks. When you know what he’s talking about, you’ll wait for him to finish before talking yourself, but mostly, you just listen to him.

Spencer stays true to his word and whisper translates the film to you, his voice in your ear something you like much more than you probably should, close proximity between the two of you because of it. His head is tilted towards you, lips by your ear but not so close that all you hear is his breath, Spencer’s very mindful of that.

At some point, you both reach for the popcorn between you without looking, his hand coming to rest on top of yours in the bucket. Suddenly, you’re very thankful for the dark room hiding the pink tint of your cheeks, completely unaware that he’s thinking the same thing.

Retracting his hand from the bucket quickly, he whispers a small “sorry,” secretly hating the loss of contact with your smooth, silky skin, warm fingers, no longer under his.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him quietly, eyes never leaving the screen in front of you for fear of him seeing the blush that’s painted your cheeks. You reach into your bag and hand him a hand sanitiser, knowing how he is with germs.

Spencer can’t help but wonder if you carry this just for him as he takes the clear bottle from his hands, reading the label as best as he can in the dim theatre and learning the hand sanitiser smells like vanilla. So do you, he notes, and he decides he doesn’t mind his hands smelling like you, in fact, he actually quite likes it.

An hour into the film, despite your best efforts not to, you succumb to sleep, the sound of Spencer’s voice in your ear every few seconds, the dim room, and how warm you are all lulling you into the unconscious state you currently find yourself in. Well, Spencer finds you in that state when your head drops to his shoulder, looking down at you through his glasses, and realising you’d fallen asleep.

He blushes at the sight of your head on his shoulder, the weight of it grounding him and sending him to some extreme height at the same time, your hair splayed over his shoulder making him smile to himself. In this moment, he decides that, despite all of the horrors he sees daily, the trauma he was subjected to growing up, and everything else in between, life is beautiful.

[beef-brisket]

((😫😫😫😫😫🙌🙌🙌🙌 ADORABLE))

Serial Killer x FBI Agent

Bonus points: Lucifer is the senior agent training Adam and is also the killer he's training Adam to find.

Stalking

Possessive behavior

He would (and will) kill for Adam

How did you know I love problematic!Lucifer?

Poor Adam just wants to do his job, and now he has a serial killer after him.

[zylev-blog]

Jazz is Special Agent Fenton of the FBI. She doesn’t go by Fenton when she’s out on a case though; she uses Nightingale. She does this because it keeps her identity secret.

Jazz is investigating a series of crimes. One of the other agents goes undercover to try and set them up in a sting operation. Things go south and now Jazz is going to Gotham to view the murder scene.

When she gets there, GCPD try to stop her at the crime scene barrier. She flashes her FBI jacket and her badge and is given access. She walks over to the police commissioner, a man named Gordon. Gordon obviously doesn’t recognize her, and neither does the vigilante with him—Batman.

“This is a closed crime scene, Miss…?” Gordon asks.

“Nightingale. FBI.” She shows Gordon her badge. “You and your men can clear out. This is our jurisdiction now.”

“We haven’t gotten approval to—“ Gordon stops, but was interrupted by an officer walking over to Gordon and whispering something in his ear. “Fine.” Gordon grumbled, and started telling his men to leave.

“You too, Spooky. I don’t need a vigilante’s help.” She waves off the man without another thought, but Batman doesn’t move. Instead, he completely ignores her and starts walking towards the crime scene. “Obviously, you didn’t hear me.” Jazz scowled. “If you don’t leave, I will remove you with force, Batman.”

Batman turns to look at her. “That isn’t how things work here, Agent Nightingale.”

“It is now.” She kept her expression neutral. “Clear out, or be removed. Your choice.”

Batman tried to look intimidating. Jazz refused to bow. The two stared each other down before Batman took another step towards the crime scene. She reacted instantly. Pulling out a taser, she placed it on his back before he could even react.

He reacted quickly, and sent three batarangs at her in rapid succession. His movements were a bit slower than normal after getting tased. She dodged two of the batarangs, and opted to catch the third in her hand. She flicked it away lazily and cracked her knuckles with a small smile. “I love it when they choose force.”

Batman didn’t react to her comment. He seemed to understand he wasn’t going to be able to get around her without a major fight. He let out an annoyed grunt and grappled away.

Three days later, they meet on the roof of an abandoned building. It seems like Batman was still on the case after all. Jazz was not happy about it. She felt that he was going to ruin the entire operation. She couldn’t trust someone to have her back if they didn’t show their face. She doesn’t let the annoyance show on her face as Batman joins her at the edge of the rooftop.

“I thought I told you to stay off my case, Batman.” She said quietly.

Batman gave a quiet grunt. If she had to put it to words, it would translate to a ‘I do what I want.’

She didn’t speak to him again, but she didn’t kick him out, either. The two didn’t speak a word as they sat for two hours, inspecting the warehouse across the street. It was nearly morning by the time Batman left. She did make sure he left, too—she watched him grapple down the street and heard the roar of the Batmobile pulling away before she breathed out a sigh of relief.

Watching the building was doing nothing. She was going to have to get closer. She was going to have to go undercover herself. The thought didn’t make her any happier, even with knowing what happened to the last agent that went undercover for this operation. She also knew that to keep her tracker on her at all times, she would need to shove it inside a place that nobody would look for it. And boy was that uncomfortable.

Two days after she met Batman did she meet Brucie Wayne for the first time. By now she had been undercover with the modeling agency for a day, and it was going well so far. She was playing her part perfectly, but it could take weeks for them to trust her enough to give her information that she needed to know.

She had been hired to be arm candy for a wealthy man in Gotham. It wasn’t Brucie, though she knew he had a few models on his arms as well. She had gotten through most of the night without incident before she ran into Brucie. Quite literally. Brucie’s champagne spilled down her dress, and she gave a mock scream of outrage.

Brucie tried to clean up her dress, but she swatted his hands away and went to the bathroom to clean up. She never noticed the tracker that Bruce put on the nape of her neck. When she came back out, she noticed her date looking for her. She rejoined him and the rest of the night went smoothly.

A month into the operation and she finally was getting some results. She had been moved from building to building more than once, but she finally got breadcrumbs for what she needed to take them down. It took her another three weeks after that to gather all of the evidence she needed.

At the final takedown, she was joined by none other than Batman. She had half-expected him to show up after she noticed the tracker on her neck six hours after it was placed. She didn’t know when she had even run into the Batman at a stuffy charity gala. She had debated crushing it, but she didn’t have backup and she figured his help was better than nothing. She still didn’t trust him, though. She made sure he knew that, too.

Bringing the tracker up to her lips, she whispered, “Don’t you know it’s rude to listen in on a lady, Batman?”

Together, she and Batman took down the traffickers. They had been using models and trafficking them all over the world to be used as sex slaves. She feels a certain satisfaction while watching everyone be escorted out in cuffs.

“Nice work.” Batman says, figure tall and dark.

She hums. “Thanks.” The silence stretches on for a few minutes before she adds in, “Thanks for having my back.”

“I thought you didn’t need a vigilante’s help?” Batman teased.

She didn’t look at him, but she could hear the teasing on his voice. She smirks and crosses her arms. “I don’t. But you’re harder to get rid of than a ghost in a net.”

Batman didn’t respond back to her, and it takes her a few moments to realize what she had said. She was of course, referencing her parents ghosthunting activities. But he didn’t even know her real name, so how would he even know what he was talking about?

“When do you leave?” Batman asked.

“After everything’s wrapped up. Why, you going to miss me?” She finally turned to look at him. She wished she could run facial recognition and figure out who was under that mask. The psychologist in her wanted to know just why a man would put on a bat mask and fight crime.

“I have a case that could use your input.” Batman deflected her question.

Was that a compliment from the Batman? His way of telling her that he trusted her opinion? Or was it an olive branch?

“Mine or the FBI’s?” She already knew the answer to his question, but she wanted him to say it.

Instead, he just grunted in annoyance. She rolled her eyes and pulled a card out of the pouch that she kept her FBI id at and handed it to him. “That’s my office phone number.” She tapped the card with her finger as he held it. “If you want my personal cell, you’ve got to earn it.”

He nodded and tucked the card into his utility belt. She could see the beginnings of a smile from Batman as he disappeared into the shadows and grappled away.

Surprisingly, it only took Batman a week to call her. She had gotten settled back into her office in DC, and had mostly forgotten about the encounter. She had to report Batman’s appearance in her report, but beyond that, she didn’t have to explain that he helped her take down the ring.

She made a flight back to Gotham the next day. Batman brought her into the Batcave and told her everything she needed to know about the case. She didn’t know where the Batcave was, as Batman had blindfolded her, but she was impressed with his initiative.

“Im not wearing that.” She glared at him with all of the venom she had—which was quite a lot.

“You can’t go out in your FBI jacket.” Batman deadpanned.

“Wasn’t planning on it. Do you think I’m a rookie?” She shook her head and gestured at the costume that the vigilante had made for her. “That doesn’t give you the right to—to—ugh! Im not your Batgirl, or Batwoman, or whatever! I came out as a consult. I don’t dress up in latex, and I don’t wear costumes!”

The costume itself was gorgeous, not that she’d ever tell Batman that. It was solid black, had a red bat on the front of it, and was fully equipped with a utility belt, knife holsters, and a taser. It had a full cowl like Batmans, along with the pointy ears on top.

“I don’t see the problem.” Batman’s voice had undertones of offense in it.

“Look.” She gestured at the costume. “Im honored, truly, that you want me to watch your back. But I’m not a vigilante. Nor will I ever be!”

She had watched what vigilantism had done to Danny, Sam, Tucker, and Valerie over the years. Sure, she’d gone out with them more than once. Without a mask. But there was something more complex about the costume sitting on the table in front of her.

“You said you were going to help.” Batman’s gruff voice got closer as he took a few steps towards her.

“And I did.” She gestured to the Batcomputer. “I already gave you my opinions of the case. I dedicated a weekend of PTO time to be here. But this is as far as my help goes.”

“What about the last operation? You owe me.”

“Owe you?!” She exclaimed, thumping her finger against his chest. “I told you to get lost. You still stuck around. You could’ve cost me the operation!”

“It worked.”

She groaned in frustration. She was close enough to him now that she could smell the faint smell of Kevlar and aftershave from him. She rubbed a hand down her face as she thought over what had happened last time she was in Gotham.

“What about all your other winged vigilantes? You had uh.. Nightwing, and Robin, right?”

“It’s only Nightwing.” Batman responded. “He’s unavailable.”

“I could’ve sworn you had a Robin, too.” She looked up at him and noticed the stiffness of his body.

“Robin has moved on.” Batman replied.

Hmm. Touchy subject. She wasn’t going to push. It wasn’t any of her buisness.

“You must be really desperate if you’re trying this hard to get me to go out in that.” She smirked.

“Things could go wrong.” Batman said with a quiet sigh.

“Don’t they always?” She tilted her head.

“Not always.” Batman mimicked her actions, clearly studying her. “What will it take?”

“If I put that mask on,” She gestured to the table behind her, “You take yours off.”

“No.”

“Fine. Deals off, then.” She pulled her phone out and immediately started looking for flights back to DC.

“Why?” He questioned.

“I can’t trust someone who won’t tell me who they are.” She shrugged.

Batman let out a quiet growl. As he took his cowl off, he scowled. “You would know, wouldn’t you, Miss Fenton?”

“Holy shit.” Her eyes got wide.

Bruce Wayne was the Batman.

[riddlesrizzler]

𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙝 𝙥𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧! 𝙨𝙡𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣 𝙗𝙤𝙮𝙨

headcanons of high power! slytherin boys.

warnings: i think there is one mention of sex, but none other than that.

⟡ ݁₊ . includes: ceo! mattheo, lawyer! theo, investment banker! draco, surgeon! enzo, and fbi agent! blaise.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

If you ever thought that fate or religion was something that controlled the world, you would be mistaken. Instead of some divine fate ruling over the decisions of the people, it belonged to five men, the high power! slytherin boys.

𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘮𝘦𝘵

⟡ ݁₊ .I believe that Draco and Blaise knew each other before the rest of the boys, but they all crossed paths during their elite university years- and institution known for breeding the rich, the brilliant, and the dangerously ambitious.

⟡ ݁₊ .Their friendship wasn't instant, because let's face it, they all have some sort of trust issues. It was built on sharp intellect, whispered secrets,and an unspoken understanding that they were different than the rest.

⟡ ݁₊ .I don't think Mattheo and Draco got a long at first. Probably because they were way too similar for their own good. But somewhere along the way, their dynamic settled.

⟡ ݁₊ .They were young, drunk on power and money, handsome men that all had the brilliant idea of living together.

⟡ ݁₊ . Draco would take care of the finances, making sure everything was paid on time (and took a little extra from each of them to funnel into an investment portfolio because he knew they were going to be successful).

⟡ ݁₊ .Mattheo threw the parties. Somehow, even with his cutthroat business-minded nature, Mattheo knew how to turn the place into a spot for the best exclusive parties. If there was alcohol, loud music and questionable decisions being made at 2 AM, it was his doing for sure.

⟡ ݁₊ .Theo hated messes. It was an unspoken rule that if you left your dishes in the sink for more than a day, he would throw them off their top story balcony. So I guess the rule was unspoken, but the message was very clear.

⟡ ݁₊ .You could never find Blaise, no one ever knew where he was half the time. He'd disappear for days, then show up nonchalantly like he had been there the whole time. Once Enzo tried to ask but Blaise shot him a look that sais, "You don't want to know."

⟡ ݁₊ .Enzo loved to cook for everyone (when he felt like it). He would make restaurant- level meals but only when he was in the mood. Otherwise, it was every man for himself.

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘥𝘺𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘤

⟡ ݁₊ .The Leader- Mattheo Riddle- not because he demands it, but everyone knows his dangerous reputation. When he speaks, they listen. When he decides, it's final.

⟡ ݁₊ .The Shadow- Blaise Zabini- the one who never says more than necessary but knows everything about everyone. He's the one they turn to for discretion, for quiet eliminations of problems before they become problems.

⟡ ݁₊ .The Strategist- Theo Nott- he sees the angles no one else does, plays the long game, and it the most morally ambiguous of them all. They never ask how he gets his information, only that it's always right.

⟡ ݁₊ .The Face- Draco Malfoy- the charmer, the one who can walk into any room and own it. He is the golden boy of the gorup, though with his sharp tongue and ruthless streak to prove he's just as cutthroat as the rest.

⟡ ݁₊ .The Wildcard- Enzo Berkshire- the brilliant surgeon with hands steady enough to save lives but a smirk that he'd rather be causing chaos. He keeps them entertains, diffuses tension with wit, but he's no less dangerous than the rest.

𝘎𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘱 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴

⟡ ݁₊ .Monday- 10:43 AM

Draco: Who used my name to buy three cases of expensive scotch and have it delivered to Blaise’s apartment?

Mattheo: That is a wild accusation, Malfoy.

Theo: Oh, so you’re not denying it?

Mattheo: I didn’t say that.

Blaise: I’ll take them.

Draco: NO. You all have your own money. BUY YOUR OWN.

Mattheo: But it tastes better when it’s technically stolen.

⟡ ݁₊ .Friday- 1:15 AM

Enzo: Why are there 57 missed calls in this chat.

Theo: Because your best friend decided it was a good idea to start a fight with a literal senator tonight.

Enzo: …which one of them.

Blaise: Mattheo.

Draco: Obviously.

Enzo: …Why?

Mattheo: In my defense, he started it.

Draco: By existing?

Mattheo: No, by saying my company was “soulless.” So I asked if his mistress thought he had a soul.

Theo: And that’s when security was called.

Blaise: I left before it got interesting.

Enzo: I hate this group.

⟡ ݁₊ .Sunday- 1:50 PM

Theo: If any of you come to my apartment unannounced again, I will press charges.

Mattheo: So dramatic.

Draco: This is about last night, isn’t it.

Theo: YES. I woke up to find Blaise sitting in my kitchen drinking my very expensive coffee and Mattheo asleep on my couch LIKE HE LIVES HERE.

Mattheo: I did live there. Once. Long ago.

Theo: Get out.

⟡ ݁₊ .Wednesday- 4:05 AM

Draco: Who the f— just tried to transfer 10k from our old college account?

Mattheo: …I can explain.

Theo: No, you really can’t.

Enzo: Why do we still have that account?

Blaise: I assumed Draco was hoarding it for an emergency.

Draco: I AM. So why is Mattheo spending it??

Mattheo: To fund a very important endeavor.

Draco: …which is?

Mattheo: Buying a ridiculous gift for my girlfriend.

Theo: I knew it.

Blaise: She’s got him whipped.

Mattheo: I REFUSE to be slandered like this.

Enzo: You tried to commit financial fraud for a woman who dresses like a fairytale character.

Mattheo: And I’d do it again

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴

⟡ ݁₊ .Ceo! mattheo x teacher- grumpy x sunshine

⟡ ݁₊ .No one will ever change my mind that ceo! mattheo and teacher! reader belong together.

⟡ ݁₊ .He is dark, sophisticated, and organized. While they are covered in glitter most of the time, holding a million papers that needed to be graded, all while sporting a very hungry caterpillar hat.

⟡ ݁₊ .They show him that the world isn’t all business deals and cutthroat conversations, that every once and a while he can be soft.

⟡ ݁₊ .Lawyer! theo x journalist- enemies to lovers

⟡ ݁₊ .He can twist words to make the most awful people in the world seem innocent, while journalist! reader wants the truth.

⟡ ݁₊ .They are fire and ice, always butting heads with each other. Arguments are their source of communication, but somewhere along the way, they see that they aren't so different from each other after all.

⟡ ݁₊ .Investment Banker! draco x politician- friends with benefits.

⟡ ݁₊ .Draco needs someone to keep up with him and his arrogant behavior, so when he meets politician! reader who commands the room like they own it, he knew he had found his match.

⟡ ݁₊ .It started off with a bet, who could get more connections at the end of a networking event, but then it leads to them in the bathroom ripping off each others clothes.

⟡ ݁₊ .Of course, it started as convenience. Something to help them both relieve tension, but then they start to find out that they aren't as heartless as they thought they were.

⟡ ݁₊ .Surgeon! enzo x bookshop owner- golden retriever x black cat.

⟡ ݁₊ .When teacher! reader brings around their good friend, bookshop owner! reader, who supplies the book to their classroom, enzo is completely in love.

⟡ ݁₊ .They are the total opposites of each other. enzo is loud, cocky, charming and bookshop owner! reader is... not.

⟡ ݁₊ .This however this does not stop enzo from coming into their store afterwork every day in order to pester them until he eventually convinces them to go out on a date.

⟡ ݁₊ .Fbi agent! blaise x art historian- slow burn.

⟡ ݁₊ .First time blaise meets art historian! reader is when he is at a gala at an art museum for a mission. But he finds himself staring at a piece, only to turn his head to see them also staring at the same piece.

⟡ ݁₊ .Art historian! reader loves mysteries. Things of the past that have been long forgotten and yet unsolvable, blaise? loves solving things.

⟡ ݁₊ .I think it would take a long time for them to admit their feelings to each other. They are both guarded in their own, quiet and reserved way, that I think it would take a while for them to fully trust each other.

𝘖𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘭

⟡ ݁₊ .No one remembers exactly how it started, but their friensip was inevitable.

⟡ ݁₊ .What started as tension, rivalries, and underestimation turned into something unbreakable. They found in each other the only people that could keep up.

⟡ ݁₊ .Now? They run their industries. together. Because power is nothing without the people who will burn down the world for you.

[zu-is-here]

<– • –>

[imagine-sterek]

Stiles is an amazing liar and in the fbi he really can’t tell people that he spent all of high school fights with werewolves so anytime someone asks anything about him he just gives them a random movie plot and acts like its his life. People don’t really catch on even when he says he helped a town get rid of a dancing ban (footloose) or he spent a summer in time and became a pop star for a while (the Lizzie McGuire movie) or he survived his cruise sinking by floating on a door (titanic). During office parties he invites Derek and his coworkers ask Derek about stiles and he goes along with whatever lie he’s told people. It takes a few years before people catch on.

Rafe is sitting in the background knowing he can’t call Stiles out on the lie, but it takes him forever to work out what movie he’s referencing.

One guy even tracked down the Sheriff and asked him if Stiles really did what he says he did, and his dad goes along with it, telling Titanic guy that Stiles’ friend died in that sinking boat because he knew Stiles couldn’t swim and the door wouldn’t hold both of them, or telling the Footloose guy that he once had to arrest his own son for dancing.

[fangdokja]

He knows your favorite color, your childhood fears, and how you’ll look in a coffin.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! FBI Agent x Fem. Reader

♡ Oneshot. #1

♡ Word Count. 865

The fluorescent lights hum above, sterile and cold, casting sharp shadows on the concrete walls. You’ve been sitting there for hours, hands trembling in your lap, wrists raw from the biting metal of the handcuffs he fastened too tightly. The air reeks of copper and disinfectant. His scent cuts through it all—cologne muted by sweat and iron. It clings to your skin, branding you, suffocating you.

He watches you from the other side of the table, an impenetrable wall of muscle and authority. The tailored suit stretches taut over his shoulders, framing a chest that could crush you. His sleeves are rolled up, revealing forearms veined and powerful, the kind you could imagine snapping necks without hesitation. His jaw is tight, shadowed with stubble, lips curling around a cigarette he’s not smoking. He doesn’t need to. The threat lingers in his silence, in the way his narrowed cold eye studies you, dissecting every inch of your quivering form.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” His voice is gravel, low and cutting, a razor against your ears. “Every breath you take, every blink, every time you clench those pretty little thighs—I see it. You think you’re smart, playing coy, hiding behind your trembling innocence. But I’ve been watching you for years, sweets.”

The way he says it sends a chill ripping down your spine. Years? Your stomach lurches, bile rising in your throat, but you swallow it down. You try to meet his gaze, defiance flickering behind your panic, but the way his lips curve into a predator’s smirk makes you regret it instantly.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He leans forward, the heavy oak table groaning under the weight of his arms. His eye gleams, sharp and calculating, a hunter reveling in the sight of his trapped prey. “Unless you want me to punish you right here. Is that it? Do you want me to break you down where the cameras can see? I can. I will. But you’re mine, and you’re smarter than that, aren’t you?”

His knuckles crack as he flexes his fingers, the sound echoing in the empty room. He slides the recorder off the table with a flick of his wrist, the device shattering against the floor. His calm dissolves in the blink of an eye, replaced by something feral, volcanic, terrifying. He’s standing now, looming over you, the chair scraping the floor behind him like a warning.

You try to shrink back, the cuffs clinking as you press against the chair, but his hand darts out faster than you can react. His fingers tangle in your hair, jerking your head back, exposing your neck. His breath is hot, acidic, on your skin as he leans in, speaking directly into your ear.

“Do you even understand what you’ve done to me?” His voice trembles, not with vulnerability, but with the strain of holding himself back. “You’ve made me into this. This thing. This monster who wakes up every night imagining what your blood would taste like on my tongue. You don’t know what it’s like to feel this way, to be consumed by you, to want to rip apart anything that touches you just so I can glue you back together with my own hands.”

The hand not tangled in your hair drags down your arm, leaving a trail of bruises in its wake, his thumb pressing cruelly into your wrist. “These little hands…what were you thinking, trying to run with them? As if you could open a single locked door I didn’t personally design to keep you exactly where you belong.”

You’re sobbing now, silent tears streaming down your cheeks, but he doesn’t stop. He revels in your misery, his voice dipping into something dangerously soft, almost sweet. “Do you know how beautiful you are when you’re afraid? It’s fucking intoxicating. I don’t just want your body, sweets. I want your soul. I want to mold it, twist it, own it until the only thing left is me.”

He steps back suddenly, releasing you. You crumple forward, gasping for air like you’ve been drowning, but the reprieve is short-lived. His massive hand claps your shoulder, dragging you up to your feet like a ragdoll. His eye bores into yours, the weight of his presence suffocating, inescapable.

“You don’t have to like it, sweets,” he murmurs, voice a low, rumbling storm. “You just have to remember one thing: there’s no world where you exist without me. None. I’ll find you in every lifetime, in every corner of hell, and I’ll make you mine again. And again. And again.”

The lock clicks. You realize it isn’t the door—it’s the shackles he’s just fastened around your ankles. He tugs the chain once, hard enough to pull you off balance. His laughter fills the air as you stumble, the sound dark, amused, and utterly devoid of humanity.

“That’s better,” he muses, gripping your chin and tilting your face upward to meet his. “Now, why don’t you thank me, sweets? For saving you. For loving you. For making you perfect.”

[eggfriedricedwasian]

I have an unhealthy habit with Criminal Minds right now, so in honor of that;

The au where Tim gets accepted into an Ivy League college. It's Harvard Law. He graduates with a few degrees in criminology, psychology, law, etc.. He becomes an FBI agent in the BAU and lives the whole life.

Except, he doesn't talk to the Bats about it. Like, Steph knows and Damian knows, but that's it.

Damian knows because he went snooping one day like a curious little brother should do, saw unsent written letters to Tim's parents and read them, finding out more than he should.

Tim didn't catch him, but he knows he did read the letters because in the cave Damian tells Tim to leave, stop being Robin and go.

The Bats take this really badly, but Tim?

Tim was touched.

So he did, Tim left and did all that. Steph knows because Damian caught her on a call with Tim, so he explained it to her with him on call.

Tim seemed really happy on call. He went back and finished his senior year of high school, graduating early 3 months with his adoptive mom, Susan Woosan(Lady Shiva), being his biggest reason why he graduated early. (She gave him the Asian mom teachings obviously. Also Tim detransitioned in my au of this and became Caroline Theana-Janet Hill-Woosan).

Damian and Steph's bond grows bigger because of this.

So when Damian meets Nika, Steph is the first to know next to Tim and they help him get the girl.

Then Damian wants to become a doctor, and Tim goes back to help him tell the family.

Damian just tells them he wants to quit being Robin without Tim there, and they take it very poorly.

"You told Tim to stop being Robin so you could be Robin by yourself and now you want to leave it?" type of poorly.

Nika's there to hear the news as well.

Tim takes that moment to enter, hates what he hears, and tells Damian to go pack his stuff and wait in the car, Nika too.

He explains what actually happened, how happy he's been since leaving. How much better he's been doing in the past 6-10 years.

Then he leaves. Damian leaves his phone at the manor so the Bats cant contact him, Nika throws her phone out the window of her own free will, and Tim basicallt adopts them both under his wing or something. Talia forces Bruce to give up custody to her so she can stay and help Damian finish his life in school, and because she's proud he wants to be a doctor because she just finished getting her doctorates.

Nika practically lives with them if she isn't at Tim's house.

So, Tim continues working with the FBI, Nika lives with him but mostly stays with Damian and Talia when Tim's out of state or country for FBI work, Damian graduates high school with Nika and they both go to college.

Damian becomes a doctor and Nika a special agent alongside Tim maybe.

The Bats are all none the wiser, except Steph (and maybe Cass and Jason it depends), and Tim is happy to have made Bruce eat shit.

[rosie-tyler]

Daniel LaRusso and Johnny Lawrence work as police detectives in the Los Angeles Police Department. Everything changes when Daniel becomes the obsession of Terry Silver, a criminal mastermind.

[decentsoupperson]

Serial Killer x FBI Agent Au

Part 2

Adam is determined to find out if Lucifer and his secret admirer are one in the same. He showed him the text he sent that was later deleted.

Lucifer knows he fucked up, he used the wrong phone.

Lucifer: Oh no. Now what?

Lucifer didn't respond to the text, but Adam could see that it had been read.

Adam: What are you hiding, Morningstar?