#gun safe installation

[historyofguns]

The article "How to Store a Gun for Home Defense" by Richard Johnson, published on The Armory Life, emphasizes the importance of balancing quick authorized access to firearms with security for home defense situations. Johnson advises evaluating one's specific household circumstances, including the presence of children, to determine the appropriate storage methods. The article outlines three primary gun storage categories: exposed storage, which offers quick access but no security; hidden storage, which uses concealment to prevent unauthorized access; and lock boxes, which provide a secure yet accessible storage option. Johnson stresses the significance of tailoring storage solutions to individual needs and practicing accessing firearms safely. The article encourages readers to consider a balance between readiness for home defense and preventing unauthorized access to firearms.

[eastcoastsafe]

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[bunny-jpeg]

retired!price needed a mission. he had been in the military since the day he could enlist, he was molded by the structure of it all. early riser and late evenings, whisky and cigars. the feeling of a gun in his hands was second nature. debriefings and helicopter rides. that was his life, that was what he was good at. one mission after another, even when his body wanted to quit, he mentally couldn't.

now, at the age of forty-seven, he was retired. he had no mission, no objective. it made him almost pace around his flat. that was until you moved in next door.

you gave price purpose, even if you didn't mean to. there was something about you that captivated him. you pulled him in like a siren's song. price could imagine himself curled up next to you in the evenings, listening to your quiet breathing as you fell asleep. breakfast in the mornings and dinner in the evenings. falling asleep in front of the television. the problem was, you were painfully younger than him. still an adult. you had just graduated university, but still younger than him. that and you had a boyfriend. price couldn't care to remember his name, he had to go. now.

price hated seeing his hands all over you. your boyfriend, it felt so juvenile for a woman as amazing as you. you needed a man, not a boy. price thought you shouldn't be waiting around for him to finish (fail) med school. you needed a real man, someone who'll provide. and price could provide for you in spades. "does the boyfriend help with any of the finances?" price asked as he helped you bring your groceries inside one afternoon. you looked at him with a curious expression and replied, "no." and price just smiled as he patted you on the shoulder, "well, he isn't much of a man then? if he can't take care of his girl." the smile was friendly and it slowly coaxed you into his arms. but not before price took care of your boyfriend. he remembered when you came to his apartment in tears because they found a body near the river. wrapped in plastic and with no suspects in custody, price lingered when the police talked to you. and then reassured you when the police left.

after that price knew that he had to take better care of you. you were hurting, you needed price. so while you were out, price let himself in and got to work. it wasn't hard to replicate your key, he had swiped the spare from the bowl by the door when he came to visit you one day, only for the key to returned the next afternoon. a few cameras installed around the apartment to keep you safe. this was about your safety. price couldn't have you getting hurt, not when your boyfriend went and got himself killed! (you worried his killer was still out there). "do you ever feel like someone's watching?" you asked over morning tea before you went to work. price was leaned back on the couch enjoying his own cup with his other hand on your thigh. price replied, "sometimes, but it might be anxiety overactin' in your brain. maybe you need to take a vacation." "hmm, maybe." price liked his mission now, to protect you. keep you safe from whatever or whoever killed your boyfriend. did he have mob connections, were you in danger? it was alright, price could protect you. but it would be hard to when he lived so far away from you. why don't you move in? it wasn't like he was using the spare bedroom. but the spare bedroom wasn't used for long, soon you found comfort in price's bed. you had become a little more paranoid, there were still no leads on your boyfriend's murder case, but price was a comforting presence.

even his smell managed to calm your mind. you often wore an article of his clothing out to feel protected. it was even better when those clothes were on the hefty, strong, hairy body of your friend. price preferred the term husband when referring to him. but you'd get there eventually. it was easier to catch a wife with honey than vinegar, so he'd let you play those cute games. the will they-won't they as if price hadn't killed your boyfriend to get with you. you were made for him, every atom in your being was meant for price. you were his mission! his sanity! he needed to keep you safe, so don't blame him when he slipped an air tag in your work bag and another in your weekend purse. he always knew where you were, you just thought it was luck when he perfectly had dinner ready for as soon as you came home. the home cooked meals made you much more agreeable with price. the savoury sauces, meats and vegetables. all to add a little more fat to your hips, price liked his women soft. easy to take care of but with enough chub to carry a healthy baby. he knew your hips were wide and your chest was big. you had the body of a goddess that price yearned to worship. to fuck.

so while, price had never believed in god. rather he believed that it was better to stay out of religion given what he had done in his past. but when his worn, calloused hands gripped your soft hips and sank himself into your pussy. it was heaven. the skies opened up and the angels sang their choir. price already imagined the ring on your finger and the baby at your hips. out of this flat and into a bigger home outside the city. price would provide, as he always did. when his cock nudged against your gummy walls, it only egged his fantasy on further. your pathetic boyfriend didn't know what he had, but price did. so that was why your boyfriend had to get out of the picture. price knew every inch of skin better than he did. he knew every curve and mole. the scar on your side from an childhood accident to your stretchmarks at your hips. a divine being was what you were and when price fucked you it was a religious experience. your moans were music to price's ears and you made him yearn for you more. it was a taste of heaven that would drive a mortal man insane. his hairy stomach up against you as he fucked you with heavy strokes. he was so much bigger compared to you. he could bruise you, crush you, if he so desired. but the only bruising would be at your cervix, but don't worry price will soften the pain with his cum. the bed creaked under the both of you. he made promises that the would kill you safe from anything that could harm you. he was a man, not a boy, exactly what you needed. he'll take care of everything, just keep loving him. being with him. and you, with squeaky moans, promised that you'd love him. that made something in price's bed click and he fucked you without much hold-back. when he finished inside of you, he planted a kiss on your lips, a passion that would only be matched when you got married.

"my baby girl." he said softly as he rubbed your back afterwards.

price found that your anxiety lessened as time went by. planning a wedding with a baby on the way kept your brain occupied. there was nothing to worry about, love. no one would hurt a hair on your head. price's mission would forever be you. you and the babies. a proper price family. just don't look in his safe. you might not like what you find. in particular the pistol with the missing bullet. <3

[slytherinshua]

HOLD MY HEART, KEEP IT SAFE

genre. hurt/comfort. mafia au. this is a part 2 to my other jeno fic (your wounds wrapped with my love)!! warnings. death, blood, knives, guns, gas chambers, & jeno almost dying all mentioned. reader going through immense guilt and complicated emotions bcuz of killing someone for the first time, nightmares, crying... i think that's it? pairing. husband!jeno x fem!reader. wc. 1.4k. request. requested by @blue-jisungs unofficially but i took it as an official request bcuz she's my baby all the rest of you are losers. a/n. read part 1 here!! this fic can be read as a standalone, but it's still part of the same universe so i recommend reading pt 1 if you haven't already!!

You woke up heaving in short and painful gasps, tears pricking at your waterline. The nightmares were almost like routine, yet they still felt so real everytime that you could never get used to them. You hadn’t enjoyed a good night’s rest in weeks. You could only fall asleep wrapped tightly in your husband’s arms, and even then you would always wake up from the dreams. 

When you had first met Jeno, you knew that getting yourself involved with someone who worked with crime was a risky choice to take. You knew the dangers, but Jeno was worth it to you. You swore to never mess with the stuff firsthand, though. Jeno insisted that you train enough to defend yourself in an emergency, so you were no stranger to a gun’s mechanisms or the best technique to stab someone in the throat with a knife. But you never touched his guns or daggers unless it was for training, you never went along on missions, and you certainly never took a life with your own hands.

That was, until 2 weeks ago.

It was your first wedding anniversary with Jeno, but, of course, you couldn’t expect that you would be able to have a romantic day like other couples. Jeno’s biggest enemy had baited him with an opportunity that was too important to pass up. But the risk was extreme. You trusted your husband without a doubt, but you knew in your gut that something would go wrong. And you were right.

Jeno had smoothly been able to get in and take out almost all of the henchmen, but he hadn’t anticipated that they would lure him into a locked room with a highly advanced gas system installed. There were no windows, the door was barricaded and too heavy duty to break, and Jeno had no way to stop the gas. 

If you hadn’t trusted your instincts and followed him to the base, you wouldn’t have been able to stop the gas flow and disarm the enemy. Thanks to your training with knives, you were able to take him out before he could harm your husband anymore. If you hadn’t taken that risk, Jeno wouldn’t be alive to this day.

In the moment, your only concern was saving your husband’s life, but the lingering regret and guilt from having a death on your hands was eating you whole. You couldn’t get it out of your head— the power you felt driving the knife straight through the man’s stomach, the horror that followed once you heard his blood curdling screams, and then the deafening silence. You had no idea how Jeno did it for a living. 

You heard your husband stir beside you, probably sensing your distress or the slight noise of the sheets shuffling. He trained himself to be an incredibly light sleeper for his own safety. He would wake up to the sound of a pin dropping when he knew there was an active threat.

He knew that there was no threat right now. You had made sure of that 2 weeks ago. But Jeno still sat up, letting his tired eyes fall to your figure, his heart clenching in his chest at the sight. He knew exactly how you felt. He had experienced the same thing when he was still training under Johnny and Ten. The knowledge that someone had died at your hands was unlike any other. No matter how justified the death was, it still felt the same.

He reached out his hand, gently tracing a line on the top of your hand before he threaded his fingers with yours and squeezed. Slow rubs of his thumb over your knuckles was a small amount of comfort for how much you were feeling, but Jeno knew it was all that was needed to calm you down. Any conversation immediately about the nightmare would only lead to more tears. Once Jeno heard that your breathing had evened, he spoke up.

“I wouldn’t be here right now if you hadn’t killed him. I know it was hard.” He cupped your cheek and kissed your forehead, his lips soothing your hot skin. 

“Can you wash them again?” You asked, referencing your hands that Jeno still held. 

It had become obsessive ever since that day. The image of your hands soaked in blood never left your mind. You had already washed away any remnants of the red stains 2 weeks ago, but in your brain, they were still there. The constant scrubbing had caused damage to your skin. Jeno took over washing them for you, knowing that he would be gentler on your skin than you would in your current state. He was patient with you, obliging in anything that you asked for in hopes that it would help you feel better.

He led you to the sink of the bathroom and turned on the tap, finding the right temperature before he let your hands fall under the stream of water. He had bought soap that was extra gentle on the skin just for you. Squirting some into his palm, he massaged it into your hands as gently as possible. He was thorough yet soft with how he washed you, handling your hands as if they were the most precious thing. They were what had saved his life, after all.

He guided you back to bed, gathering the covers over your figure and sliding under them himself. He tucked himself next to you so that his head was mere inches from yours, lying on pillows side by side, you resting safely in his arms. You wanted to thank him a million times as your eyes wandered over his face gazing back at you with so much love. He had so much to worry about already just from the nature of his job. You hated to add to his burden in any way.

Truly, if it had been anyone else, Jeno would not have been able to be so patient and caring. His fellow assassins were well able to handle a few deaths. They were prepared for what a mission would look like and had time to separate whatever happened on the job from their everyday life. You weren’t prepared for that, and unable to make that switch in your brain. Everything that had happened that night lingered in your mind whether you wanted to think about it or not.

“I still feel sorry for ruining our anniversary night. I wanted to take you out on a nice date, show you how much I love you. When you feel better I’ll make it up to you, yeah? I’ll plan something 10 times as nice as I originally had in mind. Just for you.” He whispered, tucking your hair behind your ear, admiring your beauty. 

“The ruined anniversary is the last thing on my mind. You almost died, Jeno.” Tears welled in your eyes as you said it out loud. By the time you had killed the man and unlocked the door to the gas chamber, Jeno could barely stand on his own. Although you had stopped the gas flow beforehand, he had inhaled enough that it was hindering his breathing. Had you taken much longer, he would have already been dead by the time you got to him.

“I’ve almost died a million times. It’s not like it’s new.” He muttered.

“I haven’t seen you almost die before. Don’t say that it doesn’t matter. How am I supposed to live if you die?” You were crying again at this point. 

Jeno sighed. He wanted you to see it from his perspective, but it wasn’t worth a fight. Especially not right now. You were already distressed.

“I know, darling. I’m sorry.” He pulled you closer, head resting against his chest so you could hear his heartbeat. He was alive. That was all that mattered to you.

“Go back to sleep, Y/n. I’m right here.” He whispered, stroking your back to lull you into dreamland. 

Being in his arms felt warm and comforting. Others would say that he was a cold man, too dangerous to even approach. It was true that his job was uncertain and risky, illegal at many points, and only succeeded, in some cases, at the cost of others' lives. But his heart was warm. For you, he would risk everything. 

Despite what anyone else said, you knew that Jeno was a good man. He was not the first person to capture your heart, but he was the only one who you trusted enough to keep it safe. He could carry it with him wherever he went and bring it back to you unscathed. He would never need to give it back to you, though, nor did you ever want him to. You wanted him to keep it until the end of time, safe in his possession, and you, safe in his arms.

↳ nct dream taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @lexeees,, @nyukyusnz,, @lovesuhng,,

@planetkiimchi,, @ujisworld,, @heavenfilm,, @sobun1est,, @emmylksblog,,

@bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @thesunsfullmoon,, @chenleszone,, @talking-saxy,,

@cupidslovearrows

[fandomnerd9602]

Taken Aftermath

Wolf!Natasha x Reader

Storyline request by @supercorpdanbeau

The day you were captured was a recurring nightmare for your wolf hybrid girlfriend Natasha Romanoff.

She had never allowed herself to go so feral and wild willingly. All that she remembers was needed to get you back. She couldn’t leave you in the Red Room facility.

Now it’s been coming back to her. The gun shots, the screams, the way her claws went so effortlessly through Dreykov’s guts. Natasha later found out that Dreykov had installed a scent based deterrent to keep himself safe. Obviously the need for your safety overruled whatever scent the villainous man had out on himself.

You found she was isolating herself a little. She kept herself separated from the other hybrids. She was even separating herself from you.

At first she didn’t want you to leave her side and now she was distancing herself. It broke your heart

Every time she looked at you, her ears and tail would drop a little. This went on for weeks.

She only recently allowed you back into her bed at night. You missed her scent, her touch, how you missed wrapping her in a hug at night.

Now Natasha wakes up with her nightmares, every night the same. Her heart racing, sweaty face and hands.

“Baby? Natasha? Honey wolf?” Your voice broke thru the deafening ringing in her ears. The hair on her tail and wolf ears slowly lowered themselves back to a relaxed position.

You wrapped your arms around Natasha, gently rocking her. “Baby? Is it the nightmares again?”

Natasha could only nod her head, her mind still racing.

“I know. I know” you reassure her.

“D-Did I scare you? When I went full wolf?” Natasha asks you, her green emerald eyes peering into yours.

“Can I be honest?” You sigh, “a little. only because I thought I might lose you”

“What?”

“I’ve never seen you go full wolf like that. I-I was worried that you might never come out of it”

Natasha rests her hand on your face, staring into your eyes. “I’ll always come back to you, baby”

“And I will never leave you Natasha. My beautiful, beautiful wolf girl.” You whisper in her ear.

“Your wolf girl, huh?” She smirks before giving you a little soft howl.

The two of you can’t help but laugh together. You were each other’s true sanctuary. The problems of the world could pass by and you’d feel safe in each others embrace.

For the first time in a while, Natasha’s fluffy wolf tail began to wag a little bit.

Tags @lifespectator @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7 @redhoodte @pinklawyerwinnerzonk @iiconicsfan25 @iamnicodemus @russianredassassin @revanshand @ab1nsur @texaswolf23 @deafeningsharkslimeempath @julieromanoff

[shit-talker]

The only way I can rationalise people accepting literal children going out and fighting crime as Robin is if they don't think Robin is a real child.

I think it would be fun to see how Bruce would use that to his advantage in protecting his kids. Like, if people think Robin isn't human, if they instead think he's a spirit or a ghost, they are less likely to shoot at him, less likely to try and physically attack Robin because they think it would be no use.

The fun part would be deciding HOW they would do this. I like to think that Robin's domino mask doesn't have a hole for his eyes but instead is glazed over so that he can see out of it, but you can't see in. Maybe they install small lights in it so it looks like his eyes glow in the dark, because can you image how fucking scary it would be to just see these two sentient light-like eyes and just know the Batman must be lurking somewhere close by?

Maybe Bruce installs super strong magnets in their gloves because on the chance that someone does pull a gun on his kid close range, it would be a lot easier for them to grab the gun away if they had the force of magnetism on their side. Also, grabbing onto poles and other metal materials would make all the scaling on tall buildings a little safer. Obviously, they'd need a way to turn it on and off, but still. Can you imagine, you're in a warehouse and there are steel frames fucking everywhere and you look up and suddenly there's a child gripping onto one effortlessly? Horrifying.

Maybe they have a voice box. Want to scare people? Play this really ominous recording of a child's laughter that echoes just a bit too loud to be normal. Play this ominous screaming that seems too silent to be real. Play this ticking that seems to never end that induces stress and increases the chance of them messing up.

What would be even funnier is keeping this act up with the Justice League and other teams.

Batman doesn't bring Robin to these meetings at the beginning because he sees no need to involve a preteen in such matters, but at some point the subject does come up and it's sort of like; So, Bats, what exactly is the kid? Like...is he yours?

And Bruce (paranoid as fuck) doesn't want to admit to these people that yes, Robin is my son because hello? That's gotta be his biggest weakness, he would do anything to keep that kid safe and fuck them if they ever tried to hurt him to get to Bruce.

So, he tells them that he's a spirit sent to haunt him and remind the city of it'd failures and the Justice League just... believe him?? Because this is Batman, and why would Batman ever lie about something so, frankly, strange? And it's not a huge deal, like they're a team comprised of metas and aliens and literal godesses, so what if the one normal human guy has a weird little ghost child? Who cares if he cares about it like it's a real boy? Maybe the baby spirit has rights, too!! They don't know!

So, when the JLA gets more popular and becomes an actual, legal part of the American government, they're required to list all of their members. And they class Batman as a human, because that's obvious but next to Robin, they don't really know what to say or how to ask Batman about it, ao they just put "Unknown Child Spirit - TBD"

And then just... never change it?

So, they don't question why a few years later Robin seems to look entirely different, or why after that he changes again, or why Robin is suddenly a girl for a while before going back to a little boy. That's obviously just some weird spirit thing they don't understand, and it's not like Batman is going to explain it!

[chaosandmarigolds]

Cabin

(the timeline is a lil weird in this so just go for the vibes, Pre-K verse. Fem!reader)

Based off this AWESOME ASK! so here's my lil take on it <3

“Think ‘m dyin.”

“You’re fine.”

”UGH- oi, th’ light- oi, Beth? That you? callin me, LT, they callin me.”

Simon doesn’t bother to look up from the tablet to his wounded comrade, who would be alright with some TLC and a long night’s sleep. Currently, he was trying to find somewhere they could all rest, somewhere safe, which seemed to be an easy task- as he knew this forest like the back of his hand. (After living in a town not even ten miles away for close to seven years) Not to mention, he happened to know where there was a cabin, which should be empty.

Technically it wasn’t his cabin, it had been your brother however when your brother moved he left it to you. And since it was the middle of the summer and the cabin didn’t have AC, Simon assumed you were most likely happily sitting at home with the kids, on an air-conditioned covered porch.

With that in mind, he made his decision to lead his team towards the cabin. It would be a bit of a trek, but it was the best option they had, it wasn’t far from where they had to leave the truck- the mission had been odd, just to accompany some international weapons dealer, and since they were the closest they had been assigned. Long- story short, it went to hell and they somehow made it back in one piece. They had to wait for pickup, to be treated, and then for the debrief, so he couldn’t quite just go home, though he wanted to.

“Since when do ya own real estate?” Kyle remarked as they approached the cabin, lit up by their flashlights and the moon that hung, he had gotten out with a broken rib and a graze on the arm- luckily he didn’t fall from any high places this time. It was a quaint thing, made of wood with a cute chimney, and a nice porch. A big red garage not too far away from it and a dirt path leading to the neat porch.

“Not mine.” Simon replied bluntly back, handing his backpack to Kyle, and then told them he would grab some emergency packs and the first aid kit from the garage. With one flashlight tucked under his arm, he went around the back of the garage while the rest went into the cabin, as he also told them the spare key was under the chair leg. He remembered building the garage, yet somehow he still would grumble about how loud the door was.

Normally the garage was barren, give or take the Christmas decorations you would have him store in there, a rack with his tools and weapons. As well a year’s worth of rations, and camping gear, both mundane and survival- to put it simply it had everything he would need if he simply needed to vanish for a while. Though he hadn’t needed to in a long moment, not since he met you and Ollie- and perhaps that could be summed up to he didn’t quite want to anymore, either way- he flipped on the flickering light expecting a vacant garage.

No. Instead, he found your car sitting in the darkness. He knew it was yours because only your car would have that dent he caused in the front fender. Within a millionth of a second everything began to make sense- you had said you had a project you were going to surprise him with, ‘take it off his shoulders’ as you gleefully had put it before he left. The air conditioning, you had taken on the task of installing the air conditioning while he was gone. Which meant you were in the cabin with Ollie and he just sent a team of men in there, armed.

All the same, he had taught you to fend for yourself, enough to where when he ran through the front door to the sight of a knife to Johnny’s neck and a panic-riddled fear within your eye. He wasn’t shocked by it. He quickly told Kyle to drop the gun, harshly at that, to which Johnny replied-

“WHA? Bonie’s go’ a knife-” “Simon?”

His eyes flash over to yours and almost out of habit, his hand went to take off the mask, to assure you, “S jus me, let Johnny go, baby. Jus me.”

“Oh my god,” You very quickly drop the weapon of opportunity and without much else warning you turn around on your heel to go down the hall, opening up the coat closet to pick up the three-year-old- who was still baffled on what was going on and why you told him to go hide.

All the while you were doing that Johnny very slowly looked back at Simon, a look of exasperation across his expression- because- well two things actually; he had technically seen the man’s face before, but never in good lighting and it wasn’t because Simon was trying to show his face it was more of a random moment post-OP. Secondly; “What do ya ‘ean ‘Baby?”

“ISTER RILEY!” The three-year-old shrieks with glee before any questions are asked and before any can be answered, the child in his blue dinosaur-themed PJs and his mob of hair messy from bed, yet he seemed as awake as one could be. Ollie tried to wiggle out of your grasp, failing so he frowned and looked to you, “Momma wan go ‘Ister Riley.”

You stand at the end of the hallway, beside the old couch and you look over the three men, one you happened to be in a relationship with, and the other two you had no earthly idea of their existence till two minutes before, where they rudely woke you up with clanking boots. You only glance the two over before returning your gaze to Simon, who is very slowly approaching his movements calculated, as if he knew a sudden movement would scare you. “Who…who are these people?”

“On my team, I didn’t know you would be ‘ere,” His voice was hushed, as if he didn’t want them to hear his words, as he got closer Ollie began to lean out of your grasp to move to him- and normally you would allow the transfer, yet not then. Which Simon was very aware of, “Needed somewhere to crash for the night, I didn’t know you ‘ere here. I wouldn’t have-”

Before he could finish his apologies, your voice was whispered through the silence, “You’re all bleeding, what? Do they not have medics? I thought- you told me you had people to take care of you.” Sure, you were very angry and more importantly scared, feeling unsafe in your own home and if not a bit betrayed, yet…for the moment you were willing to overlook that.

“Back at base, luv,” Simon was quick to reply, “Waiting for someone to ‘ick us up ‘n take us.”

You take a moment to process his words and you nod, “Johnny and Kyle?” Your husband very slowly nods, so you look back to the two beaten-up men, who were standing as if they were watching their best friend get yelled at by their parents. After a moment of breathing and slowing your heart rate you give a meek smile, “Hi, I’m sorry, that was a…well an awful introduction, I swear I’m nice.”

They were both quick to deny you being the guilty party, Kyle taking off the cap within a millisecond as he spoke, “No! We must’ve scared ya to death, completely rational reaction, Missus.”

Johnny nods and motions to Kyle as he adds on. Watching as Simon very carefully moves to stand behind you. He knew his best friend, and he somehow didn’t know of his secret wife- suspicions yes, yet he was tickled pink that he was correct. “Wha’ Gaz is sayin, you did not’in wrong, bonnie, fact o’ it is-”Ollie’s face crinkles as Johnny speaks and he moves his head to look back at Simon, seeing him from an upside-down view, “Ister Riley why does he talk weird?” As if on cue you move Ollie to sit happily in Simon’s arms and give a weak laugh to distract them both from your son’s rude question.

“Tea?”

—

“And Missus?” Kyle said after about ten minutes of silence, the night was peaceful, Ollie going from Simon to Johnny the entire night and asking about every question imaginable (”You fight bad people?””I do laddie.””Da’s so cool.”….”Wha’s your name?””Johnny.””Nuh-huh.””Nuh-huh?””Yea, ‘Ister Riley called ya someden different earlier.””Ah, Soap, tha’ my speical nickname.””SOAP??”) and you fussing about how crappy their medic was, they didn’t have one, and getting the first aid kits and clean clothes out, the night was oddly…pleasant.

Simon, who currently had a sleeping three-year-old against his chest, looks up from his tea and then clears his throat. “Wha’ bout her?”

Johnny had spent the last forty minutes thinking about it all, and he had figured out the timeline, or he thought so, so he looked to Simon- a look of pure shock and a little bit of mock upon his face, “Whatcha ‘ean ‘wha’ bout her? LT got a wife n kid ‘n we ‘ere nun wiser!”

“Tha was what I was hopin for,” Simon said dully in return, moving to stand up, an arm under the boy, and then giving you a soft smile as you came back from the garage, blankets in hand. “Gonna put Olls t’ bed.”

As your husband tells you what he was doing you give him a little nod and then set the blankets down on the couch, looking back to the very intimidating men, who were somewhat pleasant as you got to know them. “Unfortunately one of you will have to sleep on the floor. Si’s got a little cot thingy but I hate that thing so I will subject you to it. Trust me, the floor is better.”

Johnny laughs, “Nah we’ll jus cuddle on and we’ll be fine, Missus.”

“No, we will not.” Kyle deadpanned back, glaring at Johnny before looking back to you, “Thank you for opening your home.”

You smile at him, finding it easier to do so after a few hours, “Well after having to endure Ollie for hours it’s the least I could do.” It was a joke that they both caught onto, laughing lightly at it, though the air wasn’t stiff it was most definitely a bit awkward.

“Speakin of Ollie, is he-”

“Oh, he’s not Simons.” You quickly finish the thought, fully knowing that was going to be the question out of the Scotts mouth, then you clear your throat, walking to the kitchen as you spoke, “I mean- sorry, I met Simon when Ollie was about a year and a half old, my ex divorced me after Ollie was born and since he had been on deployment I didn- anyway sorry,” You wave your hand and grab your mug, “and Simon was volunteering at the school I worked at- for um, well John, you both know John of course- anyway, I needed a babysitter for Ollie and he offered and then…well the rest is history.”

“Ghost volunteering at a school?” Kyle echoed to clarify, “an the kids weren’t scared of him?”

“Terrified,” You reply, a laugh in your voice, “It was cute, he was cute, he’s good with kids, he won’t say he is but he is and oh lord, I…” A slight faltering and you shake your head, “Anyway, I’ll let you both sleep. You know where the bathroom is.”

With a few goodnights, you walk down the hall, leaning on the doorframe to the smaller room, which had a pull-down bed that had Ollie’s favorite racecar-themed blanket atop of it and a few select toys you had let him bring on the two-night trip. As you listened to the very faint conversation you stayed quiet, not wanting to ruin the moment between the father-figure and the boy.

“I like Misser Soap and Misser Kyle.”

“Mm, thos’ are my brother’s laddie, so ‘m sure they’re happy you like em.”

“If…if dey brother then- then they like Uncle Mark?”

“…Yeah, sorta like your Uncle Mark, alright, you get to sleep, yeah? Fore mum has both our hides.”

You move to stay in the hallway as Simon kisses the boy’s forehead and tells him goodnight for the billionth time, and you turn your head upward to look at him as he closes the door behind him. He looked tired if anything, so maybe you would wait for your scolding. Silence, as you had learned very quickly on within your relationship, was the cornerstone of who he was. Whatever you may want to be said he was already aware of, anything you wanted to be expressed he was already expressing in his own way. With that in mind you move to where he could easily wrap his arms around you, tucking you into what he felt was like a safe embrace.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Not scared of you, scared of what would happen without you.”

(annd yeah, that's all. Feedback, comments and all that mean so much to me <3)

[qcomicsy]

Do y'all think Jason's safe house has a stove??? does he eats there??? how the fuck he would put an stove in there???? Like– who would install it for him? A henchmen? Did he actually pay the guys who generally come to install it? He was just "(muffled by the mask holding a gun) Yeah guys put in that area right there, and this shit better not have any gas leaking."

Is this man surviving only by takeouts? (He would).

[foone]

Imagine a butch who dates robotgirls and she's got the belt and carabiner "ready for business" look down, but all the stuff hanging from it is reverse-engineering tools.

A full set of screwdriver bits (including security torx and those weird tri-wing Nintendo ones), assorted spuders, those little rubber suction-cups you use to remove LCDs, a line flashlight, macro lenses, IPA wipes, chip pullers, portable hot air rework gun and a pinecil soldering iron, desoldering braid, a wide variety of ESD-safe tweezers, and one of those anti-stack wristbands but on a retractable lead like it's for walking a dog.

She left her backpack at home but it's got a stereo inspection station, a full set of lockpicks (including those tubular lock impresioning ones), and an aging ThinkPad with a bunch of USB adapters: every memory card format you can imagine, all the major hard drive interfaces, and even 3.5"/5.25" floppy disks thanks to a 3D printed enclosure with a greaseweazle flux imager (the Applesauce stays at home connected to her Mac Mini). A USB optical drive that can read and burn all the cd formats, and a as small plastic case of some blank CD-Rs, DVD-Rs, and Blu-rays. A bunch of USB flash drives, some blank, some preflashed with assorted tools and marked with little keychain labels: some linuxes, a warezed all-in-one windows installer, live distros for tails and kali and partionmagic and DBAN.

She's ready for anything.

[thefirstknife]

Hi! I was wondering if you could explain the lore surrounding Saint and how he says he looked up to us? That whole time fuckery always confused me + the Vex apparently made him a tomb? What was that about? I really just have no idea what happened in Season of Dawn

Yes!

So, we should start with Osiris being exiled from the City (some time around the Twilight Gap, unclear when exactly, but vaguely at that time). Osiris packed his stuff and left to go do his research in peace; he went to Mercury for the Infinite Forest.

This upset Saint a lot and he decided to go after him. He even left a letter for him which destroys me every time:

Ship's Final Log: Osiris. I hope whatever you find in this place is worth it. My recommendation to install you as Vanguard Commander was not a gesture to stroke your ego. It was an order to stay and help the City achieve all that it could. An order you refused to follow. News of my demise will no doubt reach you late. I can already see your response—the guilt that will follow, however fleeting. I thought you had changed after Six Fronts; that seeing your people on the brink of destruction and spared from death would be reward enough to stay. To fight. I'll fight in your stead one last time.

However, note the following at the end:

To my inspiration. Your final gift to me I now send back to you. It will be good to see you again.

This was very bizarre at the time because there was no context to this. While we knew some little bits and pieces of Saint's story before, it wasn't until Curse of Osiris that we got the proper introduction.

Fast forward, Saint entered the Forest after Osiris and got lost in there. He wandered a lot, fought the Vex, eventually got them so upset that the Vex put all of their resources into constructing a special Vex Mind that was capable of draining Saint's Light. When they succeeded, Saint died in the Forest. The Vex were so impressed that they came to respect him enough to make a tomb for him in the Forest:

Finding this tomb was a quest in Curse of Osiris: links to the full questline. When we got to the tomb, we took information from Saint's body and used it to forge his gun: Perfect Paradox. The lore on it is also very peculiar, addressing someone that Saint looked up to. Again, we could only speculate at the time because we didn't have the whole story, but it appeared there was some sort of weird shenanigans here that potentially involved us, the player. Important:

All I have left is this weapon. The Cryptarchs say you crafted it yourself, built it out of scraps and Light and sheer will, inside the Infinite Forge.

We did indeed do that. But how can Saint know that and why is he addressing us? We've never met him; he disappeared into the Forest long before we existed.

It would take 3 years for this to be resolved, in Season of Dawn. In Season of Dawn, Osiris revealed that following our discovery of Saint's tomb, he went to work on creating the Sundial. The sole purpose of the Sundial would be to essentially allow entry into Saint's personal timeline and past, to find him in the right moment, and save him from certain death. Osiris tried to do this himself and failed. For some reason, he could not find the right Saint in the right moment. He begrudgingly gave up and put the Sundial away.

When it was discovered by the Psions and used for their nefarious purposes, Osiris told us about this briefly and let us give it a shot to try and find Saint. He advised against it and deemed it "an impossible task." However, unknown to him (and us), we were the link needed to make this possible.

We went in there and we found the right Saint in the right moment. We found him desperately fighting against the Eliksni on Mercury in his personal past, during the Dark Age. We met up with him and helped him win. After that, we talked to him. Saint seemed super defeated and hopeless, but Ghost then told him about the future where people are safe and showed him a projection of the City from the future. We also gave him the Perfect Paradox. Our Ghost pulled our weapon that we made and gave it to Saint.

The Shotgun you crafted in the Infinite Forge is reacting to the Sundial! An onboard transponder is broadcasting coordinates: a path through the Sundial, crossing two time periods. The prophecy blueprint you used to create the Perfect Paradox must have included this broadcast.

This was the link between us and Saint that allowed us to use the Sundial to save him in a way Osiris could not. The gun is a bootstrap paradox: it exists "out of nowhere" basically. We give it to Saint in his past and we pick it up from his body in the future and then we take it back to the past and give it to him. Saint had information needed to craft it because we gave him the gun, but we only gave him the gun because he had it in the first place.

Saint takes the weapon and we leave him in his personal timeline, but to him, at the time, we're a hero who saved him and showed him a future where the City thrives and people are safe. He kept that hope with him and considered us someone who inspired him to do better and to fight. He could never explain who we were, because for everyone else we did not exist yet: Saint only met us because we showed up from the future to meet him.

We end up going back to the Sundial to find Saint again in the right time when he's found by the Vex Mind designed to drain his Light. Only this time he doesn't fight alone and we save him, essentially changing the course of time. Saint doesn't die; we save him and he's able to stay in the Forest until we can open it from the outside years later in the present day.

Saint never forgot about us and how we saved him and gave him the shotgun. He spent his life with us as an inspiration; someone who appeared out of nowhere and promised him that one day the City will be safe and people protected. It kept him going, even when nobody really understood what he was talking about. Osiris also mentions this when we finish the quest:

In his youth, he talked often about the Guardian who inspired him. I should have guessed it would be you.

Osiris I promise that it's okay that you couldn't guess that Saint was talking about a Guardian time travelling from the future.

I definitely recommend checking out both quests for this whole thing, they're really cool, especially the ones from Dawn because they're more expansive and also Saint is alive there. But the setup from Curse of Osiris is really neat because they heavily hinted at Saint coming back since then. Both the exotic ship and the shotgun itself have lore that clearly reference Saint having already met us, a plotline that we waited 3 years to resolve.

Hopefully that makes a bit more sense!

[itsthesinbin]

You Had It All. You Had Him. (Valentino/Reader)

Just a little idea of what if you and Val were close in life and ended up in hell together/how he'd treat someone he actually Likes that ISN'T on the same power level as him.

Suggestive at the end. Reader is Gender Neutral.

TW: the Vees being the Vees, possessiveness, codependency, implied abuse (not toward reader), implied drugging (sorta. val's saliva is like a pheromone), implied high/drugged sex (from said pheromone), implied stalking/voyeurism (from Vox)

if I'm missing anything on the tw just lmk

If you like it, reblog it!

-----------------------------------

It was no secret how possessive Valentino was, what with him having Vox install cameras everywhere to keep an eye on his “assets”. Only a select few people had the pleasure of holding Val’s affection- the definition of which would change depending on who the target was. Angel Dust was an unfortunate soul stuck on the more insincere end of Valentino’s “affections”, and was kept under as tight of a lock and key as he could get.

You were… a different story.

You and Valentino had arrived in Hell together, glued to the hip in life and now in death. You didn’t remember the details of your death. Valentino did, and he always told you the same thing when you asked: “Why does it matter? We’re here now, aren’t we?” You guessed he was right.

Valentino had taken it upon himself to keep you both safe in the literal Hell you both found yourselves in. Stuck on the streets, Valentino had sold himself to get the money needed for food. Then a hotel. Then weapons. You didn’t like guns- you were probably considered a hippie back in the day- but Valentino insisted you keep one on you. Taught you how to shoot.

Once the weapons were secured, he shifted from sex to robbery to get the money he needed. Or both, if he could get away with it. You were terrified he wouldn’t come back one day- leave you totally alone in the afterlife. Even if he was damaged, though, he always returned in one piece. He loved to play up how sore he was so you’d baby him. He always did, even before arriving here.

Eventually, your apartment was tiny and shitty, but it was a stable home. Rent was atrocious- you figured capitalism would survive down here. But you had food on the table, clean clothes, and even a few luxury items.

And Valentino. Throughout it all, you had Val.

You both grew into your new bodies and abilities. You weren’t nearly as powerful as Val, who had begun to persuade people to sign their souls away to him. You still felt sick at the idea of such a thing, so you stayed on the sidelines while Valentino rose to greater heights. Got better money by starting his own porn studio. Gave you better places to live.

Then Vox and Velvette arrived.

By this point, you and Valentino had moved into an actual home. Big, and Valentino decorated it in his signature pinks and hearts. Everyone knew this house, and everything in it, belonged to the newest Overlord to rise in the ranks. People avoided you like the plague.

You answered the door at the insistent knocking. You first saw the shorter woman who was immediately eyeing your outfit and then the foyer’s decor. Then you craned your head up to meet the eyes of a figure you actually recognized. How could you not? He was in every commercial and every news program.

Vox smiled the same smile he gives in his interviews. The kind you give someone to disarm them. Valentino had the same talent, so you saw through it instantly. But you stayed polite. These two were powerful by themselves- you didn’t want to anger both of them.

“Hello there,” Vox started, sticking a hand out. “Vox, and this is my associate Velvette. This is the home of Valentino, right?” You shook his hand firmly, ignoring how his claws snagged the skin of your wrist from how long they were. Velvette didn’t go for a handshake, so you left her alone.

“Uh… yeah, he’s… upstairs. Let me go get him- make… yourselves at home,” you got out, undead heart hammering in your chest as they made their way to your couch. You would pray to God that Valentino wasn’t about to get killed, but you guessed God didn’t give a shit about you if you were down here.

You knocked on his door, cringing slightly when you heard a faint sigh. He hated being bothered when he was in his office. He took that time to edit the videos he recorded at the studio. It took a minute, but he eventually unlocked the door and opened it. Red smoke wafted out after him. You coughed slightly and waved it away, only for your wrist to be caught in a firm grip. You could tell he was annoyed.

“Mi vida, I’ve told you before-” you cut him off before he could continue to berate you.

“Vox and Velvette showed up. What did you do?” You told him, hissing the question quietly out of fear. His eyes widened, and his grip on your arm tightened a fraction. Then he let you go.

“Go grab your gun and hide it under the back of your shirt,” he instructed, a hand moving to your cheek. Your ears went back, and another hand settled on your hip. He smiled that charming smile- the one that always put you at ease.

“Hey, hey, mi cielito, I’ve kept you safe this whole time, haven’t I? Trust me, and get your gun. Only pull it out if I tell you to.” You swallowed, then nodded. With a purring little “good”, he let you go to grab his own. He was a little more brazen, keeping its holster visible on his hip. He headed downstairs while you went to get your own weapon. You figured he’d want you to be the element of surprise. You took a deep breath, then made your way down after him.

Val was greeting the two when you arrived. He sat down on the heart shaped loveseat, and held two of his arms out. You sat with him, leaning into him on instinct. His strong arms went around you securely, one hand immediately playing with your hair while the other settled on your hip. He always liked to put his claim to you on display. Had to, in this place. You saw Velvette sneer slightly, and Vox’s smile tightened in annoyance.

“Valentino,” Vox started, deciding to just ignore your presence. You were fine with that. Val was the businessman here.

“My partner and I come with a business proposition. You’re quickly becoming a very powerful Overlord- it’s impressive! But, with how long some of the others have been here, you’re bound to hit a… roadblock, so to speak.” Valentino frowned, tapping his foot angrily. In hopes of keeping his mood swings in check, you pressed closer and patted his chest. The claws in your hair scratched along your scalp gently in response.

“We’d like to offer a business partnership. Here at V- uh-” he coughed, trying to cover up the fact he was about to go into his actual business spiel. You and Val couldn’t help but snicker. Even Velvette snorted slightly as Vox grew flustered. He cleared his throat.

“The terms are simple: join us, and we’ll help keep your territories under control. You’ll get access to my very own brand for your work, too- cameras, lights, editing equipment…” That got Valentino’s attention. He perked up slightly, and Vox’s grin widened.

“I’m sure Velvette could even spare costumes and makeup.” “Sure can. Also got an idea for a love potion, if you’d be willing to help me develop it,” she smirked. Valentino’s hand stilled. A quick look at his face told you that he was considering it. Vox looked at you, and Val’s grip on you tightened. You knew instantly that Vox had leverage. You had a sinking feeling as Vox got a predatory look in his eye.

“And, of course, I can offer protection- for your actors, your assets… and whoever else may need it. I can have guards stationed at all times, and cameras everywhere.” Val’s hand slid from your head and down your back.

“... Give me a few days to think about it.” Vox and Val shook hands, and you saw your guests out. Valentino was deep in thought when you turned around.

You both were moved into Vox’s tower by the end of the month.

Which led you here. Dolled up in red and hearts and with a very obvious collar around your neck. You never signed a contract- not that Valentino needed you to. Even before dying, you relied on him. It was worse now- he had given you everything, and you didn’t think anything of it.

You sat in your lavish room, with Kitty brushing out your hair to get you ready for your date. The collar with the heart shaped name tag weighing heavy like lead stared back at you in the mirror. The camera in the corner behind you moved slightly, centering you in its lens. You knew Vox was watching you. He was watching everyone.

The door opened to reveal Valentino, who was absolutely delighted to see you. The shoot must’ve gone well, if he was in this good of a mood. He came over and all but shoved Kitty out of the way.

“Go get Papi a drink,” he barked at the robot, who scurried off quickly. Then he parked himself in a chair behind you, taking over where Kitty left off. Of course, he barely did anything before his mouth found its way to your neck.

“Almost ready to go, baby?” he all but purred. You rolled your eyes slightly in response.

“I would be, if you hadn’t kicked my hairdresser out,” you joked. He huffed, before pulling you back against him with his second set of arms.

“What can I say? I prefer having you to myself.” There was a tone to his voice that sent a shiver up your spine, and at this point you didn’t know if you liked it or not.

He finished your hair, turning your vanity chair around so he could see you fully. His face lit up at the hair, makeup, and outfit. He always liked to dress you to match whatever he wore under his wings that day, and gave you your own pair of heart shaped glasses.

“I could just eat you up, you know,” he hummed, hands traveling along your hips and up your arms. You felt your heart beat against your ribcage. The look in his eye, the way he grinned, said that he really could if you’d let him. The sound of Vox’s security camera moving made him twitch.

His wings flew open, blocking you from view. A hand went up to your face and his thumb stroked your cheek. You knew Vox and Val had a… relationship, so to speak, and it didn’t bother you too much. Free love and all that, a you from the past would’ve said. But Val was very particular about who you spent your time with- or who got to see him let his guard down with you.

“Maybe we can be a little late to dinner. I’m sure they’ll make an exception for us,” he grinned, red trailing down his chin as he leaned in. The sweet smell that always radiated off of him was a lot stronger now that he was close.

The familiar haze of Valentino draped over you as soon as his tongue was in your mouth. You felt your eyelids flutter and your muscles relax as his strong arms lifted you off the seat. You vaguely heard the whirr of the camera’s motorized joint following you. You stared into the lens over Valentino’s shoulder, as your demonic boyfriend trailed his tongue along your neck. You could tell it zoomed in on you both. From how Val let his wings back down, you guessed he wanted Vox to see. You didn’t argue.

You two didn’t end up going to dinner, instead staying in your bed until you both grew too tired to continue. Val snored away, head on your chest an antennae tickling your cheek. Your hand trailed up and down his back lightly, just how he liked it when he first got his wings and his spine stayed so sore as he adjusted.

In quiet moments like this, you could almost pretend you two were back in your shitty one bedroom apartment. Struggling day by day with you budgeting whatever money Valentino could bring in, but happy that you had each other. You were suffering, but you suffered together.

Now the collar dug into your neck, as he liked you to keep it on whenever you were with him. Another way of his to lay his claim. You ignored the fact you would see his brand on his workers. How that new spider demon hung off his arm when you would bring something to the studio and stared at you either with jealousy or despair. How you’d overhear Valentino be furious and angry behind a door and as soon as you’d enter he was back to his adoring self.

You didn’t really have any other option, not with how deep you’ve let yourself dig the whole that was codependency. You were terrified of being alone. Even if you could be, Vox has eyes and ears everywhere. You’d never get a chance to leave. You had no idea if you wanted to.

Valentino’s obsessions and possessive nature seeped into every aspect of his life. His videos, the way his actors were dressed, the way every little thing was personalized just for him. Including you.

You were safe. You were taken care of. You were protected. And, just like it’s been since the beginning of your afterlife, you had Valentino.

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

If reader were to be a famous person what would each Oscar Isaac character be like/act like if they knew them and what would they do? Your choice of characters of course ❤️

-anon

This is gonna be wild👀

OI characters with famous reader

Featuring: The moon boys, Poe Dameron, Nathan Bateman, Santiago Garcia, Miguel O'Hara, Blue Jones, Basil Stitt, William Tell.

A/n: I did Basil and Steven a bit dirty. Nsfw is only for those two.

Poe Dameron: He is probably going to be a fan of you. Goes to every planet you may have fan meetings and would ask for a picture of you.

Most likely develops a crush on you. Blushes deeply whenever you two have eye contact.

Would send BB-8 to you while watching from a far. If BB-8 brings you joy, Poe's butterflies in his stomach go wild and he feels like he's about to pass out.

Would definitely buy VIP if you offer it.

William Tell: He has his bit fame too, and therefore would apply to become your manager or personal asisstant.

During fan meetings, William has the idea of setting up a Poker table, where fans could go against him. If they win, they could get a free picture with you.

But William is hard to beat, maybe don't expect many people to actually win against him.

Santiago Garcia: Would probably like to be your bodyguard. He definitely has the experience and would exceed at it.

Would always make sure the area is safe and if you have VIP, he would actually check the bags of anyone wanting to meet you.

Most likely gets Benny, William and Frankie as bodyguards for you too. No need for basic bodyguards when you have ex militaries.

Nathan Bateman: Definitely knows about you. Would perhaps apply to be your tech guy, keeping all your devices safe and hack free.

Even likes to design and install his own security system that once triggered, he himself would appear, maybe bring along some of his androids to protect you.

Miguel O'Hara: Miguel pretty much likes you and could apply to be your personal asisstant or PR manager.

Also wouldn't shy away from bodyguard duty. And since he's having spidey senses, people could actually come to meet him too, thus will lead you to get more famous because people know you have Miguel O'Hara.

Blue Jones: Blue sees you as an opportunity for himself to get more famous.

Wants to send you an invite to come to Lennox, and do a fan meeting in his club.

Not that he doesn't like you, but Blue likes fame so he could definitely get used by having you pay a visit. Plus it may lead to more girls wanting to join him...

Basil Stitt: He knew you before his incident, he had a bit of a crush on you. But now with his scarred cheek and embarrassment of it, Basil feelings towards you grew.

It pisses him off knowing he can't meet you in person again, he isn't good at accepting rejection and thinks you will find him ugly.

Basil would continue watching every video of you he can, eating takeout pizza and jerking off after. He wishes he could see you in person again...

Jake Lockley: Jake would definitely apply to be your personal driver. He likes you and a fat paycheck here and there definitely won't hurt.

Though he wouldn't shy away of protecting you, always having his trusty gun with him.

Jake would actually offer taking pictures with him too. Your fans should know who drives the famous you around.

Marc Spector: Definitely has the skills and experience of being your bodyguard. Would walk beside you with his sunglasses and chewing on gum.

Would want nothing more than to keep you safe. Marc can definitely deal with rude fans.

Also would agree to take pictures with your fans if they wanted. Some fame or even money could never hurt him.

Steven Grant: Oh dear... Steven would be... the obsessive fan...

Always goes to your fan meetings, probably has a big crush on you. Would keep any magazine cover and pictures of you stashed in a box.

Steven would also send you fan mail. But he is smart enough to not send... substances...

He isn't that stupid like most obsessive fans would be therefore keeps jerking off in private rather than sending it to you.

----------------------

Tags:

@nekoyin @steven-grants-world @iolaussharpe-24 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @buckyssugarchick

@krakenkitty @libblesdoodles @tanks606 @yeanika

@mochiitoby @xcherryxmilkx @mooksmouse @autismsupermusicalassassin @silvernight-m

[summer-nights19]

Please finish the Tokyo debunker guys as icks, headcannons pls! I love (and agree, lets be fr) with them! Thanks!!

Awww thank you !! I'm glad that you see the vision lmao. I'll do one for all the guys I've encountered so far <3

Read part 1 here

Tokyo debunker guys as icks part 2

Haru

This is pretty much canon, but he doesn't have a great concept of boundaries. His intentions are good as he only means to keep you safe, but he'll do things like secretly install a tracker on your phone. If you discover it and get mad, he doesn't really get why, and he sure as hell doesn't take the tracker off

Towa

You often have to stop him from eating random shit he finds on the ground or frightening the animals in the Jabberwok safari park. Although he means no harm, it gets a bit tiring

Ren

He has pretty bad communication skills, so you'll have to pester him if you want to have a serious conversation or if something's wrong, and he's awful at apologising for the role he plays in arguments. Acts like he's way too cool to be seriously into you at first, especially in public.

Romeo

Has terrible communication skills when it comes to serious issues and is also kind of a dick to top it off. He tries not to be mean, but sometimes he ends up hurting your feelings, especially during arguments. He won't apologise when this happens, but he'll shower you in expensive gifts. However, if you're ever in the wrong, he gets pissed if you don't apologise immediately

Haku

I can't think of one for the life of me smh

Taiga

Sometimes gets a bit too rough (verbally and physically) with you, and hurts your feelings by mistake or doesn't realise that having a gun to your temple can be pretty fucking terrifying. Although he's too proud to apologise properly, he tries to avoid upsetting you again in the future

The man also eats raw animals which is RANCID - if he went in for a kiss after that, his breath would smell atrocious

Masterlist

[emo-batboy]

I’m 1000% certain there’s a file of test videos (for research purposes ofc) of Battinson trying all of his fancy gadgets. These include but are not limited to:

Flying right into walls with his grappling hook

Jumping and falling like dead weight in his gliding suit prototypes

Just staring at himself in the mirror with his new contact lens and muttering, “I swear I can still see it”

Bruce watching over Alfred’s shoulder and scribbling frantically as Alfred tests out the bullet-proofness of the suit and cape

Crashing the Batmobile with his various turbo engine prototypes

Tossing differently-shaped batarangs at a target to see how it affects their trajectory

(Getting yelled at by Alfred because he decided to put the target right next to the elevator and almost killed him)

Submerged in a big tub of water for ten minutes to see if the rebreathing apparatus he made works then realizing he forgot to bring down towels then looking like a drowned rat as he waits for Alfred to come down

Raising his eyebrows several times under the cowl before deciding that he needs to make it bigger because it’s still obviously him

Injecting himself with different doses of his adrenaline shot (Alfred rips him a new one for trying it without supervision)

A random video of Bruce spinning in his chair and mumbling along to Mitski while he thinks of his latest case (how did that get in there)

Eating shit every time he makes another attempt at handheld rocket boosters

Eating shit every time he makes another attempt at rocket boots

Cutting off power to the entire building after using an early model of his EMP gun

Pouring over footage on the bat computer, grease paint and all, while a little baby bat just nestles in his hair (how did that get in there)

Smacking himself in the face with a nunchuck while trying out a new technique (he was incredibly sleep-deprived, like 62-hours-without-sleep-deprived, Alfred confiscates the nunchucks)

Coughing up a lung while testing out his new smoke pellets and immediately regretting it because this is literally a sub-level basement, what was he thinking

Dick complaining about how annoying and heavy his first Robin suit is “How can I do cool flips off a building if I can’t even touch my toes?” “You are not flipping off of buildings.”

Testing over 200 prototypes of flexible bulletproof fabric for the new Robin suit. (Dick spends this time practicing flips off of high places. Just for fun.)

Breaking his new night vision lens by turning off the lights, realizing he forgot to turn the lens on first, and immediately walking into a chair

Trying out an audio frequency jammer, but when he turns it on, all of the bats in the cave swarm him and he freaks the fuck out (Dick starts calling it the Bat Beacon, Bruce refuses to acknowledge its existence)

Pouring over footage on the bat computer, grease paint and all, while Dick cuddles himself into the back of Bruce’s sweatshirt, fast asleep (how did that get in there)

Doing donuts with the Batmobile using its new remote controller while Dick cheers him on from a safe distance

Landing on his ass after shooting his net launcher without planting his feet first

Dick doing various flips and other skills in his new Robin suit while Bruce takes notes

Testing different skin-safe adhesives for Dick’s domino mask

Slipping on ice after using their new freeze grenades

Adding a parental lock onto the computer because Dick keeps playing Roblox on it when Bruce is gone

Installing a new entrance to the bat cave because Jason said he totally missed the opportunity to have a secret entrance behind a bookcase and now they’re all in agreement because it is much cooler than a boring service elevator

Cutting through random materials with their new set his collapsible knives and swords, including his table which he did not mean to break

Dick and Jason screaming bloody murder when they walk in on him testing a cloaking device prototype and appearing out of literally nowhere

Jason messing with the taser Bruce gave him and immediately getting it confiscated

Pacing in circles to perfect the tracking devices he installed in Dick and Jason’s utility belts

Pouring over footage on the bat computer, grease paint and all, while Jason is in his lap, rambling about what he did in school today (how did that get in there)

Bruce, Dick, and Jason in a puppy pile on Bruce’s office chair, despite there being two perfectly functional chairs right beside that one. They’re all fast asleep

[devil-in-hiding]

https://www.tumblr.com/devil-in-hiding/761655801873055744/pregnantreader-calling-the-boys-whilst-theyre-on?source=share oh god the angst >:) and this is Price centric bc yeah

"There's someone in the house."

The boys' hearts drop. How was that possible? They had installed a renowned security system, things that would've alerted them if someone even touched the /lawn/. Much less get into the house.

"Get in our room." Price's voice rings out clearly, steady. "Lock the door. Stay low."

He wasn't a lover or partner. He was in full captain mode. He hears your soft response, an affirmative. There's a shuffle from your end of the line as you move.

"There's a safe, lock is your birthday, open it and get the gun."

As Price guides you through getting the gun as the others' round up and get out of base. Ghost had the guns, Soap, the knives, and Gaz was on the phone with the local law enforcement.

"Oh god..."

Your voice makes them all freeze in fear.

It's followed by a deathly scream and a gunshot. Everything falls silent.

The next few minutes back to your house feels too long, despite all the broken traffic laws. Price was still trying to get you to respond through the phone, but the line was silent.

When the boys get there, they're expecting the worst. They're expecting to see your body on the ground. So when they see a body, it takes a moment to realize its not you.

The soft sobbing from the closet outs you.

A soft order from Price has Soap and Ghost cleaning up and getting ready for loval law enforcement. Gaz was making preparations to bring you back to base with them.

Price softly approaches you, cooing softly. The gun was out of your immediate reach, but he's still careful to slide it further and click the safety on.

"Shh... shh... " Price coos, so softly, "it's alright, dove. We're here now."

It isn't until you look up that he feels sick.

Blood dripping down your face.

-✨️ I fucking love angst and open endings so feel free to finish it however you wish :)

AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

okay but the “lock is your birthday” i know im in a dangerous situation.. BUT-

also because i meant to put assistant reader so like the thought of Price being so in love with you his codes for his safes are your birthday, im on my knees

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

I Can Fix That... Pt. 3 | Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

notes: And the plot and smut continues hehe. In this installment I used Lady Arkham as inspiration. She is originally a DC character/villian. The backstories that I included here are all based on the original DC comicbook/nolanverse lore. I literally used Batman wiki for additional research.

Summary| Crane brought a woman home. That was definitely not something he ever anticipated that he would ever do. He needs to trust her and she's starting to have second thoughts. Was leaving Gotham the right thing for her to do? Yes, she likes Crane but does she like him enough? What is he hiding from her? Oh honey, he was hiding a lot...

Warnings| Fire, mentions of a gun, drugs, smut- fingering, teasing, masturbation, dubious consent, the word "r*pe" is used once, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving). Violence, death, insanity, overdose (no death), infidelity, murder, police violence, trauma, abandonment, general unpleasantness.

word count: 8086k

Lonely Day- System of a Down 🎵

Love Song- Jack Off Jill 🎶

Superstar- Sonic Youth 🎵

Please please please read warnings for this one- we're going over childhood trauma

i 

The helicopter landed in an open field in the outskirts of the city. She and Crane climbed out and ducked beneath the blades as they crossed the pasture. 

“We’re outside the city now. We’re safe here and depending on how Ra’s plan goes, we can stay here.” Crane looked down at the girl beside him. She watched the helicopter, distractedly, as it rose into the air and flew away. The field around them immediately quieted without the presence of the aircraft and they could hear the other breathe for the first time in a while. 

“Where do we go now?” She looked around them at the expanse of pasture and wild flowers hidden in the dark. 

“Over this hill.” Crane started walking and she followed, staying a few paces behind him. When they reached the top of the hill, she saw an old scarecrow standing in a field, empty of crops. The man was made of burlap and covered with rags. Straw exploded out of the scarecrow’s body. She looked at Crane who’d stopped to look at the scarecrow. Sensing her beside him, he glanced back at her and clenched his jaw. He gave no explanation or story and she didn’t want to ask because she didn’t want to cause him more pain. They walked a little farther and as they did, a large house came into view. Crane pointed it out to her with a sneer, directed at the house, not at her, “and there’s my father’s house.” 

The lights inside the mansion were on and it leaked light across the landscape that separated them. 

“Is your father home?” She asked and he chuckled darkly. 

“No, I had the housekeeper open the house for us. Just like with the helicopter, I find it is always useful to play your cards carefully. I was suspicious of Ra’s because I’m suspicious of everyone, even you,” he nodded down at her and she frowned slightly. “I don’t make friends easily, they often disappoint me.” He smiled at his own self-effacing humor. 

“Have I disappointed you?” She asked him. He turned his icy blue eyes to her and shook his head.

“No but we aren’t friends,” he laughed lightly and looked back at the house in the distance. 

“No? Then what are we?” She pouted a little, looking down at her feet and then to his face. 

“We’re more,” he answered evenly and began to walk again. She blushed and hurried to follow him, hiding her smile. Crane even smiled, blocking out the bad memories of the place they now found themselves in. He was no longer scared of the scarecrow but the memories he associated with the figure in the field did little to comfort him. They walked on until they reached the front gate and Crane typed in a passcode on an elaborate screen. The gates were black iron with sharp spikes fixed to the top and they opened with a long and droning squeak. The driveway changed to gravel as Crane led her up to the front door and he pulled on the lion’s head door knocker, releasing a loud door chime inside the house. One wing of the house, she noticed, was burned. 

“You’re right, I’m starting to realize that I really know nothing about you.” She looked up at the large gothic mansion above her.

“That,” Crane turned his head to her and sighed as if it were obvious, “is what a second date is for.” 

The front door opened and a man in a tuxedo greeted them coldly, reminding her of Crane. 

“Welcome back, doctor.” The butler deadpanned and Crane pushed past, wiping his feet in the entryway. She followed suit and nodded to the butler, smiling excitedly. 

“This is Miss —; Miss Y/N Y/L/N.” Crane gestured his hand carelessly between them and continued on into the reception hall. All the walls were carved from solid wood into even square panels. 

“Welcome to the Crane House, ma’am.” The butler bowed his head briefly and followed them. She nodded her head in thanks and became immediately enraptured by the spooky house. “Shall we serve dinner now or would you like to change?” 

Crane turned and cleared his throat, his eyes trying to focus on the room without his glasses. “We’ll change first, Hobbs.” 

“There are clothes laid out in the bedrooms.” The butler bowed and disappeared behind a swinging door. She turned to Crane and laughed. 

“What the hell is this place?” She asked in a bewildered whisper. Crane chuckled, finding the girl adorable in her amazement. 

“This is my childhood home.” 

“So this is where the famous Dr. Crane was raised. I’m intrigued.” She batted her eyelashes and ran up some of the stairs, her fingers trailing the thick banisters. Crane smiled and followed her. 

“Do you like seeing this side of me? Does it thrill you?” His voice prodded her heart and her legs became wobbly. 

“Everything about you does that,” she stood one step above him and cupped his face. She ran her finger down his angular cheekbone and swiped across his wide chapped lips. She kissed his neck and beneath his jaw before finally kissing his lips. 

“For now,” he whispered as she pulled away. They climbed the rest of the stairs up to the second floor and Crane led her down a tight hallway. Animal heads were mounted on the walls and she studied them with a mixed sense of appreciation. Crane pushed open a door with a crystal doorknob. 

“This is your room,” he swept his hand through the room and she gasped in awe. The one room was nearly the size of her entire apartment in Gotham. The walls were painted with elaborate murals. She stepped hesitantly into the room and twirled, wanting to see every inch of the place. Crane looked on from the door, his lips spread into a smile. 

“I’m glad you like it,” he laughed and she ran into his arms, smiling. 

“I love it! I am officially living out one of my dreams.” She pulled down on his collar and kissed him. She pushed her tongue into his mouth and kissed him deeper, her fingers now brushing across the soft skin on his neck. Crane sighed through his nose and found her waist, resting his hands on the indents of her hips. The excitement of the day prompted a sense of adventure and need inside her and she communicated that through her kiss. She bit playfully on Crane’s bottom lip and moaned (intentionally) against him to fluster him. She felt his body shutter from the suggestive sounds she made against him. Her cunt throbbed wantingly and she could feel her heartbeat in her upper thighs. 

“Mhm!” She hummed and caught her breath as Crane’s hands slipped to the base of her back. 

“You never get tired, do you?” He muttered against her huskily and she shook her head. 

“No, Dr. Crane.” She whispered with a soft whine and licked his bottom lip before kissing him harder. She felt his cock twitch on his pants as he pressed himself against her. 

“Good, because neither do I,” he bit the point of her jaw gently and kissed over the hickies he had already made on her neck the night before. He looked all rumpled and hot in his suit after the action of the day and she desperately wanted to undress him. She wanted to fuck him like a normal couple, not tied down to a mortuary slab where she couldn’t even touch him. God, she wanted to touch him. She dragged one hand down to his crotch and cupped his cock through his pants. She rubbed her hand against the half-hard bulge and moaned pitifully as if she were the one getting touched. 

“You’re pathetic,” Crane smirked and pulled her head back gently by her hair. She nodded with a pleased smile, happy that he saw her for what she really was and what she really wanted. He kissed her hard, taking her breath away, and sucked on her tongue so deep she felt like she might choke. When he pulled away and dropped his hold on her neck, his lips were pink and his eyes heavy with lust. She knew her face was flushed and that it turned him on but instead of acting on it, Crane leaned back against the door jam and jerked his head at the bed. 

“Hobbs laid out some clothes for you. I hope they fit, I went through your closet to find your size but I trusted Hobbs and his wife with the shopping.” He smirked, proud of himself for leaving the girl so horny, it made him even harder. He left the room and closed the door, his erection still pressing against his pants. 

ii 

She went down the stairs and looked around for the dining room, turning her curious head left and right. The clothes that had been laid out for her were simple and elegant. A long black dress with a boat neck that she wore with the burgundy stockings set beside it. She’d worn her black mary janes and run a brush through her hair, knowing that would be enough to help her look put together. She followed the sound of a crackling fire and polite conversation through a far door. Crane looked up as she entered and looked her up and down, his eyes sticky against her curves. 

“What do you think?” She gestured to her dress and gave a slow twirl. The butler and his wife stood to the side, watching her with small, pleased smiles. Crane leaned forward, resting his elbows on the white tablecloth. 

“Apparently, my housekeepers have extraordinary taste.” He smirked and stood as she walked to her place at the table on his right. 

“High praise,” she smiled at Hobbs. As they sat together, Hobbs served their dinner of smoked ham. She took a long sip of the gin martini from her glass and swirled the stem with her wrist.

“It’s hard to believe that we were in Gotham just an hour or two ago.” She took in his body dressed in a black suit without his usual tie. His face was clean and he’d refreshed his hair with some gel, the smell was comforting. 

“Tonight could have ended very differently…” he looked at his food. The butler and his wife left the room, going back into the kitchen.

“Thank you for what you said this morning,” she flicked her eyes up to his. He looked back and caught his breath. She looked stunning and he felt the need to pinch himself to remember where they were and how they’d gotten there in the first place. He remembered telling her to do as he said because he wanted her to live and he worried that Ra’s would go back on his word, and as he suspected, Ra’s had, just not with her. 

“I’m just glad that we came to our agreement when we did, before Ra’s. I’ll admit that my desire to keep you alive was more selfish than chivalrous because I needed you for my own reasons.” 

“Like what?” She raised her eyebrow and cut a piece of meat. It melted on her tongue and she swallowed it slowly, watching him. 

“I have plans for Gotham, plans that would involve you,” he cocked his head towards her, adding, “of course. I don’t know yet how Ra’s plans will play out but I suspect that he will fail. Batman will think that he’s saved the city from ‘bad guys’ but,” he leaned in closer, “I’m not so easily defeated and I suspect that we’ll run into each other again.”

“Are you sure that you can trust me with these plans of yours,” she opened herself up to him and stood, looming over Crane in his seat,” these plans that also include me?” She rested her knee on the edge of his seat between his legs, straddling his thigh. Crane looked up at her calmly, unmoved by the position of her knee against his crotch or the heat of her cunt hovering above his thigh. Crane watched her for a moment, letting a heavy silence fall between them before inhaling and shifting his torso closer as if he were going to whisper something to her. 

“Like I told Ra’s,” he started quietly, his eyes dark and harsh at the candlelight table. His hand squeezed the bottom of her thigh above her knee, she gasped quietly, “I’ll make sure that I can trust you…” his hand snaked up the inside of her thigh beneath her dress. He pulled the edge of her stocking away from her thigh and let it snap painfully back against her skin. “Won’t I?” He asked darkly as his forehead creased slightly. She gasped again as his hand found her underwear and stroked her clothed cunt. “Won’t. I?” He sneered and she remembered to nod. “Answer me,” he snapped and brushed his fingers past the crotch of her underwear, spreading the wetness between her legs with the pads of his fingertips. 

“Yes,” she hissed breathlessly, closing her eyes as he rubbed her cunt, creating a dangerous friction. 

“You’re pissing me off, detective.” He growled and roughly began to finger her, shoving two fingers harshly inside. She yelped and looked down at Crane, his eyes flashed. 

“Why, Dr. Crane?” She wrapped her fingers around the base of his neck, her thumb sitting right below his adam's apple. She smiled when his other hand gripped her thigh harder. She moved her hips on his fingers and he watched with interest as she dripped around his fingers. “How can I fix it for you?” She purred against his cheek, moaning softly as he fingered her and teased her clit with his thumb. She began to pant and instinctively moved her thighs together as the pleasure became too much. She squeezed around his fingers and her hands tightened around his throat, about to cum.  

“Behave,” he whispered seriously and removed his fingers before she could finish. She groaned in frustration and held his face between her hands. 

“You’re such a tease, Jonathan.” She scolded him and he smiled. 

“And you’re a horny little slut.” He whispered close to her lips and she shook her head, smiling giddily. 

“I’m just a horny little slut for you.” She ran her tongue across his lips, dragging it up to his nose. She let go of his face and plopped back into her chair, crossing her legs pointedly. Crane rolled his eyes and raised his fingers to his mouth. He sucked her juices from his hand as she watched and then finished his drink, ignoring her when she whined with lust. 

“You’re like a dog,” he rested his elbow on the table, “you think you’ll get what you want if you whine enough.” He delivered the sentence with a knowing look and returned to his food. She didn’t want to admit to herself how much that turned her on. She huffed and tucked her hair behind her ear and finished her martini hungrily. She finally had a moment to glance around the room and when she did, she saw a beautiful fire burning in a stone fireplace. 

“That’s beautiful,” she gestured to the fireplace carved with cherubs. Crane looked and nodded. 

“I think so too. We haven’t had fires in the fireplace since I was a child. You may have noticed that part of the house was destroyed.” 

She nodded.

“That’s because the house almost burned down when I was…” he frowned as he thought, “five or six?” He shrugged and sighed, looking into the blazing fire. “My father never let us use the fireplaces after that. It made for cold winters,” He flicked his eyes up to hers and she shivered. 

“I can imagine,” she thought back to her childhood in the orphanage, freezing at night during any season that wasn’t summer.

“The house will be a lot warmer now,” he said casually and allowed a small smirk to tug at his lips. 

“What happened to ‘behaving ourselves’?” She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrow in fake disapproval. Crane chuckled and leaned back in his chair. 

“I have no idea what you mean,” he lied and they went back to eating when Hobbs entered with dessert. 

iii 

It was nearly 2am when they finally climbed the grand staircase to return to their rooms. There was a large common room that separated the two wings of the house on the second floor. The wing to their right was burned and stood empty. 

“Where’s your room?” She furrowed her brow as they walked down the hallway, passing the laundry chute. Crane pointed to a room at the mouth of the hallway, near the top of the stairs. Her’s was at the opposite end of the hallway. She smiled and spun around, facing her side of the hallway. She let him watch her walk away, moving her hips as loosely as she could manage. When she opened her door, she turned slightly and gave him a closed-mouth smile, her eyes teasing him. He crossed his arms and leaned against his door, his expression unreadable. She closed her door and did a few extra happy-spins for good measure. She kicked off her shoes and explored the bathroom, finding herself in a mood for a bath after not showering the night before. She turned on the bath’s faucet and filled the large tub with hot water. As she undressed, she spotted a row of cosmetics set out for her use, and included in the assortment was the shampoo that she used at home. A small part of her found it scary that Crane had obviously gone through her home to find the things she liked but more than that, she felt honored that he had planned his backup plan with her in mind. He’d asked the housekeepers to prepare her a room and stock it with clothes and shampoo, all just in case she came with him. He’d imagined her coming with him, and that nearly made her cry. She slipped into the hot water and scrubbed every inch of her body, trying to remove all of the sweat, dirt, and debris that had stuck to her skin over the past 24 hours. She washed her hair with the mint shampoo as Crane had guessed she used correctly before. The suds ran down her hair and between her shoulder blades as her hands worked the shampoo into her head. She ducked her head beneath the water and watched as her hair floated out around her head. When she came up for air, her hair stuck to her back and she sighed pleasantly. 

The bathroom was cold when she left the security of the hot water so she quickly wrapped herself in a thick towel and brushed her hair. She rubbed lotion into her dry skin and toweled off her hair. The housekeepers had given her numerous sets of pajamas in different styles. She guessed Crane had decided against going through her underwear drawer, what a gentleman. She liked soft lounge pants and t-shirts so she changed into the dark blue set they had provided for her and unmade her bed. The wide windows on the side wall looked out on the field and she could just barely see the outline of the scarecrow. The house itself had a strange and suffocating feel. She wondered what Crane may have endured here, what secrets he hid inside himself. 

She bit the inside of her cheek and found the gun that she’d brought with her from Gotham. She hid the gun behind the headboard of her bed and sat with her knees pressed up to her chest on the mattress. She wrapped her arms around her legs and shivered, goosebumps rose on her legs and she rocked back and forth, resting her head on her knee like a child. Should she feel guilty for betraying her precinct? Should she worry about Sgt. Gordon and Gotham itself? What had Gotham given her? How had it protected her? She felt torn between a route of righteousness and one of passion. Crane offered her a path to her own future set outside the laws of society where she could create her own identity. She didn’t want to be the good girl cop anymore, she wanted to be everything else and she wanted Crane. 

Crane was testing her. He wanted to see how badly she actually wanted him, how much she would fight to be with him. He needed her to be obsessed, foaming at the mouth at the thought of him. Maybe he was psychotic, sure (he was). His father certainly was and it usually runs in families. Crane’s manic obsession was her and he needed her, but before he could trust her, he had to be sure that she was totally and completely loyal to him. He knew she had her gun and he assumed she’d suffered more internal dialogue since escaping Gotham (he was a psychiatrist, so of course he knew these things). If he pushed her away would she cling to him more or feel the need to betray him? He had to admit that this test was grueling for him too. He didn’t think that he was capable of love or real attraction, he was a psychopath, literally. He’d studied himself as much as he had the subjects in his textbooks in school and he checked all the boxes but this- this- was a new development that he didn’t quite understand. It almost made him angry when he thought of the power she could wield over him if he got too close. She’d spoken so much of trust and he wanted to trust her. He did. But he’d trusted Ra’s, he’d trusted his father and at one point in his life he’d trusted Sgt. Gordon. Those relationships had not ended well. Then this prissy young detective comes along and confronts him with feelings he didn’t think he could have. That was why she was the subject of his fear toxin reaction. She’d found a way to matter to him and losing her had already become his worst fear. He wanted… oh god there were so many things that he wanted from her. He hoped that it wouldn’t take much longer because he was starting to lose patience. 

She stared at the ceiling above her bed and tried to touch herself. She didn’t have her vibrator and Crane had made a point of pushing her away, so she was left to rough it out with her hands. She hadn’t been stuck with just her bare hands since college. Her vibrator had obviously spoiled her and she felt nowhere near as much pleasure without it, though Crane had come extremely close the night before. She dug her heels into the mattress and bit her lip, concentrating as hard as she could on Crane. She remembered the way he spoke to her as he fucked her, how calm and direct he’d been with her body. They both had needs and desires and he hadn’t let insecurities or formalities stand in the way. Her body was craving a release that she’d teased it with twice already that day and she couldn’t fall asleep without trying to appease it. After ten minutes of heavy breathing and a sore arm she collapsed in frustration across her bed. She desperately wanted him and nothing was going to cut it unless it was him inside her. Something- anything. She groaned into her hands and kicked the blankets off of her. 

The door handle creaked and Crane shifted in his half-sleep haze. The bed moved around him and he was startled awake by the girl, straddling his hips. He kept a smile from his lips as he looked up at her. 

“What the hell are you doing?” He got out before her hand clamped around his mouth. She shushed him. 

“Listen here, Crane. Since we have an understanding,” she used his word for their relationship, “I’ll tell it to you straight. I want you. I need you. I have very few needs because I’m a simple girl, but right now, you’re one of them. I’ll ask you nicely and if you humor me, I won’t cause trouble.”

“Trouble?” His voice was muffled against her hand as he raised his eyebrow. 

“I have a whole round of trouble tucked away behind my headboard.” 

“Nice threat. So, you what? Want to rape me?” He propped himself up on his elbows. 

She hooked her finger around the collar of his black t-shirt and sighed. 

“You have such a dirty mind. Why do you have to make it sound so perverted?” She held his chin tightly in her hand and dragged her other hand down his chest stopping at the waistband of his pants. 

“That’s what it is, detective.” He cocked his head to the side and rested it on his shoulder. “Are you really going to do that to me?” 

“Says the man that strapped me to a slab and drugged me three times,” she held up three fingers to stress her point and shifted her hips on his crotch. 

“We both have problems, what do you want me to say?” 

“That you’ll fuck me,” she started to grind her hips and he withheld his sinful exhale. 

“Oh?” He said instead, “what if I’m too tired? Fucking is hard work.”

“Then let me do it,” she shrugged with a smile, “I’ll make us both feel good.” Crane raised a skeptical eyebrow and smirked. 

“You really didn’t get enough at dinner did you?” He teased and she shook her head. 

“You have no idea.”

He watched her rub herself against him and then slowly allowed his eyes to meet hers. She moaned just looking into his eyes and he laughed. 

“Ok, let’s see how you do.” He allowed her casually and watched as she bounced happily on his lap and scooted down to his knees. She pulled down the blanket and worked her hands below his waistband. He was already hard and she scoffed, pissed that he hadn’t admitted how turned on he was too. He smirked as she pulled his cock out of his pants and rolled her tongue around the tip. When she took him in her mouth he sighed softly, his mouth open as he watched her give him head. She swirled her tongue around his length and she bobbed her head up and down. She sucked and dragged her mouth slowly over him until he bucked softly into her mouth. She felt her stomach get hot with excitement and she worked harder, humming against him as she took him deeper. Crane clenched his fists and groaned. She pulled her mouth to the top of his cock and sucked hard, teasing his climax which she could tell was fast approaching. His forehead was creased and he squeezed his eyes shut, allowing his head to fall back with a low gasp. 

“Fuck alright, that’s enough,” He sat up again and smirked, “get what you want out of me.” He panted and ran his thumb over her bottom lip. She licked her lips and crawled off the bed. Crane watched her as she stepped out of her bottoms and straddled him once more, naked from the waist down. His erection rested against her stomach and he swallowed, staring at her bare cunt. 

“I hope you like what you see,” she whispered and removed her top. Her breasts shifted slightly against her skin as she moved and her hair fell around her in a sultry mess. “Because it all belongs to you now,” she pressed her hands against his stomach for balance and leaned closer. “But this,” she looked him up and down, landing on his beautiful eyes and smiling, “this belongs to me.” 

“Silly girl,” he barely shook his head as his eyes trained on her, “I don’t belong to anyone.” 

“We’ll see about that,” she shrugged and bit her lip as she lowered herself onto his cock. She whined in relief and moved her hips slowly. She was so wet he could her himself move inside of her as she fucked him. Crane’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he released a tight breath. 

“Fuuuuck…” he hissed and she squeezed around him, nearly orgasming just by hearing the pleasure in his voice. She panted breathlessly as she started to move up and down, her hands balanced on his navel where there was a thin dusting of hair. He thrusted up involuntarily and they both moaned. She sped up slightly, moving her hips back and forth. Crane’s hands found the fleshy handles of her hips and dug his fingers into her skin. He had laid back completely making it so that he had to raise his head when he wanted to watch how she snapped down on him. She let her head fall back and moaned loudly as his cock hit the right place each time. The pleasure was so good between her legs that her release felt like the desire to pee. When her climax snapped, her eyes rolled back and she gasped, riding it out and enjoying the pressure of him inside her as it carried her through the high. Her climax triggered his as he felt her cum around her. 

“You’re going to cum inside me,” she panted and whimpered through the sensations. 

“Is that an order?” He gritted out, his fingers leaving bruises on her hips. He was trying to hold off his orgasm but as she nodded and squeezed him again, he let himself cum inside her with a loud groan. She sat for a second longer as he finished and finally moved off. She cleaned him off, sucking his swollen cock and swallowing all of the excess cum and discharge that had collected along his length. He covered his face with his hands as he tried to catch his breath.

“Are you going to leave it in?” He asked in a deep, tired voice. 

“Your cum?” 

“Yes, are you going to leave it in you?” He removed his hands and watched as she crawled up the bed to sit beside him. 

“Do you want me to?” She let her hair fall around them and he twirled the end of one of the pieces. 

He thought for a moment before nodding his head, “yes.” She curled up beside him and draped her leg between his. He exhaled slowly and wrapped his arm around the back of her head, resting his hand on her shoulder. She rubbed her nose against his chest, breathing in the clean smell of his t-shirt. Crane closed his eyes and waited as her breathing became more regular and slow. She started to fall asleep, her hand clasped against his ribs. When she was asleep, he propped himself up on one arm and watched her. Words couldn’t describe how good that was, what she did for him. It was better than their first time when the roles had been reversed. He liked that she could touch him and explore him with a needily innocence like a horny teenager. Crane thought about his cum still sitting inside her, collecting around her inner-thighs. He kissed her as she slept deeply, licking the salty taste from her lips and swallowing. She made a noise in her sleep and he drew his hand around her perfect breast, admiring her body in the dull glow of the moon. Gotham would be no match for them once they were united. No one could stop them, not even themselves. Once they started they could never stop, they had to take everything from each other. His head fell back into his pillow and he kissed the curve of her throat before allowing himself to fall asleep beside her. He’d never slept with a woman after sex. She was the first. 

iv 

They woke up late in the morning and dressed warmly, both wearing sweaters and long pants. Crane had traded in his suit for more casual wear though his attire was always oozing with old money aesthetic. After a breakfast of eggs benedict and black coffee, Crane asked if she wanted to see the house. 

“Of course,” she smiled and nodded excitedly. There were some questions she still had for Crane and she had her own list of theories and thoughts that the house inspired inside her. She worried what the house would reveal and more importantly, what it may say about Crane. She wondered if he had lived a childhood similar to hers, one of trauma and violence, even if he had lived in a huge mansion with every monetary item he could ever desire. 

They started outside the house, walking the grounds. The exterior of the house was set in elaborate stone carvings. The roofs were made of dark terracotta, framing widow peaks at the top of many of the towers. Crane watched her reaction as they rounded to the side of the house with the destroyed wing, still black from the burning. She could even still smell the charcoal made from the house’s old paneling. 

“Your father never rebuilt it?” She asked, curious. Crane studied the crumbling structure and shook his head.

“No, he died before making plans for a renovation.” She looked at him quickly and met his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” 

“But you understand.” 

She nodded slowly, “I was an orphan, I never knew my parents.” 

“So was I.” He clenched his jaw and looked down at the ground. 

“Your mother?” She asked hesitantly. 

“She died, here, in this wing.” He pointed to the second floor of the burned wing. “That was her room.” 

“You were young then too,” she remembered and he nodded. “Do you remember your mother?” 

“Some things but nothing that brings me much comfort. I remember how she died and I remember how my father mourned her.” 

“So she died in the fire?”

“Yes,” he nodded and folded his arms across his chest, “she was trapped inside after the fire started. They weren’t able to save her. My father was never the same after that.”

“When did your father die?” 

“Before I went to college…” he trailed off and they stood in silence for a moment. “He was a chemist, you know.” 

“No, I didn’t know. Did he teach you?”

Crane chuckled darkly, “I guess you could say that. He used me for his experiments.” He scowled. What he had said back in Arkham came back to her mind and she risked asking more. 

“Jonathan?” She started. 

“Yes?” He asked, his voice hard and protective like a layer of ice. 

“What did he do to you?” 

Crane swallowed and turned away from the house, forcing her to hurry behind him to keep up. His hair was tousled by the wind as he walked through the icy field. As the slope curved downwards, he finally started to speak. 

“He was the one who first came up with the idea for the fear serum. After my mother’s death he became obsessed with it and started to test it on himself like a lunatic. It messed with his head and made him relive my mother’s death over and over again until he finally had to stop and find a new subject. His new subject became me.” He darted his eyes angrily around the ground as he spoke, spit flying from his lips. “He would give me the toxin and at the time, it was 10x more dangerous. He used me to gauge the body’s reactions to fear and kept track of what the brain imagined during that state of panic. He wanted to create a cure for fear, a way to remove the body’s reaction to it. At some point he made a breakthrough in the case using people he’d kidnapped and found a way to remove a person’s ability to be afraid. He used it on himself and after that, his natural instincts became mute. When I was sixteen he brought me here,” he stopped suddenly and she looked as he gestured at the scarecrow hanging from its perch, “and he administered the drug one last time.”

“What happened?” She whispered, her blood going cold. 

“I overdosed on the serum and hallucinated that the scarecrow was alive but the fear I felt was multiplied from the large dose of toxin. Your old boss, Sgt Gordon, found us out here having come to arrest my father for kidnapping and murder. Because my father no longer feared anything, he charged Gordon and Gordon shot him. He died where we’re standing… and I watched it. I watched it all happen.” He stared at the scarecrow, his face set. He didn’t show any emotion as he recounted his father’s death, his own trauma. 

“What did Gordon do?” She stepped closer but left him a small circle of space, a safety net. 

“He took me to the hospital and once I recovered, they brought me back here.”

“You were so young,” she whispered sadly, wanting to cry for him. 

“So were you, weren’t you, when you were left at the doors of Gotham’s orphanage?” She nodded. 

“I was a baby.” She hugged herself and stared down at the ground beneath them.

“That’s why I think we’re so similar. We raised ourselves- you and I.” He smirked, “it would explain our similar psychology.” 

“The fact that we’re both deeply disturbed? Sure, I’ll give you that,” she laughed lightly, her nose burned in the cold air. 

“Mm… deeply disturbed,” Crane sounded out the words with a soft hiss. 

“Psychotic?” She offered. 

“Psychopathic.” 

“Deranged.” 

“That’s not a medical diagnosis I’m familiar with,” he looked down at her, taking in the profile of her ruddy cheeks blistering in the wind. 

‘But not far off is it?” She smiled and looped her fingers in the front of his sweater, her hands brushing the hard muscle beneath. 

“Hmmm, I don’t know. I’ll have to conduct more thorough examinations.. I’d kill to have a look inside your head.” His fingers traced her hairline and pulled gently on her hair.  

“I have a few ideas for other places you could examine,” she teased and he smirked, coming back from his temporary emotional lag. 

“Intriguing offer, detective.”

“Thank you, Dr. Crane,” she returned his smirk and pulled him away from the scarecrow. He followed her. “Why did you choose the scarecrow as your alias?” she brought the conversation back and his forehead creased again as he thought. 

“I was forced to face my fear and after I returned here with just Hobbs and his wife to keep me company. I decided to take back the power that the scarecrow took away from me that day. Embracing my fear made me stronger, more powerful,” He answered seriously and she nodded. 

“Why did you improve your father’s fear toxin if you knew what it was capable of?” She asked quietly, watching for his reaction. 

“I made it because I knew what it was capable of. People like us have suffered, we’ve been wronged, we’ve been abandoned and ignored. There are people in this world who have the privilege of never being afraid because they have nothing to fear. I made it originally to use on the city’s elite, the people who think they’re better than me because they think they’re wealthier than I am, smarter than I am. Ra’s distracted me from my plan and I know now that I was right from the very beginning, Batman and his like need to be dethroned. We can be the ones to do it.” 

She looked into his eyes and kissed him, drawing his face down to hers by the rough collar of his sweater. His lips were dry from the wind. When she pulled away he held her face between his hands and looked at her seriously, his nostrils flared. 

“Do you still trust me after everything I just told you? Do you still want to be with me?” He asked her calmly, a dark glint in his eye. She dropped her head to the side and he caught it easily in his palm. 

“Yes, yes.” She nodded. 

They walked in silence, their hands brushing against each other and their hair blowing in the short gusts of wind. 

v 

“There’s still something you should know,” Crane began as they crossed through the door into the grand entry hall. 

“Like how you learned to ride a horse?” She joked but Crane didn’t smile. His face was hard again as it had been before. Her smile faded slowly and she felt her heart shutter and drop. “What?” She whispered and Crane left without another word, so she followed him hesitantly. He led her down into the basement, taking a stone staircase hidden behind a wall panel that also served as a door. Their steps echoed in the small space, electric sconces burned along the creepy passage. Finally Crane stopped at the door at the bottom of the stairs. The door was made of solid steel and Crane had to enter a passcode to open it. 

“Through here,” he guided her through the door and closed it behind them. The room was large and cave-like, lined with bookshelves and lab equipment. She gave an appreciative gasp, taking in the room that served as Crane’s office and private lab. “This was my father’s lab and when he died, it became mine.” He walked around to his desk and rummaged through one of the bottom drawers, removing a few small folders and placing them on his desk. He rested his knuckles on the cherry wood surface and sighed, finally meeting her eyes since they got back to the house. 

“Back to our topic of trust, I should tell you that I did a little snooping, if you will, into your past when we first started crossing paths. I wanted to know who I was dealing with, which is why I did this and now that we’ve ended up here together, I feel that it’s only right,” the word tasted bitter on his tongue, “to show you what I found. I’ve always told you that we’re alike, that we understand each other but I’ve never explained why. This is why I know we’re alike, Y/N.” He opened the front flap of each folder and pushed them down to the front of the desk. “You should know what happened to you as a child, the things they never told you at the orphanage.” He waited as she swallowed and looked between the papers and Crane. 

“What do you mean?” She whispered, “the things that happened to me?” 

“How the Wayne family ruined both of our lives.” His voice was slow and dark like syrup and it took her a few seconds to process what he was saying, what he was implying. She looked down at the folders again and took a step closer. When she reached his desk, she scanned the documents with blurred vision. “What… what do they say?” She rubbed her eyes and stepped away. Crane took the first folder, his jaw clenched. 

“Y/L/N, Y/N was born into the Arkham family, the founders of Arkham Asylum. Her parents were known to have had numerous disagreements with the Wayne family over the inappropriate use of the criminal justice system by moving people whom the Waynes didn’t like into the asylum. The Arkhams did not believe that the Waynes should have had the right to imprison their political enemies and opponents and tried to inform the public. The message to the press and other government officials was intercepted by the Wayne administration and destroyed, though one draft of the letter was salvaged from the Arkham’s trash and archived in the police station, it was never investigated. The Arkhams, both in their early 30s, were found dead a week later in their home. With no other living relatives, the baby, named Matilda Y/N Arkham by her parents, was discreetly handed over to Gotham orphanage by people closely connected to Wayne following the murder.” He paused, his eyes flicking up. She had gone white and her hand was clamped around one of the shelves on a nearby bookshelf. She looked up at him when he stopped and tried to speak but nothing came. He still waited, giving her time to speak but when she didn’t, he continued. 

“My private investigator found this from government records, including records still housed in Gotham orphanage. They knew this whole time and never informed you even after you became a legal adult. They never investigated your parents’ death and Thomas Wayne, the father of Gotham’s famous playboy, Bryce Wayne, never paid for his actions. He continued to imprison his enemies and without your parents there to run the asylum, it fell into its current state. Nothing I could have done with Arkham would have ever salvaged it after what Wayne’s administration did. So, you see now why I said that we were alike in so many ways. The Wayne’s have too much power even now and someone needs to do something about it.” Crane sighed and walked back to the front of his desk and leaned against it, his eyes lowered to the ground. She inhaled deeply. 

“You said something about Wayne ruining both of our lives. What did he do to you?” She asked him, her face red from stress and emotion. 

“He killed my mother,” he answered evenly and they met each others’ eyes. Her questioning eyes prompted Crane to explain. “He visited my mother whom he’d been seeing for a few months. She wanted to end things because she had me and I was getting older, and her marriage was starting to improve; she no longer wanted to be his mistress. He got angry and locked her inside her bedroom and then he lit a fire, right outside her room. He left before anyone realized what had happened. They found the key in her bedroom door, still inside the lock, locking the door from the outside. They knew that something had happened and the people in the police department knew the rumors, the secret love affair between Mrs. Crane and Mr. Wayne. There was a whole case but the police commissioner closed it and it was never solved. My father was a good man before that day, my mother’s murder drove him insane. For years it led him to do things that he shouldn’t have done. Wayne had a hand in my fate too, setting up my parents’ demise. I would have ended up alongside you at Gotham’s orphanage if Hobbs and his wife didn’t agree to look after me for those last two years before I was old enough to be my own guardian. Thomas Wayne died when I was eleven and yet, he still managed to kill my father from the grave. So, we’re connected by a chain of discord welded together by the Wayne family.”

“Yes…” he whispered and sank down into a dusty armchair. “So my real name is Matilda Arkham?” 

“Technically speaking, yes.” 

“And so that means Arkham Asylum also belongs to me?” 

Crane smiled with his wide lips closed, “technically.”  

Realization clicked in and she couldn’t help but laugh. She covered her mouth with her palms and laughed hysterically. Crane smiled down at his feet and scratched the side of his face. Though she suddenly realized that her entire life had been a lie, she laughed because now, everything made sense. And by some disturbed twist of fate, she and Crane had been bound to be together all because of Thomas Wayne. She pulled herself from the chair and looked at the family picture included in one of the folders. Crane leaned over her shoulder, breathing calmly against her neck. Goosebumps rose on her arms as she studied the picture. Lying in the arms of a woman with strawberry blonde hair, was her. Her father held her foot in between his fingers, smiling down at her with brown eyes. She’d seen their portrait in passing in the asylum and yet she’d never placed why they managed to look so… familiar. They’d been celebrated psychiatrists in their time. She looked at Crane, still leaning against the desk beside her, his blue eyes were trained on her face. So that’s why she had a thing for psychiatrists, she realized. 

“Are you ready to hear my plan now,” he asked her with a smirk, “... Miss Arkham?”