#justice task force member

[cyclopsboxhead]

Mystek is going on the Suicide Squad roster for sure

[roturo]

SUCCESSOR -`♡´-

summary: He believes he’s going to die soon, and the idea of leaving the Kira case unfinished gnaws at him. The thought of his legacy fading away too soon is unbearable. He needs a successor. And soon.

warnings: A LOT of breeding, smut, unprocteted sex, overstimulation, multiple rounds, pwp, tummy buldge, mentions of cum, mating press, virgin!L, obssesed!L, mentions of forming a family, not proof read and sleepy while writing this. and more.

a/n: ik this is going to have as much support as my other works, but it's def one of my best and favs writings, so please show me your support with a comment and reblog! it means a lot for me!

You've been part of the task force for a while now, ever since L handpicked you for his elite team. As a regular member, you've earned your place and trust within the group. The necessity of keeping your identity hidden has diminished, thanks to the expanding team, but you still opt for an alias during meetings, maintaining a veil of secrecy around your true connection to L.

L’s mind is a labyrinth, each thought of a winding path leading to an unknown destination. His strategies are always a step ahead, his deductions razor-sharp. Yet, despite his brilliance, one specific thought has been haunting him lately:

He believes he’s going to die soon.

This isn't a paranoid delusion but a calculated assessment. L understands the immense dangers tied to the Kira case. The complexity of the situation has grown, and he suspects an external force at play, one that eludes even his grasp. This unknown entity has shifted the balance, making the case more perilous than ever.

L is determined not to let his legacy end prematurely. He has dedicated his life to solving the world’s most challenging mysteries, and the idea of leaving the Kira case unfinished gnaws at him. The thought of his legacy fading away too soon is unbearable.

He needs a successor.

And soon.

Finding someone who can match his intellect and tenacity is no simple task. The successor must be able to understand his intricate methods, to carry on his relentless pursuit of justice. The urgency of this mission weighs heavily on him, as he prepares to identify and groom the next guardian of his legacy.

You were the perfect match for him, and his calculations confirmed it. There was an 86% probability that having a child with you would result in someone with a higher IQ than his own, combined with the social skills he lacked. In the realm of interpersonal relationships, L was inexperienced, never having had a relationship or intimacy before. Recently, he had been contemplating how to propose this idea to you.

Should he ask you outright? Should he try to make you fall in love with him first? No, this wasn't about love. It was a precaution, a step in his investigation, a way to ensure his legacy continued if the worst were to happen.

The atmosphere in the headquarters was tense as always, the dim lighting casting long shadows across the room. You sat at your desk, engrossed in your work, when L’s quiet footsteps approached. His presence was magnetic, his aura of mystery and intellect always palpable. He paused beside you, his gaze fixed on the monitors displaying the latest updates on the Kira case.

“Can we talk?” His voice was soft, almost hesitant, a rare departure from his usual confident demeanor.

You looked up, surprised by the uncharacteristic uncertainty in his tone. “Of course, L. What’s on your mind?”

He shifted, glancing around the room as if searching for the right words. “There’s something I need to discuss with you. It’s… personal.”

Your curiosity piqued, you nodded, giving him your full attention. “I’m listening.”

He took a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours. “You’re aware of the importance of my work, of the dangers we face daily. The Kira case has made me realize that I must consider contingencies I hadn’t thought of before.”

You nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“There’s a… statistical analysis I’ve conducted,” he said, his voice becoming more clinical as he explained. “It suggests that if I were to have a child with someone of your intelligence and social capabilities, the child would have a higher IQ than mine and possess the social skills I lack. This could be crucial in continuing my work if anything were to happen to me.”

The gravity of his words hit you like a ton of bricks. L, always methodical and rational, had approached this highly personal matter with the same analytical mindset he used to solve cases. You could see the logic in his plan, yet the implications were overwhelming.

“So, you want me to… have a child with you?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Yes,” he replied, his eyes unwavering. “But understand, this is not about emotions or personal desire...I think” He whispers to himself before he continues– “It’s a precaution, a part of my contingency planning. I’ve never experienced a relationship or intimacy, so I’m uncertain how to approach this.”

The room seemed to close in around you as you processed his request. It was a cold, calculated proposition, yet it carried a weight of vulnerability and trust. L was placing his future, his legacy, in your hands.

“How do you expect this to work, L?” you asked, your voice tinged with both curiosity and trepidation.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, his facade of invincibility cracking slightly. “I’ve considered different approaches. Should I simply ask you directly? Should I try to make you fall in love with me first? But this isn’t about love. It’s about ensuring that if I am no longer here, someone capable can continue my work.”

A silence fell between you, heavy with unspoken thoughts and emotions. L’s eyes searched yours, looking for understanding, perhaps even acceptance. You could see the conflict within him, the struggle between his logical mind and the unfamiliar territory of human connection.

“I need time to think about this,” you finally said, your voice gentle but firm.

L nodded, a flicker of relief crossing his features. “Of course. Take all the time you need. This is not a decision to be made lightly.”

Finally, you made your decision.

One evening, you found L in his usual spot, hunched over his laptop, eyes glued to the screen. The dim light cast shadows across his face, highlighting the intensity of his focus. Taking a deep breath, you approached him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“L,” you said softly, breaking the silence. He looked up, his piercing gaze meeting yours.

“I’ve thought about what you asked,” you continued, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “And I agree.”

For a moment, L simply stared at you, processing your words. Then, slowly, he nodded, his fingers tapping lightly on the edge of his desk. “Understood. Thank you for your cooperation.”

You took a seat across from him, the air between you charged with a new sense of purpose. “How do we proceed?”

L leaned back, his thumb brushing his bottom lip in thought. “We need to ensure this doesn’t disrupt our work or compromise the investigation. The task force must not be aware of our personal connection, as it could create complications.”

You nodded, understanding the delicate balance that needed to be maintained. L’s expression remained impassive, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. “I must admit that emotional connections are not my area of expertise. This will be… a learning experience.  Should… we do it tonight?”

“Ah- Ah- Slow down, L-Lawliet!” you gasped, your voice breaking with a mix of pleasure and urgency.

L’s thrusts were sloppy but fast, driven more by instinct than experience. His movements lacked rhythm, a clear sign of his inexperience. He had come twice already without withdrawing from you, his body responding purely on primal urges.

He had done his research, concluding that a mating press might be the most effective position for this purpose. But he never anticipated how overwhelmingly good it would feel. Was it like this with everyone? Or was it something unique because it was you?

His thrusts grew more erratic, almost desperate. Small whines escaped his mouth, each one tinged with your name like a prayer. You could feel every twitch, every movement inside you, the raw intensity of his desire almost too much to bear.

“L,” you whispered, trying to regain some control. “You need to… slow down.”

He nodded, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. “I’m trying,” he panted, his voice unsteady. “It’s just… so overwhelming.”

His usually sharp, calculating mind seemed lost in the haze of sensation. Every thrust, every brush of skin against skin, was a new experience for him. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between maintaining control and giving in to the raw pleasure.

He moaned at the familiar, overwhelming sensation of climaxing again, and you could feel your own release approaching. The intensity was almost unbearable when he grabbed a pillow and slipped it under your back, angling you into an even deeper mating press. His thrusts became more deliberate, his cock somehow reaching deeper, hitting your g-spot with precision over and over again.

The pleasure was so intense, so all-consuming, that all you could do was chant his name like a mantra, each syllable a prayer of ecstasy. “L-Lawliet,” you breathed, your voice trembling with the force of your impending climax.

He watched you with dark, hungry eyes, his own pleasure driving him to thrust harder, faster. “S-shit,” he gasped, his breath hitching, “I think—” His words dissolved into a whine as he came again inside you, his release flooding your womb with a desperate, addictive need.

This wasn’t just about producing a successor anymore. It was about the raw, primal satisfaction of filling you over and over again. He was captivated by the sight of your bodies joined, the way your mixed arousal leaked from where you were connected, glistening in the dim light.

“Lawliet,” you cried out, your own climax hitting you with the force of a tidal wave. Your body tightened around him, milking every last drop of his release as he continued to thrust, his movements erratic and needy.

He whimpered, the sound vibrating through his chest as he pressed his forehead against yours, his dark hair falling in a messy curtain around your face. “You feel… incredible,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion and exertion.

He groaned before pressing his lips to yours, the kiss deep and fervent. His cock remained erect inside you, pulsing with an insatiable desire. The feeling of having you this close, of being connected so intimately, was overwhelming. In that moment, he lost all sense of reason and the initial purpose behind his actions.

His mind, usually so sharp and focused on the Kira case, was now clouded with visions of a future he never thought he'd consider. He imagined how adorable you would look, carrying his child, a baby with his eyes and your smile. The idea of having a family with you consumed him, pushing all thoughts of logic and strategy aside.

Without realizing it, he began thrusting again, the movement instinctual and desperate. Each thrust was deliberate, fulfilling the small bump of cum inside you that was already visible through your tummy. He watched in awe, fascinated by the sight of your bodies joined so intimately, the tangible evidence of his desire and your shared pleasure.

“L-Lawliet,” you gasped against his lips, your hands clutching his shoulders as he moved within you. “What... what are you thinking?”

He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “I’m thinking… I’m thinking about us. About a future I never allowed myself to dream of.” His voice was rough with emotion, a raw edge that you rarely heard.

Your heart swelled at his words, the vulnerability in his usually composed demeanor striking a chord deep within you. “Lawliet,” you whispered, your fingers tracing the contours of his face. “I never imagined… I never thought you’d want this.Want me”

“I didn’t either,” he admitted, his thrusts growing more purposeful. “But now, with you, that's all I can think about. The idea of you carrying my child, of us having a family…you in general… it’s overwhelming.”

He kissed you again, more gently this time, savoring the softness of your lips against his. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through you, the sensation heightened by the emotional intensity of the moment. His hands roamed your body, memorizing every curve, every detail.

“Do you… do you want this too?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

“Yes,” you breathed, the admission freeing a weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying. “I want this. I want us.”

His eyes darkened with a mix of relief and desire, and he kissed you harder, his movements inside you becoming more urgent. The room filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure, each moan and gasp a testament to the bond growing between you.

As he continued to thrust, you could feel the tension coiling tighter within you, each movement pushing you closer to the edge. He seemed to sense it too, his rhythm intensifying as he chased his own release.

“Lawliet,” you cried out, your climax hitting you with the force of a tidal wave. Your body tightened around him, every nerve ending alight with sensation.

He groaned, his own release following closely behind, filling you once more. The feeling was addictive, the raw intimacy of it all-consuming. He held you close, his forehead resting against yours as you both caught your breath.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he whispered mostly to himself, his voice filled with wonder.

“Neither can I,” you replied, your heart pounding in sync with his. “But it feels right. It feels perfect.”

He nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “It does.”

You stayed entwined like that, savoring the afterglow and the newfound depth of your connection. The Kira case and the outside world faded into the background, replaced by the warmth of each other’s presence and the promise of a future together.

Eventually, as the reality of your situation began to seep back in, you knew you had to return to your duties. But the bond you had forged would remain, a source of strength and comfort in the days to come.

As L gently pulled out and helped you adjust, he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. “We’ll figure this out,” he said softly in a small whisper. “Together.”

“Together,” you echoed, your heart filled with a certainty that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them side by side.

[natsaffection]

heyy this is my first time making a request and idk if it's okay but what if reader is like an anti-hero or villian and when reader gets hurt she shoves up to Natasha's apartment thinking she would maybe help her? idk if it works but I've been thinking about something like this and it would be great if you actually write itt😭😭😭

Lines crossed. | N.R

Avenger!Natasha x AntiHero!Reader

Warnings: Blood, Gore and injurys

Word Count: 2,6k

A/N: These are the stories I like the most. 🙏🏻 And I feel honored, that I can write your first ever request! 🏆

The city of New York was no stranger to chaos, but in recent months, a new shadow had begun to loom over its streets. This shadow was not the kind of evil the Avengers were used to dealing with..This was different. And this, was you, a name whispered in fear among the criminal underworld, a vigilante with a taste for vengeance and a history stained with blood.

You had risen to the top of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s most wanted list, a place usually reserved for supervillains and global threats. Your methods were brutal and unyielding, your sense of justice unwavering. To some, you were a hero. To others, a menace. But to the Avengers, you were a problem that needed solving.

“Another one,” Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, murmured as she stood over the lifeless body of a notorious gang leader, his blood pooling around him in a grotesque halo. “It’s her again.”

Clint joined her, shaking his head. “She’s getting bolder. This is the third one this week.” Natasha's eyes scanned the scene, taking in the familiar hallmarks of your handiwork. The precision, the brutality, the unmistakable sense of finality. "She’s not hiding anymore. She wants us to know it’s her."

Nick Fury appeared behind them, his expression unreadable as ever. "We need to bring her in. She's crossed too many lines, and now the media's starting to pick up on it. The last thing we need is a vigilante making us look incompetent."

Natasha nodded, her mind already running through the many encounters she’d had with you. Each one had been a battle of wills, fists, and wits. You were good, damn good. But Natasha was determined to be better.

You wiped the blood from your hands, your breathing steadying as you looked at the man you'd just eliminated. He had been a monster, a predator preying on the weak and innocent. You felt no remorse. In your eyes, justice had been served.

You knew the Avengers were close. You could feel their presence like a storm on the horizon. Especially Natasha. Your fights had become a dance of sorts, each trying to outmaneuver the other, each knowing that one day it would come down to a final, decisive confrontation.

Your phone buzzed, pulling you from your thoughts. You glanced at the message: another target, another mission. Your work was never done.

Back at the Avengers' headquarters, the team gathered around a holographic display of the city, pinpointing the locations of your recent activities. "We need to be strategic," Steve said, his voice calm but firm. "She’s not just any criminal. She’s trained, skilled, and she's got a mission."

Natasha’s eyes never left the display. She knew you better than most. She understood your motivations, your drive. And she knew that stopping you would require more than just brute force.

"It’s personal for her," Natasha said quietly. "And if we’re going to bring her in, we need to understand why she’s doing this." The team nodded, each member resolving to bring an end to your bloody crusade. But for Natasha, it was more than just another mission. It was a challenge, a test of her skills and resolve.

You moved through the city like a ghost, your mind focused on the task at hand. You knew the Avengers were watching, waiting. You relished the challenge. Each encounter with Natasha had pushed you to be better, sharper.

But you also knew that the game couldn’t go on forever. One day, it would come to an end. One way or another.As you prepared for your next mission, you couldn't help but wonder: when that day came, who would be the one standing? You or Natasha?

The city was alive with the sounds of sirens and distant traffic, but your focus was razor-sharp. You moved through the shadows, your target's location clear in your mind. You knew the Avengers were closing in, but you thrived on the edge, where danger and adrenaline fused into one intoxicating rush.

It didn’t take long for you to reach your target, a corrupt businessman with ties to multiple criminal organizations. You slipped past his security with ease, your movements precise and silent. As you stood over him, your eyes cold and unyielding, you knew this would send another message to the underworld and the Avengers alike.

Just as you were about to strike, the window shattered, and Natash swung in, landing gracefully on her feet, guns drawn. "Y/n, this ends now," Natasha said, her voice a mix of resolve and urgency. You smirked, stepping back to assess the new threat. "You always know how to make an entrance, Romanoff."

The two of you circled each other, the tension thick in the air. You made the first move, lunging forward with a series of rapid strikes. Natasha countered, your fists and feet a blur of motion. Each move was calculated, each strike intended to find a weakness.

The fight spilled into the hall, your movements fluid and fierce. You were relentless, your skills honed by years of training and combat. But Natasha was no less formidable, her experience and agility a match for your raw power.

In a desperate bid to escape, you knocked over a set of shelves, creating a momentary barrier. You dashed down the corridor, but your path was blocked by Steve. "Going somewhere?" Steve asked, raising his shield.

You didn’t hesitate. You launched yourself at him, your attacks relentless. Steve defended himself with his shield, but your sheer ferocity pushed him back. You knew you had to move fast. Every second counted.

A blast of energy struck the ground near you, and you turned to see Tony Stark hovering in his Iron Man suit. "You’re surrounded. Give it up."

With a quick glance, you calculated your options. You grabbed a nearby fire extinguisher, using it to create a cloud of smoke. In the confusion, you darted through a side door, your escape route planned to the last detail.

In the aftermath, the Avengers regrouped, frustration evident in their expressions. "She’s good," Clint said, rubbing his bruised arm. "We almost had her."

"Almost isn’t good enough," Tony replied, scanning the area for any sign of you. "She’s always one step ahead." Natasha looked at the ground, her mind replaying the fight. She admired your tenacity and skill, but she also knew that each encounter brought them closer to a dangerous tipping point.

"We need to change our approach," Natasha said. "She’s playing a game of survival. We need to make her see that we’re not the enemy." Steve nodded. "Agreed. We need to understand her motivations. If we can reach her, maybe we can end this without more bloodshed."

Weeks turned into months, and the chase between you and Natasha became legendary among the Avengers. Your reputation as a formidable adversary was solidified, but so was Natasha's determination to bring you in. Every encounter became a game of wits and skill, a deadly dance with an undercurrent of something more.

One night, Natasha found herself on a stakeout at a high-end nightclub. Her sources had tipped her off about a major criminal deal going down. She knew you would be there, drawn to the opportunity like a moth to a flame. Natasha blended into the crowd, her eyes scanning for any sign of her elusive target.

Suddenly, she felt a presence behind her. "Looking for someone?" your familiar, flirty voice whispered in her ear. Natasha spun around to find you, dressed to kill and wearing a mischievous grin.

"Yes, you." Natasha said, her voice steady despite the surprise. "You're getting bold." You chuckled, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "And you're getting predictable, Romanoff. I knew you'd be here."

Natasha moved closer, lowering her voice. "This ends tonight. You're coming with me." You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Are you asking me out on a date, or is this another one of your attempts to arrest me?"

Natasha couldn't help but smirk. "Depends on how you look at it." Before Natasha could react, you leaned in, your lips brushing Natasha's ear as you whispered, "Catch me if you can." Then, with a swift movement, you disappeared into the crowd.

Natasha's heart raced as she pursued you through the crowded club. The thrill of the chase was intoxicating, and she couldn't deny the electric connection between you. You were always one step ahead, leaving clues and taunts that kept Natasha on her toes.

The chase led them to the club's rooftop, the city lights sprawling beneath them. You stood at the edge, the wind whipping through your hair. Natasha approached slowly, her eyes locked on you.

"You can't keep running forever.“ Natasha said, her voice a mix of determination and something softer. You turned to face her, your expression unreadable. "I'm not running, Natasha. I'm fighting. Just like you."

Natasha took a step closer, her heart pounding. "We don't have to be enemies, Y/n.. Let us help you." Your gaze softened, and for a moment, Natasha saw the vulnerability beneath the tough exterior. "You don't understand. I've crossed too many lines. There's no going back for me."

Natasha reached out, her hand brushing your arm. "It's never too late to make a different choice. You can Trust me.“ You looked at Natasha, your eyes searching for something. Then, with a sigh, you pulled away. "Maybe in another life, Romanoff."

Before Natasha could react, you leaped off the rooftop, landing gracefully on a fire escape below. Natasha rushed to the edge, but you were already disappearing into the night.

—

One fateful evening, you found yourself cornered by a gang of criminals. You fought valiantly, but the numbers were overwhelming. By the time the dust settled, you were grievously wounded. Blood soaked your clothes, and every step sent waves of agony through your body.

Desperation set in as you stumbled through the dark alleys. You knew going to a hospital was out of the question. The police would arrest you on sight, and SHIELD agents were everywhere. You tried to treat your wounds in an abandoned building, using whatever you could find. With shaking hands, you attempted to stitch a deep gash on your side, but the pain was too intense and your vision blurred.

Realizing the severity of your injuries and your inability to treat them alone, you remembered, „You can Trust me.“ You had placed a small tracking device on Natasha’s shoe during one of your fights, anticipating you might need to find her someday.

The rain pelted the city in relentless sheets, washing away the grime of the day. You stood in front of Natasha's apartment door, your breath coming in shallow gasps. You leaned heavily against the frame, your vision swimming. Despite the pain, you forced a playful smile onto your lips. You had to get inside. You had to see Natasha.

With a trembling hand, you knocked on the door. It felt like an eternity before it finally swung open. Natasha stood there, her expression a mix of surprise and annoyance.

"How did you find me?" Natasha asked, her voice cold. You tried to straighten up, wincing as you did. "Miss me already, Romanoff?" you said, your voice weak but carrying a hint of flirtation. "Couldn't stay away.."

Natasha's eyes narrowed. "You've got a lot of nerve showing up here. Why are you here?" Ignoring the question, you leaned against the doorframe, your legs barely holding you up. "Thought I'd drop by... see your lovely face," you managed, your vision beginning to darken around the edges.

Natasha's patience snapped. She grabbed her phone, her fingers quickly dialing S.H.I.E.L.D.'s number. "Enough with the games. I'm done with this."

Your heart sank, your body swaying. You tried to take a step forward but stumbled, your strength failing. You collapsed into Natasha, who caught you out of reflex. As your full weight pressed against her, Natasha's eyes widened in horror. Blood soaked through your clothes, warm and sticky, covering Natasha's hands.

"Oh my God.." Natasha whispered, her phone slipping from her fingers as she cradled your limp body. "Y/n, what happened??" Your head lolled to the side, your eyes struggling to stay open. "Guess I... pushed it too far this time..“ you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Natasha quickly assessed the situation, her mind racing. "We need to get you inside.“ she said, her tone urgent. She half-carried, half-dragged you into the apartment, laying you on the couch. Blood pooled on the floor, and Natasha's hands shook as she grabbed her first aid kit.

"Stay with me, Y/n," Natasha urged, tearing open your shirt to reveal a deep, gaping wound along your side. The sight of old scars crisscrossing your chest made Natasha's heart clench. "God, what did you do?!“

She worked quickly, her training kicking in. She poured antiseptic over the wound, her hands moving with practiced precision. Your body trembled with pain, your fingers digging into the couch. "God, that burns," you whimpered, tears streaming down your face. "F-Fuck, Natasha, it h-hurts..“

"I know it does," Natasha said, her voice softening. "But I need you to stay with me. I don't have any narcotics, so this is going to be rough."

Your eyes were glazed with pain, your breathing shallow. "Just do it…" you managed to say. Natasha threaded a needle, her fingers slick with blood. She began to stitch the largest wound, her focus intense. Your body shook with each stitch, your teeth clenched to hold back screams. The raw pain was almost unbearable, and low moans of agony escaped your lips despite your best efforts.

"You're doing great," Natasha said, her own voice trembling. "Just a few more." Your fingers clawed at the couch, your knuckles white. "Natasha... please, hurry," you gasped, your voice barely a whisper.

Natasha's heart ached at the sight of your suffering. "I'm almost done," she said, her tone soothing. "Just hold on a little longer."

Your eyes fluttered, your strength fading fast. "Sorry... for your couch...and for everything," you whispered, tears mixing with the blood on your face. "I never wanted it to be like this.."

Natasha's eyes were full with understanding. "We'll talk about it tomorrow. Right now, I need you to hold on." She finished the stitches, then bandaged the wounds as best she could. Your body relaxed slightly, your breathing still labored but more steady.

"It's done," Natasha said, sitting back and wiping her forehead. "You're going to be okay." Your eyes closed, exhaustion overtaking you. Natasha grabbed a blanket and covered you, then sat beside you, holding your hand gently. "I'm here," Natasha whispered. "You're safe now. Rest and we’re sorting everything tomorrow out, okay?"

You whimpered softly, your body shaking from the pain and the cold. Natasha gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, her expression tender. "I never thought I'd see you like this," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your eyes fluttered open, focusing on Natasha with difficulty. "Guess... I can't always be the strong one.“ you murmured, a weak smile playing on your lips.

Natasha's heart tightened. "You don't have to be strong all the time," she said softly. "It's okay to let someone help you." You nodded weakly, your eyes drifting closed again. "Thank you, Natasha.“ you whispered.

Natasha squeezed your hand gently, "You're going to be alright," she said, her voice filled with determination. "I won't let anything happen to you."

As she sat there, watching over you, Natasha knew that this was a turning point. You had come to her for help, and that meant there was still hope. She would find a way to bring you back from the edge, no matter what it took.

Part 2

[reiderwriter]

hi!!! omg i’ve been following you for a bit now and i saw that it’s not only your 1k celebration(AHHHHHH OMG CONGRATS GIRL!!!) but also your birthday soon!!! So happy birthday and i hope you’re having a fantabulous day!!

If it’s not too much trouble, could i request #4 on your 1k celeb list for Spencer Reid? maybe like imagine they’re undercover in a club or at a party and reader has to dance on him for some odd reason and boy is already mad in love and now he’s got a hard on while his crush dances on him for a case and reader maybe takes mercy on him and drags him to a private place tooooooo😋😋

it’s totally okay if this isn’t to your fancy so don’t feel pressured at all!! i love your writing so much and i just know anything you write, even if you don’t write this ask or if you change it up, will be amazing!!! enjoy your birthday b and take loads of a care of yourself!💕💕

A/N: Thank you for the request, and I AM SO SORRY it took me nearly four months to get to 😭 I actually loved writing this one, so I hope you enjoy reading it! Thank you for the birthday wishes 💖

Warnings: public sex, sex in an alleyway, talks of oral (m receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, dirty talk, creampie, coworkers to lovers, spoilers for upto season 7 of Criminal Minds.

“Cover? Right now? I'm wading through three caseloads of paperwork right now, I don't have time to go gallivanting across the country for another unit.” You stressed to your Unit Chief as she smiled sympathetically at you.

“Temporary reassignment means your desk will be cleared of work when you return, I'll personally complete it myself. That is if you decide to come back.”

“It would take one hell of an offer to get me to join another team, ma'am, and you know it.” 

Working under your boss Andi Swann at the Domestic Trafficking Task Force was something you took a lot of pride in. The work you did saved hundreds of women across the country, and you found justice for the ones you were too late for. It had been your second choice after you'd left the academy and a particularly ambitious one, all things considered. 

“Y/N, the Behavioural Analysis Unit needs you. Now, I remember your resume as well as you do, most likely, so don't try to convince me all of the profiling credits and courses you took at the academy were solely to be used for trafficking work.” 

You flushed as the woman caught you off guard. It was true that you hoped to someday be able to transfer to the aforementioned unit, but you truly still respected the woman in front of you. 

Deciding that your respect trumped your human need to placate her worries about you suddenly skipping out on her, you simply cleared your throat and spoke as calmly as possible. 

“What is it exactly that the BAU needs me for?” 

The older woman smiled back at you and shook her head slightly before opening her mouth again. 

“It seems that one of their team members needs a date.” 

–X– 

Having recovered from the shock of your reassignment and its details, you'd found yourself packing a few things from your desk, grabbing your go-bag, climbing into the elevator and arriving at the doors of the BAU.

You then struggled for a few minutes to open with all the things crowding your hands. 

“Here let me,” a voice said from behind you, as you suddenly saw an arm come up around your side to push the door open. You followed your gaze up the arm until your back was against the door, moving backwards even as he pushed it open as your throat went dry.

The man in front of you was hot. It was as if some deity had plucked your ideal type out of your mind, moulded him with clay, and kiln fired him before placing him right back in front of you as temptation.

You were sure that minutes had passed since he'd spoken with you just staring up at him like this, but alas, you really couldn't help yourself. 

“Oh! Thank you,” you smiled, hoping it would diffuse the sudden awkward atmosphere that your staring had bought on. “I'm sorry, can you tell me where Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner's office is?” You mumbled out, trying to clear your throat silently as you lost yourself in the strangers' gaze. 

His eyes were locked on yours, and as he broke eye contact, your heart jumped as you noticed his ears were stained red, embarrassment apparently not lost on him. 

“Up the stairs, first office, his name is on the door. You must be SSA Y/N.” Shocked to hear your name drop from his mouth  you felt a Rusholme mortification as you studied the man once again. 

Slightly messy hair, pile of books in his hand, dressed like he'd fallen into a closet at a retirement home, tall wiry frame. 

Ashley Seaver's description of Doctor Spencer Reid had been spot on. Apart from the part where she had failed to mention, he was quite possibly the most attractive man on earth. 

“Doctor Reid?” You asked, voice a squeak, almost scared that you were wrong despite there being no suggestion that you might be.

“How did you…?” His eyes widened with a smile as he looked back to you again, searching for answers with his head cocked slightly to the side.

“I work in Domestic Trafficking. Agent Seaver and my unit chief both gave me brief descriptions of your team so I wouldn't get bogged down with introductions when I got here.” You explained quickly for fear that he'd think you slightly stalkerish for knowing his name, even though he obviously knew yours as well.

He smiled slightly awkwardly again  and gestured further inside the office, sending you off to your temporary new Unit Chief's office with a small whisper.

“I look forward to working with you.”

--X–

The debrief with Aaron Hotchner was swift  and you appreciated the man's ability to cut straight to the point. 

There was a killer targeting women in New York City, just like there were killers targeting women everywhere. But this one had taken specific issue with women who were social climbers, who attended events with high profile and successful men on their arms. 

So far, the NYPD could link 7 homicides to the killer and were under pressure to catch the guy before Lucky Number eight. 

The FBI had stepped in and suggested you be Lucky Number eight.

They'd been sent the case as a consult and provided the profile, to which the NYPD had asked for full cooperation. 

Which is how you found yourself on a jet heading to New York City two hours after Andi Swann had called you into her office. Productive day.

“What does your budget look like after a year of private jet travel?” You wondered out loud as you followed Hotchner onto the plane. SSA David had followed you onto the plane as well, having tried to introduce himself earlier. You'd allowed him the moment of humility before telling him you knew exactly who he was, and he'd be surprised if anyone in the entire bureau didn't. 

“Well they haven't put me on display yet, so I don't think I'm quite a fossil. Pleasure to be working with you.” 

His words were kind enough, but they were a reminder of the other man you'd met earlier. 

The man who had since climbed into the seat next to you, ready for the on the go case briefing.

“We've established identities for the two of you, ready for you to go in tonight to establish yourselves as bait,” Hotch explained, handing you each a personnel folder. 

“Spencer, you'll be Charles Buchanan, local businessman with alleged ties to several socialite families in the Upper East Side.” That seemed to earn a few chuckles from Agent Morgan from his perch at the other end of the plane desk, but he cleverly kept his mouth shut. 

“Y/N, you'll be Daisy Smith, you're a student putting herself through a graduate degree, who has turned to sugaring to cover course fees.” 

“Sugaring?” Rossi asked from Hotch's side, waiting for someone to clarify. 

“It's a term used to describe the act of being a sugar baby or sugar daddy. A usually non-sexual consensual relationship involving cash or other materialistic gifts.” Spencer filled in the gaps easily, without looking up from the file he was scanning ridiculously fast.

Okay, speed-reading and super intelligence check, and you were two for two on descriptions of Spencer Reid. Swann's description had also left a lot to be desired. 

“We've got Garcia establishing some online profiles for the both of you currently using the images you sent us earlier. Hopefully, we were correct in our estimation of his hunting grounds, but he'll need to stalk you for a night or two before he strikes.” 

You cleared your throat carefully as you finally decided to ask the question that had been bugging you the entire time.

“I'm sorry if this is forward, but is there a reason I was chosen for this assignment? I don't have much undercover experience, and I was told there were two women on your team. Was I misinformed?” 

“That's correct. Unfortunately, last week, Agent Prentiss decided to take a job with Interpol in London. Agent Jareau was also recently married, so she put in leave to enjoy her honeymoon. None of the candidates we have lined up fit our Unsub's type. You do.”

“As good as I would look in a dress, you're going to be much more effective at catching this guy,” Morgan joked from the side, just as Hotch accepted a video call through to the jet. 

“Morgan in a dress, sounds like one of my dreams come true.” 

“Calm it, baby girl, what have you got for us?”

“Invitations to a charity ball being held in Manhattan tonight, and around 1000 hits across five sugaring platforms for Miss Y/N. If the FBI turns out to be a letdown, you have a lot of serious offers here, sweetie.” You laughed out loud at how she blasted through and diffused all the tension in your team, without even thinking to introduce herself first. 

“You must be Penelope Garcia. It's nice to meet you.” 

“Not as nice as it is to meet you, I promise.” 

The remainder of the jet ride had been quiet if not restful, the presence of Spencer Reid a disturbingly pretty thorn in your side. 

You'd sneaked glances at him multiple times, not an easy feat on a jet filled with profilers. His fingers had grazed yours as he passed you his file earlier as well, letting you read up on his new character. 

What you found most distracting, though, was the now bare stretch of skin peaking out from his shirt collar. 

He'd decided to take a nap at some point earlier, and now you silently cursed him for it as you looked at the splash of skin distractedly. 

You could press your lips there and work your way up to his lips. Or you could go in the opposite direction and have more fun, you reminded yourself. 

It seemed that image had you waking up, jerking upright so that you would not let that go any further.

This was your job. You were a professional, an FBI agent. 

You weren't allowed to imagine giving this man a blow job on government time. You'd have to save that thought for after the case was closed, and you could go your separate ways, you thought.

Landing was easy  and you moved straight into dress fittings and practising your story for the party later that night. 

Which meant a blissful few hours without the distraction of Spencer Reid. 

Luckily for you, the first dress they'd given you to wear had turned out to be a good fit, showcasing some of your more prominent assets. 

It hugged your body tight, but it wasn't uncomfortable, showing off a generous amount of cleavage and leg as well. It wasn't quite scandalous, but you knew it was definitely the kind of outfit that would stick out like a sore thumb at a socialite dinner. 

Which meant it was perfect for baiting the unsub.

By 7pm, you'd been outfitted, prepped, and deposited in the back of a limousine with Spencer Reid, and you were right back at square one trying not to climb him then and there. 

His outfit choice had been slightly harder, apparently, given his taller frame, but the three piece suit they'd given him was do perfect it was hard to tell it wasn't tailored to his measurements. 

“Are you nervous?” He asked, whispering the words in your ear as he stroked your hand. Although the limousine driver was an undercover NYPD detective, you'd both been told to get into character as quickly as possible. 

There were a series of other undercover agents being placed throughout the party tonight - Hotch was going in as a representative of the District Attorney's office, a few NYPD detectives were serving guests drinks and food, and Rossi had managed to get an invite as himself. 

Morgan was left running surveillance in the van outside. 

Because of your outfit and the nature of the unsubs attacks, there had been no point in trying to put a wire on you at this point in time. It'd take him a week of surveillance to pick you up anyway. Tonight would just be the start of his hunt. 

So you let Spencer stroke your hand, fingers locked in his as you gave him a smile, and tried not to imagine them wrapped around his cock. 

“Just a little. I think it's the dress  shows off a bit more than I'm used to.” He took a second to glance down your body, as if he'd been waiting for your permission until now, and you watched his eyes pause over your chest and at where the hem sat at the top of your thighs, dangerously close to bearing everything.

“You look… beautiful. I think our unsub will like it, at least.” 

You tried to hide your disappointment as he pulled his hand away, ready to open the door as the car pulled up to your destination. 

You surveyed the room as you walked in, trying to memorise every particularly leering smile from men as you made your way to your seat. 

After half an hour, though, it seemed like catching your guy was going to be like finding a needle in a haystack. Or a creep in a room full of creeps. 

It seemed like every man who talked to Spencer only glanced at you to stare down your dress, a few even attempting to pat your back and let their hands drift south.

If it weren't for the sake of the job, you'd have sucker punched some of the richest men in New York City by now. And you'd have enjoyed it. 

Politely detaching himself from conversation, Spencer guided you away to the dance floor for a second. You'd planned it this way for when you needed some time privately to discuss potential suspects. 

A few other couples glided around the floor as you stood chest to chest with Spencer, surprised how confidently he was handling the caseload. 

His hands took their places, one on your hip, the other gripping your own as you both began to sway side to side. 

“Any ideas?” He whispered in your ear as you moved delicately. 

“Your 10 o’clock. Younger son of the Johnson family. He’s been sat glaring at me for 10 minutes despite his mother's attempts to network for him.” 

“It fits the profile, absent father, overbearing mother. He has obvious disdain for you. Is there anyone else?” His words were hot against your skin as you looked up at him, finding your lips surprisingly close as your bodies continued swaying together. 

“Half of the men in this room have undressed me with their eyes, the other half actually tried to put their hands on me when they were talking to you.” He stiffened at that, breaking eye contact as his eyes flashed with sudden emotion. 

His hand slid from your waist further down to stroke your ass slightly as he watched the crowd to see anyone taking offence at his sudden bold display of affection. 

At least that was what you assumed he was doing  as you too began to glance around, watching for anyone watching you, confident that Hotch, Rossi, and the others would do the same. 

When his hand on your ass pulled you closer into him, though, you weren't so sure. 

“Spencer, what are you-” You started in confusion, noticing that his gaze had returned to you. More specifically, that it had returned to your chest, as he stared down at how your breasts looked, pushed up against his chest as they were. 

He encouraged your other hand to wrap around his shoulder, freeing his other hand to land on your ass again as he pulled you closer still. 

You'd almost stopped moving, certain that having his body pressed against yours in every place hardly counted as dancing. You opened your mouth to say as much when you felt something twitch against your thigh. A low groan slipped from Spencer's lips as he adjusted your positions slightly as you felt something hard shift against your leg. 

“Do you seriously have a boner right now?” You whispered, as much in exasperation as in excitement. 

Spencer Reid was grinding his boner into you in front of a room full of people, and you felt like you'd just won the lottery. 

“I'm sorry, natural reaction. You look so hot tonight, and then your hands were all over me.” He rambled slightly in his explanations, mortification clear on his face as he tried to apologise. 

“It's okay.” You whispered in his ear, pulling yourself up on your toes softly to press a chaste kiss to his lips. 

If you just so happened to rub up against him going up and down, eliciting another deep groan for the man, then so be it. 

“Y/N…” He whispered you name like a prayer and it almost convinced you that there was no one else in the room. 

“Spencer, there's no way our unsub is going to approach us if you have that thing tenting your pants.” You kept your voice low as your hands trailed down his chest. Pushing one further, you gently rubbed over his clothed member as if accentuating your point. 

“We need to solve this problem, don't you think?” 

His jaw clenched as he contemplated your words, trying not to let any other sounds out. His nod was barely perceptible, but within seconds you were glancing around the room for a quick exit, and in another minute, you'd slipped through a service entrance  and out through some corridors into a dimly lit alleyway. 

As soon as you were cloaked in darkness, Spencer was on you. 

Whirling you around, he backed you into the wall until your back was pressed into it, and his lips were on yours. 

You moaned helplessly into the kiss, hands finding his chest again and moving south even as he began exploring your body. 

“This is an important case, and we're about to blow it because I can't keep my hands off you,” he whispered between kisses, lips trailing down your neck. 

“Do you know how crazy we both must be?” 

“I know exactly how crazy for you I am, Reid. Now, please let me suck your dick.” You moaned the words as his fingers found their way into your panties, stroking your clit. 

“Y/N, I'm trying to talk sense into us here.” He groaned as your fingers fumbled with his pant buttons, hand sliding into the material to wrap around his cock.

“How much sense are you talking with your fingers inside me?” You panted, willing him to just fully let go and let you both enjoy yourselves. 

“While we're out here, Hotch and Rossi are inside, noting down anyone who takes particular offence to our exit. We can enjoy ourselves and catch a better lead.” You started slowly pumping him then, as he pushed closer into you, allowing you to reach more of him at this different angle.

His head dropped to your shoulder as he breathed out a laugh. 

“Right, this will help.” He tried to convince yourself, and you grinned in victory, rocking your hips against his hand to find your release sooner. 

Until he withdrew his hand and used it to grasp your own, halting your movements. 

“Spencer?” You pouted slightly, but he pressed another kiss to your lips  this time forceful and demanding, to guess begging permission to enter and dominate you. 

You gladly accepted him into your mouth, even as you felt him pushing up your skirt, letting the material ride higher as it had been trying to do all night. 

Making sure you were steady against the brick wall, he pulled your hips up and around his, pushing your panties to the side as he pushed inside of you. 

The stretch was maddening. Everywhere he touched became hot against the cool night breeze as he began his frenzied strokes into you. 

You lost all capability for speech, which was probably for the best, as you were sure you'd only ask for him to do more disgusting things to you eventually. 

His mouth slid to the top of your breasts as they bounced with each thrust, waiting to claim a nipple in his mouth when one eventually came free of the offending material. 

“Such a little slut, begging to suck my dick. Maybe next time, princess.” You screamed and arched your back as he finally bit down around your nipple, soothing the skin with his tongue as he licked and suckled there. 

His other hand fell to your clit again, pushing you to the edge as you finally came on his cock. 

He didn't stop though, powering through as you tightened around him, moaning wantonly as his thrusts hit deeper still.

“Let's see what our unsub thinks when he sees my cum dripping out of you,” he whispered again, as he too let himself go, releasing spurt after spurt of cum inside of you. 

Making sure you were strong enough, he set you back down on the ground, keeping an arm wrapped around you protectively as you smoothed your clothes back into place. 

You helped him button his pants as he smoothed your hair, tucking a stray piece behind your ear before ducking in for one more sweet kiss. 

“I'm sorry that I couldn't let you, uh, perform orally,” he blushed again, his ears that same shade of red you noticed earlier as he guided you back inside. “I think someone would have noticed if I'd ruined your makeup that much.”

You practically choked on your own spit as you finally slipped back into the dance hall.

“Next time,” you said, making sure to finish the conversation you'd started. “We’ll have more privacy.” 

[cisthoughtcrime]

a 62yo man in a very small, very wealthy suburban city near Seattle, WA has been caught possessing, producing, and selling CSAM. Homeland Security Investigations and members of the Major Crimes Task Force have linked it to a larger international child sex trafficking ring. the man had business cards with sample photos of young (est. 6-10yo) girls alongside his name, number, and "project manager" on them. he also had guns and hundreds of thousands in US and foreign currencies. they found his "staging room" and photos and videos indicating the room had been used for this purpose and for live mobile casting. his houses (because he had two in this neighbourhood, where each house is typically at least $5mil but many are closer to $20mil) were five minutes from each other and just under a mile from the local elementary school. he's currently in custody.

the thing is, he had already been caught before. TWICE.

he had already been arrested (2012) and convicted (2013) for possession of CSAM in California. then, in 2014 a random check by the Canadian border police found more than a thousand images of minors engaged in sex acts on his phone. the arrest report from the border agents claims he reponded to being told he was being taken into custody by saying "that's not child porn, it's just happy pictures." before this most recent arrest in December 2024, he had only been in community custody instead of being in prison.

this story hasn't really broken yet, but I would expect (or at least hope) to see more about it in the news as more of the investigation starts to become available to the public. for now, all we have are the police reports from the arresting this guy and executing the warrants on his properties, as well as a few other relevant records. a local independent reporter and a neighbourhood newsletter have summarised what we know so far and included these documents. neither of these links includes any graphic material, but the reports themselves describe a few clips of what the officers witnessed (when they arrived to arrest him, they saw him through a window actively watching CP on a laptop).

my question is how the fuck was he still freely allowed to move between states, live so close to an elementary school, change his name, exit and enter the country, avoid incarceration, and have such light sentencing with such little supervision that he could operate and profit from a massive international CSAM business fuelled by material he himself produced, entirely uninhibited while in "community custody"??? he was able to have children in his houses after two arrests for CSAM in two states and two convictions (the first was a misdemeanor, the second a felony).

when can we start also holding judges accountable for endangering minors by letting repeat-offender pedophiles go free? seriously, how many more kids suffered because this convicted waste of carbon got an extra decade of unhindered opportunity? I want the victims' families to sue, I want this case to set a legal precedent requiring harsher sentencing, I want a justice system that isn't just a snooze button for holding rich perverted men mildly accountable. at the very least, I want major news sources to pick this up and present it as the big deal it is.

[dark-konohagakure2]

hii, can i request noncon madara capturing tobiramas virgin daughter during a battle and then using her as his personal slave? sorry if this isnt a request you're comfy writing !

tw: noncon, age difference, size difference, kidnapping, enslavement, abuse, breeding, rough sex, degradation, sadism

All characters depicted are 18+

There are very few people that Madara can claim to loathe with his entire being, but if he had to pick one person, it would be Tobirama Senju. Not only had the man constantly discriminate against his clan, but he was also responsible for Izuna's death. Now Madara wants vengeance, and he already has the perfect plan to make Tobirama feel the same pain as him.

During the Uchiha's next battle against the Senju, his main target is not Tobirama, but his daughter, and capturing such a weak girl is almost laughably easy. Madara thinks it's only fair, Tobirama stole someone he loved, and now Madara will steal somebody he loves.

Despite his stoney face, internally Madara feels as giddy as a child on Christmas morning, he now has his hands on not only Tobirama's daughter but Hashirama's niece as well, and he has complete and total power over her, and he plans on using that to his full advantage.

Once he has her in his grasp, Madara will do everything in his power to strip her of all her human dignity, stripping her of her clothes, slapping her around, and treating her like less than dirt, tearing her apart with his harsh words and razor sharp tongue as he makes use of her.

"Shut your mouth you Senju whore. This is what you deserve for having such tainted blood running through your veins, so be quite before I rip your tongue out."

Madara is very rough with his newly acquired slave, holding her down roughly with his bigger body, using his full weight to force her thighs against her chest as he ruthlessly claims her virginity, almost animalistic with the intensity he employs as he breeds her.

He is a much bigger and stronger man than most, so Madara can easily hold her down or lift her up as he takes advantage of her. He'll twist and bend her body in uncomfortable positions to increase her pain and his own pleasure. Madara doesn't care about her comfort, he believes that she deserves every bit of suffering she gets for daring to be a Senju.

Madara doesn't just use her for sex, but for labor as well, making her do demeaning tasks such as cleaning the blood off his weapons and armor whenever he returns from another one of his "dances", he'll even gloat to her during this, telling her with relish about how the very blood she's cleaning off of him is the blood of her fellow clansmen.

Whenever Madara is done with her, he leaves her broken and bruised everytime, his seed leaking out of her holes and her body trembling in equal parts fear and pain. Madara enjoys her pain, knowing that he's not only hurting the girl herself, but her father as well by proxy.

"Does it hurt? Good. That's just a fraction of the suffering your damned father caused me when he killed my brother. Get used to it, bitch. This is your life now..."

Madara sees this as a twisted form of justice in a way. Tobirama took a family member from him, so Madara will simply make himself a new one, and he'll use that Senju bastard's own flesh and blood to do so, the thought of having a half Senju child both disgusting and exciting Madara.

[cypherscript]

Linchpin Part 2

"I am not familiar with this group. Batman? Superman," Wonder Woman asks the two with the most hidden knowledge of Man's world.

Hal Jordan just groans into his hands, "Not those buffoons. I used to hear jokes back when I was in the Air Force. They're almost as bad as the area 51 conspiracists. Always claiming our bases were haunted by high level ecto beings. Ghosts aren't even real!"

Batman is listening to something on his earpiece, "Ghosts are real, Lantern. One is a member of the JL Dark "

"When was anyone going to tell me?! Now I look stupid."

Red Robin mouths to batman, 'Now?'

Batman pointedly ignores that and continues, "That knowledge has always been available if you read the reports properly. Regardless, Oracle has provided me with some more information on this organization; a comparatively small G-List government group tasked with hunting down, capturing and experiment on beings of ectoplasmic origins or ghosts to civilians."

T̵̪͗h̵̬̊ē̴̤y̵̪̅ ̸͇͗h̵͙͂ẽ̸̘l̶̎͜d̸̗̃ ̵̼̆o̴̪͐ȕ̷̞r̸͚̚ ̷̗́c̸͚͐i̶̙̔ť̵̟y̷͔̚ ̷̧̒h̴͕͑o̵̼̊s̸̰̈t̷̙͝a̷̯̓ģ̶͊e̴̦͐,̴͔̋ ̸͉̒t̵̩͌ḩ̴̋r̵̜̐e̵̙͝a̷̡͋t̵̜͌e̷͉̕n̸̼̾ě̸̩d̴͎̕ ̸͖̏o̵̱͒ụ̴̑r̴͈̚ ̷̨͂p̴͓̎e̴͍͝o̸̼̍p̶͕̋l̴̛͔ȇ̵̟/

(They held our city hostage, threatened our people.)

Ť̵̹h̷̙̓e̴̯͗ ̵͎̑G̷̣̀r̷͜͠e̴̩̽ą̴̍ẗ̷̪́ ̵̜͌O̵͕̿n̸̲͒e̸̤͝ ̴͇̄t̴͈̋r̴̡̍i̶̩͊é̴͙d̷̞͋ ̶̬͌t̸̮̀ö̸̢́ ̸̯̎f̷͍̽r̸͚̿e̶̬̎e̶̯͠ ̶̡͛t̴͙͗h̴͖̓e̷̥͝i̸̞̎r̶̳͑ ̶̭͐c̷͔̀ì̵͎ẗ̶̙ỷ̴͚

(The Great One tried to free their city.)

B̵͔͆a̷͖̔b̵̧̑y̶͕͒p̴̪͝o̶̰͗p̵̪͛ ̴͒͜s̸̱̊a̴͇̐c̸͍͠r̴̩̃í̸͕ḟ̶̤ǐ̷̘c̴̛̱ȇ̷͙d̵̮͆ ̴͓́h̴̙̓i̵̲͌m̵̗̌s̶̥̓ë̶͜ḻ̴̑f̶̖͝ ̵̥̆j̸̫̆u̷̮̍s̷̖̀ṯ̷̀ ̵̨͑t̴͔͛o̵̦͘ ̴̗͊g̷̠̎e̷̱͗t̶̘́ ̵͔͠t̷͎͆h̸̬̀o̷̟͆s̷̤͝e̸̹̓ ̴̮̈́j̸̛̮ê̶͓r̸̤̈́k̷̮̄s̷͎̽ ̶̨̅o̵̖̊u̴̺͑t̶͍̃ ̶̭̂ö̵̮́f̶̖̕ ̸̺̌A̶̯̋m̸̯̿i̴̲͆ẗ̵̡́y̷͕̓.̸̛̭

(Babypop sacrificed himself just to get those jerks out of Amity.)

T̴̨̉h̸̻́e̶̲̊ỳ̸͕ ̵͚̊r̴̥̔ë̶͈́ṅ̸̫e̸͓͝g̷͔̎e̷̖̕d̴͚͌ ̵̹͒ó̶̤ṉ̵͒ ̷̹̚t̷͔͌h̵̿ͅè̷͜i̴̐͜r̷̪̄ ̵̩̒d̴̛̮ě̴̠a̴̞͛l̸̻̐ ̴̹̿t̴̙̓h̴̯́ó̴͍u̷̠̾g̷̟͝ẖ̵̏ ̸̭̚a̷̤͌n̵͖̎d̷̬̔ ̴̈́ͅA̵̜͗m̵̬̕ȋ̵̠ṯ̸̓y̷̟̓ ̵̺̄P̶̥̉ä̴̫́r̸̪̂k̵͈̑ ̵̥̈́î̸͇s̸͓͂ ̴̡͒n̷̩͛o̵̰͑ ̸̠̚m̵̨̀o̴̭̔r̶̥̔e̵̼̋.̷͙̆

(They regened on their deal though and Amity Park is no more.)

Red Robin takes this new information and inputs it into the Watchtower's computers and pulls up a satellite image of Amity Park, IL and just finds a blackened hole in the ground several miles wide.

Batman's suit groans as his fist clenches before turning away from the table, "Superman with me, Red Robin contact Cyborg. We're bringing this group to justice. No organization should have the ability to wipe an entire city off the face of the earth."

"Right behind you, Batman." Superman quickly takes off after him.

"What about the rest of us," Flash yells at him as he leaves.

"Everyone else should pool their resources together and try to come up with a way to slow down, stop or even reverse the Decay Field. Technology, magic, I don't care even ask your rogues if need be but this needs to be stopped."

______________________________________________

Base Gamma-5, IL

Superman and Batman stare down on an old seemingly unused military base. Superman's eyes shimmering as he looks over the area with his x-ray vision.

"So?"

"Skeleton crew of scientists, minimal guards but there is definitely activity underground."

"Any centralized location?"

"What, hoping for a big open room where all the bad guys can get together and start throwing hands?"

"..."

"Don't look at me like that, I blame Kon and Jon, I don't even know how that phrase became a common thing."

"Hn. I was asking for a central area to reduce any unnecessary structural damage our encounter is likely to cause."

Superman focuses as he resumes looking, freezing in place as a rictus of anger covered his face and he takes off. Explosions of steel and concrete echo through the forest as Superman flies through the base's defenses and high speed. Bruce gives a withering sigh as he fires off a grapple and follows behind Clark.

Shortly after Bruce finds Clark deep into the base, a large metal door ripped off its track and him threatening a scientist. "What is the meaning of this, who is this?!"

"What is this, you mean. It's ectoplasmic scum."

"You better pick your words carefully, that is a dead child in a TANK. I have VERY short patience for people like you."

Batman appears behind him, "I'd listen to him if I were you."

The scientist sneer at the sight of him, "Batman. I see you managed pull yourself out of that ecto-contaminated cesspool you call a city. You still reek of it."

Superman lifts him even higher and shakes him in one hand, "Don't look at him, looks at me and answer my question. WHO. IS. HE."

"P-Phantom. He was an ectoplasmic entity that breached the veil five years ago. He was the strongest power level in decades. The last time something like him was detected was in 1902 in North Carolina. Psychics all over three states surrounding it felt it appear."

"Who killed him?"

"Agent A, just over four years ago. He bagged him in a small town called Amity Park. There's records he had been there for over a year, check them."

"We can't, Amity Park has been a smoking crater for some time."

"What? Did the ghosts do it?"

"You did it, your organization did it," Superman shakes him hard to make his point.

"Superman."

Superman drops the scientist on his ass, "Fine, you deal with him. I'm likely to do something we'll both regret if he stays in my sight. I'm going to go get Phantom's body."

"Why is the Justice League even here?! You should be thanking us for purging this planet of that ectoscum!"

"That is a child."

"It's scum! It just looks like a child, there have been records putting its age at over 2 millennium in Rome where it burned-."

Batman sighs internally before giving a swift jab to one of the scientist's pressure points making him drop like a sack of potatoes. Clark mutters something as he removes the poor boy's body from the vat.

"I don't want to hear it, Kal."

"I didn't say anything, Batman."

"Hn," is all Batman says as he throws the scientist over his shoulder and plugs a USBat into a nearby server and has Oracle let off some of her rage st this organization.

______________________________________________

Flash is staring over batman's shoulder at the body on the gurney, "Is it just me or does he look familiar?"

The boys black and white hair now dry is fluffy over his face, scars litter his form in lightning strike patterns.

Batman gives him a look as he starts scanning the body.

"I mean not like I know the kid, just like I feel like I seen him around somewhere."

"I understand. I also have that feeling but it could simply be the radiation talking."

"Radiation" Flash screams before he zips across the room.

"Low levels, barely over a smoke detector's level."

"You think you're real funny don't you?"

He just raises and eyebrow, "do you have any information on our issue? Have your rogues anything to add?"

"Nah, even the ones from from the future don't know anything. Which is weird if you think about it; how can there be a future if the universe is eating itself?"

"Because time is most likely fluid right now, we're in the middle of the choices that make it set in stone and affect our future."

"Since when do you know about time travel?"

"I have some experience in it, unwanted experience but experience none the less."

"Right... so who is he?"

Batman pulls up a medical record on one of the doctors tablets that soon span into multitudes of windows, "Daniel Fenton. Son of Drs Fenton and Fenton. Saver of the critically endangered purple back gorrilas, Senior at Casper High, suspected meta but proved negative after a lab accident when he was 14. Godson and beneficiary of deceased billionaire Vladimir Masters. Lifetime ban on handling chemistry equipment..."

"Lab accidents? Lifetime ban in chemistry class? Sounds like my kind of kid."

There is a puff of thick sulfury smoke as a british voice speaks out, "Oi Batsy, I heard ya discovered the universe was ending, just came to see if- BLOODY FUCKING HELL. Why is there a dead kid on the table?!"

Batman counts to ten in his head and turns to Constantine, "What have we said about teleporting into the Watchtower?"

"Forget that! What have I said about keeping bloody dead kids out in the open?"

"You haven't."

"I shouldn't have had to, its implied!"

"Hn"

"Wait a second... this kid looks like... no couldn't be. That was ages ago."

"You too" Flash asks him as Constantine ponders on the boys face.

Constantine's face turns sharp, "what do you mean? You think you've met him as well?"

"Yeah but we just can't place it. Who does he look like to you?"

"Reminds me of a protector spirit I made a deal wit a couple decades or so ago. It was tasked to guard a rune for me. Indigenous populace referred to it as the Great One Who Breathes the Cold."

"Oh yeah? A spirit huh," Flash interjects, "What'd he ask for in return, Booberries?"

"An Astrolabe of all things, smartarse."

"He's not a spirit, we can see him so it's not like Boston and he has DNA. We were able to track his medical and public record. I've got what I need, I'm calling a meeting to collaborate ideas on how to fix this."

"Right, Bats, I'll just-"

"Mandatory meeting, Constantine."

"...Right."

__________________________________________

"What about those noxious pits one of your villains constantly uses?"

"We can't use the Lazarus Pits; they don't bring back the dead only the dying."

"Besides," Constantine interrupts, "Body doesn't have an ounce of soul tethered to it."

"What about time travel," Booster asks, "I can just pop back before these MIB wannabes kill the kid. Boom, Problem solved."

"We don't even know what changing that much will do."

"How about a localized time rewind," Raven asks, "If we just rewind him and not everything else."

"Nah, love. Decay field's already in play. The likelihood we rewind him and he doesn't know how to reverse it is to bloody high and we wasted the energy to only fail."

"Lantern, how much time do we have before the wave comes back?"

"The guardian's projected a time frame of two weeks before it returns to the earth."

"Not a lot of time but we've had shorter timeframes to save the universe."

"Hn" Batman turns to the Flash, "If need be we may need you to Flashpoint the event."

ALERT: Intruder in Medbay 1.

ALERT: Intruder in Medbay 1.

"I got it," Flash says before zipping off to the medbay, hoping to graze past the point of the Flashpoint.

"Isn't that the medbay with the body," Wonder Woman asks as Batman gets up to follow after the flash.

"Yes."

Everyone's comms went off with the Flash's voice, "You guys better get down here. I found our intruder but I can't touch him. He's just standing-"

"Flash," Superman puts a finger to his ear. "Flash do you copy?"

__________________________________________________________

Amity Park, IL 4 Years, 4 Months ago

"-Over the body of the kid... Wait where am I?" Flash frantically looking around at what was obviously not medical bay of the Watchtower and instead looks like a back alley of a moderate city frozen in time.

"Amity Park, Wallace," The old man says with a smile in his voice.

"That's not possible. Amity Park was obliterated off the face of the earth."

"Use your process of elimination, Wallace."

Thoughts zip through Wally's head as he comes to the obvious answer, "This is before the city was destroy. Do you know what you're doing?! Time travel causes nothing but problems, after the last flash point I swore I would never do it again!"

"I know more about time travel than you will know in multiple lifetimes. I am known as Clockwork here, I was once the master of time; it was my job to maintain the structure of the timelines even when you 'Flashpointed' a timeline to make sure the right outcome comes to be."

"Then why is the universe ending?!"

"I miscalculated the hatred some of my kind felt towards young Daniel. As such to betray our dimension to those that would sooner purge us. I cannot physically intervene in a past event but you can and for once I give you permission to fix the timeline and save your world. You have two weeks to save Danny Fenton."

"Wait, betrayed? I don't even know how they killed him how do I save him?!"

"You'll figure it out, you always do. By the way you may want to destroy your comm. Time in."

Flash's comm comes to life with his own voice, "I don't know who you think you are-." Flash rips his earpiece faster than could be seen and smashes it into the ground.

"Rightrightright... Right, two weeks to save some kid from bargain bin men in black... How hard can that be?" He spins in place, replacing his costume with his civilian cloths and stepping out of the alley to walk around the city.

___________________________________________________________

Thanks to @phantom-things and @a-lost-time-traveler for the Zalgo text translations. It didn't occur to me that people wouldn't be able to read it even at its lowest setting. I've learned and just parentheses'd the translations. I tried to make the two timeline but I just couldn't get the dead squared idea to flow properly so unfortunately I can only give this one. I'm gonna start working on the part three when I have time tomorrow. sorry if the quality's terrible.

[makeitmingi]

When Flowers Bloom In The Dark [Chapter 9]

Genre: Romance, Mafia!AU, Violence, Angst, Slow burn

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Florist!Reader, Mafioso!Hongjoong, Mafioso!Seonghwa, Mafioso!Yunho, Mafioso!Yeosang, Mafioso!San, Mafioso!Mingi, Mafioso!Wooyoung, Mafioso!Jongho

Summary: When you appeared and wept at his mother's funeral, Hongjoong found himself wanting to find out more about you. A regular girl, who owns a flower shop in his territory and has a relationship with the mother that he hasn't spoken to in years, why hasn't he ever noticed you before?

[Warning(s): 18+ for violence, use of weapons, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight gore, gang affiliation, tattoos and character deaths. Minors DNI. This is a work of fiction and does not represent the Ateez members in real life.]

Word count: 3.2K

Chapter warning(s): Mentions of corruption, bounty-assassination .

Yunho had a satisfied, albeit evil, smile on his face as he hung up, putting his phone back on the desk.

"What are you smiling about?" Jongho raised an eyebrow, noticing the taller from the corner of his eye. Yunho shook his head with a playful shrug before continuing his work.

"If you get in trouble, don't make me complicit." Jongho warned with a chuckle.

"I won't. Don't worry, dear maknae." Yunho giggled. Jongho sighed, Yunho was always mischievous and messing around but got away with it because of his charming smile. Seeing how he had pulled up Hongjoong's phone location, he didn't want to know what he did to manipulate the captain.

"I'm done with my tasks for the day. I need a breather." Jongho yawned and stood up, stretching his limbs.

"Go ahead." Yunho hummed as Jongho grabbed what he needed and exited their computer cave.

"San hyung, I finished vetting all the potential investors for the casino. Here are their profiles." Jongho handed San the stack of folders with all the background checks of the investors.

"Thanks, Jongho ah." San took the first file off the top and skimmed through the contents.

"I'll take 5 and give the rest of Wooyoung." San snickered.

"He'll chew your head off if he finds out." Jongho shook his head. San shrugged, he has worked with Wooyoung long enough to know how to handle his tantrums.

"Hongjoong said there was an issue with the gardener?" Seonghwa walked in, eyes trained on his phone.

"Yeah, he was sketchy, taking photos and stuff. We suspect he's a spy so we fired him but Yunho hyung said he can handle it so I left him to it." Jongho explained. Seonghwa nodded, it was just hiring a new gardener, not a big deal that he needed to get involved in.

"Where did you go dressed up so fancily, hyung?" San asked, turning his body slightly to face the second in command. Seonghwa looked up from his phone.

"Meeting with the chief police commissioner. I needed some updates on the ground sensing." He blinked.

"Is it true that the smaller gangs are joining forces?" Mingi and Yeosang came in, having just finished their workout downstairs.

"It's too early to say for sure but they have noted a decrease in gang disputes in certain areas. There could a peace treaty or truce somewhere." Seonghwa informed.

"We should find out. I'll get my men on the ground." Jongho said.

"Thanks." Seonghwa cracked a small smile, heading up to go to his office to continue working.

"The chief police commissioner's gonna have to retire soon. We should get our hooks into the new potential candidate before he's elected in." Yeosang said.

"Hongjoong hyung's already working on that. But the current chief's influence sways the vote so we still have to maintain good graces with him. If they decide to elect someone else, like one of those upstanding justice types, it'll be tougher to get a foot in." Mingi crossed his arms.

"I'm hungry. I want a sandwich." San stood up from the couch and headed to towards the kitchen.

"Me too!" Mingi raised his hand

"Make that 3! After my shower." Yeosang chimed in.

"4!" Jongho added with a snicker. San spun around to scowl at the 3 before marching towards the kitchen to get the staff to make them all sandwiches.

"Okay, time to shower." Yeosang groaned and went upstairs. Mingi nodded in agreement and went to take his shower too.

"I'm home~!" Wooyoung declared as he entered the mansion, doing a spin and flipping the end of his jacket.

"I got a new suit." He smirked and spun around to show his outfit. The glittery on his jacket was subtle and sparkled the moment he stepped into the light, it complimented his figure well.

"How many black suits do you have?" Yeosang asked as he chewed on his sandwich. The others nodded in agreement, making Wooyoung's face fall.

"This is special. New silk lining." Wooyoung lifted one his of his jacket to show them the silver silk lining. San reached out to try and touch it but seeing his dirty fingers, Wooyoung scoffed and slapped his hand away. San yelped like a reprimanded puppy.

"Dirty hands!" Wooyoung scolded, making San glare at him.

"Mr Song, there is a visitor for you. Shall I let him through the gate?" The butler came in. MIngi frowned in confusion and checked his phone.

"Oh yeah... Okay, let him in. Have him wait in the living room area. I'll go get changed." Mingi waved.

"What visitor is this?" Jongho asked.

"The jewellery and accessories for the gala are here so I need to check them through." Mingi finished his sandwich and wiped his mouth, standing up to leave.

"Someone help me call Joong hyung to let him know." Mingi yelled to one of the remaining boys before running upstairs.

"Let me know what?" As if on cue, Hongjoong walked in.

"Mingi says his jewel guy is here with the accessories for the gala. Wanted you to check it out with him." Yeosang informed. Hongjoong nodded and left the dining room.

"Sir." The male stood up and bowed when he saw Hongjoong, knowing he was the head of the group. Hongjoong gave a curt nod and sat down. The staff came with a tray of hot coffee for Hongjoong, already prepared the moment he entered. Mingi came down in proper clothing.

"Hey. You're here, hyung." Mingi smiled to Hongjoong and sat beside him, giving an acknowledgement nod.

"Following Mr Song's request for white gold accessories to match dark, royal purple. These are what I have procured for your family." He took out trays from the box.

"Very nice." Hongjoong scanned through the tray and nodded in approval.

"This is yours, Mr Kim." The jeweller took out a velvet box and opened it, showing the necklace that Hongjoong requested.

"Asscher cut diamond with white gold, as per requested." The male said proudly. Mingi whistled while Hongjoong lifted it up, looking at the diamond right in the middle, surround by smaller diamonds.

"Nice, very well done." Hongjoong smirked.

"Wooyoung will like his new earrings." Mingi said to Hongjoong, showing him the diamond earrings.

"He's like Seonghwa, both like princess cut diamonds." Hongjoong scoffed and checked the diamonds, using the loupe from the jeweller to check the diamonds. Mingi, who usually had the keener eye for jewellery, took over to look at it.

"Damn." The other boys all came, seeing all the sparkly pieces laid out on the coffee table. Hongjoong gave out each piece to the designated owner, as per his plan.

"Nice." Yeosang smiled happily as he wore the white gold cuff on his wrist, stacking with a tennis bracelet.

"What do you think?" Wooyoung held up the collar chain in front of his shirt, showing the two diamonds at the end.

"Mmm, looks good. It'll match well." San gave a thumbs up, admiring his best friend. Seonghwa held his hand out in front of him, admiring his new ring.

"I'm glad you like it, sirs." The jeweller stood up to bow to them. Mingi smirked with confidence.

"Told you I only get good stuff." He scoffed.

"Yeah, yeah." Yunho slapped Mingi's shoulder. Once everything was settled, the jeweller packed up and took his leave.

"So, Yunho said he updated you about the gardener issue? Turns out he was being suspicious, worried that he's a spy for someone." Seonghwa asked Hongjoong as they were about to head upstairs to their offices. Hongjoong nodded his head in confirmation while Yunho snickered secretly.

"I settled it already, don't worry about it." Hongjoong replied, checking his phone. He and Seonghwa didn't hear Yunho's snickers, too caught up in their own conversations.

"You didn't have to busy yourself with that. We can survive without a gardener for a bit." Seonghwa pointed out.

"It's fine. Easily settled." Hongjoong shrugged, smiling gratefully to his best friend.

"Okay. Do you need Jongho or Yunho to vet the person?" Seonghwa asked. Hongjoong shook his head, walking alongside Seonghwa to return to their offices.

"What are you laughing about?" Mingi blinked in confusion.

"Nothing~" Yunho sang, stacking his jewellery boxes and bringing it up to his room.

"Dude, sometimes you're so weird, it's scary." Mingi said to his best friend as they walked together. Yunho turned to his best friend with a raised eyebrow.

"Coming from you?" Yunho taunted with a scoff. Mingi shrugged and turned to return to his room. It was purely coincidental that Yunho called Hongjoong about the gardner while he was at your shop. He totally didn't hope that you would overhear their conversation.

Meanwhile, Hongjoong was working at his desk, going over the number from the businesses that Ateez oversaw as a group, making sure everything was in order and there were no discrepencies.

Before he left, he had slipped his business card onto your work table, just in case you needed his number.

"Real smooth, Hongjoong." He scoffed at his actions. Would you even see the card?

*KNOCK KNOCK*

"Come in." Hongjoong looked up from his computer to see Jongho at his door. Jongho came in with a small, displeased frown on his face. He didn't say anything, merely sliding Hongjoong a piece of paper.

"What's wrong?" Hongjoong was confused but took the paper, unfolding it and reading the contents.

"What? Is this real?" He looked at the youngest in disbelief.

"Yeah, I was getting my informants on the ground to check for the change in gang related activities when this information came in. It's reliable, San hyung confirmed it on the network." Jongho explained, nodding over to the paper. Hongjoong let out a curse, standing up, he went over to Seonghwa's office.

"Thanks, Jong." Hongjoong said as he entered Seonghwa's office. Seonghwa knew it would be the leader, he was the only one that would enter without knocking.

"What's wrong, Joong?" Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. With the same piece of paper, he slid it to Seonghwa.

"You're kidding..." Seonghwa frowned as he read the paper's contents.

"No, I'm not. Jongho came to me after his informants got that, confirmed it with San too. He saw it on the network." Hongjoong crossed his arms.

"Sh*t. I was just there." Seonghwa cursed.

"We can't ask San to take the job, it's too obvious. It'll raise suspicion and be worse for us." Hongjoong said.

"Let's call the others." Seonghwa sighed, taking his phone and sending a text to the other Ateez members. Luckily everyone was home and they quickly gathered in Seonghwa's office.

"So, to let everyone know, Jongho's informants got new information. And San confirmed it on the network. There's a bounty on the current police commissioner's head." Hongjoong informed. The others all nodded, not saying anything yet.

"The bounty's payer is anonymous, according to the network. And you know the network will never give out the info." San said, leaning against the wall.

The network, a place where information and bounties were exchanged amongst all the underground organisations.

"Seonghwa hyung, you were just there. Anything?" Mingi asked. Seonghwa shook his head.

"I doubt he knows, he was too relaxed if he knew. This bounty is fresh, Jongho just gave Hongjoong to information." Seonghwa replied. Jongho nodded in confirmation.

"Can we ask him to hide then? Come back when the new commissioner needs to be elected." Yeosang raised his hand.

"No. We can't ask San to take the bounty too, it's too obvious of our involvement. It'll not end well." Hongjoong said.

"What can we do then? We need his vote for the new commissioner election. If that anti-corruption guy gets elected, it'll be harder for our businesses." Yunho sighed.

"For now, we need more info, get all your informants out on the ground. Any update, alert us immediately. I want to know where this bounty came from. Wooyoung, we'll need you to stake out the poker games. Any piece of information is useful. We'll contact our guys in the police to keep an eye out." Hongjoong decided.

"Yes, captain." All 7 replied.

"I'll go call my guy to get me a buy in for the next poker game." Wooyoung said, excusing himself to make the call.

Wooyoung was one of those that went to high stake poker games for high profile people. All kinds of people were there and all kinds of information was exchanged there.

"San, keep an ear out in the network. That's the best way to keep track of the bounty status." Seonghwa added.

"Yes, hyung." San saluted and walked out.

"We cannot alert the commissioner yet. But Jongho and Yunho, I want surveillance." Hongjoong looked at the two. They nodded and left the room.

"Would it be ironic if the anti corruption, "clean up the city" dude was the one that initiated the bounty?" Yeosang chuckled.

"I wouldn't put it past him, the whole thing with no more corruption and no more gangs is all a front. If he was the one that posted that bounty, I want proof that he did and we'll use that to sink him." Hongjoong said.

"Should I let Hyunmin know about this?" Hongjoong asked the remaining men in the room. Hyunmin was the candidate that was most likely going to be the current commissioner's successor.

"He's a blabbermouth, can we trust that he won't tell the current commissioner?" Mingi asked.

"I can't believe I'm saying this but Mingi's right." Seonghwa said with a small smile on his face. Mingi rolled his eyes at that comment.

"I'll keep it on the DL for now then. I have a lunch with him in two days. I really hope this issue gets sorted quickly." Hongjoong sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"Thanks." He waved and left Seonghwa's office with Mingi and Yeosang in tow.

"San? I don't want to alert the network that we are investigating who posted the bounty, okay?" Hongjoong said to the male who had emerged from his room, dressed in gym clothes.

"I know. Don't worry, hyung. I'll be careful. I won't ask them anything directly or raise any warning flags." San smiled, knowing exactly what Hongjoong expected of him. Patting the captain on the shoulder, San walked towards the exit of the mansion to go to his fight club to work out and work.

"Captain, I got something extra for you." Mingi entered Hongjoong's office. The shorter male turned around, blinking at the taller.

"This is for you. From us." Mingi grinned, taking a velvet box out of his inner suit pocket and handing it to Hongjoong. Hongjoong took with confusion on his face.

"Oh, wow." He was speechless. There was a ring with his captain crest, studded in diamonds, on it.

"For the head of the family, the captain." Mingi explained.

"This is amazing. Thank you, Mingi ah." Hongjoong smiled softly, wearing the slightly heavy ring on his finger immediately.

"No problem, hyung. We're all here thanks to you." Mingi grinned and waved before leaving the office. Hongjoong sat at his desk, looking at how the diamonds sparkled under the sunlight.

This was his mark, a sign of Ateez's power and his own power. Hongjoong had a tattoo of this crest on the back of his left shoulder and always had a captain's band on his arm, clipped onto the sleeve of his jacket, but this ring meant something so much more.

"We're all here thanks to you."

Hongjoong and Seonghwa formed Ateez from nothing. It took the effort from all the boys, their determination and strengths coming together to get to where they are today.

Although everyone says Hongjoong is the prince of darkness, his past was the reason for that. He wasn't always like this.

"I see you got your present." Seonghwa's voice interrupted his train of thought.

"Yeah... I love it. Thanks, Hwa. I know it must have been your idea." Hongjoong gratefully smiled at his best friend. Seonghwa shrugged it off but mirrored a similar smile.

"I forgot to give these to you earlier when you were in my office. You need to sign off on these." Seonghwa put the stack of files down.

"Ugh. Can't you do them?" Hongjoong whined.

"That was our deal remember? I handle illegal signings and you handle legal signings. You need to check the property acquisition contracts." Seonghwa raised his eyebrow. Hongjoong nodded with a sigh and Seonghwa took his leave. Taking the first file off the stack, Hongjoong looked at the contents.

"Hyung, I got my buy in." Wooyoung came into Hongjoong's office. Hongjoong looked up at Wooyoung and nodded.

"Do you need to brush up on your poker skills?" Hongjoong raised an eyebrow with a chuckle.

"No! I run casinos, that's an insult." Wooyoung scoffed. He plopped himself down on the chair opposite Hongjoong and took one of the files off the pile, flipping through it.

"We're really buying that vineyard Jongho wanted?" He laughed.

"Birthday present for him. It's the only thing he wants." Hongjoong sighed. He felt like a dad buying his kids expensive presents.

"So if I want horses and stables on the property, I can ask for them for my birthday?" Wooyoung asked with bright eyes. Hongjoong shot him a flat look.

"A vineyard is a good investment. I'm not sure how horses are a good investment for us." Hongjoong said.

"Boo, you're no fun, dad." Wooyoung stuck his tongue out at the captain. But seeing how Hongjoong was alone with so much paperwork, he stuck around to keep him company, chatting with him and weighing in on certain issues.

"Want one?" Wooyoung held up the crystal glass, helping himself to Hongjoong's bar cart. Hongjoong nodded and Wooyoung poured whiskey into two glasses.

"Thanks." Hongjoong took a sip, leaning back in his chair tiredly.

"These words and papers are making my head hurt." Wooyoung groaned and Hongjoong grunted in agreement.

"I should tell Hwa to give out some of these to the rest of you to do some too. Then both of us won't be stuck with moutains of files." Hongjoong said.

"No way, please. I'm already up to here with all the account books for the casinos." Wooyoung held his hand above his head.

"Remind me what's the charity we're donating to this quarter?" Hongjoong asked.

"Children's heart foundation." Wooyoung replied, sipping the remainder of the whiskey in his glass. Hongjoong hummed and signed off on the cheque that they will be cashing, putting it in an envelope. He looked at the huge pile that was still there, it never seems to get smaller.

"Ah! Hyung, let's take a break! We've been here for so long and the sun is setting already!" Wooyoung suddenly exclaimed, making Hongjoong jump.

"Your idea of a break means leaving the work entirely." Hongjoong pointed out.

"Exactly! Let's go." Wooyoung tugged Hongjoong out of his chair.

"Where are we going?" Hongjoong asked as Wooyoung pushed him out into the hallway, turning off the lights in his office and closing the door so Hongjoong wouldn't re-enter.

"Anywhere but here." Wooyoung laughed. He sent a text to everyone that they'll go out for dinner tonight.

"If Seonghwa gets mad that I didn't finish the work, I'm blaming you." Hongjoong threatened but of course, Wooyoung didn't care.

"I already texted the others. Go get changed, we're going for dinner and drinks." Wooyoung left Hongjoong in the hallway and ran to his own room to change.

"Yah! Jung Wooyoung!" Hongjoong yelled.

~

Series masterlist

[saywhat-politics]

CNN:

The FBI is preparing to disband a team of specialists charged with combatting foreign threats to US elections, a source familiar tells CNN. The shuttering of the FBI Foreign Influence Task Force and planned reassigning of team members follows a directive from incoming US Attorney General Pam Bondi dissolving the team. “To free resources to address more pressing priorities, and end risks of further weaponization and abuses of prosecutorial discretion, the Foreign Influence Task Force shall be disbanded,” Bondi wrote in a memo issued Wednesday. The special task force was established by former FBI Director Christopher Wray in 2017 following a wave of foreign influence operations targeting the US electoral process, including Russia’s efforts to influence the 2016 presidential election that Trump won….

[downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le]

Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader) - Chapter 1

Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader)Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 3631 Warnings: death, violence, fighting, bloody wounds, angst, infuriatingly oblivious love interest, slowburn Spoilers: Young Justice Seasons 1-3 plot partially, but it ended in 2022 so catch up.

Y/N Prince - miracle daughter of Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor - and Dick Grayson - first adoptive son of the Batman himself - have been best friends since day one. They went to school together, trained together, kept each other's alter ego secret from everyone else, and they founded the Young Justice alongside their friends together. 

But as time progressed, Y/N and Dick grew up and Y/N found herself wanting more than friendship with Dick. But he never seemed to indicate that he reciprocated her feelings. And when Wally died and Dick abandoned the team, Y/N realised he never would. So she heads to the one place she knows will help her become a stronger warrior so that one day she can take her mother's place: Themyscira.

Two years after his leave, Dick reaches out to his old friends to help him with a mission. But when he finds out Y/N left too, he chases after her in the hopes to bring her back.

However, when the two finally reunite, it isn't as warm as he hopes. Not to mention Themyscira becomes under siege as they go to war against Echidna, the Mother of Monsters in Greek Mythology, and her army of monstrous children.

Will Dick and Y/N be able to put their past behind them and save the Amazonians' homeland? Or will they fall, unable to tell one another their true feelings?

~~~

(21 years old)

'All right, team,' Y/N Prince addressed her small group of young heroes. 'Good work today. Now go hit the showers and enjoy a nice quiet night in. You've earned it.'

'So crash!' Bart cried with an energetic jump. If anyone were to guess how the team's week had been solely based on Bart's energy, they would've said it had been cruisy. Not that Y/N had led a covert task force over the past week into Bialya to take down meta-human trafficking outposts.

Y/N watched with pride as Bart and Jaime bantered on their way out, followed by Stephanie and Cassie chatting excitedly about something, all the while Tim and Cassie held hands quietly. It had surprised the team a little how, out of the blue, the two of them were dating. But if Wally's death had taught them all anything, it was that time was too precious to waste in their line of work. They'd been together ever since.

Two years, Y/N mentally noted, and suddenly the adrenaline she'd been running on for the past week died as the last of the team exited the entrance chamber of the Watchtower. Exhaustion weighed down on her spent body, but an extra weight now sat in heart. Has it really been that long already?

So much had changed in that time. Like how the Young Justice began working out of the Watchtower alongside the Justice League, having both the Hall of Justice and Mount Justice destroyed by the Reach and the Light respectively. M'gann and Connor were back together, having finally gotten over their differences and accepted their mistakes. Also, Kaldur had been offered a position in the Justice League following the retirement of his king, and so Kaldur took his place as the new Aquaman in the Justice League. M'gann was promoted to new team leader, with Connor and Y/N assisting her as senior members of the team.

Some things had remained the same, however. Like the team's energy and slight dysfunction that always made Y/N feel at home. They weren't perfect, but what family ever is?

Dick was still gone. So was Artemis. She'd, understandably, retired as Green Arrow's protégé immediately after Wally's death, assuming her undercover identity Tigress instead and going off on her own. Neither had stayed in touch with anyone on the team.

You're my best friend. Always have been, always will be...

'Yeah right,' Y/N mumbled bitterly as she made her way to the conference room. No doubt that'd be where M'gann and Connor were waiting for her to debrief the mission.

Upon entering the room with the long table, she was immediately embraced by M'gann. 'Welcome back,' she said, squeezing Y/N tighter. 'We're so glad you're okay.'

Y/N smiled softly as she embraced M'gann in return. 'You ever doubted me?'

'No,' Connor answered, 'but you can never be too cautious right?'

Y/N let go of M'gann to hug Connor as well. Since getting back together, Connor wasn't as emotionally suppressed as he'd initially been. It was nice seeing him this way, more happy and free. The same effect had happened to M'gann, who (only around the team and the Justice League) revealed her white martian self proudly instead of pretending to be something she wasn't.

'You're right,' Y/N said as she released him, then the three of them took a seat to discuss the mission.

The debrief didn't take long, there wasn't much to report on as all out-posts had been hit successfully, putting Queen Bee's meta-human trafficking at least a little behind.

'It's not much, but it's the best we could do with the little information we got,' Y/N admitted. 'I dislike Queen Bee and her minions as much as the next person, but I've got to give it to her, she knows how to keep things under wraps.'

M'gann reached across from where she sat and closed her hand over Y/N's. 'Y/N, the mission was a success,' M'gann insisted. 'And what's most important is that you brought everyone home. Alive.'

Y/N heard the underlying fear in her words, the memory she was thinking of as she spoke them. Y/N twisted her hand over to clasp M'gann's in return. 'I know,' she said softly. 'But I just... we haven't so much as put a dent into the underbelly of meta-human trafficking in the two years it's been running. Somedays... Somedays I just feel so useless.'

'I know, Y/N,' Connor reassured. 'But we've just got to trust that our hard work will pay off eventually. I know it doesn't seem like much now, but every mission counts. Don't be so hard on yourself.'

Y/N withdrew her hand at the comment, hastily standing up. 'Don't be hard on myself? My mother is Wonder Woman, is the Champion of Themyscira, a World War II hero, and had already saved the world once by my age now. My father was a fighter pilot in the Iran-Iraq war and died fighting for his country,' she said angrily. 'And what am I doing? Hiding under the protection of darkness, taking out small outposts that will just be rebuilt elsewhere just as quickly? How can I not be hard on myself?'

At M'gann's taken aback expression, Y/N felt slightly guilty for raising her voice. But they just didn't understand. All her life, she'd been training and fighting for her supposed "destiny". Surely this wasn't it.

'I'm sorry,' Y/N said, forcing herself to calm down. 'I just...'

'You don't have to a apologise,' M'gann interrupted, standing and walking over to Y/N to clasp their hands together. 'After all we've done together, I understand that what we do now doesn't seem like enough. But I can tell you were made for more.'

Y/N offered her a grateful smile and M'gann let their hands drop. 'I should go. Mother and I have patrol in Washington DC tonight.'

'Already?' M'gann asked, face dropping with disappointment. 'But you just got back. Surely she knows that.'

'Unfortunately, even in the country's capital, crime never sleeps. I'm just grateful it's nothing like Gotham,' Y/N said.

'I agree,' Connor said. 'Visited there once with-' He paused for a moment, eyes growing wary as he looked between Y/N and M'gann. But Y/N already knew what he was going to say and gave him a slight nod to continue anyway. 'With Dick. We did patrol once there together. To put it simply, they're all nutcases there.'

Y/N managed an amused half-smile. 'You're not wrong there,' she said, then made her way to the door. Before she reached the doorknob, M'gann called out.

'Maybe when you're free next, you can join us for dinner at home,' she offered, her eyes hopeful as she waited Y/N's answer.

'Yeah,' she eventually answered though it wasn't as enthusiastic as she should've been. 'Yeah, that'd be nice. I'll talk to you guys soon. Don't stay up here too late.'

It had to be close to 7pm in Washington DC at least, so there weren't many people still left in the Watchtower. Just those from the League and her team that were rostered for overnight supervision. Y/N made sure to greet each person she walked by on the way to the Zeta-tubes. But just as she was about to dial in her code to leave, a resounding voice made her pause.

'Wonderess,' Kaldur called. 'Not even a hello before you head off for another mission?'

Y/N smirked as she turned back around to face the new hero of Atlantis. 'I'm sorry, Aquaman,' she said in an exaggerated tone. 'Not all of us can sit around having team parties with our Justice League buddies.'

To anyone else, it would've been taken as an insult. But Kaldur saw her humour and smiled. 'Oh is that what this is about? You know the League do more than just chit chat.'

Y/N shook her head. 'I don't know. The mess you guys left behind in the conference room before I left tells another story.'

As Kaldur approached Y/N, the sarcastic banter dropped as they both embraced each other. Kaldur had grown into a fit, muscular man, and now stood a good head taller than Y/N. His uniform was more or less the same as it had always been, except now both his arms were covered from shoulder-to-finger in gold armour. He certainly was no longer just a young lad, but the man his predecessor saw he could become.

'It is good to see you, Y/N,' Kaldur said softly as he pulled away.

'And you, old friend,' Y/N replied, a genuine smile splitting her lips.

'I heard you went into Bialyan territory,' Kaldur continued. 'I am glad to see you and the rest of the team are unharmed.'

'Well, the team are no longer just children' Y/N said, 'but it was a simple enough mission too. Nothing too dangerous.'

Kaldur's brows furrowed together as he looked over Y/N. 'I sense you are not happy with something. Wasn't the mission successful as I have heard?'

Y/N let out a soft sigh. 'It's not that I'm not happy with the mission's success. Of course I'm happy we all got home okay. I just...' She didn't really feel like explaining herself again, but Kaldur nodded in understanding.

'You feel stuck,' he finished, to which Y/N nodded in confirmation. Kaldur turned so he could look to the giant windows of the Watchtower's entrance chamber. They framed Earth in a way that made it seem both ginormous and insignificant at the same time. 'The League is in a similar position, I am afraid to admit. Some days there is progress. Other days, it feels like I wait so much I am afraid I will freeze in one spot.'

'How do you combat that?' Y/N asked.

Kaldur turned back to Y/N, his face softened with a small smile. 'I train.'

'That's it?' Y/N asked, not quite believing her friend.

He shrugged his shoulders. 'Amongst other things, yes. I train, I go home, I see my family, I laugh with my friends. I do all these things to remind myself why I am here. Why I do what I do. It sounds to me like you need to remind yourself why you are here.'

'Because of the team,' she said without hesitation. He hadn't asked a question, but she felt she needed to justify herself. 'Because I can't just desert them, not when they're working so hard.'

'And yet you feel you are not doing enough,' Kaldur countered, his teal eyes gazing hard at her. 'Why?'

Y/N opened her mouth to answer but no answer came.

'Y/N,' Kaldur continued. 'Why do you feel the need to stay when you don't want to be there?'

'I do want to stay-'

'Don't lie to me, Y/N,' Kaldur interrupted.

Y/N swallowed thickly as she looked from Kaldur, to the conference room door where M'gann and Connor still were, and back to Kaldur. Seeing no escape from his fierce questioning, she caved.

'It's not that I don't want to stay,' she admitted quietly. 'I love the kids, I love the team. I'm just... so tired, Kaldur. Of doing the same thing week in and week out and getting nowhere. But if I leave, I don't want the team to think I'm abandoning them. Not like-'

Y/N bit her lip at the thought of him. No, she wouldn't leave. She just wouldn't.

Kaldur pressed his lips into a firm line. 'Dick needed to reforge his own path. He was grieving in his own way.'

'Well I was grieving, too,' Y/N countered, a sudden surge of anger flaring up inside her. How dare Kaldur defend Dick. 'And I had to get on with my life because the team needed me. We needed him, Kaldur. I needed him, and he just left.'

Y/N bowed her head to collect her thoughts and calm down. That's two friends she had yelled at for no reason. Before she could apologise though, Kaldur placed a hand on her shoulder, and she raised her head to find him looking directly into her eyes.

'I cannot say I am not also disappointed in our friend,' Kaldur admitted sadly. 'I did not expect him to become so closed off for so long. But you've helped rebuild this team from the grief and pain it experienced when Wally died. I think you've earned the right to decide where you go from here, Y/N, without feeling guilty or selfish if your wish is not to stay with the team. In my opinion, you were made for more than this.'

'That's funny,' Y/N said in a flat voice. 'You're the second person today to tell me that.'

'Maybe because it is true,' Kaldur said sincerely. 'You know you still have a place in the Justice League whenever you'd like to join us. I would be honoured and happy to fight alongside a warrior such as yourself again. It would be like old times.'

Y/N offered a grateful smile as she patted Kaldur's hand that still rested on her shoulder. 'Thanks Kaldur, but I'm not ready for that just yet. Besides, you don't need two Amazonians running the show. And let's be real, we would so be in charge of you boys.'

The two shared quiet laughter as Kaldur's hand retuned to his side. 'Very well, then. So what will your decision be, Wonderess?'

Y/N looked to the Earth and space beyond it once more. Her heart and head were tearing her in two. She truly loved being a part of the team, but something inside her agreed with M'gann and Kaldur. Surely she was meant for more. But what exactly that was, she had to go find out.

'I think you're right, Kaldur,' she finally said, turning back to face her friend. 'I think I need to remind myself why I am here in the first place. And that comes from knowing who I am to begin with.'

Kaldur's face pinched in slight confusion. 'I'm sorry, but I do not follow.'

Y/N didn't answer straight away. Instead, she turned to dial in her code to exit the Watchtower. 'B-00: Wonderess,' the computer announced as the Zeta-tube activated.

She then finally turned back to Kaldur. 'I need to know where I've been to then know where I will go,' she said. 'I need to go back to where it all started.'

'And where's that?' Kaldur asked.

'With my mother,' she answered, then spared him one last sweet smile. 'Tell M'gann and Connor and the team I'm sorry.'

Kaldur looked as if he wanted to say something, ask more questions. But Kaldur was always more insightful than the rest of their group. He didn't always need an explanation. He just somehow knew, and so Y/N was grateful when he accepted her words with a simple nod of his head.

'Be safe, dear friend,' he said in farewell. 'May destiny be kind to you, wherever it leads you.'

Y/N nodded her appreciation and entered the Zeta-tube. It was always a weird sensation travelling by Zeta-tube, like a million light pricks into every part of the body. Thankfully the trip was quick to the Zeta tube depot in Washington DC, with Y/N walking out of an abandoned janitor's closest in the post office down the road from her apartment.

She smiled and waved down to civilians as she flew over the busy streets, but she flew as fast as she could to the meeting point.

Her mother casually sat atop the Washington Monument as Y/N approached, floating just in front of her. 'I was starting to worry you had gotten caught in Bialya,' Diana joked as she stood to greet her daughter. 'Welcome home, my daughter.'

'Good to see you, Mother,' Y/N said, and the two briefly embraced.

'Now that you're here,' Diana said, prepping to take off for the usual patrol, 'why don't we get going.'

'Actually, Mother, there is something I wanted to talk to you about first,' Y/N interrupted.

Diana raised an eyebrow. 'Really? And what would that be?'

Y/N took a deep breath in before she spoke the words. But when she did, she had never been more sure. 'I want you to take me back to your home. To Themyscira.'

~~~

Since she was a little girl, Y/N had heard hundreds of stories from her mother about the homeland of the Amazons. How beautiful it was with its architecture, its nature, and the women who ruled the island. She'd always dreamed of someday going there, but her mother said it was impossible to find it.

Except she failed to mention that despite leaving the island and forgetting where it was located, Diana had been gifted a compass that would always lead her back home, but only if she used it. It would not work without Amazonian hands.

So after all the storytelling and all the dreaming, nothing came close to actually witnessing Themyscira in the flesh.

Y/N stood speechless on the beach, looking up at the steps that led up to the first level of the city that seemed to climb higher and higher towards the sky. It was something out of the Ancient Greek text books Diana used to make Y/N read as a child, but even more fantastical and wondrous.

It wasn't just the visuals, though. Since the Invisible Jet broke through the barrier that hid Themyscira, Y/N had felt a pull of sorts towards the island. Now that she stood on its soil, she felt a warm energy wash over her, strengthen her, pull her into its embrace as if to say, Welcome home at last.

An entourage of women in red leather slitted skirts, plated tops, and armour while holding spears followed behind a woman dressed in white and purple robes. Ebony hair billowed out behind her golden leaf crown, the grey strands in between looking more silver as they caught the midday sun.

Y/N knew immediately who she was. Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons. Her grandmother.

As Hippolyta approached Y/N and Diana, she opened her arms to take her daughter's face into her hands. 'Diana,' she said, bringing her lips to her daughter's forehead in a simple kiss. 'Welcome home.'

'Thank you, Mother,' Diana said, and Y/N could tell by her mother's smile that she was joyous to be home. 'I'm sorry it took me so long.'

'Do not worry about that, child,' Hippolyta reassured. 'You are here now.'

She then looked over to Y/N, and for some reason Y/N straightened up, flattened out her Wonderess uniform, made sure her hair was tucked behind her headband. Y/N was briefly taken back to the time she (consciously) remembered meeting her grandparents on her father's side. All dressed up so as to make a good impression.

Y/N held her breath as Hippolyta walked slowly over to her, grey eyes scanning every inch of Y/N's figure in silence. When she'd done a cursory glance, she then stepped closer and took Y/N's face into her hands. Y/N was unable to look away from Hippolyta as the older woman caressed and poked and prodded at her features.

At last, Hippolyta stopped and her hands dropped to Y/N's shoulders. A kind, joyous smile graced the older woman's features. 'You have my daughter's eyes,' she said quietly, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. 'So kind and forthright. What is your name child?'

'Y/N Prince,' Y/N managed to get out once she caught her breath. 'Daughter of Steve Trevor...' Her gaze flickered to her mother, and the two shared a smile. '...and Diana Prince, Princess of Themyscira.'

Y/N looked back to see Hippolyta tearing up as realisation finally hit her. 'I have a granddaughter,' she said as she finally embraced Y/N completely, to which Y/N reciprocated and the entourage of Amazonians cheered and smashed their shields with their spears in celebration.

Hippolyta let go of Y/N to clasp one of her hands as she went to grab her daughter's hand. She then turned the three of them to face the crowd. 'My daughter and your champion, and my granddaughter have come home!'

More cheers erupted.

'Let us prepare a feast in their honour,' Hippolyta continued, and when the crowd began to disperse, she turned to Diana and Y/N to speak more quietly. 'I am sure you have both come here for a reason, and not just to say hello.'

'You are correct, Mother,' Diana said. 'It seems as though I have neglected our origins as Amazonians for too long and can no longer teach Y/N our ways.'

'I wish to learn who I am,' Y/N added. 'I wish to know where I come from, so that I may know where I must go next.'

'And how long do you believe that will take?' Hippolyta asked.

'As long as it takes,' Y/N answered, more certain than ever before. 'I don't care what I must do, Your Majesty. I will follow your guidance, as my mother once did.'

Hippolyta considered Y/N for a moment, then spared Diana an impressed smirk. 'Well, you taught her one thing, Diana.'

'What's that mother?' Diana asked.

'Your steadfast stubbornness.' Hippolyta looked back to Y/N. 'Very well, granddaughter. You will train among the other warriors. I just hope you know it won't be as easy as you might think.'

'Trust me,' Y/N replied, 'I'm hoping it isn't.'

Hippolyta's smile widened and her eyes sparkled with excitement. 'That attitude is already a good start. Come, we will talk of this later. First, let us celebrate this homecoming.'

That night Y/N ate and drank and danced among women like her, some older, some younger, some taller, some stronger. And she had never felt more at home, more recognised and celebrated. She'd had her doubts if she had made the right decision, but now she had no doubt.

She was where she belonged.

[oatmealwrites]

Catch Kira, NOT Feelings! Ch.1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

L x Fem!Reader

Part 2

Ch.1 is finallllly done LMAO. This is probably gonna be a medium-long fic but I haven't quite decided yet so buckle up. Eventually some NSFW in later chapter but relative slow burn at the start.

word count: 5.1k

Synopsis:

As a graduate criminology student, you're more than ecstatic to jump at your mentor's offer to join the task force chasing down Kira. Mr. Yagami has prepared you for a successful career in the law and justice system, but with the public disappointment in the police's inability to catch Kira, finding a well paying job will be difficult. But a recommendation letter from L would open doors you can't even imagine. It's simple, you just have to catch Kira... NOT feelings.

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Post time skip 1 - Aka Light in university now & helping the investigation. Just after ukita death)

November 4 -

You shift your weight from leg to leg inside the elevator, rehearsing your introduction and replaying the instructions from Mr. Yagami over and over again. The red LEDs indicate a higher and higher floor of the hotel and each second feels like an eternity passing.

“You’ll be fine Y/N. I’ve already worked it out with the task force, there’s no unnecessary expectation of you.”

You turn to Mr. Yagami and let out a slow exhale, feeling the pressure leave your lungs but the weight remaining on your shoulders.

“I know, it’s just big shoes to fill. Only the best are working with L to catch Kira.”

“Well Matsuda joined right away,” he replies, a small smirk on his lips, “If that makes you feel any better.”

You look down at your shoes and let out a light laugh, you’ve worked with Matsuda before. Interning under the Chief before he left the police force created lots of opportunities to work with lots of different officers. Matsuda was always one of your favorites.

“Ha, it kinda does. But he’s loyal and committed to the case-,”

“You are too. Don’t sell yourself short. I went through the interview with you regarding the risks in finding Kira and have seen your analysis take down a variety of other criminals. You have great potential to be an officer.”

Mr. Yagami gives you a paternal smile and his eyes hold nothing but honesty, “I’m glad to have you on this task force. I mean it.”

“Thank you,” a grateful tone leaves your lips and you can’t help but feel better at his compliments. It was a reassurance you needed to hear.

The elevator dings softly and the metal doors slide open with Mr. Yagami extending his arm over the sensor to allow your exit before his. As you step onto the plush carpet of the expensive hotel floor, a feeling of guilt washes over you. Mr. Yagami leads the way down the hall and you follow in silence, still comparing yourself to the other members of the task force.

While yes you were determined to catch Kira, the reasoning behind it wasn’t all about morality. To be honest you almost agreed with Kira at first - a new world where people who did wrong actually got punished compared to the slow and tedious bureaucratic pace of justice was appealing. Though after the killings of petty criminals and FBI agents, the resonance of Kira’s message faded to one of selfishness.

Though maybe I’m not much better. Truth be told, catching Kira was a priority for you ethically, but so were the very extensive benefits it offered. Being a graduate student in criminology and psychology there were very few jobs you could pursue upon graduation. That, combined with the over public disappointment in the very justice system you were about to work in, made finding a secure and well paying job almost impossible. But, if you could catch Kira and get a recommendation from someone like L on your CV? The possibilities would be endless.

The heel of your shoes has a muffled ‘click’ on the carpet as you walk behind Mr. Yagami and eventually reach a door near the end of the halfway. Almost no other room doors were present on this entire half of the hall, indicating this room was extremely large and extremely expensive to rent out.

Yagami gives you a small smile of encouragement and knocks a specific pattern before scanning a plastic room card and turning the knob. There’s a glow from the overhead ceiling lights that pour out of the room and into the hallway along with several hushed voices chatting just out of sight.

“I think we should review the – “

“Sshh.. I think Chief is back.”

You follow Mr. Yagami past the room entrance and enter what seems to be a penthouse hotel suite living room scattered with papers and boxes alike. A group of men stand around the coffee table and pause when you and Mr. Yagami walk further into the room.

Matsuda catches your eye and instantly smiles, “Woa, Y/N! I didn’t realize you were going to join us!-”

His expression is cut short when another man smacks him lightly on the back of the head, “Idiot! Wasn’t the first thing that L said to do was not reveal any names?”

Your eyes widen. These guys are serious.

Matsuda looks up at the man in worry and then at you apologetically, “Ah I’m sorry,” he scratches the back of his head sheepishly, “I didn’t mean to put you at risk there.”

You smile lightly and Mr. Yagami walks further into the room to pick up a few papers and scan them over, interested in what the group was working on before you two had arrived. “It’s fine Aizawa, L already cleared us all of being Kira. The only issue would be if Y/N was.”

The statement holds no threat of you actually being Kira but it’s enough to make you feel uneasy and the other members shift awkwardly. Has one of them already been suspected of being Kira? No way… not a member of the police surely?

You snap out of your thoughts and give a light bow to the group, “Hi everyone. My name is Y/N and I’m excited to join you all in the investigation to catch Kira. Let’s work well together.”

The group softens and smiles at your introduction and one by one introduces themself briefly. You already knew Matsuda, the man who scolded him was named Aizawa, and the tall man who was quietly skimming papers was named Mogi.

“This is a small group. You weren’t kidding Mr. Yagami when you said only the most committed are involved.” The statement has a light-hearted joke sense to it but no one moves to laugh.

Mogi shifts his weight awkwardly, “Well.. we actually lost a member, Ukita, not too long ago. Kira killed him.”

SHIT. You want to die right then and there. Kira if you can read my thoughts please strike me down too.

“Oh! Im so sorry I didn’t know-”

“It’s alright Y/N. We purposely keep super tight lips about everything and all our members. It makes sense you didn’t realize. But I hope this serves as a reminder of the gravity of the situation at hand. If you aren’t willing to die for this cause, I recommend you turn away now. You’re still young and have a lot of life ahead of you.”

You turn to Mr. Yagami and blink before shaking your head. A life ahead of me? I have no other career paths and no way to climb and earn a livable wage without doing this. I need this case and this recommendation.

“No- I want to do this. I want to be here. I want to catch Kira.”

The group’s tension dissipates and they all turn their attention back to the coffee table and it’s papers.

“Here,” Mogi starts, handing you a manila folder, “Watari dropped these off earlier. We should get started with the most Kira clues.”

You take the folder gently and sit on the edge of the armrest of the couch, skimming through the papers until a set of photographs tumble out. Gently closing the folder you reach down to retrieve the photos, only hesitating when you see the subject. Prisoner suicide notes.

Carefully you flip through each photo, quietly trying to take it all in. There’s four photos in total each numbered in the corner:

A male prisoner had stabbed himself in the cafeteria with a knife. His suicide note written on the back: “Theives deserve their punishment”

A male prisoner who was beaten to death in the prison yard. He had left a note in his cell: “Dead ends everywhere”

A male prisoner hanging himself with a note in blood on the wall behind him “The victims deserve justice”

A female prisoner who had jumped from the roof. Her suicide note written on the back: “Are you watching, L?”

You examine the photos and their suicide notes for a few minutes, your brows furrowed in focus. At first you lean over to the coffee table and place them all note-side up; after a moment you flip them over to show the images. A bead of sweat drips down the side of your face and you bite the edge of your thumb nail without realizing.

Before you can properly go through the rest of the contents of the folder, Matsuda speaks up, “Oh the photos? Those have stumped me all morning. But-!” He leans down to flip the images once again. He places them in the order 3,1,4,2. “In this order they say something. “The. Thieves. Are. Dead.”

You nod and look up at Matsuda, “Yes, in this order we can assume Kira is trying to convey a message to us.”

Something isn’t right; this feels off somehow.

You release the nail from your teeth and shake your head, eyes never leaving the images, “Yes we could, but it wouldn’t make any sense. Are all of these inmates thieves? Or is Kira referring to someone else?”

Matsuda looks at you wide-eyed and a bit embarrassed, “Oh, in the folder it mentions two of them were murderers now that you mention it..”

No, there’s something else wrong here.

You keep staring at the images, “it’s strange Kira would leave such a vague message with such a group. Mr. Yagami already informed me how Kira did his tests about the actions leading up to a death, so writing these notes would have some significance. But..”

You gently lift the images again, this time studying the attire of each inmate in the photos. “Each person is from a different jail. Their clothing and health state indicates they weren’t in the same prison system.”

Mogi leans over and shrugs, letting out a soft sigh, “why does that matter? Kira has killed from nearly every jail in the country at this point.”

You meet his gaze for a moment, “I mean this work is kinda sloppy. It’s obvious he didn’t do proper research on each prison.”

Mogi opens his mouth in slight shock, waiting for you to elaborate. You tilt your head and survey the image of the deceased female inmate, your eyes lingering on the background building of the prison. Without missing a beat you lift the photo to Mogi, “I mean this jail is only one floor. If you jumped 3.5m (11.5ft) maybe you’d break your ankle.” You stare at the image of the woman’s distorted body, “Not 4 ribs, both kneecaps, and skull.”

Mr. Yagami stares at the images over your shoulder in a mix of disbelief and awe; he places his hand on your shoulder supportively. Matsuda lets out a light gasp and takes the photo of the woman and looks at it incredulously with an audible ‘woa’.

You look up from the table and then at Mr. Yagami, “Are there any other fake Kira photographs in this pile?”

Before the chief can answer a voice rings out from the connecting bedroom door that is now swung open, “Naturally all of them were doctored for this test. But nice work Y/N. You solved that faster than I was expecting.”

The entire group turns to face him and you find yourself raising to your feet in respect. L.

Your eyes drift up and latch onto his; almost in a trance. Dark disheveled hair seemed to splay in every direction, covering where his eyebrows would be, and his awful posture rounded his back forward. His deep gray eyes and purple bags from lack of sleep contrasted the paleness of his skin. Rather than professional attire, baggy denim jeans hung low on his hips and an oversized henley draped his frame. He shifted his weight from side to side waiting for your response.

Any words paused in your mouth as you drank in the appearance of the man in front of you. Half of you was awestruck to see the famous detective you’ve only heard stories of in person; the other half was mentally scolding yourself to set some higher standards.

Maybe it’s because you spent too much time around men with pensions and none your own age. Yea. That’s it.

The bar really is in hell huh.

You swallowed any stupid remarks and extended your hand to him, “It’s nice to meet you, L.”

L looked at your hand apprehensively and slowly reached forward to complete the shake. The look on his face made it seem like he was forcing himself to shake your hand and only resolved into doing so just to be polite. Jerk. It’s not like my hands are dirty.

“Well, now that introductions are formally over, I have some other details on the Kira case I would like us to focus our attention on.”

L sauntered further into the room and slid the manila folder with the test photos and information to the side. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a senior-aged man appeared with a rolling cart containing paper boxes filled with miscellaneous files on the bottom and an arrangement of desserts and coffee cups on the top.

With a whisper of ‘thanks’, you gently lifted a mug from the cart and blew some steam away from the rim, lips hovering the ceramic. While L and Mr. Yagami began separating some of the files, you took a seat on the couch next to Matsuda, giving him a light elbow in the side.

“Hey, did you know that was a test?” You whispered.

Matsuda looked at you wide eyed, “What? No way! Ryuzaki never tells me anything when he plans stunts like that!”

You raise an eyebrow and turn to look at everyone else in the room, “Ryuzaki..?”

Your eyes stop when they meet L’s, who was staring at you as if he was involved in the conversation from the beginning. You avert your gaze awkwardly and turn your attention back to the warm mug in your hands, cheeks slightly warm. Most people look away when they get caught staring…

“My apologies for any confusion. I’ve told the group they can call me Ryuzaki or L during this investigation. Given that we know Kira needs a name and face to kill, it only makes sense.”

Mogi shifts in his seat with a slight tick in his eyebrow and mumbles lowly, “Yea as if you didn’t already know everything about us though.”

You turn to the man and then back at L, or Ryuzaki, or whoever, noticing the tension in the room.

“Ah I see.” You say lightly, trying to progress the conversation and go back to the main objective at hand.

With prolonged silence now hanging over everyone, you reach forward to grab two small sugar cubes and place them into your coffee before taking a sip. In your peripherals you can see Ryuzaki watching every movement of your hands but never saying anything. This time when you lock eyes he turns away first.

Mr. Yagami lets out a slight cough and begins passing folders out to everyone, “Alright enough small talk, these folders contain some of the tapes the Second Kira had sent to the news stations. Let's split into teams and see what we can cover.”

Placing the mug on the coffee table, you reached forward to grab a folder and flip through the contents.

“Lets have Mogi and Mr. Yagami compare the DNA found in forensics to what we currently have in the database. Matsuda and Y/N, please look at the transcriptions and real Kira suicide notes to look for any irregularities. Aizawa, please extend our list of contacts to include radio broadcasters as well,” Ryuzaki takes the hangnail on his thumb between his teeth while speaking, “We don’t know if the Second Kira has made contact with Kira #1… but there’s a chance they may get desperate and try other outlets of communication if they haven’t already. I’ll be reviewing the 4 different outcome tapes on the television if anyone needs my assistance. Ok?”

There’s a unified “yes!” after he finished speaking, the small teams immediately breaking off into separate sections of the hotel room.

You sit at the kitchen table of the vast suite, skimming your hands over various transcriptions, each one describing an unyielding obligation to the cause of Kira. You tilt your head and furrow your brows between the two documents in your hands.

“Hey Matsuda?”

“Hmm?”

“These two are completely different in terms of voice, grammar, everything..”

Matsuda looks up from his own set of papers and leans in over your shoulder, letting out an awkward laugh, “Oh I should have said this earlier- we actually wrote some of them pretending to be Kira in order to get the Second Kira talking. Why don’t we pile up the ones the team made and focus only on ones from Second Kira.”

Your mouth formed a small ‘O’ at his statement before nodding. Matsuda skims through the files, deftly collecting the papers of which the task force had authored into a neat pile and sliding you a different stack of notes to analyze. This time the stack included the real Kira authored suicide notes. You mutter a ‘thanks’ and go back to your position hovering over the table and straining your neck. For some reason you can’t shake the feeling of wanting to analyze the ones against the transcription the task force had authored. Just focus. You let out a breath and get to work.

****

After what seems like a few hours the group is called back into the main living room to discuss everyone’s progress. Mr. Yagami stands first, “Well the DNA on all the videotapes matches each other. It’s definitely the same person sending these.”

Mogi rubs his hand on the back of his neck with some frustration, “The DNA is in the police database; not for a criminal record but one regarding a victim of a crime. It may take some time before we can get approval to unseal the records… But at least we will know for sure who our suspect is within a few days; a week at max!”

The group hums with energy at the lead and Ryuzaki takes the nail of his thumb in between his lips again turning his attention to you.

Matsuda stands and points to a few lines on the paper, “We noticed a particular line about ‘showing notebooks in Aoyama’. It’s out of place and might be an indication that the Second Kira wants to use this as a meeting place.”

Ryuzaki nods and shuts his eyes, “I was thinking the same thing.. Now if there’s nothing else-”

“Wait.”

Ryuzaki opens his eyes and turns his attention back to you and Matsuda looks down with a slight puzzled expression.

You pick at your nails in nervousness for a moment and look at the group, “I don’t want to jump to any conclusions here but I noticed some similarities in the actual Kira suicide notes and the transcript you all had made..”

Mr. Yagami’s face pales and he stutters a few words out before Ryuzaki lifts his hand without even looking to silence him. The hangnail now forgotten, he leans in over the armrest of the couch only inches away from your face, as if he wanted to study every detail.

“Really? That’s very interesting Y/N please continue your reasoning,” his voice is the most energetic you’ve heard it.

The proximity makes you instinctively lean back until he closes the distance so far you have no more room to move. Almost smelling the scent of sweet coffee on his breath you nervously exhale and lift both the task force written transcript and a suicide note from Kira.

“The wording on the on the Kira suicide notes are very egotistical to me. It’s taunting like he’s one step ahead and in a position of earned authority,” you then tilt your head to the scripted video, “and this mentions about bestowing forgiveness. It’s an uncannily similar voice to a person in a position of power looking down on the recipient.”

Ryuzaki leans in almost a millimeter closer before sinking back into his seat with an eerie smile on his face. You hesitate, not putting either document down and seemingly staring back into the trance of his eyes.

“Isn’t that good though? Your ability to write an extremely good dupe..?” You're barely whispering it to Ryuzaki with your entire focus on him. His eyes don’t leave yours, and it feels like this is an entire conversation between just the two of you.

“Oh I didn’t write that.”

For a moment your eyes widen and the illusion of a private conversation comes crashing down around you. Before you can part your lips for clarification Mr. Yagami’s voice booms out from across the coffee table, “Enough of this Ryuzaki! I thought you invited Light to this investigation for him to help us!”

Light?

You were well acquainted with the Yagami family, having spent nearly the same amount of time with them as your own household. Light was extremely intelligent, well spoken, and borderline perfect at everything he did; it makes sense Ryuzaki would want him working this case.

Though where was he? You scanned the room quickly from your seat. Oh yea, class. An unfortunate situation you could relate to, considering you had a 9am lecture tomorrow morning and it was already 8pm.

“I did invite him for his help. I just find Y/N’s observation extremely interesting. I’m aware this situation makes you uncomfortable, but having now a second person make a connection raises my suspicion of him to 10%.”

“He was writing that note while trying to sound like Kira. Don’t you think questioning him for doing his task well is a bit much?”

Your head was beginning to hurt. Light was a suspect of being Kira? It didn’t make any sense, surely there had to be a mistake. You turned your attention back to the conversation between Mr. Yagami and Ryuzaki, noting the intensity of fire in each of their eyes. They were being serious? I guess that makes sense as to why L wanted to test me when I first came in. And why the group seemed so uneasy at the earlier mention of one of them being Kira.

“You’ve probably filled in the gaps haven’t you?”

Your eyes shoot up to meet Ryuzaki’s, the distance between your faces short, but not nearly as close as he was earlier. Unconsciously, you lick your bottom lip with a slight stress on your face and nod slightly.

Mr. Yagami sighs and sinks into his seat, his head cradled by his left hand. The group looks around each other awkwardly and Ryuzaki lets out a sigh of exasperation which indicates they’ve all had this conversation before.

“Let’s take a slight reccess please? Y/N you should probably start heading home for your classes tomorrow.”

You look up at Mr. Yagami, and the group mumbles in agreement, slowly standing up and stretching.

“Nice work today rookie. Can’t wait to see what you figure out next,” Mogi says genuinely while placing a supportive hand on your shoulder.

You grin up at him and wave bashfully, it wasn’t like you solved the case. Yet. You could practically hear his recommendation letter now and the thought of it was enough to spark some energy.

As the group shuffled out to take either vending machine or smoke breaks, you noticed Ryuzaki staring at you while you slipped your jacket over your shoulders. He was usually staring at you anyways, but this one was different; before you could even raise an eyebrow he stood up and walked to the bedroom door. Glancing at you once before slipping inside.

With a quick scan of your surroundings to make sure no one was watching, you casually walked over to door and stepped inside as if it were the exit. The bedroom in question was barely a bedroom at all. A desk stacked with hundreds of papers sat by the window, bookshelves lined the walls, and the floor was littered with evidence boxes. The only thing that made it a bedroom was the king size bed made neatly and untouched against the wall jutting into the center of the room.

Ryuzaki was standing at the desk, digging through a box mumbling to himself about if ‘Watari had moved it’ before pulling out a small cellphone and turning to you.

“Ah, I’m glad you got my signal.”

Signal? He stared without blinking and then casually walked into another room. It wasn’t so much as following a signal as it was making sure he wasn’t having a stroke.

“Yea, is there something you wanted to speak about?”

Ryuzaki looked at the door and then motioned for you to come closer; which you obediently did without even a second guess. Only inches apart he studied your face again, “I’m glad you picked up on that note sounding a little too authentic. The very notion drives Mr. Yagami up the wall.”

You nod, “I mean it makes sense, it’s not exactly a light accusation.”

Ryuzaki follows your words and then twitches as if he were re-listening to them; only catching the joke on the third time through. A small smile cracks his face and he tilts his head to the side, “Yes I agree. Being accused of Kira is a heavy burden, especially considering the life in prison sentence or death penalty when caught.”

The air deflated out of you.

You suck in a breath defeated, “Yep.. so why exactly did you call me in here?”

“I needed to speak in private,” Ryuzaki gnaws at his bottom lip with his canines and then locks eyes with you again, “What I’m about to ask needs to remain between us.”

Immediately your eyes widen and heat rushes to your face. The proximity of him seems to magnify everything and a warm feeling began to brew in your lower abdomen. The low lighting of the room, the intimate whisper of his voice, and the large king bed in your peripheral skewed any assumption of what he was about to say next.

I need to go out and touch grass. Call some friends, go on a date, do something. This guy is a total weirdo and I’m standing here shaking like fucking teenager.

You nod, not wanting to even speak and risk the shakiness of your voice being heard by him.

“You go to the same school as Light, correct? I’d like you just to keep an eye on him while you’re both on campus if that’s alright.”

You look from one eye to the other, taking a moment to pause and reflect on his proposal. The length of your hesitation was enough to make L backtrack slightly, “If you’re uncomfortable with that I completely underst-”

“I’ll do it.”

His eyes widen and blink twice before a small smile breaks his lips again, “I’m glad. I don’t have much time to go to campus or classes anyways so it’ll be nice to have to monitor him while I stay here.”

You nod in understanding before double taking at his words, “Wait do you go there too?”

Ryuzaki now fiddles with the cellphone in hands, typing rapidly and not bothering to look up, “Hm? Oh yes I entered the school to keep track of Light, but I won’t need to follow him around there if you’re willing to help me.”

You swallowed, noting the way he casually mentioned going to the university you were initially rejected from as if you asked him the weather.

Before you can mumble anything under your breath, Ryuzaki gently takes your hand in his and flips it to be facing palm-up. With his hand still on your wrist, the other places a cellphone into the palm and he looks at you intently.

“It’s important to note that on the off-chance Light really is Kira, it means he’s willing to risk killing to protect himself. I have emergency belts for everyone, but I’d also like you to have this.”

His hand falls to his side after a moment of them lingering a beat too long and he takes half a step back; turning to face his desk but not looking at anything in particular.

You click a few buttons on the phone and notice the way he had already placed his contact information into the device. A small grin grazes your lips and you slip the phone into your back pocket, “This way I can text information without sending a SOS? Plus it probably looks more natural anyways.”

Ryuzaki turns back to you, his hands firmly at his sides like they weren't just around your own, “Exactly. Besides, Light will learn you work with us shortly and he’ll start being on guard. If he thinks that cellphone is your personal one, he won’t think twice about you using it in front of him casually.”

A wave of excitement washes over you, fieldwork was always your favorite and this felt like a borderline James Bond movie.

“You got it!”

Ryuzaki pulls out his own cellphone from his baggy denim pocket and begins typing into it, “I’ll have Watari drive you home tonight. Would you like an escort to class tomorrow?” His eyes briefly look into yours with an emotion that could almost be described as hope. Almost.

Instinctively you raise your hands, “No that’s alright. I can just take the metro.”

Ryuzaki nods curtly but you continue, “But if you can arrange a ride after my classes to here that would be nice.”

His eyes hold yours for a moment and he turns away to his desk, this time walking up to the wooden drawers and digging through them, “Alright. I’ll tell Watari, just send your course schedule when you have the moment.”

Ryuzaki never turns back around and after a few moments of an awkward silence you spin to leave the room without either of you saying a word. The weird intimacy of the moment left you feeling an emotion you couldn’t quite pin point.

After saying your goodnights to the group and following Watari to the black luxury Sedan in the parking lot, the image of a warm shower and snuggling into bed seemed to be calling your name. Shoes clicking on the ground, you slid into the seat of the opened passenger door Watari had opened and watched him walk around to get into the driver’s seat.

Quickly telling him your address you found yourself staring out the window and for a split second, seeing the figure of a man watching you from the penthouse suite you had just exited. But by the time you blinked he was gone; the only thing pulling you from your thoughts was the slight buzz from your back pocket of the phone Ryuzaki had given you.

Ryuzaki:

Please be careful tomorrow. Let me know if anything goes wrong.

[alexanderwales]

I finished rewatching Death Note. I always forget how short anime is, with episodes that aren't much more than 20 minutes when you skip the intro/outro.

I hadn't remembered how much of a sniveling wreck LIght was at the end of the show. There's something about the ending that makes it feel like it was written and directed by a different person, not that Light wasn't always a little weird and pathetic, and not that the show didn't consistently go out of its way to let us know what a piece of shit he was (particularly his absolute lack of loyalty or empathy to anyone, even aside from the megalomania). But he takes the loss like a loser, snot dripping from his nose, voice cracking, begging, and it's so pathetic that I almost felt a little sorry for him.

I've always found the Death Note to be a very interesting prompt, one of those hooks that's so good I'd want to watch it even if it was bad. But in writing something like Death Note, the author has to make decisions about what to show and what not to show, and also make decisions about how they're going to portray the public at large.

There are two big things that stand out for me.

One is that we never get someone arguing against Kira. We get people who are actively trying to hunt him down, but they're mostly not stopping to say "this is why what he's doing is wrong" except a few lines about how he has a childish sense of justice, which is never expounded upon. Kira, on the other hand, we hear a lot from, not just the megalomaniac stuff, but the notion that criminals must be punished, that this is what people desire in their hearts. I get the strong sense that L does not actually care and just views this as an interesting puzzle for him to solve, but for everyone else it's largely left as an exercise to the viewer, and even then, there are moments when some of our task force members come dangerously close to endorsement.

To the extent the show has an answer, it's that (to quote Kanye West) no one man should have all that power, or that Kira has crossed a lot of lines, but no one argues in favor of rehabilitation or clemency or just fundamental humanity. Kira seems to largely be killing prisoners, who have already been sentenced, and are wards of the state, and he says "this is what people want deep down, they will give you the politically correct answer but they actually want the criminal class to be obliterate", which ... there's no character who actually voices any opposition to through the whole series. And I find that weird, because yes, the show has its own answers in terms of how it plays out, but in a show filled with people possessed of immense conviction, most of the people in opposition to Kira are just intellectuals who don't actually give a shit about the ideological question.

(The one big moment when it comes to a head, IMO, is when Soichiro Yagami refuses to write Mello's name entirely because of his principled objection to killing someone. I thought this was great, and I wish the show had more of it.)

The other big thing is that we don't really get a viewpoint of the criminals, with a few exceptions. One is the is Yotsuba group, who are killing people with the Death Note, and the second is the (somehow still functional) mafia that Mello hangs out with. There's also one other scene somewhere after L's death where we see a criminal begging with the police not to have his name written down, and that's about it.

The naive view here is that the show really does believe in Criminals as being a part The Other, a different sort of human being who walk among us. The criminal class are described as rotten and evil, they're shown as grotesque and with exaggerated features or bestial characteristics, and they're generally leering and impulsive. There is no consideration of their humanity.

There's a more nuanced take here, which is that we have a criminal as one of our main cast, Light Yagami, along with everyone else who takes on the Kira mantle. So what is the show saying about criminality through how it portrays them? And here ... I don't know. I kind of don't think that it views them as criminals in the same way? When we look at the ways that Light kills, I genuinely do think that the show thinks that this is different from the way that a capital-C Criminals kill. It's reactionary rather than criminal in and of itself, a response to the injustices of the world rather than being in the same class as those injustices. Light is narratively exempted, and Misa is to. Which isn't to say that I think the show thinks highly of Light, it clearly doesn't, especially in its ending, but I almost think that in the end it Others him too (and also has Teru Mikami drawn in particularly 'evil' style, like a creepy deviant gremlin).

So I enjoyed the rewatch, but there are things that sit a little oddly with me as far as the central themes go. There's probably some discourse I should read that's come out since I first watched it in ... 2010 or whenever, but I think I'll give that a skip.

[heliads]

About the War (Part Two) - Draco Malfoy

Everyone has a part to play during the Second Wizarding War. Your job is to maintain a network of Portkeys for safe passage of the Order of the Phoenix. Later, you get a new role: handling the new spy among the Death Eaters, Draco Malfoy.

part one / masterlist / part three

The revelation consumes you like a madness. Even hours after Draco’s departure, you’re not completely certain that he isn’t lurking out there somewhere, waiting for you to drop your guard for even a second before he swoops in for the kill. Once again, you think about what he asked you– don’t you wonder what your Order has promised me? What would it take for a Malfoy to betray his kin?

What, indeed? You’ve heard rumors of what the old Slytherin families have done during the war. Bellatrix Lestrange alone is responsible for hundreds of deaths and agonies dealt to Muggles and would-be non-combatants just the same as members of the Order. The Malfoys are a little tamer, but they say Draco is the darkest, even worse than his father. They say he ripped people limb from limb to get the locations of safehouses out of them. They say he’s more monster than man. They say you’ll wish for death when you see him, and he won’t give it to you until you can’t even scream for it.

Yet even as you try to remind yourself of this, you still think of the quarter-smile he’d allowed himself to wear when he couldn’t get past your shielding charms. It could be a trick, it could be part of his disguise to get you to lower your guard, but you swear he seemed proud. Impossible, but you’d seen it. Unlikely, but it had happened nonetheless.

The sealed scroll sits on a table in your tent, silently mocking you. Lurking in familiar scrawled ink are the secrets of the Death Eaters, but you’re not the one who’s meant to read them. Instead, you have to wait until someone trustworthy turns up headed back to headquarters, someone who will take this tantalizing secret away from you.

Lupin turns up two days later, and you can only assume that Kingsley briefed him just the same as you because he doesn’t ask a single question when you hand him the scroll. He just nods and sighs like you’ve given him a mountain to carry on his thin, scarred shoulders instead of a simple curl of parchment.

He moves to grab the necessary Portkey, but you step in front of him before he can. “Do you–” Your voice cuts out for a moment. “Do you know the identity of the spy?”

Lupin lets out a quiet laugh. “You’re the one who met our new friend, Y/N. I assume you would know more than I.”

You wave this remark aside. “I’m not asking because I don’t know. I’m asking how many people know who the spy really is, or if it’s a secret.”

Lupin’s expression clouds over. “No, I don’t know who it is,” he says at last, and before you can say anything, he adds, “And I’d like to keep it that way. A spy is rare, and incredibly needed. I know keeping a secret can be a massive undertaking, but you must protect their identity along with the Portkeys. Kingsley wouldn’t have given you this task if he didn’t think you could do it justice, Y/N.”

You nod glumly. “Of course, you’re right. I won’t breathe a word.”

This, if anything, tempts Lupin’s curiosity the most. He hangs back a second longer, and asks quietly, “It’s not anyone– Rumor has it our spy was someone high up, but it’s not anyone too scandalous, is it? If the spy seems unrealistic, then I fear we’re putting you at risk. Do you believe our spy is genuine, or a ploy to draw our attention?”

You watch as Lupin’s fingers tighten instinctively around his wand. He’s still looking at you eagerly for an answer, but you’re not sure that you have one. You force air through your lungs once, twice, then force out, “Yes. We can trust them.”

You have no idea where the answer comes from, but your voice is sure. Lupin blinks in surprise. “Alright, then. I trust your judgment.”

He lays a hand on the Portkey and is gone before you can tell him otherwise. With the scroll of Draco’s secrets gone, you find you can breathe a little bit easier. Maybe you’d lied to Lupin, maybe you hadn’t. You’re not sure that you have a choice either way.

Draco comes a week and a half later. You hear the telltale crack of Apparition somewhere in the distance, and assume you have another half hour of walking before he arrives once more. You debate whether to wait outside of your protective circle for him to show his face, anything to conceal the location of your enchanted barrier. Then again, he’s already seen you emerge from seemingly nowhere. At this point, you have to assume that Draco has every tool necessary to kill you if he so desired. If he wanted you dead and the Portkeys raided, it would have already happened. Plus, no Order members have come back saying that the information you’d handed to Lupin was bogus, so you can only guess that he’s worth the risk.

Sure enough, some time later Draco appears out of the gloom of the forest. He heads straight towards the barrier of the camp. As he draws closer, you watch his steps become less sure, and a furrow deepens in his brow, as if he’s fighting the urge to head the other way, the urge you’d planted in his mind with the intricate layers of your protective enchantments.

If the spells trouble him, though, Draco doesn’t let it stop him completely. He comes to a standstill just outside the outermost edge of your camp again, and folds his arms, waiting. This time, you don’t bother with the formalities and step outside once he’s close enough. Draco is better at hiding the surprise in his eyes when you appear out of nowhere, but his shoulders tense a little all the same.

“Password?” You ask.

Draco scoffs. “If I were anyone else, I would have killed you by now.”

Your face remains neutral. “I might kill you now if you keep toying with me.”

Draco grins. “You’ve never had the stomach to be a killer. That’s why they had to stick you all the way out here instead of out on the front lines, isn’t it? They knew you couldn’t get the job done.”

This time, it’s remarkably harder not to lash out at him. “That’s funny, I was under the impression it was because of my stellar enchantments. Maybe you just can’t see quality when it’s right under your pretentious nose.”

The corners of his lips quirk up into a half smile. “Pretentious? You wound me.”

“I wish,” you remark. “Password?”

Draco rolls his eyes. “Saltwater. There. Am I trustworthy now?”

“Not in the slightest,” you counter. “Scroll?”

Despite the fact that you’re certain neither of you want to be here, Draco doesn’t move a muscle to retrieve his much-needed information. Instead, he keeps his arms folded and leans back slightly, considering you as if you were just passing another day at school instead of meeting as dangerous liaisons of a magical and bloodthirsty war.

“You know, this is hardly much of a conversation. Where are your manners, L/N? You haven’t even asked me how I’m doing.”

You fight the urge to groan. “You’re an agent of the enemy currently distracting me from my duty. Your emotional state is the last thing on my mind right now.”

Draco opens his mouth to argue, but you’re distracted when you see something out of the corner of your eye, a bright spark of light beginning to fountain into a large glow. Draco doesn’t respond to it at all because he can’t see past your protective enchantments into your camp, but as the spellcaster, you can, and you know exactly what it is. Someone is coming through a Portkey, and that someone is about to see you and Draco talking together. Either they’ll think you’re a traitor or he is, and you cannot afford either.

You only have a few moments to act. “Hide!” You hiss to Draco, and grab his arm, pulling him behind a nearby stand of trees. The trunks and branches are dense enough to hide both of you from view, especially if the viewer is disoriented from Portkey travel. Draco looks at you, panic and confusion both welling in his gaze, but you only hold a tense finger to your lips, signaling for silence.

Carefully, you glance over your shoulder, and notice that the glow has solidified into the figure of Hestia Jones, who glances around confusedly when you aren’t there to greet her. Your absence isn’t entirely questionable not yet; a few times, you had missed a witch or wizard arriving from a Portkey when you were in town or examining the surrounding woods for Death Eater activity. She’ll just signal to someone that you weren’t there and carry on with her journey, wherever it takes her. 

It won’t become a problem unless you fail to appear multiple times in a row, at which point they will assume you have defected, run away, or been kidnapped or killed. Any of these fates will lead to the same conclusion:  the Node relocated, a new member of the Order assigned to your post. The cycle will continue, and the Order will have their safehouses. All will be well, except, of course, for you.

You watch through the waving leaves as Hestia takes one last glance around the camp before shrugging and laying her hand on the requisite Portkey for her next destination. A flash of light, and she is gone, the clearing once more deserted except for you and Draco.

Draco, of course, does not know any of this. All he knows is that you panicked and made him hide for about five minutes. He continues to look at you suspiciously, even after you relax and tell him it’s alright for him to emerge once more.

The look in his eyes is smart, too smart. Draco has always been calculating, able to see through most lies and excuses without hesitation. It used to drive Harry mad, you remember, how Draco was always onto him so fast. You would laugh over it, mainly, another product of ridiculous House rivalries, but you’re not laughing now. Draco glances between you and the camp he cannot see once more, and you know that he knows. Somehow, he has guessed it. He has guessed all of it.

“Someone was there,” he says carefully, gaze fixed on your every movement to determine your precise reaction and guide his conclusion accordingly. “Someone was in your camp, then disappeared again. I didn’t hear Apparition, though.”

You try to scoff and look away, but your confidence from earlier is quickly failing you. “I have impeccable concealment charms up, Malfoy. You of all people should know that. Do you really think I’d let you hear something like Apparition?”

Draco isn’t put off by this. “With the amount of charms you have up, Apparition should be impossible. That means you’re having witches and wizards traveling out of here by means other than a simple spell. Besides, it would make no sense for them to pass through here at all if they could merely Apparate. You’re part of something else.”

You shake your head beseechingly. “You’re dead set on being proved right, but you’re talking nonsense, Draco. You have no idea what I’m doing here.”

“Yes,” he says, looking you directly in the eyes now, “I do. I’ve tortured enough of your people to know. They travel through Portkey networks, and you maintain them. You’re in charge of the–” and here he cuts himself off, snapping his fingers exasperatedly as he tries to remember the precise word, “–now what did he call them exactly, something childish. Not a checkpoint, not a crossing, but a, a– a node, that’s it. You’re a Node maintainer.”

You shake your head again, but Draco cuts you off before you can speak a single syllable. “Don’t lie to me, L/N,” he says, his voice suddenly cold. “I have ways of telling.”

A distinctive sense of gloom settles over you. You had fooled yourself into thinking you could still talk to Draco as if he was your childhood enemy, but his sarcastic demeanor had tricked you. Inside, there is nothing of the boy you knew, only the calculating and murderous Death Eater who has killed so many of your friends. You heard him, didn’t you? He only knows the name of the Nodes because he’d tortured the information out of other members of the Order. It’s what he’ll do to you, because you trusted him, because you told Lupin it was alright. You’re going to know agony beyond your wildest imagination, all because you were foolish enough to believe in someone you used to know at school.

You meet his eyes steadily. “Torture me, then. Get it over with. You don’t need me to confirm anything. It’s hardly fun to play around anymore.”

If this is it, then this is it. You discreetly point your wand at the camp. All you need is a moment, and you can burn the place to ash. They’ll never find the Portkeys, they’ll never get to your safehouses. You can protect them all, even if you’ll die in the arms of the Death Eaters.

“Actually,” Draco says, deliberately moving your wand down towards the ground. “I quite enjoy playing around. This isn’t a double-cross, Y/N. I will not betray you to the Death Eaters.”

You stare at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but he remains steadfast. “Why not?” You ask. After everything that’s happened, it feels like a fair question.

Draco looks back at you. “Why did you hide me when someone came through the Portkeys? No one in the Order knows my identity except you, and I suspect you knew that since you took such care to make sure I was hidden. It would have been easy for you to not move a muscle and let someone see me. It certainly would have given you a leg up, you could have used my identity as blackmail and then we really would have gotten somewhere.”

You make a sound of protest. “I’m not the blackmail type, Draco. We need you. Besides, I suspect that if you thought for even a moment that we had something like that on you, you would have purged half the Order just to make sure it stayed a secret.”

Something like a smile ghosts onto Draco’s lips. “I would have considered it, certainly.”

“There’s no point to me exposing you,” you explain. “Not now. We’ve only just begun.”

“That we have,” Draco replies. “It was a good call on your part. I’ve barely given you anything interesting at all.”

“You haven’t given me anything at all,” you counter. “We’ve spent all this time talking and no scroll is in my hands.”

Draco actually laughs this time. The sound surprises you; you hadn’t thought it was possible for any of you to laugh at all, not like this, not now. In your mind, the laugh echoes around the clearing, swooping up to the sky like a bird in flight. “You nearly revealed me as a spy, then thought I was going to torture you, and your only response is to be impatient that I haven’t yet handed over a piece of parchment? It’s a wonder you manage to survive out here on your own. You don’t know anything.”

Something in his tone makes you straighten up cautiously. “What do you mean, I don’t know anything?”

Draco shrugs, but the gesture is a little too effortless. “You’re out in the middle of nowhere, that’s all. I wouldn’t be surprised if it takes a while for news from the front lines to get all the way out here.”

“No,” you decide. “You know something that I don’t. Something about me.”

Draco doesn’t blink. “The only information you’re getting from me is this,” he says, reaching at last into the pocket of his cloak and pulling out a similar scroll, again hexed in protective enchantments to ward off unwanted readers. He holds it out to you, and even though you’ve been craving that for ages now, it pales to insignificance when you know he’s only using it to distract you.

You ignore the scroll. “Tell me what you know about the Nodes.”

Draco arches a brow. “You should know it all, shouldn’t you? You’re the one that’s stuck in one of them.”

“You’re keeping something from me,” you snarl. “Spill.”

“I remember that temper from Transfiguration,” Draco muses. “You used to hate always getting second to me.”

“I was never second to you,” you argue. “Now, tell me what you know or I’ll–”

The threat falls flat when both of you know you don’t mean it. Draco makes a clicking sound of disappointment with his tongue. “You’ll what, Y/N? Threaten me like you mean it. Of course, it doesn’t make a difference either way. You rely on me for information, for survival. A snap of my fingers and I could have Death Eaters on you in a heartbeat. You’ll take what I tell you.”

You draw your shoulders back, irritated by his casual reminder of how easy it would be to kill you. “If you’re in charge anyway, just tell me what you know about the Nodes. I’ll make it more simple for you to keep me in check if I know how risky this is for me, won’t it?”

“Y/N, you have no idea how risky it is,” Draco chides, and you swear there’s an undercurrent of real sympathy in his words. “Since I’m generous, I’ll give you a hint. How many Nodes did you start out with? Ten? Twelve? All spread out. Careful networks. It was a good idea, I can’t lie. Damn near impossible to track. But we found you out, Y/N. All it took was one, and he spilled his guts. Died begging for us to kill the rest of you if we would only spare him. How’s that for loyalty to the Order?”

Something dark spasms across Draco’s face, and he has to take a moment to calm himself before he continues. “When we had one, we had them all. They fell like dominoes. Most were tricky and destroyed the Portkeys before we could find them, but a few left everything out in the open. I expect you had a few abrupt Portkey changes, didn’t you ever wonder why?”

Your blood feels ice cold in your veins, because you know exactly what he’s talking about, and worse still, you know he’s right. There had been a few instances when Kingsley or Lupin or the odd Weasley here and there had burst into your camp, looking utterly terrified, and incinerating a Portkey or two before giving you new ones and pretending nothing had happened. They had always refused to tell you what was going on, but you’d suspected, hadn’t you? Just a few weeks ago, you’d accused Kingsley of hiding the truth about how many Nodes remained.

“How many are left?” You ask haltingly. 

You know the answer before he says it, but still, it pierces your ribs like the Killing Curse when Draco bites out, “None.”

Bile rises to your throat. “What?” Your voice cracks over the words. You had suspected it for a while now, knowing that when every witch or wizard that passed through your camp eyed you like you were on your way to the grave, it had to mean something, but hearing it from the mouth of the Death Eater who likely killed them makes it so much more real.

“They’re all gone,” Draco says matter-of-factly. “Weeks ago, in fact. We thought we’d crushed out the lot of you for good, but we still haven’t been able to track any damned Apparitions to your safehouses, which had to mean that someone still survived. I hate to compliment the enemy, but your magical barrier is strong. It’s the only thing that saved you. That, and the fact that none of the other Node maintainers knew your name, but they said your rough location about a dozen times over.”

Your fingers curl around your wand so tightly you’re half afraid you’ll snap it. “How long have you known it was me? How long did you suspect I was the last one out here?”

You’re sure of it now, that he knew, that he’s known all along. He was slightly surprised to see you the first time you came, but not enough. The look in his eyes wasn’t true shock, more the slight triumph in being right when one isn’t one hundred percent certain of their answer.

“Two months,” Draco tells you. “Only a few people in the Order have that skill with enchantments like these, and we’d seen most of them fighting before. You were the only one unaccounted for and, well, it made sense to me. I’d had plenty of experience with your magical stubbornness before.”

“So you knew I was the only survivor because you practiced with me in school?” You whisper faintly.

“Congratulations,” he says sweetly, “You’ve made me proud.”

“I don’t need your pride,” you swear at him. “I need you and all of your Death Eater friends dead in the ground.”

“And if that happened, where would you get your information?” Draco asks with mock sympathy. He raises a hand to delicately stroke against your cheek. “Look at you. You’re the last stand in a losing war. Without the promise of my espionage, you would have been pulled to the front lines long ago. I’m all that stands between you and bloody death.”

“Why?” You breathe. “Why save me?”

Abruptly, Draco’s expression closes, and you get the feeling that he has revealed a lot more than he intended. “Consider it a favor I’ve owed for a long time,” he says, then forces the scroll into your hands.

“Take it,” he barks. “Take it, and don’t die until I come back. That, at least, shouldn’t be too hard for you.”

You stare unseeingly at the parchment in your hand. “Why wouldn’t the Order tell me I was the only one left?”

Draco shrugs. “How am I supposed to understand the minds of a few dozen errant Gryffindors? They knew you’d run, most likely. Any sane person would leave if they knew all of their counterparts had been hunted down one by one.”

He eyes you meaningfully, but you can’t discern what exactly he intends for you to do. “Do you expect me to run, then?”

A pause, then Draco answers. “No, actually. I don’t think you will.”

“Why not?” You ask.

He makes a scoffing noise, then looks away towards the waving trees surrounding him. “You’re much too good for them, anyway.”

Without saying goodbye, Draco turns and walks out of the clearing, dark cloak rippling in the breeze. You stand there, not even sure how you’re able to stand, until you remember the grave danger you’re in every moment you remain past the barrier of your camp and hurry back inside.

If you had thought you were distracted when Draco first visited, it all pales in comparison now. Your mind is in knots trying to untangle everything he’d said and hadn’t said. Every one of the Node maintainers, gone. You, the only one left. You’re certain he was telling the truth, and you’re certain you’ve known about it for a while, too, but hadn’t wanted to admit it to yourself. Leave it to Draco Malfoy to force you to face the truths you crave to ignore.

What hurts more is that the other members of the Order hadn’t told you. Didn’t they owe it to you to fill you in on risks that concerned you? If they knew every other Node had fallen, they should have let you know so you could double your charms, maybe even assign you a guard to keep you safe. You could sense the underlying frustration when Draco mentioned that the Death Eaters hadn’t been able to track members of the Order Apparating to the safehouses, so you know your Node is still deeply needed. Yet your own side of the war had failed to warn you.

You expect Remus to come again for the scroll, but instead, you’re surprised to see Kingsley himself appearing out of the Portkey a few days later. After engaging in the usual routine of questions and answers to determine each other’s identity, Kingsley glances around your camp and asks meaningfully if you have anything for him.

You stand up automatically, ready to hand him the scroll and call it a day, but something slows your movements. Instead, you look at him more deeply, trying to tell from his face alone that Kingsley has been hiding secrets about the collapse of the Nodes from you.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” you ask at last.

Kingsley frowns. “Tell you what?”

You gaze at him steadily. “If my Node had fallen, what would you have done? Would you have blamed yourself, or me? Would you have assumed that my spells simply weren’t good enough? Maybe if I checked on them more often, the Death Eaters wouldn’t have found me. Or, maybe if I knew that all other Node maintainers were dead, I would have added even more spells to keep the Portkeys safe. Do you think that would have bothered you when they dumped my butchered corpse on your doorstep?”

Kingsley’s eyes widen in a brief panic before he manages to calm himself down again. “Been speaking to our spy, have you? What lies has he told you, Y/N? Why in Merlin’s name do you think you can trust a Death Eater over us?”

“He wasn’t lying about this, was he?” You ask instead. “And you certainly trust him enough to take his reported secrets back every few weeks, don’t you?”

“We evaluate everything your spy says, and respond accordingly. Always with caution. Always assuming that this is a ploy to gain our trust and then kill us all,” Kingsley chastises you. “I don’t suppose you thought about the possibility that this is all a trick before you accepted everything he told you at face value?”

“Of course I considered it,” you hiss. “I considered it when I realized that nobody was talking to me about the other Nodes. I considered it when he could have killed me a thousand times over and didn’t. Now, tell me it’s true. Tell me you hid the truth just so you wouldn’t risk me walking out on you!”

Kingsley straightens up, folding his arms across his chest and regarding you with a cool expression. “What if I had told you at the very start? What if I told you every gruesome detail about how they found a few of them ripped limb from limb? Would you have appreciated it then, knowing that they tortured those poor souls to the brink of madness and back again? It was your spy who did it, most likely, or they wouldn’t know so much about it. Would it have helped your focus if you knew they all died awfully?”

Kingsley takes a deep breath before continuing again. “I rely upon the Node for the protection of the safehouses. We all do. You know that. If you left, you would have been found, and it would all be over. You have been extraordinarily focused here, Y/N. Why would I risk that by telling you information that would change nothing about your situation here?”

“It would change everything!” You shout, for once heedless of the world outside your camp. “I would have been more cautious. I could have installed more safeguards. I could have mourned my friends that died in those Nodes, but you took that from me because you needed a body here to maintain the barrier.”

“Were they your friends when they sold you out to the Death Eaters?” Kingsley asks, voice booming. “That’s what they all do, you know. It’s what you’ll do, too, if your spy decides to turn. You’ll sell out every one of us, because that is what the pain makes you do, and if not, the Imperius curse. I do not have the time nor the will to tell everyone every secret, no matter how personal, because it will result in the death of us all. Yes, I knew that the Nodes were falling, and yes, I decided not to tell you, because I value the safehouses above the life of one witch. Will you fault me for that, Y/N? Will you tell me I’ve done a bad job? That I’ve been mean? I have to be mean. It’s how we win this damn war.”

You stare at him, rough breaths rippling through you from anger and fear and the utter madness of a war you can never win, then stalk to your tent and grab Draco’s scroll. You slam it into Kingsley’s hand. “Get out,” you seethe.

“You understand why I had to do it, of course,” Kingsley tries to say.

“Get out!” You scream.

He does, and you’re left alone again. Somehow, that’s worse than arguing. It occurs to you that if Kingsley will hide the truth about the Nodes, that he could hide anything from you, and constantly justify it to himself. If something happened with the safehouses, he would simply let the Portkeys expire and never send anyone to refresh them. You would get no new visitors, no news of the outside world. Somehow, he’d signal to Draco that he’d have a new middle man, so you’d stop seeing him, too. You would have no one to talk to, nobody left to share your time, lacking even the fleeting seconds between Portkey journeys.

The war might even end without them telling you, regardless of which side won. They’d forget about you eventually, the last camp that no one was supposed to find. You would maintain your barrier and keep up your stock of supplies, the last stand in a battle that ended years ago. You imagine yourself growing old and dying in this small camp, known by no one, trusted by fewer still. A relic of the Second War. It might begin any day, and you would never know.

You wrap your arms around yourself, suddenly cold. The wind that whips through the trees no longer seems friendly, but like a thousand knives drawing blood wherever your skin is exposed to the harsh breath of the air. Your only hope is that Draco will come again and tell you more secrets that your Order has hidden from you. Your only hope is Draco. It’s something that you never imagined you’d say again after you left Hogwarts, but somehow it’s more true than most things you’ve heard since you were assigned to your Node. You can only hope that he will come again, and remind you what it was like when you still felt human.

mini series tag list: @unicornqueen05

harry potter tag list: @blondsauduun, @cameronsails, @neewtmas, @with-inked-solace, @lovesanimals0000, @sher-lokid7, @eclliipsed, @frenchgirlinlondon, @23victoria, @ilovexavierthrope, @faerieroyal

all tags list: @wordsarelife, @supervoldejaygent

[heliosunny]

i really loved your self aware yandere au for hoshina. there’s just something about the tragedy of knowing the person you love deserves better but he’s a slave to his needs and his desires. now what if reader somehow does go back to the real world all of a sudden? how will he recover? his love was reciprocated and now it was gone. it’s a different kind of hurt and he’s suffering.

Visit [previous]

Living in the Defense Force with Soshiro had become your new normal. People had been wary of you at first, but Soshiro had vouched for you, and over time, you had become something of an honorary member of the team. You didn’t fight Kaiju, of course, but you helped where you could—organizing supplies, assisting with communications, and even offering moral support during tough missions.

Soshiro had taken it upon himself to look after you.

You, in turn, found yourself drawn to him in ways you hadn’t expected. His confidence, his strength, his unwavering sense of justice—it was everything you had admired about him from afar, but now it was real.

But as much as you had come to care for this world and the people in it, there was always a part of you that longed for home. You missed your family, your friends, the little things that made your world yours. Soshiro knew this, and though he never said it outright, you could see the flicker of sadness in his eyes whenever you talked about it.

It happened during a routine mission. Soshiro had been called out to deal with a Kaiju that had appeared on the outskirts of the city. You had stayed behind at the HQ, as usual, but something felt… off. The air was heavy, charged with an energy you couldn’t quite place. You tried to shake the feeling, focusing on the task at hand, but then it happened.

A deafening roar echoed through the HQ, shaking the walls and sending alarms blaring. You rushed to the window, your heart pounding as you saw it—a massive Kaiju, unlike anything you had seen before. And then, with a single, devastating strike, it opened a rift in the sky.

You recognized it immediately. It was the same kind of rift that had brought you here.

Before you could process what was happening, the rift began to pull at you. You stumbled, clutching the windowsill as the force grew stronger. Panic surged through you as you realized what was happening—you were being pulled back.

“Y/N!” Soshiro’s voice cut through the chaos. He had returned to the HQ, his uniform torn and bloodied from the battle. His eyes widened in horror as he saw the rift pulling at you. Without hesitation, he sprinted toward you, his hand outstretched.

You reached for him, your fingers brushing for the briefest of moments before the rift swallowed you whole. The last thing you saw was Soshiro’s face, twisted in anguish, as you were ripped away from him.

Back in your world, you were disoriented and heartbroken. Everything felt wrong. The familiar sights and sounds of your home offered no comfort, not when you knew what—who—you had left behind.

In Soshiro’s world, the aftermath was chaos. The Kaiju had been defeated, but the rift had closed, leaving no trace of you. Soshiro stood in the spot where you had been, his hand still outstretched, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. His mind raced, replaying the moment over and over again. He had been so close. So close to holding onto you.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice breaking. He clenched his fist, his nails digging into his palm. The pain was grounding, but it wasn’t enough to quell the storm raging inside him.

He had lost you. Just like that. Without warning. Without a chance to say goodbye.

Soshiro’s grief was a storm that consumed him. The moment you were ripped away, something inside him shattered. He had always been a man of control, of precision, but now he was unmoored. The weight of losing you was unbearable, and it manifested in a fury that even his closest comrades feared.

He threw himself into battle with a ferocity that was almost inhuman. Kaiju fell beneath his blades like wheat before a scythe, their roars silenced by his relentless onslaught. He didn’t just fight to protect the city anymore—he fought to destroy. Every Kaiju he killed was a proxy for the one that had taken you from him. His strikes were brutal, his movements almost feral. He didn’t care about strategy or teamwork; he cared only about the kill.

Kafka and the others tried to rein him in, but it was no use. Soshiro was a man possessed. “You’re going to get yourself killed!” Kafka shouted after one particularly reckless mission, his voice tinged with desperation. “Is this what Y/N would want? For you to throw your life away?”

“Don’t talk about them. You don’t understand.”

“Then make me understand!” Kafka shot back. “Because right now, all I see is a man who’s given up!”

Soshiro didn’t respond. He couldn’t. The truth was too painful to put into words. He had failed you. He had let you slip through his fingers, and now you were gone. The guilt was a constant ache in his chest, a reminder of his weakness. He didn’t deserve to rest, to heal, to live. Not until he made it right.

When Soshiro finally found Dr. Takeda and began the experiments to reopen the rift, his desperation only grew. The first attempt was a disaster. The device overloaded, sending a shockwave that nearly leveled the lab. Soshiro was thrown across the room, his body bruised and battered, but he didn’t care. He got back up, his eyes blazing with determination.

“Again” he said, his voice hoarse.

Dr. Takeda hesitated. “Hoshina, this is too dangerous. We need more time to recalibrate—”

“I don’t have time!” Soshiro snapped, his voice cracking. “Every second I waste is another second they’re gone. Again!”

The second attempt was no better. The rift opened, but it was unstable, collapsing almost immediately. Soshiro tried to force his way through, but the energy backlash sent him sprawling. He lay on the ground, his body trembling with exhaustion and frustration. For the first time, he felt the weight of his own limitations. What if he couldn’t do this? What if you were lost to him forever?

Kafka knelt beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Vice captain, you’re going to kill yourself if you keep this up. You need to stop.”

Soshiro shoved him away, “I can’t stop! Don’t you get it? I can’t lose them! I won’t!”

The third attempt was their last chance. The Defense Force had cut off their funding, and Dr. Takeda had made it clear that he wouldn’t risk another failure. Soshiro stood in the center of the lab, his fists clenched, his heart pounding. This had to work. It had to.

When the device activated, the air around him crackled with energy. The rift opened, wider and more stable than before. Soshiro didn’t hesitate. He leapt into the swirling vortex, his body burning with the force of the dimensional energy. The journey was agony, but he didn’t care. He had to find you. He had to bring you back.

You had been trying to move on, but it was impossible. Every day felt like a shadow of what it had been before. You missed Soshiro with a pain that was almost physical, a constant ache in your chest. You had started to wonder if you’d ever see him again.

Then, one night, as you sat alone in your room, the air around you shifted. A blinding light filled the space, and when it faded, Soshiro was there. He looked different—haggard, almost broken—but his eyes were the same. They burned with a intensity that took your breath away.

“Y/N” he gasped, his voice raw with emotion. “I found you.”

You stared at him. “Soshiro… how…?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he crossed the room in two strides and pulled you into his arms. His grip was almost painful, but you didn’t care. You clung to him, tears streaming down your face. “I thought I’d never see you again”

“I told you I’d find a way. I’m never letting you go again.”

When you returned to his world, Soshiro’s relief was palpable, but it was tinged with something darker. The fear of losing you again was too much to bear.

From the moment you stepped back into the Defense Force HQ, Soshiro was different. He kept you close, always within arm’s reach. If you tried to pull away, even for a moment, his grip would tighten, his eyes flashing with something almost primal.

“Soshiro” you said one evening, “I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do” he interrupted, “You don’t understand what it was like, Y/N. Losing you… it destroyed me. I can’t do it again. I won’t.”

You reached up to cup his face, your heart aching for him. “I’m here now..”

He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing for a moment. “You say that now, but… I can’t take the risk.”

Obviously Soshiro’s desperation didn’t fade after he brought you back. If anything, it grew stronger. The fear of losing you again was a constant shadow, lurking in the corners of his mind. Now that you were here, he couldn’t shake the feeling that you might slip through his fingers again. It was irrational, but he didn’t care. Rationality had no place in the storm of emotions that consumed him.

One evening, after a particularly grueling mission, Soshiro returned to your shared quarters. He was covered in dirt and sweat, his uniform torn in places, but he didn’t seem to care. You could feel the negative energy radiating off him, a storm of frustration, guilt, and fear.

“Soshiro,” you said softly, stepping toward him. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled you into his arms, his grip almost crushing. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he trembled ever so slightly. He buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

You didn’t push him away. Instead, you wrapped your arms around him, holding him just as tightly. You could feel the weight of his emotions, the turmoil that he couldn’t put into words. So you didn’t ask for words. You didn’t need them.

You began to soothe him in the only way you knew how—through touch. Your hands moved gently over his back, tracing the lines of his muscles, feeling the tension slowly begin to ease. You ran your fingers through his hair, your touch soft and reassuring. He didn’t speak, but you could feel him relax ever so slightly, his grip on you loosening just a bit.

You guided him to the bed, sitting down and pulling him with you. He followed without resistance, his head resting in your lap. You continued to stroke his hair, your fingers moving in slow, calming circles. His breathing began to even out, the storm inside him gradually subsiding.

For a long time, neither of you spoke. The silence was heavy, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a silence filled with understanding, with the unspoken bond that had grown between you. Soshiro didn’t need words to know that you were there for him, that you weren’t going anywhere. And you didn’t need words to know how much he needed you.

Eventually, Soshiro’s breathing slowed, his body going limp against you. You could feel the weight of his exhaustion, the toll that his desperation had taken on him. He was still tense, but the edge had been taken off, the storm inside him quieted for now.

You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. He stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours. There was a vulnerability in his gaze that you had never seen before, a raw honesty that took your breath away.

“Y/N…”

You shook your head, placing a finger against his lips. “Shh. You don’t have to say anything. Just rest.”

He closed his eyes again, his body relaxing fully against you. You continued to stroke his hair, your touch soft and steady. Eventually he drifted off to sleep.

----

In case you ever wonder what will happen if he fails the 3rd time. Well, it'll be the end of him.

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

Today, the Department of Justice (DOJ), Department of Health and Human Services (HHS), Department of Education (ED), and the U.S. General Services Administration (GSA) announced the immediate cancelation of approximately $400 million in federal grants and contracts to Columbia University due to the school’s continued inaction in the face of persistent harassment of Jewish students. These cancelations represent the first round of action and additional cancelations are expected to follow. The Task Force is continuing to review and coordinate across federal agencies to identify additional cancelations that could be made swiftly. DOJ, HHS, ED, and GSA are taking this action as members of the Joint Task Force to Combat Anti-Semitism. Columbia University currently holds more than $5 billion in federal grant commitments.

On March 3, the Task Force notified the Acting President of Columbia University that it would conduct a comprehensive review of the university’s federal contracts and grants  in light of ongoing investigations under Title VI of the Civil Rights Act. Chaos and anti-Semitic harassment have continued on and near campus in the days since. Columbia has not responded to the Task Force.

“Since October 7, Jewish students have faced relentless violence, intimidation, and anti-Semitic harassment on their campuses – only to be ignored by those who are supposed to protect them,” said Secretary of Education Linda McMahon. “Universities must comply with all federal antidiscrimination laws if they are going to receive federal funding. For too long, Columbia has abandoned that obligation to Jewish students studying on its campus. Today, we demonstrate to Columbia and other universities that we will not tolerate their appalling inaction any longer.”

President Trump has been clear that any college or university that allows illegal protests and repeatedly fails to protect students from anti-Semitic harassment on campus will be subject to the loss of federal funding.

“Freezing the funds is one of the tools we are using to respond to this spike in anti-Semitism. This is only the beginning,” said Leo Terrell, Senior Counsel to the Assistant Attorney General for Civil Rights and head of the DOJ Task Force to Combat Anti-Semitism. “Canceling these taxpayer funds is our strongest signal yet that the Federal Government is not going to be party to an educational institution like Columbia that does not protect Jewish students and staff.”

The decisive action by the DOJ, HHS, ED, and GSA to cancel Columbia’s grants and contracts serves as a notice to every school and university that receives federal dollars that this Administration will use all the tools at its disposal to protect Jewish students and end anti-Semitism on college campuses.

“Anti-Semitism is clearly inconsistent with the fundamental values that should inform liberal education,” said Sean Keveney, HHS Acting General Counsel and Task Force member. “Columbia University’s complacency is unacceptable.”

GSA will assist HHS and ED in issuing stop-work orders on grants and contracts that Columbia holds with those agencies. These stop-work orders will immediately freeze the university’s access to these funds. Additionally, GSA will be assisting all agencies in issuing stop work orders and terminations for contracts held by Columbia University.

“Doing business with the Federal Government is a privilege,” said Josh Gruenbaum, FAS Commissioner and Task Force member. “Columbia University, through their continued and shameful inaction to stop radical protestors from taking over buildings on campus and lack of response to the safety issues for Jewish students, and for that matter - all students - are not upholding the ideals of this Administration or the American people. Columbia cannot expect to retain the privilege of receiving federal taxpayer dollars if they will not fulfill their civil rights responsibilities to protect Jewish students from harassment and anti-Semitism.”

For more information, read the HHS, ED, and GSA joint press release from Monday, March 3.

[bcacstuff]

Hi, have you heard anything or have any news on Cait’s London premiere of The Amateur on the 31st?

I haven heard and posted about the London premiere on 31 March at the Odeon in London. I haven't heard anything new about that.

I just saw a new article with a new still as well. It's article from Mujerhoy in Spanish.

Using Google translate:

LIVE

Caitríona Balfe begins her new journey.

By Aloña Fdez. Larrechi 22 Mar 2025

Entering the name Caitríona Balfe (Dublin, 1979) into any internet search engine means entering a universe of biographies that begin with her career as a model, fans who admire her for her work on Outlander, and information about the popular series, which will air its final season this year. Among the results, you can also find a video recorded in 2002, shortly before she participated in the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show, in which she is asked about her acting studies and whether she will resume her acting career. "I don't know, I don't have any plans, maybe," answers a young woman in her early twenties with a smile and uncertainty. Four years later, aware of the importance of age in the fashion world, the possibility became a reality.

“When you look back on your life, you realize that everything that's happened has brought you to where you are,” explains the Irish actress. “Every moment can fuel your future existence. I've been very fortunate to have had an interesting life up until now,” she acknowledges. The current moment is one in which the daily routine that has defined her life for the past 11 years has undergone a change, as filming for the series that brought her worldwide fame has ended. “I know I've been doing this for 15 years, but since I was on Outlander for so long, I feel like I'm starting a journey,” she confesses.

The first stop on this journey is Amateur (April 11 in theaters), a feature film starring Rami Malek in which

The actor best known for portraying Freddie Mercury in Bohemian Rhapsody is Charlie Heller, a brilliant CIA codebreaker who makes revenge for the death of his wife, murdered by a terrorist group, his most personal mission. To carry out this bloody task, he will have the help of a Russian hacker played by Balfe.

“When I read the script I thought, ‘This is fun,’” she confesses, before adding that although “these action movies are dominated by force, because everything revolves around the fights, Amateur is a very intelligent and very funny take on the genre.” Something that, added to the admiration she feels for Malek – “He’s a very interesting and unique actor” – with whom she had not worked but whom she knew “socially because we coincided at the Golden Globes,” led her to change the wardrobe of a 21st-century doctor during a break from filming the latest installment of Outlander.

XX who travels back in time 300 years through the life of a woman who lives in hiding today.

For the actress, the best part about the character is that she's "a lone wolf who lives in the shadows." She was inspired by Pussy Riot member Nadya Tolokonnikova because "I was trying to find someone who was very comfortable in English but had a Russian background," due to her character's accent, but also her motivations. "I really enjoyed finding in her a commitment to justice and integrity that isn't tainted by the influence of a regime," she acknowledges.

The revenge that drives Malek's character, and her own, is, for the actress, "very interesting to portray, because it's very different for each person: for some, it's debilitating and completely paralyzes them; for others, it propels them forward and leads them to do truly incredible things. That's a point where my role and Malek's diverge, but it also gives them this place where they connect deeply," she explains.

A childhood dream with an unexpected detour

The fourth of five siblings, with two other foster children at home, Caitríona Balfe grew up in rural Ireland dreaming of becoming an actress. “I was that annoying little girl,” she shares with a smile, “who would do little skits at home from the age of three or four. My dad used to do comedy sketches with his friends, so I think it was in my genes, in a way.” So when it came to choosing a career, she opted for acting. But she didn't expect that, while helping friends raise funds for multiple sclerosis, a man working for a modeling agency in Dublin would give her his card, and soon after, a French agency would sign her to work as a model in Paris.

She walked for fashion houses like Louis Vuitton and Chanel, but she defined herself as a "blue-collar model," one who lives on the ladder below supermodels and goes unnoticed. When she decided to return to acting in the 2000s, she moved to Los Angeles and took classes again. "I was very lucky because I met great teachers and it helped me regain my confidence," she shares, after acknowledging that "when you come from the fashion world, you get comfortable with rejection." After landing small roles in films and TV series, in 2013 she had been out of work for several months when her agent suggested she audition for Outlander. With no news, she organized a vacation, which she ultimately had to cancel because she was asked to travel to London for the final audition. After landing the role that brought her fame, she decided to leave Los Angeles for Scotland for a year.

More than a decade later, she still lives in Glasgow and enjoys spending time with her son, "because it was hard not to do so in recent years." A project as long-running as the series based on Diana Gabaldon's novels has been a "very hectic time, like being on a train that never stops." That unstoppable journey took her, among other destinations, to work on Belfast, the Kenneth Branagh film that earned her a Golden Globe nomination. "Now I enjoy the luxury of taking some time and choosing good projects," she admits, eager for the direction her new, yet highly experienced, career will take.