#you could trust him with your life despite his past crimes

[closedrop]

Okay so this is the OC I wanna infodump about first because he’s the favorite child of the bunch (don’t tell the others I said that) I’m sure you can tell though, he’s literally my pfp lol

(Images and lore under the cut)

Alright so there’s a lot to unpack about this fellow since he’s connected to a series of other ocs I’ve created but I’ll just cover his lore since there’s a lot of it.

This pink looking fellow’s name is EA, no not like Electronic Arts, it’s pronounced like the letter E. The reason for this being he’s my Puyo oc! Since Puyo has been such a big part of my life for a long time now I wanted to make one, and I made him way back when only a few months into my obsession. His name came about because in the original concept I was trying to come up with a letter name spelled not like the letter itself since I wanted him to be a member of the tetra crew. Some original ideas for his name included “E E E”

“E” “EE” “EH” “EUE” “EHEE” “え” “IH” before my friend proposed the amazing idea of “EA” and that’s what stuck :) and honestly I’m glad it did or else I’d have a character named “IH”

Soon after his creation, I started brainstorming for the plot of his story, which, was originally starting on the Tetra (this was later changed) my friend Cabin (the same one who helped come up with the name) drew a comic depicting their version of the start of the story (which honestly I think is funnier than the way I originally wrote it

The comic for anyone wondering

Moving on from his creation, he quickly underwent a lot of development and personality changes. The current version of him is him being an alchemist holding the title of “Flower Alchemist” since most of his creations and magic rely heavily on flowers and plants. His favorite is lavender.

A bit more into the lore now, he’s actually a ghost! Unfortunately for him though he died quite young at the ripe old age of 12, he tends to look quite youthful but still somehow manages to convince people he’s around 20. He’s actually quite old, if you count the time he spent in limbo that brings us up to about 177-174 years of age! (Wow that’s old) time moves differently there so his age is unclear to even himself unfortunately 😔

Because of complex reasons surrounding his death, EA is still partially corporeal and is able to interact with items in the mortal realm (while sometimes phasing through them still, he manages) Since it would be the strangest thing to find out someone was a ghost who looks quite alive, he tries to keep up appearances as a person. He does so by eating/sleeping like any normal person might. Although he doesn’t need either of them he finds sleeping to be very serene(when he doesn’t have nightmares that is) When he eats, since his organs no longer work, this too means he’s unable to taste anything. And food is more like a mere memory of what the article once tasted like. Meaning, if EA hasn’t tasted something before he will never know what it’s like, and even then what he can “taste” is really just a vague aftertaste essentially. (Don’t ask where the food goes when he eats it, nobody knows. Personally I feel like it goes to the backrooms or something like that.) As I’m sure you’ll notice, in one of the images there’s some kind of weird black circle protruding from his head, this is because for some odd reason there’s a hole in his face that can open up, revealing a void-like mouth that eats shapes and colors. Neither EA nor anyone else he knows exactly knows what it is but he’s come to terms with it and he feeds it children’s wooden blocks. The best ones being a purple trapezoid and a yellow/red triangle.

Moving on to his attire, I’m sure you’ll notice a few things that stand out, one being his hat is floating, the other being that he has one shoulder pad and one knee pad. (Only reason it’s not there in some of them is bc I forgot it 💀) While you might think the hat is floating because I simply don’t want to draw over the head, which is one of the reasons so good job if you guessed that, but the other being, he has it enchanted so that nobody can remove it from the air but him. He keeps his most valued items in there so he put every protection spell he could find on it! (It’s a magic hat of holding and he keeps his diary, spellbook, and wand in there! Along with a myriad of other things such as clothes.)

As for the two items of protection, that was given to him by his best friend in the beta version of his production! It was because he fell out of a portal onto his soon to be friend and the future friend decided to give him some protection to prevent him falling so hard and injuring himself in future incidents. This of course, is no longer the version of the story, but I decided to keep his protection as a memento to my old version of him pre-development.

Out of all my characters he’s probably the kindest, he doesn’t swear unless he absolutely needs to and he typically tries to help people, though sometimes his own motives get in the way and he has to ignore those in need for personal gain. Sort of a morally grey guy but he’s leaning more towards the way of being a good person. Poor guy uses comedy to cope though and typically puts on this “oh I’m super happy all the time” act but most of the time deep down he’s really going through it, almost exorcised because of that :(

Fun facts: EA is actually trans FTM but since he died before he could transition he just wears a binder 24/7 since he doesn’t have ribs to protect.

EA glows slightly and becomes translucent on Halloween. No I will not elaborate

EA has committed several crimes in his past (especially when alive), including but not limited to, second degree murder, third degree murder, fraud, robbery, arson, and identity theft.

EA has exploded several labs before

Though EA’s organs no longer work, he still breathes from time to time out of habit from when he was alive (thing I made canon courtesy of my friend Julis)

EA’s signature is his name followed by a flower something like this “EA✿” (The way he signs his name can be seen in my drawings, only without the flower 😔)

Overall a really silly silly goober, I’ve spent many hours developing him and he’s also beloved by many of my friends as well :) and I hope you guys like him too since I’ve spent so many days working on his character :3

What if I just infodumped about all my ocs

Would you guys even care

Nobody can stop me

[obsessedwrhys]

Can we have a part 2 Deadpool reader with the boys and maybe soldier boy too❓❓ if you want to of course

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ The Boys x Deadpool!Reader

t/w: loooots of dark humour/jokes, reader's origin will be explained underneath, reader is still an asshole lol that comes with the character, mention about killing,death,gore, weed, drugs, Reader is gn!!!

ᯓ★ here's a version with the seven, kiss kiss <3

Origin:

Quick summary, when you were born, your parents had agreed with Vought to have you be pumped full of Compound V so you could grow up and be a hero working under them, but the problem was when you were around 7, they changed their mind so Vought ended up sending several people to come to your house to settle the matter.

Your whole family was massacred in the living room during thanksgiving and when they tried to capture you. You were able to run away. Homeless and living on the street, you grew up in a life of crime, depending on nobody but yourself. Make sense? No? Good! Let's start now.

BUTCHER

To him, you were like a fly that won't leave him alone.

How he knew you was through Mallory, she thought you were okay and fit for the job since you hated Vought just as much.

Obviously he didn't like you once you were introduced to him and the two (M.M and Frenchie)

"No way am I lettin' a supe join us"

":("

Though after what happened to Mallory's grandchildren, the gang pretty much dispersed but wherever Butcher went, you followed. Since he was the only person you trusted... and also enjoy annoying the shit out of.

He'd head inside a club, relieved he hadn't seen you for the past few days so he decided to grab a drink by the bar to unwind.

"Whiskey" He said with his eyes looking around, paranoia shown on his face.

Once his drink was served, he would look back to find your eyes smiling at him, you were wearing a bartender disguise over your red suit.

"Did you miss me?"

"Oh christ..."

When you heard word that he was gathering back the team, you had to be there. What kind of friend would you be if you didn't?

Undoubtedly he had to admit, there were times where he was grateful to have you on the team but there were also other times he regretted it.

For example, that time when you guys needed to sneak into a lab to get something and the goal was to stay quiet but even that simple rule was hard for you to follow.

"Room's up ahead. (Y/N) I need you to—"

"Heads up!" You said as you threw a bomb at the metal door.

The explosion causing the alarm to turn on and it had the whole lab now on high alert. You shrug innocently when Butcher glared at you like he wanted to tear you apart.

Also, you enjoy constantly pissing him off. You can't die so you don't really care if he'll kill you for it.

"Maybe, if you didn' press the fuckin' button, we wouldn't have to come bac' to save yer ass from the guards"

"OOH GOD SAVE THE QUEEEN!! Please, cry me a fucking river. I got us the target didn't I?"

"He's dead"

"Well you weren't being specific when you said to capture him"

But it's fine, all his frustration will be solved once he uses you as bait. He knows you can't die but hey, it makes him feel slightly better watching you get shot at.

Despite your ups and downs, he appreciates you. When the team would turn against him on his insane journey for revenge, he always found you the only one still standing by his side. You're loyal and he likes that.

Compatibility? 75%

HUGHIE

You treat him like a child.

No seriously you baby talk him sometimes and it annoys him

"Awwwww is little hughie angry?"

"Stop..."

"Does baby want his milky?"

Since he's pretty much the only person who isn't that exposed to crime as the others, he's terrified 100% everytime when he's paired up to do any dirty work with you.

"Now listen buddy, you better start talking or I'm gonna shoot" You said, gun raised at the man who seemed to be begging you to spare his life in a language you didn't speak.

"I don't think he speaks English"

"Ah shit... ENGLISH!! SPEAK!! ABCDEFG??!"

"How is shouting in English gonna make him understand?"

"Eh, you're right"

BANG

"WHY'D YOU SHOOT HIM??!"

"Well did you expect me to pull out Duolingo and start taking classes?!"

You had to admit, it was a pain in the ass each time he starts giving you the cold shoulder whenever he gets mad at you for doing something terrible. It was like his way of guilt tripping you so you always try to apologise in your own ways.

"Hey..." You said, handing him ice cream.

"...I uh... I don’t like Strawberry ice cream... I thought I told you that"

"God you're so ungrateful!!"

Since he was such a scaredy cat, you try to tone down your craziness a bit. For the sake of him not going into cardiac arrest.

"(Y/N) STOP!! She has nothing to do with this!! She was tricked" Hughie grabbed you by the arm to pull your gun away from the innocent woman.

You turn your head to look at him, then at the woman, then at him again, then the woman, then him again.

"Ugh finnnne... you're boring..."

However, he does appreciate you trying to be a better person. Even you had to admit, after you met him and became friends. You noticed yourself being less brutal than you used to be. The thought keeps you awake at night and it scares the shit out of you.

But oh well, how could you ever say no to those scared little puppy eyes?

Compatibility? 55%

FRENCHIE

He's like your hype man which is concerning.

Not because you're not afraid to get the job done but also because you always have his back.

"Well... I need some gunpowder but I've run out of them" Frenchie said, telling Butcher that the plan was most likely not gonna happen.

"Hold on" You said with the typical comical ☝🏻 gesture before heading into a different room. Everyone exchanging confused glances at what you could possibly be doing.

After a few minutes you'd return with a bag of gunpowder while struggling to zip up your pants with the other hand.

"Don't tell me how I got it. It almost tore me apart" You said, rubbing your ass.

On stressful nights, you guys would enjoy smoking weed together by the sofa and share stories of your traumatic childhood. It's how you guys bond and it's oddly wholesome.

Also when he needs a shoulder to cry on, you were always there for him. You two shared a type of relationship that even Romeo and Juliet couldn't compete with. To be fair they're dead so they actually can't fight.

"Hey reader!! If you're gonna keep reading then you might as well give the post a like or a repost. C'mon, pleassssseeee pleasepleaseplease"

"Ma cerise, who are you talking to?"

Although he doesn't mind your behaviour sometimes but he won't tolerate it if you ever cross the line on something. He's like the owner who sprays water at his pet cat when they don't listen.

"What are you mad at me for?!?!"

"You damn near tried to get us killed!!"

"Hey! You're the one who said it would be a suicide mission so I made sure it was a suicide mission!!"

"WHAT?"

There's no way he can deny how curious he is about where you get your guns and things. He once went in your room to find boxes of dynamite and a RPG just placed against the wall like furniture.

Like do you have a supplier or are you your own supplier?

Compatibility? 99.9%

M.M

Everybody deserves second chances.

He always tells him that to calm himself down everytime you managed to fuck up a thoroughly planned mission.

"What did I say about pressing buttons (Y/N)?"

"Honestly I stopped paying attention after you said 'Listen here'."

M.M has to be the only person you fear to the fact you try very hard to avoid him, this is because his long ass lectures are such a pain to deal with.

"How many times do I have to remind you? You can't just go around doing shit like that. You gotta consider the amount of danger you'll put everyone in..."

"(Blah blah blah... he's still going... uggggh... make it stop...!)"

Unable to handle the lecture any longer, you ended up shooting yourself in the head.

"(Y/N)!" His tone more disappointed than concern since this wasn't the first time you did this to escape his talks.

You know that russian dollhouse he tries to build in season 2? Well you'd constantly be found standing or sitting near him when he's trying to finish the set.

Since you're aware of his OCD, you like to edge him on by sometimes rearranging the parts or stealing some of it so he ends up searching high and low for the missing parts.

You had to admit it was entertaining to watch him accuse other people for touching his stuff when it was you behind all the schemes.

I'd like to think that after every mission when you happen to die, he'd be the one in charge of collecting your remains so you'd grow back.

That's why it comes naturally that his job is to make sure you don't do anything extreme.

"Where are my bombs??!?!" You'd shout, storming around the place looking for them.

"I sold them. Thought it'd do us more good knowing you won’t accidentally blow us up"

"WHAT?! GOD! It's like the writers of the show couldn't afford another explosion for this season so they had to use this DUMB of an excuse!!"

Though he does see some good in you through the messed up parts, he once saw you give his daughter a cute teddy bear when they've been burned by Vought.

She still has the bear and M.M likes to think that maybe you have a soft spot for kids since you never had a proper childhood. That's why he chooses to understand you rather than just being ignorant about your behaviour.

Compatibility? 80%

KIMIKO

She finds you a little odd but she doesn't mind once she realises how everyone is used to you being like that.

Whenever you're bored, you'd come to see what she was up to. Just imagine you sitting on the sofa like a curious kid as you watch her write alphabets on the book.

She also tries to communicate with you since she thought maybe your fucked up mind would understand her better in a way. Like how in season 2 she was repeatedly writing 'boy' to Frenchie but he didn't understand, so she came to you.

"Woow... watching you try to talk to me is like watching a baby take it's first breath..."

"😐"

"It's beautiful..."

Turns out her theory was wrong, you had a harder time understanding her compared to the rest.

Since you're the only two people in the group with powers, most of the time you two are sent on dangerous missions together. It's a nightmare for her because everybody knows communication is key but one is mute and the other doesn't listen.

"(Be quiet! There's people in the other room!)" She'd sign to you but you were busy humming a song while throwing around the enemies equipment.

"Oooh, what's this?" You held up a Homelander figurine which made you laugh as you show it to her.

"Hey look! 'I'm Homelander, I'm God's favourite. I play golf with Jesus every Sunday."

"(Can you please take this seriously?)"

"You're right, you gotta stop messing around Kimiko! We have a target to kill here" You said and you threw the figurine away which apparently clashes into a stack of boxes that came crashing down. The sound making everyone inside the building grab their weapons and began cornering you two in the room.

"😡"

"Okay that wasn't me that was gravity"

For the boys, you were plan A and she was plan B. That's because you always end up rushing into a fight first which most of the time resulted in you getting dismembered, which she later comes in to save you.

For example when Stormfront had stopped you guys, your bright ass thought it was a good idea to charge at her even though everyone was signalling you to stop. Next thing you know you were just a head being carried by M.M, you ended up watching as Kimiko fought Stormfront with the help of Starlight and Queen Maeve.

"That's my girl!! Now can anyone lend me a hand? I think I lost mine"

Compatibility? 97%

Bonus +

SOLDIER BOY

You know the scene where he walks out of his containment with the gas surrounding him? You swore when you watched him step out butt naked, you could hear angels singing and trumpets playing inside your head.

Shockingly enough, he was the only person who appreciated your humour. Could be a generation thing. He's just relieved not everyone has gone soft over the years.

In a way, you feel like you've become his babysitter. Everytime Butcher and Hughie left to do some business, you were in charge of making sure he doesn't blow up anyone. You kept him entertained so he didn't mind. That's why on the hunt for his former team members, he immediately chose you to be by his side.

"I'll take red with me"

"Red as in the american flag or the russians?" You asked which had him do the typical boomer laugh.

"I like you, you're funny" He said with a strong pat on your shoulder.

Butcher doesn't mind you with him cause he trusts that you can keep him under control. Hughie on the other hand isn't sure if you can even keep yourself under control.

"Shhh... wait... do you hear that?"

"Ah shit, did I accidentally said my dirty thoughts out loud? It's just you look breedable in that suit"

Another thing he likes about you is that you're okay with killing pretty much anyone, just try not to overstep cause that could potentially piss him off.

"I told you he's mine" He said as he had you pinned against one of the trees, apparently you had shot Mindstorm in the head when he literally made it clear to you minutes ago that was his kill.

"Quite possessive aren't you? I can recommended a therapist I know. Her names Martha—"

"You shut your mouth before I shove my shield up your ass"

"Gasp don't you DARE threaten me with a good time!!"

At the end of Season 3, you would obviously side with Butcher when everyone started to turn against Soldier Boy. He had to admit he was kinda hurt though, he expected you to be on his side.

"So what? You're crawling back to him now? After what we've been through?"

"Sorry big daddy, but Butcher has been my day one and I also happen to love him veryvery much"

Cue Butcher rolling his eyes out of disgust.

Compatibility? 100% but after the betrayal? 0% 😔

[mamayan]

Hii can I request Gyomei x prostitute fem reader nsfw.....plsss

Gyomei Himejima x Fem! Reader

cw: NSFW • Darker Themes • Attempted murder (of reader) • Fem! Reader • prostitute reader • Fluff/Comfort • Size kink • Breeding kink • Sub/switch! Reader • Edging/Denial • Overstimulation • Oral (F)

“Namu Amida Butsu. Pitiful creature.” He doesn’t need vision to understand what was going on in the lively square of the red district tonight.

Normally a bubble of carnal desires and pleasure, many forgot the festering underbelly of this part of the city. He’s on a mission, needs to focus and do his job, but something keeps stopping him.

Possibly the kakushi by his side crying softly, pitying the poor soul on a trial meant to convict whether the offending party is guilty or not. How can an upright samurai be in the wrong in any way? It must be the fault of the lowly whore which should have known her place. Such disgusting beliefs made his gut churn, but he’s aware there is little one can do in this situation.

He needs to leave, walk away, and kill the demon living just on the outskirts of this district.

So why won’t his feet move?

“This bitch is getting what she deserves, and let her serve as a warning to all the workers in the district!”

“Oh no, is he going to decapitate her?!” The kakushi beside him gasps in horror, drawing his focus away from his chants to regain his will power and instead breaking his concentration as he focuses on the slurred drunk words of a man. The crowd is thickening, attention drawn to the spectacle but most of all, the promise of blood shed. “Gyomei-sama…” it would appear the kakushi wishes him to intervene.

He can’t. He’s not supposed to anyway. He knows nothing of the woman’s crimes nor any clear indication on how to pass judgement.

“For trying to run from the great Habuyoshi who mearly admired the beauty! For daring to raise these weak fists at the great Habuyoshi! For biting the dick of the great Habuyoshi! I am putting this filthy dog down!” The crowd was cheering, jeering him on, even begging he kill her after violating her for the crowd to watch, or wanting to do it themselves. Gyomei had heard the red light district was filled with glistening gold and red, and it enrages his heart to think such an auspicious color is tied to such a festering diseased place. No one won here. Ever.

Before the kakushi could move, he’d already made his presence known, easily knocking the samurai unconscious.

The crowd stared in awe and fear of the enormous man wielding only prayer beads, defeating the well known samurai of the area so easily with only a single blow.

“Who owns this prostitute?”

None speak up for a moment, tension thick in the air as a savior appears for a once thought dead woman.

“M-me…” an elderly woman far past her prime shakily steps out, her guilty and shifty expression not seen by the man looking at nothing, but her nervous energy radiated off in waves for all to feel.

“I’ll buy her.”

“Gyomei-sama?!”

“Huh—?”

You awoke with minimal pain.

The jarring events of the night prior swirling in your mind and dumbfounding you because what was that?

You nearly died because a strange man grabbed you off the street while you were running an errand and tried to rape you in an alley way. Of course you fought back, but it seems that’s a crime if the perpetrator is stronger than you.

Tears fell despite your anger. You were no longer a prostitute, your freedom seemingly bought out of kindness but you knew not to trust anything given freely. There’s always a price, and your life thus far had taught you to be witty and at least somewhat charming. Though it hardly did much for you last night when the crowd roared for your execution like your life meant so little.

Your new owner is more terrifying than your previous house mother. At least she’d been open about her greedy vile mindset, but this man is nothing short of an enigma. Why did he save you? What is the purpose? What should you do now? It left you riddled with anxiety as you sat in a bed more comfortable than you could ever remember sleeping in, the blankets and pillows too of better quality than the red light district ever provided even for the top courtesans. You’d been given plain but high quality clothing as well, allowed to bathe alone, and then fed a vegetarian meal so delicious you wondered if the Buddhist monks had it much better than you gave them credit for.

Now you slept, in a room all to yourself, with no idea of what was to come next.

Did he want you as a wife? That didn’t seem right though. He didn’t appear the romantic type, and his size alone mildly frightened you despite his soft demeanor and speech. Were you to act as a servant? Did he wish to sell you to another area and call it good karma, leaving the matter as that? It ate away until you could no longer stand it, rising from the bed you longed to stay in forever, and slipping out of your room to explore the estate.

It’s shockingly empty.

Not a soul in sight as you explored, stealing bread from the kitchen as you walked, pondering the possibility of ghost servants. You felt silly and dismissed it, but the eerie silence was begining to get to you. You turned and headed for an opening, finally finding a serene courtyard. You were awestruck by the landscape, attention quickly caught as you spot a small pond with a bridge.

Hope bloomed and then flourished as you spotted several fat pretty koi swimming about, different colored patterns moving around and hypnotizing you.

“Ssshhwink!” You jolted in shock at the loud sound of a blade being struck, eyes honing in on the source as you see a training ground of sort in the distance.

Shock was the least of your current emotions as you watched the enormous man, your supposed savior for now, swing around an axe and spiked flail attached to a very long chain. Surrounding him were multiple dummies, made from steel, as if you weren’t already shocked silly. For someone so large, he was graceful and fast, skilled in each tiny movement and it nearly made you think of a dance you’d seen long ago at a festival when you were a child.

He’s no one ordinary. That’s clear enough, and he’s not a samurai it seemed either.

He could kill you quicker than that man before and he could’ve killed that man too but chose not to. Your heart trembled, because you knew those that hesitated left empty handed, and if his goal was merely to rescue and abandon you then you’d find yourself back to being sold off or worse.

You needed him to keep you, no matter how his appearance made your knees weak.

“Are you hungry?”

One week. You’d been in his estate one week and this was the first conversation you’d had with him since that night he saved you.

“Namu Amida Butsu. Thank you.” He accepts the lunch you prepared, as you learned fast that once he’d brought you into his estate, he’d been abandoned by his cooks. His servants who cleaned or kept things in order were incredibly well trained and avoided you similarly. You’d been cooking his meals and leaving them outside his room in the morning, and he’d usually be gone for most of the day until very late evening where you’d leave his dinner outside his small study or prayer room.

This was your first chance to initiate contact with him, and it made you swallow your nerves as you came up eye level with his abdomen. He accepts the tray, sitting at the small table in the open courtyard. He repeats his chants while you observe him up close for a moment.

He is handsome in a rugged way. His scars surprisingly only adding character. His thin lips and long lashes would’ve made many woman jealous as well.

“This is very delicious. You’re a good cook.” You startle lightly from your day dream as you stare at him with wide eyes, his face still tilted down as he eats.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He hadn’t expected to find your company so pleasant.

Your presence was easy, comfortable and enjoyable after you warmed up more, chattering away similarly to the love Hashira at times. It made a strange sort of fondness form in his chest as he listens to your opinion on cherry blossom season, and why mochi is best served cold.

He finds himself rushing now after missions to return to his estate, something he’d never have done in the past. If only to hear your greeting of “welcome home” which makes the estate he’d been given actually feel like one.

You held his hand a few days ago, pulling him quickly and quietly to feel the soft fur of a sleeping cat you’d taken to adopting. He remembers the feel of your skin, the fragility of your hand within his, and how tiny you are. It shouldn’t affect him like this. Yet even as he sits below the icy fall of water in a lotus pose, his aching erection won’t ebb.

He’s ashamed the first time he wraps one big calloused palm around his leaking shaft and fucks his fist to the thought of you.

He’s even more ashamed when those thoughts haunt him in your presence.

He’s alarmed however when he wakes tonight to the sound of his shoji sliding open. Not by the intruder, your footsteps much louder ironically when you attempt to be quiet, but by the timing.

He released his cock and laid still, strangely nervous to appear asleep should you check.

Why were you in his room?

He chants in his mind when he hears fabric rustling, then a plop on the floor as something slides and falls. Were you… undressing?

His room felt hotter, or it may have possibly been him, as the sound of you nearing alerts him to a reason you’re here tonight.

“I know you are awake.” You sound bemused.

“I know you should be in bed.” He replies more shakily than he’d hoped to sound.

“I am trying, but you won’t seem to move over for me.” His breath hitches, and before he can think he’s scooting aside and feeling anxious for the first time in a long time. He’s too old now to be fearful of such a tiny woman, your charms and allure certainly difficult to dismiss but you shouldn’t make his hands sweat like this.

“Fuck,” he doesn’t mean to curse, but when you press your nude figure tight against his side, he nearly embarrasses himself by finishing what he’d started before you’d interrupted. Not that he nor his cock minded your company, in fact it twitched as if excited about your presence.

“It feels better if you face me.”

“What are you doing?” He feels flustered, hands desperate to grab you but unsure exactly if he should.

“Seducing you…?” He hears now the unsure tone you speak with, the way your fingers curl into his yukata to prevent him from pushing you away. He shifts and turns, the futon thankfully custom for his size and fitting you fully as he finally touches you. Your face first at least.

“Are you looking at me?”

“Yes.”

“Am I pretty?” He chuckles, smile making you press your thighs together due to the sheer masculine charm he oozed.

“You are soft.” He drops his voice as he presses a hand to the middle of your back and pulls you closer. His body radiates heat like none other you’ve ever felt, all pillowy muscles and smelling of sandalwood and sage, and something else beneath it that made your teeth ache. “You are considerate and empathetic.” His hands smooth over your cheeks, nose, forehead, and lips. “You are cute and witty, I find I laugh most in your presence.” His thumbs lightly graze over your eyes. “You are intelligent. I feel I can confide in you and be understood.” Down your jaw and chest, over your shoulders and down your arms to your hands shaking lightly. “You are also mischievous, I never know what you’ll come up with…” his hands come back up, one loosely and easily encircling your entire throat. “Like sneaking into a man’s room in the middle of the night and climbing into his bed naked.” He means to sound chastising but his lust is difficult to mask. Your giggle lets him know you take it lightly.

“Not some man’s room… your room, Gyomei.”

It’s like you want to set him off.

“Should I go?” He can’t deny the way it ignites him to have you here.

“No.” He groans lightly, hands finally taking the dip you’d both been aching for and feeling your chest. “You don’t get to leave now. At least not until you explain what is it is you search for.”

“Relief?” He frowns, but becomes quickly distracted by the malleable flesh in his hands, thumbs brushing over pebbled nipples and drawing little sighs from you.

“A-and… I guess confirmation.” He pinches on little bud, rewarded with a tiny moan and the arching of your back.

“Confirmation for what?” He murmurs, debating if you being atop him would be easier.

“That you like me.” He halts, startled by the confession.

“You thought I didn’t like you?” He clarifies, finally deciding and easily lifting you up by the hips to sit on his stomach, thighs on either side of him.

“I didn’t know if it was the sort between lovers or not…” he nods, finally understanding.

“I want you deeply, sweet girl.” He doesn’t miss the shiver which shakes you when he calls you that, smile tilting higher into a crooked smirk as he lifts his hands and runs them over your ass, gently squeezing each cheek and then moving to touch your thighs.

You don’t speak as he feels you up, quiet aside from small pleasurable mewls when he plays with your breasts or spreads your ass and let’s cool air hit your cunt.

“Do you touch yourself?”

“Y-yes…?”

“To the thought of me?” You feel your body heat.

“Yes. Always to the thought of you.” Your answer makes him groan, hips rutting up into nothing as he squeezes your hips.

“What do I do to you then, in your fantasies.” He’s desperate to know, desperate to recreate it. Your nails dig into the muscle on his chest, dwarfed on top of him like this.

“Oh, well, I… sit on your face.” He quirks a brow at the odd fantasy, unfamiliar with such an act.

“And do what?”

“Let you lick me, down here.” He allows you to guide his hand to the warmest place on your body, his mind blanking as he realizes.

“Oh.”

“We don’t have to do that though, let’s do what you want—oh!” He’s hauling you up like a doll onto his face, thighs spread on either side and your pussy spread and easily accessible now for his mouth. Gyomei doesn’t hesitate now, tongue slipping out as dragging through your folds as if he’s done this before. He hasn’t but he makes up for it with his wide and powerful tongue and eagerness to learn.

“Gyomei! I—ngh~!” Your moan when he licks at your pussy is more than he ever imagined. The wanton swivel of your hips as you grind down only make him more feral, large hands firmly on your ass and keeping you pressed down. Oxygen the least of his concerns as he licks and sucks until your writhing and digging your nails into his hair while you cry out for him.

He likes this act much more than his own daydreams of being intimate with you, the heady taste of your slick and sounds of your pleasure like a drug.

“I’m going to cum—!” You’re so close it’s a wonder you don’t tip over even as he lifts you completely off his face.

“H-huh?” You sound dazed and confused, so cute it makes him want to settle you down on his face again but he stops himself.

You’re on your back, looking up at his figure not blanketing you, one arm keeping him up as he lifts your chin and kisses you. You taste yourself on his lips.

“You can’t cum yet.” You feel irritable having your orgasm denied, pouty expression unseen but tone converting your emotions.

“Why?” Gyomei smiles, kissing you again and forcing your mouth open to play with your tongue, sliding his thigh between your own so you can grind on him for relief.

He breaks away with a string of saliva connecting you for a moment, warm breath fanning over you. “It will hurt taking me, but it will hurt less if you cum while I’m inserting it.”

Oh. It made sense actually.

Except he doesn’t move ahead to fucking you like you wanted, asking you for more fantasies you‘ve had of him.

“Using your fingers…” and he opened you up more than any man has ever with his fingers alone. Two alone stuffing your poor cunt seemingly to max and once more bringing you to the edge until you felt like crying when he pulled away.

“Shh,” he cooes, mildly upset he’s causing you distress and equally amused by how cute he finds your grumbling as he rearranges you again. This time he just rolls your clit gently with his thumb and kisses you, lavishing your neck in love bites you’ll surely need help covering in the morning and then giving attention to your breasts.

“Gyomei please!” Your third denial felt nearly painful, your core cramping with the desperate need for release as you wiggle and struggle beneath him.

“You’ll be very sorry if I take you now, be good for me, little lotus.” He kisses away your tears of frustration, once more spearing you open with two fingers until you’re moaning and rolling your hips into him, then he adds a third.

He stills when you hiss in pain, concern painting his features as he moves to pull them out only for your hand to stop him.

“It’s okay! I’m alright, it just stings a little.”

“We can stop here, I’ll make you cum and we can go back to sleep—,”

“No! I want you, please.”

He feels hesitant until you begin to relax, body finally accepting three fat fingers stretching your little hole out as slick drips down his palm and soaks into bed below.

“G-Gyomei please let me cum, I can take you even if I do, I just need—!” You’re so close again, but he’s stringent as he pulls free from your soft tight walls with a pop. Your whine of frustration goes ignored as he finally reaches his own limit.

“I’m going to sit you in my lap.” You’re pliant in his hold as he sits up and drags you with him, placing your back to his front as he unties his yukata and allows himself to be free. He gives himself a few pumps, balls swinging heavy as he sits down with you.

You regret looking down in curiosity. Having known some men, despite being quite big physically, can have small penises.

Gyomei isn’t one of them apparently, his caution not without cause as you see the enormous cock he carries, the thick veiny shaft frightening and leaking pre-cum like a stream. Even his balls were ridiculously large, and you briefly pondered taking his offer of going to sleep.

You shook it off as you felt a gentle kiss to your temple, body relaxing as he began another round of torture to your clit with more gentle rolls with his fingers.

“Relax for me, you’re being so good, all mine,” he’s mumbling, body tense as he holds himself back and prepares mentally to keep calm as he lifts you up and lets the plush tip kiss your entrance. Then you’re feeling pleasure and pressure like nothing you‘ve ever felt before, mind going blank as you cum while he stuffs you to full capacity, Gyomei similarly struggling as he moans feeling your gooey walls contract and try to push him out even as gravity drags you down on his cock.

“Gyo—hah—!” You can hardly breathe, body struggling to connect the pain while you’re writhing pleasure as he wraps an arm around your waist and lifts you up and down, still touching your swollen nub, bullying his cock into you one inch at a time. Your squeals of shock and euphoria nearly make him lose it, and when his tip finally smushes up against your cervix, he cums hard.

“I-I can feel it filling me—,” your eyes roll back as hot spurts of cum pump into your womb, Gyomei’s arm like an anchor as he groans and rocks you gentle against him.

“Feels so good…” he’d never known sex could feel like this, that you felt like this, but he’s unable to pull out despite his cock becoming sensitive. Instead he keeps you in place, plugging your little hole with his cock and keeping every drop of cum inside you where it belongs.

That thought startles him. Did he want to make you pregnant? Did he want a family?

More than anything—

Gyomei groans, hushing you as you whine and wiggle in his lap, feeling his cock swelling thick and hard again inside you. “Gyomei—s’too much,” you feel like you’ll burst, body already exhausted but he’s hardly done it seems as he begins to bounce you again, feeling more akin to a toy as his shaft splits your pussy open. The slick squelching noises blend with your moans and his grunts, his cock burying itself as deeply as possible each thrust as he murmurs praise down into your ear.

“So good for me. Taking all of me so well,”

“Do you like feeling my cum inside you? Do you want more?”

“I’m going to fill you up again, make you nice and full.”

“Going to put a baby inside you, let everyone know you’re mine now.”

You’re gone, too cock drunk to do much else but cum around him and moan, drool spilling down your chin in a thin line as he takes away all coherent thoughts.

You awake the next morning sore and groggy, face confused as you look at a room not your own.

You glance down at the arm keeping you trapped, merely draped over you but so weighted you’d need to wake him to move.

He got you filthy last night, cum coating all of you inside and out before he’d washed you and put you to bed. The memory brings heat to your face as you burry yourself into the bed and smile.

He’s yours now too.

Your story to be told as one from rags to riches.

Dividers/@cafekitsune

[webq84]

soft yandere killer who've lived his entire childhood completely lacking of love, making him believe that he would be truly living the rest of his days as a heartless killer. but after meeting you, though he's still a murderer, his once dead heart now beats with life, just like how you've always brought life to your many genius artistry.

soft yandere killer who is reborn through the series of horrifying events that happened in his life and curses the very town that gave birth to him as the monster he is, the simple whisper of his name blowing shivers down anyone's spine.

he haunts the people, chasing them even inside their dreams and thoughts, leaving them anxious and restless at night wondering if they'll be the next unfortunate victim within his sadistic hands.

with his lingering presence, some can't continue living their normal lives as even the slightest movement from the shadows of their feet scares them to death. the majority decided to take action. escaping into a faraway country until their selves and their families are tucked away safely from his rotten gaze. while others remained in their homes despite the ongoing chaos.

they can only pray to the gods that they believed in, while also entrusting their faith and trust into the shoulders of their hardworking police officers and detectives.

though many residents have fled to a much safer sanctuary, there are those few who moved in and replaced the empty homes they left behind. perhaps they were too late to hear the news. but nevertheless, you were one of those people.

aspiring, yet you were also a lazy painter. unless your creative mind is inspired by something, your fingers would be even too lazy to lift up a paint brush. the exhaustion that was never there before suddenly slugging your movements.

but the moment you picked up that familiar spark that makes the gears in your head suddenly work, you never waste a moment spilling every hard work to create that masterpiece, refusing to let go of the firm grip you had around the paintbrush until your eyes find satisfactory.

and it happened on one particular night on your way home. but unfortunately, not in the same way you did in the past when you would come across a beautiful scenery.

you weren't expecting to stumble across the killer murdering one of the townspeople, the smell of iron strongly hitting your nostrils the moment their blood splattered across the cold ground. your wide eyes couldn't leave the gruesome sight, just as your whole body froze on the spot you're standing on.

but when the killer was about to turn around and see you, a witness to his heinous crimes, the freeze spell casted to your body breaks and you dashed off into a different direction, almost tripping on your wobbly legs.

you were able to get away. but that's because the killer let you ran off. you weren't fast enough to escape his vision. he caught you running away, presumably because of what you just saw. but for some reason, he didn't chase after you. he just stood there with his back facing the mangled corpse he was just toying with earlier.

it would be a lie to say if you continued living normally after that night passed. you couldn't get rid off the image of the horrified expression plastered on the victim's face as they stared at you with their lifeless eyes. it frequently appears in your slumber, turning your dreams instantly into a nightmare, keeping you awake for the rest of the night.

it came to a point where you don't even want to go to bed, fearing the scene will replay again once more in your sleep. you know to yourself that you can't continue living like this. you needed to do something.

just like how every artists paint their ideas into their canvas, you thought that if you paint that haunting memory, it will finally stop latching onto your brain like a living parasite. you would finally be able to rest.

day and night, you never stop painting, cooped up inside your little studio. the only sounds you could hear are your own breath and every stroke of your paint brush. because of how focused you are, you never realized the set of killer eyes watching you.

ever since that night, soft yandere killer have been stalking you. memorizing your routine. when he saw what you were painting, he was struck with amazement at how detailed your art is. it was even more special to his heart because it was the very night that he first saw you. the first meeting you two had inside his delusional mind. he thought you admired him, just as he's now admiring you in your natural place.

when you finally finished creating this horrible piece of art, you thought that your painting of him would stop there. it didn't. that scene still never left your head, so you continued, painting them in different ways, as if you're trying to appease a god that is dissatisfied with your offering. each painting you make, it becomes more and further disoriented from the original piece.

you started painting the killer in different situations, all in which are him murdering other people with different creative weapons. soon enough, your room is filled with his heavy presence despite him not being actually there, suffocating you.

and upon seeing the many paintings of him, soft yandere killer completely misunderstood the intentions behind your ongoing spiral to madness. you love him just as much as he loves you. and to honor the love that you're pouring into every hard work that you're putting in each masterpiece, the obsessed killer took it as a challenge to recreate every painting into his next murders to prove how much he loves you.

you two are beyond obsessed with each other. just not in the same way he thought you were.

[love-toxin]

DO U HAVE SUNDAY THOUGHTS…

/WHIPS MY HEAD AROUND EXORCIST-STYLE

(cws: toxic relationship, gaslighting, manipulation, yandere goodness)

It has to be said: big male manipulator daddy energy. If he wants you, he will ruin everything you love. He's smothering with endearment when you act according to his desires, and viciously brutal in his discipline when you go against his virtues. If you want out of his reach you'll just have to kill him because he's not interested in letting his pet personal attachment go.

Not that he isn't gentle at times, even sweet. He can be gentle and is actually very good at being so. He does truly love to see you smile and to feel your happiness flooding out of you; he loves the excitement in your eager gait when he shows you the Golden Hour for the first time, and all those colours and wondrous sights you've never seen before come to life in the dream. The reflection of all those brilliant, glimmering lights in your eyes is a sight he'll never forget.

But you are not his equal, for the simple reason that you require more guidance to be on your own. Sunday is convinced that you're a little lost lamb, delicate and unworldly, and that you need a proper mentor before you can even think of making your own decisions in life. Little do you know that he has no intention of ever seeing you in that light of equality, but to be fair, neither does he. He's just certain that you're a passion project requiring his help, and that is something he is all too happy to lend despite his many other duties to the Family.

That means, however, that you're essentially stuck with him. With Robin's death so fresh in his mind, he can't let something he loves out of his sight ever again. You must stay with him and be by his side every second of the day--aren't you flattered? He trusts you most implicitly, to the point that you've listened to all but only the most exclusive inner workings of the Family, which are the only times that Sunday will briefly excuse himself to have a meeting with his companions alone. Sometimes it ends with only himself coming back out, but if you haven't learned already you will learn to keep your lips sealed about those occurrences. "It's nothing for you to worry about." Sunday's famous words ring in your head, usually followed by a welcome distraction of tea or a walk or even some ice cream. Anything for his little darling.

Part of what makes Sunday so enticing--and in fact is probably a large part of why you'd get sucked into his facade--is that he offers you something you likely don't have; a family. And not just that, but unconditional love, support, wealth, affection, comfort, anything and everything you could ever want, even if it's not directly from Sunday himself. Although you're by his side nearly every moment of the day and he's all too eager to offer you attention whenever possible, being part of the Family and part of Sunday's inner circle means that you're part of something much bigger than yourself. The Family members treat you with dignity. The Hounds protect you. The people of Penacony adore you. And no matter where you are, no matter what you do, Sunday will never give up on his unending affection for you. It doesn't matter what it is. It doesn't matter what crimes you've committed or what guilt you feel for your past, whether you're a happy person or you're miserable, whether you can't hold up your relationships or you're an egregious people-pleaser; Sunday will never, ever give up on you, and that's rare to find in anyone, much less someone of his status and one with so much romantic affection for you. He'll tell you himself that he physically cannot abandon you, it's just...not within him to even think of it. You're meant to be together. That's the way it should be, forever and always.

[ggomos-maribat]

Secrets, Masks, and Family Gatherings

Cross posted from AO3

It had been nearly a year since she moved to Gotham City, but the skyline seemed new each time she went out for night patrol. Ladybug zipped to another building with Red Hood to gain a higher vantage point. Her wings fluttered slightly with the breeze behind her.

"All clear here." Red Hood pressed on his comms.

"Okay. We'll wait for an update from Robin and Spoiler then we're finished for tonight if there aren't any problems," Batman replied.

"Yeah, it's a miracle we get to finish up early." The vigilante rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms. "So LB . . ."

"This small talk again?" Ladybug groaned.

Red Hood put his arms up. "Hey, I'm just curious."

"What is it now?"

"I was just wondering what made you transfer to Gotham." He perched on the ledge right beside her. "You defeated your city's villain, right? You had nothing to do anymore."

He's not wrong. She often thought about it herself. Her past and responsibilities clung to her like unshakeable nightmares. Ladybug knew the moment she gained guardianship that her life had no chance of reverting back to 'normal'.

"I think you know how it feels," she said.

"How what feels?"

Ladybug sighed, slumping. "When we defeated Hawkmoth, I thought we could finally rest easy. But I couldn't. I was restless, and between that and taking care of the aftermath, I realized I was missing the superhero life." She shrugged. "That's why I'm here now---it's inescapable. As the guardian, I decided it was better for the Miraculi to be used for good instead of sitting unused."

"Ah, classic PTSD like all the Bats." Red Hood nodded.

She snorted. "But that doesn't mean I still live a restless life. In fact, I've gotten used to life in Gotham."

"But why Gotham of all places?"

"The Miracle Box told me something. I can't divulge anything more."

"Just like you don't divulge anything about your civvy life."

She rolled her eyes, elbowing him on the side, which caused him to flinch dramatically. Bats and their nosiness. "Hey, we're not that close yet for me to reveal my identity. And it's a fair game. I don't know any of you either."

"I'm surprised B hasn't dug up anything on you. And he has contingency plans for all the JL members."

"I told you, the glamor protects us."

At first, she'd been hesitant to work with the vigilantes and at the same time, Batman had been wary around her especially when she was entering their territory. But she had gotten to know them well over time, despite not knowing who were behind the masks. She could also tell they'd grown to trust her like one of theirs.

"All clear near Crime Alley," Spoiler reported over the line.

"Good. Thank you for your help tonight, Ladybug. Everyone else, back to the cave."

Ladybug stood up abruptly. "Thank you too. I'll join the Signal during the weekend. He mentioned he might need some help."

"Oooh, you seem in a hurry to get back home." Red Hood tilted his head.

"No, I'm not spilling anything about my plans for the night," she huffed. "And I need to go because I'm hungry and my timer's running because you forced me to use my Lucky Charm to win that bet with Red Robin."

"The look on his face was priceless."

Ladybug threw her yoyo. "Good night, Hood."

After double checking that none of the others had followed or tracked her, Ladybug detransformed and walked back to her apartment building. She could practically hear the coffee calling to her; she'd drown in it endlessly whenever patrol nights ran late and she needed commissions to finish afterwards.

In the empty elevator, Tikki hovered up to her shoulder. "It's a good thing patrol ended early, Marinette."

"It's not a good sign, Tikki." She smiled grimly. "I think something big's going to happen. A massive breakout or a big plan by the Rogues."

The kwami hummed. "You can try to get plenty of rest before that happens."

"No promises. I have twelve designs I have to submit to Audrey by next week."

Just as she headed to her apartment door, her phone rang a familiar customized ringtone. Tikki also gasped in excitement upon seeing the caller's name.

Marinette tucked her phone between her ear and shoulder while jamming her keys through the doorknob. "Hey, Adrien. What's up?"

"Hey Nette. Done with patrol?"

"We finished early tonight. The Rogues are suspiciously silent. How are you? How's Plagg?" Marinette stepped into the room and Tikki turned on the lights.

"Currently pigging out on cheese. As always." She could almost see her best friend's eye-roll. "Anyway, I called to tell you that I'll be visiting Gotham on Friday. Wayne Tech is partnering up with our brand and Chloe and Kagami are coming with me."

"That's great news, Adrien! I'll bake something special---or should I take you out to a restaurant? I know some good ones near my place."

Adrien chuckled. "Pick anything you want. I'll tell Chloe to send you our schedule so we can reserve lunch or dinner with you and----no, Plagg! I'm not telling her to buy extra cheese!" He heaved out a breath. "At night we can have a short . . . run. You can introduce me to your new partners."

"They're not my partners. It's just you, kitty cat," Marinette said pointedly. "We're just allies."

"You gush about winning prank wars against them."

"It's fun being around them but that's it!"

He laughed. "It's okay. I'm glad you're enjoying your time over there. Send my regards to Damian."

A knock suddenly sounded on the door.

"Speaking of Damian, I think he's here. Gotta go, and say hi to Plagg and the others for me!"

"Pfft, you keep stroking his ego."

With one last goodbye, Marinette threw her phone on the couch and ran to the door. She hadn't expected her boyfriend to drop by, but she was glad he could make time for her. She knew Damian was as busy as her and she was worried he'd end up not taking care of himself like she always did.

"Dames, I thought you had work at the company for the whole night." She gave him a tight hug and a light kiss as soon as she opened the door.

Damian pecked her cheek, winding his arms around her waist. "They let us go early and I thought I should surprise you."

"Good, because I'm surprised," she beamed. "Are you staying the night?"

"Of course, habibti."

Damian Wayne had been an unexpected addition to her Gotham life. They had met in the park while they were working on their sketches---him, a portrait drawing and her, an inspired dress design. Before she knew it, she was with someone who she believed she could spend the rest of her life with. Damian was her support, her confidant in all aspects except her secret identity (though the thought of finally telling him had crossed her mind too many times).

"Are you hungry? I haven't had dinner yet and I was just thinking of cooking instant ramen . . ."

"We can have dinner together, but . . . there is something I need to talk to you about." Damian rubbed her arms, gazing at her intently.

Marinette's heart quickened as she subconsciously thought about all types of bad news. Did he get hurt? Did I do something? Is he going to break up with me?

"Habibti, love, I can already read your thoughts." He kissed the tip of her nose. "It's not anything terrible."

"What is it?"

Damian took a deep breath. "I think it's time for you to meet my family."

Marinette felt her jaw drop. "Your . . . your family? Are you sure about this?"

For the longest time, Damian had expressed his distaste at the thought of her meeting the Waynes. At first, she'd thought that it was the status difference, but he seemed more worried about his father and brothers doing something crazy.

On the other hand, they had both flown to Paris four months ago for Damian to officially meet her parents and friends. It had gone smoothly, and Damian was convinced that the opposite would happen if she met his family.

"Yes. I've thought about it." He sat down with her as she ran her thumb over the back of his hand. "They're already asking about you and if I stall for any longer, I know they will start prying into your life."

"Oh . . ."

Damian had talked about his brothers before, and Marinette saw them sometimes in news and tabloids. In her impression, they didn't seem too bad.

"But don't worry," he assured her, "I will be with you the whole time. We'll have lunch at the manor tomorrow---"

"Wait, tomorrow?"

"Is it too sudden? I worked with your free schedule and---"

"No, no, I'm definitely free tomorrow." Her eyes widened. "Let's meet them tomorrow. It just caught me off guard. I have to prepare my outfit and buy a gift and----oh no, what would your brothers like? What about your father and Alfred?"

Damian smiled gently. "You don't have to concern yourself with that. You’ll make a wonderful first impression."

"But---"

"I have to warn you about my brothers instead." His lip curled. "They will be a handful."

She laughed a little. "You already warned me a million times."

"Because I can't overstate how troublesome they'll be."

Instead of her reply, Marinette's growling stomach echoed in the room. She blushed as Damian pulled her from her seat, kissing her cheek. "It seems that we have an emergency to take care of first. I'll help you cook."

---

Marinette smoothed down the remnant wrinkles on her skirt. She'd chosen a simple pleated dress to wear to her first family lunch with the Waynes. At the same time, the car pulled up in front of the Wayne Manor. It was just as intimidating as she remembered---she'd only ever been to the manor once, to wait for Damian.

"Nervous?" Damian touched her hand.

"Should I be?"

"Never," he replied firmly. "If anything, I should apologize ahead of time. Also, there is no reason to be nervous. If they aren't busy acting insufferable, they'll be impressed by you."

Though the words were warm, they did little to calm her heart. These were the Waynes, royalty of Gotham. She even found it hard to believe that she was with Damian in the first place.

"Come on." Damian helped her out of the car and guided her to the front steps. He pushed through the large wooden doors and they were both met with a broad-shouldered man rushing down the main hallway.

"Todd," Damian called out. "Where on earth are you going?"

The man---Jason, she assumed---stopped, glanced at them, and gave her a quick once-over. Marinette noticed the motorcycle helmet he held on one hand.

"Demon brat." Jason tilted his head. "I have work to do."

"But lunch---"

"I promised to drop by. I didn't say I'll stay." He gave Marinette a single nod and went off.

"I bet he had another fight with Father," Damian muttered under his breath. Marinette squeezed his hand.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

"Don't apologize. Let's go," she told him softly.

Damian led her to the dining hall where the others were already sat around the table. Curious stares burned through Marinette, making her duck her head away. Damian himself was unfazed, wearing a half-scowl as he helped her to her seat.

"Master Damian, Miss Marinette, welcome." Just in time, Alfred strolled in with the food. She gave the butler a meek smile.

Then, she took a look at the Waynes one by one. The poised Bruce Wayne was at the head of the table, his presence the most prominent  in the room. Across from her was Dick Grayson, who looked like he was studying her. Positioned beside him were Tim and Stephanie, both whispering to each other. Finally, Barbara was at her other side, offering her a small smile of comfort.

"I'm glad to finally meet you, Marinette," Bruce greeted. "Damian talks a lot about you."

Marinette momentarily eyed the array of silverware near her plate which she did not know how to use. "The pleasure is all mine . . . sir."

"Please call me Bruce." He gestured to the food at the center. "Go ahead and help yourself. Alfred cooked a feast for us."

She cleared her throat. "Thank you, Bruce."

"How did you both meet?" Tim questioned.

"In the park, Drake. We were both drawing. I already told you," Damian butted in.

Tim waved him off. "I want to hear it from her, not you."

"I---"

"It's okay, Damian." Marinette nudged him a little. "I was sketching in the park when Titus came to me. Damian was drawing a picture of me while I was absorbed in my designs and accidentally let go of his leash. Titus led me to him and it all started there."

"You design?" Barbara asked.

Warmth crept to her cheeks. "It's my dream to become a fashion designer. I just do a few commission pieces here and there. I'm trying to take small steps to reach my goal."

A quick glimpse at her boyfriend told her that he was radiating all the pride in the world.

"Little D mentioned you came from Paris?" Dick sipped on his drink. "Why did you decide to leave?"

"Oh, please don't get it all wrong. I know Paris earned a bad rep after the Hawkmoth fiasco but that was years ago. I just decided to move here to find more opportunities for myself," Marinette answered smoothly.

"Why Gotham of all places, if I may ask?" Bruce chimed in. "Admittedly, this isn't the friendliest city in the country."

"Father, stop with the interrogation," said Damian.

"It's okay, Dames, I don't mind. Promise." She squeezed his hand under the table.

"Fine. But do not answer anything if you're not comfortable."

Marinette looked at Bruce. "One of my friend's parents who works in fashion suggested Gotham. There's a low competition among the designers here so it might be easier for me to make a name for myself."

"That's not a bad move actually," Tim remarked.

"So back in Paris, did you get to meet any of the heroes?" Dick leaned in.

"Grayson," Damian warned.

"That's---"

A sharp ring blasted out, cutting off her statement. Bruce fished out his phone, a muscle on his face twitched, and he abruptly stood up. "There's an emergency at WE."

"Emergency?" Tim peered at his phone as well.

"Yes, Tim. You're needed. Also Stephanie." The eldest Wayne looked around the table and uttered monotonously. "I apologize for cutting this short. We have an urgent matter at the company---"

"Father."

Bruce shook his head. "This absolutely cannot wait, Damian."

The three filed out of the room in a flash. Marinette, stunned at the sudden interruption, saw Dick also checking the emergency.

"Sorry, Babs and I need to go." He stood up and picked up his coat, going around the table to help Barbara. "It's nice to meet you, Marinette."

"Let's go out for drinks sometime, okay?" Barbara reached over and patted her shoulder before they left.

The disappearance of the Waynes left her fidgeting with her fingers and wondering what the big emergency could be. She peeked at Damian hesitantly. "Do you need to go too?"

His jaw clenched. "I think so."

"You can go." She cupped his cheek, pecking the other.

"I can't tell you---"

"I know. I won't ask, I promise," she assured softly. He didn't have to explain anything to her; she'd gladly wait for him to open up. "Go."

"I'm sorry."

"Damian."

He pressed a firm kiss on her forehead. "Alfred will drive you to your apartment. I'll come to you later, alright?"

"Okay."

She could hear Alfred offering her food to take home and guiding her to the car, but it was all a blur. Marinette knew she had nothing to do with what happened yet she was afraid that it would sour Damian's relationship with his family. Her fists clenched around her skirt as she looked down, feeling Alfred's keen eyes checking on her through the rearview mirror.

"Please do not take it personally, Miss," Alfred said softly.

"Yes. Thank you," she whispered.

Finding nothing better to do than to check her phone, Marinette noticed the numerous alerts plastered all over her screen. Arkham breakout. Fuck. No wonder it was so quiet last night. There were a number of messages from Red Hood (which was directed from her burner phone), asking her if she could help.

Marinette looked out the window. Sure enough, there seemed to be a racket coming from the other streets.

"Umm, excuse me Alfred?" She searched for a safe alley to transform. "Can---can you drop me off at the cafe over there?"

"Are you certain? There are Rogues running around the city at this time."

"I'll stay inside. Don't worry."

Fortunately, the butler did what she asked and she made a beeline to the cafe as soon as she stepped foot out the car. Transform. Connect comms. Head to the upper east side. The same words ran through her head.

Her phone rang suddenly right before she could say her transformation words.

"Adrien! Can't talk right now. Arkham breakout. Big emergency," she said hurriedly into the phone.

"Oops. Need backup?" He asked.

"Maybe not. I don't know." She massaged her temple. "Can I ask you guys to standby? You can take your power-ups just in case."

"That's fine. Stay safe," Adrien said, "How did lunch go by the way?"

"Gah! Not now, kitty!"

"Right, right, right. Emergency in Gotham. I'll hang up now."

Marinette sighed. "It was a disaster, by the way. I'll text the details later."

"Aaaand Chloe's yelling at me to spill right now. You should go."

---

Ladybug swiftly landed beside Nightwing when she arrived and the Bats had just finished capturing Penguin and his men. On the next rooftop over, she could see Robin with Batman---they were loud enough for her to deduce that they were having an argument but she couldn't make out the exact words.

"What's up with them?" Ladybug frowned. She had always known Robin as the cold, closed-off one in the group but it was her first time encountering a complete outburst.

"Personal stuff. Happened earlier," Nightwing replied briefly. "I'm surprised you came. I thought you had an appointment today."

She bit her tongue. "Uhh, it got cancelled."

Batman told Robin something which had him storming off, grappling away to another direction. Their comms buzzed to life.

"Ladybug, team up with Robin. The Riddler's in the next avenue," Batman ordered curtly.

Ladybug turned to Nightwing with wide eyes. The stress was obvious in the sag of his shoulders and tight grip on his escrima sticks.

"He's mad at all of us," he explained. "It's better if it's you who joins him."

Ladybug only nodded, throwing her yoyo to follow Robin. Her curiosity was growing by the minute, but she focused on thinking of ways to calm down her fellow vigilante. If he became too riled up, he could lose focus and get injured.

She followed him close enough for him to hear her. "Robin, you have to slow down."

"No, I have to get back as soon as possible."

"Get back to where?"

She only received silence.

Frustrated Robin equals not a good Robin. Ladybug leapt to match his pace and blocked his way. He glared at her. "Move."

"Look, this is the Riddler we're facing. He's still dangerous and if we're not careful, we'll get caught in his traps."

"I don't care. I just need to get this over with. Stay out of my way."

When he pushed past her, she had half the mind to wrap him in her yoyo and deliver him back to Batman for a time-out. She huffed as she followed him. You're not the only one having a bad day, grumpy boy. Robin anchored his grappling gun to a faraway building and at the second he jumped off, he careened to the side, swept away by an elaborate trap by the Riddler.

Before she knew it, Ladybug was after him. Her teeth gritted and her legs ran a mile as she groaned out loud. "This is exactly what I was just talking about!"

They were trapped in an empty little box with a puzzle lock on its door.

Ladybug released a shaky breath.

The worst argument I've had with one of the Gotham vigilantes was when I interfered with Red Hood's mission and he got overprotective. She stared at Robin, who was relentlessly kicking the metal walls. But that might change today.

"Robin," she called out. "I understand that you're mad at the others but it doesn't mean you can act reckless while you're in that suit."

"No. You don't understand." He raked a hand through his hair. "I told them. I already told them and they still . . .Do you know what they did?"

She opened her mouth to reason with him again but he beat her to it. "I only wanted at least an hour. No interruptions." Robin clicked his tongue. "For them, there is nothing more important than capturing these criminals even if there are other heroes who will help. And Father had to be the first to run out."

Ladybug gaped. She knew the Bats were somewhat of a family but it was Robin's first time referring to Batman as a father. "Are you sure you should be telling me---"

"Yes, so you know how unfair they acted earlier." He twirled his katanas, looking for a simple way out. "I only wanted them to meet my girlfriend. I brought her home. And they all left for this. Father didn't give a sincere apology and my brothers either don't care or are suspicious of her."

Wait . . .

She thought she'd stumble back, but her feet were surprisingly still planted on the ground. Lunch. Earlier. Girlfriend. Shit. Her breath was knocked out of her lungs as she processed Robin's words.

Damian's words.

She wanted to laugh. All this time, she'd been anxious about telling him the truth when he was already living the same life as her. The Waynes, the sudden emergencies, staying out late. Merde, it all makes sense now. It was ridiculous how she didn't recognize her own boyfriend.

"It was a mistake after all. I shouldn't have invited her to come," Robin sighed. "They're wary because she's a civilian---she'll be my weakness if anyone finds out about our connection. They know that, which is why they don't approve."

Her first instinct was to tell him that it wasn't true, but an identity reveal would be too much given their current situation. Ladybug pieced her words with care. "I'm sure they'll listen if you tell them how you feel. Your girlfriend will understand too."

"We don't communicate healthily, in case you haven't figured that out."

Her heart was still drumming against her ribcage. Damn it. Marinette would work better in consoling him. Ladybug's just a colleague. "I know. But a few words can go a long way. Tell them you'll be careful. Ask them to help protect your girlfriend if anything ever goes wrong."

As Robin lowered his gaze, an urge to come up to him and hold his hands washed over her. She counted the seconds of silence that passed. It looked like he was thinking deeply about it.

"I apologize for getting you involved," he said. "And for mindlessly telling you about my personal life."

She laughed nervously. "Ah . . . it's okay to vent out sometimes."

Yeah, and your story definitely did not reveal your whole identity.

Robin turned towards the puzzle lock. "Should we attempt to crack the code in his puzzle?"

It wasn't a simple coded lock---it was a six-wheeled puzzle that was embedded onto the door. "By the looks of it, it will take us hours if we go through that route. I think I have a better idea. Are there any cameras here?"

He surveyed the small enclosure. "I see two by the corners."

"Good. Break them and cover the lens." Ladybug touched her earrings while he did what she said. I have spare cookies in my purse. That should do. "We can't unlock the door by ourselves, but Tikki can phase through and let us out."

"The tiny god-being in your Miraculous."

"Yeah, that's Tikki." She smiled. I'll have to introduce them sometime. "Close your eyes?"

After making sure that the cameras weren't functioning and he couldn't see her, she detransformed, motioned to the puzzle lock and sent Tikki out.

"Before we were trapped, I saw other civilians captured in similar boxes," said Robin. "Riddler should be camped east."

Marinette crossed the gap between them and tapped on the back of his hand. GOOD. RIDDLER FIRST THEN FREE OTHERS.

"Morse?" Robin scrunched his nose. "Are you also cautious about revealing your voice?"

YES.

"Tt. That is too much. Most of us don't even use a modulator." He shifted. "I doubt that I will be able to recognize your voice."

She pursed her lips. We'll see about that.

---

Ladybug was lounging on the top of Wayne Tower as the vigilantes finished up catching the remaining inmates. She used the time to fully wrap her head around her discovery. Damian. Robin. One by one, she also pieced together the identities of the others. It was so stupidly obvious all this time.

She heard a familiar zip of the grappling gun. It wasn't Red Hood who she expected to check on her but it was Robin.

"The Rogues are secured. There are rumors that the Joker orchestrated the entire thing but he wasn't around during the attacks," Robin reported. "The injured civilians are being rushed to the hospitals. No deaths."

Ladybug didn't break her gaze at the horizon. "That's good."

". . . Ladybug?"

"Yeah?"

He sat next to her. "The people in Paris . . . did they get used to these kinds of incidents as well? When Hawkmoth was active?"

"With an akuma attack nearly every week, yes you can say we had no choice but to get used to it."

"Was there a lot of animosity towards Parisians after the truth got out?"

"Only a little." She looked down at her hands. "Mostly we receive pity. The press made it clear how the akumas affected everyone's lives."

"My girlfriend . . . came from Paris too. I always wonder what it was like but I never wanted to pry."

Damian . . . She bit her lip. She had been dodgy about the topic, but she should know better than to withhold her feelings about it. Damn it, this will be so awkward when he finally finds out.

"You're worried about her safety," she said.

Robin nodded. "I wonder if she feels afraid during Rogue attacks. Or just living in Gotham. I never want to find out that she was in a dangerous situation and I wasn't there to . . ."

"You don't have to worry. If she's from Paris, then she's strong. Everyone in my city had been on the edge of death one way or another. Our instincts were sharpened. We can block out our fears and emotions." Ladybug looked up at him. "I'm sure she can handle danger."

"But it's different here. There's no magic to bring things back to normal. It's permanent." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I won't know what to do if something happens to her because of me."

"I think . . . you should ask her first---"

"I should break it off with her."

"What?!"

Ladybug nearly slapped a hand over her mouth. I said that too quickly. Thankfully, Robin didn't seem to notice anything.

"I've been thinking a lot," he continued. "I can't bring myself to tell her about this. About me. The mere fact of her knowing puts a target on her back."

Dear kwamis, please keep me from pushing my boyfriend off this rooftop before gets the chance to find out about me.

"Wait." She began slowly. "Don't you think she deserves to know before you try to make that decision for her?"

"What am I supposed to do?" His eyebrows furrowed. "I . . . I expect her to react badly. I've learned from today that I should keep her from getting involved any further. It's either I drag her into this dangerous life or I keep hurting her with my lies."

"You shouldn't start assuming things without trying first. I'm sure she trusts you and she'll come to understand everything in time. There's always a compromise." Her lips spoke the words before she could think. "You're not doing any good by cutting yourself off all of a sudden."

"If I end it now, she can eventually move on and stay safe. Nevermind how I feel," he argued, "I can let her go and she'll be safe."

"When I told you about how Parisians are strong, that's not what I meant." Tears pricked the back of her eyes as she raised her voice. "She can stay in a relationship with you and keep herself safe because she's strong. Can't you trust her as much as she trusts you?"

"I can't risk it. She's important to me."

"If she is, then talk to her. If you don't give her a chance to decide, you're not any better than your father or brothers."

"How would you even know how she feels?"

Ladybug's face contorted into a sharp glare. "I just know. I know better than anyone, Damian."

Anger morphed into shock as he stared at her. ". . . What did you just call me?"

She made a quick sweep of the area to make sure that they were in a blind spot. Then, she wasted no time standing up on the ledge, shuffling until the balls of her foot touched the edge. Then,  "I'm not defenseless, merde. And I really wanted to wait until the end of the day but . . . Tikki, détransformation."

Marinette watched Robin's face go through a storm of emotions. His jaw hung slack and his fists uncurled while he stood up to look at her.

". . . Marinette?" he breathed out.

She gently touched his cheeks with both hands, peeling off his mask to reveal his glistening eyes. "I can't believe you wanted to break up with me."

"Marinette . . ." He pulled them both away from the ledge and held her, mumbling 'I'm sorry' over and over again. His head was buried on her neck, with his hands pressed against her back.

"You. It's you," said Damian. "Of course it's you."

"It's me." She rubbed down his back. "For record, I only found out because---"

"Because I told you what happened."

She chuckled. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, habibti." He pulled away a little to touch her cheek. "I was going to make a stupid decision."

"Are you upset that I kept this from you?"

He shook his head, kissing her head. "I can't and I don't have the right to be. I was keeping my secret from you as well."

"Come on, let's go home first. Then we can talk about . . . everything."

---

Ladybug swung into the night with a weight lifted off her chest. She and Damian had a long talk about their identities and relationship. They'd both agreed not to tell the other heroes until they were ready to. For her, it was better that they kept their secrets between themselves first and slowly ease into revealing the truth to her friends and his family.

She breathed in the breeze. Robin wasn't anywhere to be seen, but a group of vigilantes were. Nightwing. Hood. RR. What are they doing there?

The three immediately fell into a hush when she landed next to them.

"Hey, LB," Red Robin greeted.

She put her hands on her hips. "What are you doing?"

The brothers shared a look before Red Hood spoke. "Robin told you about his girlfriend, right?"

"Yeah . . ." she trailed off, dragging the syllable.

"We think something's up with her," said Nightwing.

"I'm sorry?"

"Sketchy stuff," Red Robin explained, shifting on his feet. "Well, we can't tell you who she is---secret identities and all---but she's from Paris. She's friends with Hawkmoth's kid."

Ladybug scoffed. "Adrien? He's not like Hawkmoth. I know him personally and he had nothing to do with that man's crimes. Trust me."

"Hmm, yeah but she's also close with the mayor's daughter. That one who also sided with Hawkmoth."

"You mean Chloe Bourgeois? She's proven that she's changed." And unbeknownst to the public, she was a hero again, this time under another alias.

"But she's so secretive. There's definitely something going on with her." Nightwing rubbed his chin. Ladybug wanted to bang her head in the nearest wall or groan to the heavens.

"What's wrong with being secretive? Aren't you guys the same?" she narrowed her eyes.

"That's not the main cause of our suspicion," said Red Hood.

"We weren't convinced about her reason for moving to Gotham, so we dug around," Red Robin continued, "She said something about more career opportunities but that's just a cover. We found classified files on superheroes in her apartment, including info on Justice League members. I bet she already knows about Robin's identity."

"You snooped in her apartment?!"

"It was an investigation," Nightwing snorted.

Her eye twitched. A secret had never felt so difficult to conceal. "I can't believe you'd break the privacy of a civilian just because you had baseless assumptions."

Red Robin winced. "Uhh . . . if you put it that way . . ."

She crossed her arms. "No, I know what this is really about. You're being overprotective of Robin; you can't accept that he now has a significant other and you think he's being naive about his choices. You think he's going to get hurt badly." She paused for effect. "Because you don't want him to repeat the same mistakes as you all did."

The look on their masked faces told her that she had hit the target better than any therapist they might have encountered.

Red Hood was first to deny. "We're not protective of the brat. We're trying to eliminate a potential danger."

"His harmless civilian girlfriend?"

"Think about it, LB. Why would she have sensitive files on the heroes?" Red Robin asked. "You can't deny that that's suspicious."

I don't know, maybe because she's a hero herself?!

Ladybug sighed heavily. Damian is really going to kill them when he finds out. "Does Batman know about this?"

"Nope, but we'll tell him when we gather enough evidence," Nightwing answered. "We're just trying to get Oracle to crack into her laptop. The security on it  is so heavy, it's insane."

Why is it a curse that I asked Max to protect my laptop? There are files on the Miraculi in there!

She discreetly took her yoyo and put it on the recording function. "Let me get this straight. So you're all investigating and prying into the life of Robin's girlfriend without the knowledge of Batman even at the cost of your identities and everyone's safety?"

"We're not risking anyone's safety---"

"It's more of research but---"

She pursed her lips. "And you broke into her apartment, went through her things and currently you're trying to hack into her personal computer?"

"Regular vigilante work---"

"Good, we're on the same page then." She smiled widely. Sinisterly. "Tikki, détransformation."

Pale. Pale faces were all she could see as the three vigilantes were engulfed in utter shock. Marinette held her smile, clasping her hands together behind her back. I can't wait to see how they try to make it up to me. Mon dieu! I'm going to mess with them. 

And as a cherry on top, Robin arrived at the scene, immediately putting her behind him when he saw that she was in civilian form. He directed an accusatory glare at his brothers. "What is going on here?!"

[mschievousx]

i wish you love | a.h.

pairing: aaron hotchner x ofc

summary: francesca sainz knows her interests. she likes the dark, crime, profiling, medicine, military, guns, and suits. imagine her surprise when these things come as a person... granted, a "fourty-something unit chief" person, but a person nonetheless.

series masterlist

prologue

penelope garcia, despite loving her womancave, cannot resist spending time at the bullpen where her family is. yes, her office is her place of comfort, but the bullpen has always been more fun—fun in terms of the banter of her friends, their plans of vacations that never really happen because of the nature of their job, and of course, her chocolate thunder, derek morgan.

she loves morgan dearly—as dear as colleagues can love each other without ruining their respective romantic relationships. however, for the past ten months, morgan's life has been nearing hell-like. reid, he can manage. but, the arrival of another proved to be challenging. and garcia should really not love the way her chocolate thunder is outnumbered as much as she does.

but hey, what can she possibly do when the enemy comes in the form of a young trainee who she equally loves?

"i am not a kid."

francesca sainz playfully glared at morgan, crossing her arms as she sat on a desk across reid's. the three, along with jj and penelope, gathering for their daily banter.

derek chuckles at that, gesturing to the resident genius who was sitting on his seat with an amused smile, "reid's 34 and he's a kid, kid."

"i do not have an iq of 187." she retorted plainly.

he scoffed as he tossed his baseball and caught it again repeatedly, sporting his incredulous look with everyone before settling to her.

"what does that have to do with it?"

she slowly stood up and smirked as she presented her case, "false equivalence, like you did. you compared reid and i. while your point in age could be taken, comparing spencer and i is not acceptable at all since our nature is not the same. hence, your point, as a matter of fact, does not have a point."

they all looked at her in silence for a good couple of seconds before jj crossed her arms, as if in thinking as she voiced an observation.

"there's no false equivalence at all."

"my point stands." morgan pushed with a smug grin.

franz narrowed her eyes to each one of them before glaring to morgan once again, "just so you know, this is my annoyed face, derek."

he leaned forward as if to observe her closely before speaking in a sarcastic tone.

"really? looks pretty much the same, kid."

she rolled her eyes at him before grinning herself, fixing her hair to tease him, "what did you say? i look pretty? thanks."

the older agent scoffed once again as he leaned back with a smirk, "deaf."

"you being this chaotic tells me the boss-man is not yet around."

emily's voice made them turn towards the entrance at her arrival, rossi following closely behind as they chuckled.

"where is he?"

 · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

"where is he?"

aaron hotchner, more known as hotch and the unit chief of the behavioral analysis unit or bau, asked as he gestured the paper to the course professor of the class they just lectured.

she looked at the paper to see who the agent is referring to.

"this student? oh," she raised her head to the entire room, scanning the area for any sign of the girl, "she left already."

he tried to hide the look of slight surprise in his face. after all, franz sainz is a very misleading name. it has certainly nothing to do with what emily has previously said before during her first cases with the team when he asked what is his worst quality. he does not trust women as much as men.

hotch neared rossi, giving the paper to him as the latter read the contents.

"what do you think?"

the italian man read her answer for the situational case they gave earlier. his brows slowly raised inquisitively as he reached the middle and commented, "quite perceptive."

"so?" he asked monotonely. dave already knew what he meant and nodded in agreement.

he turned to where penelope was, chatting with the rest of the team before looking at him.

"garcia, i need you to run details as soon as we get back in quantico."

and with that, it was imperative that they returned the next day, having learned more about the student.

francesca was calmly walking down the hallway, having just finished taking a special exam after she missed her written exam yesterday by attending the bau's lecture. chewing on her gum with earpods in, she disregarded the bandage on her left wrist and hand which served as her 'valid reason' for missing yesterday.

however, she could not miss the the contrast of that bright blonde hair and imposing suits against the figure of twenty-year-olds in the hallway just meters away. she immediately slowed down her steps as she lightly chatted up another student, who she does not know, and casually turned away to walk back where she came from.

only to find the italian already closing in on her too. she shrugged resignedly at that as he finally reaches her, sarcastically smiling as he placed an arm around her shoulders, guiding her to walk where she was originally going to.

"walk with me, kid."

she smiled sheepishly at him, removing her earpods and looking at him, "sir, great to see you. i'm a huge fan."

rossi lightly chuckled in amusement, "i don't have the best experiences with 'huge fans'."

she looked ahead at that, exhaling impassively as she remembered his book about a fan-turned-serial killer, "evidently."

as hotch and jj accompanied their sides, francesca tightly smiled in acknowledgement as the lady smiled back, "sir, ma'am."

"do you have anywhere to be right now?" hotch monotonely asked as they all continue to walk towards the exit.

she looked at him on her left with a sarcastic grin, to which he only returned with a look as if trying to figure her out, "i have a really good feeling you already know the answer to that."

dave interjected with his usual playful tone, "good, because you're going to be at quantico in a few minutes."

with her in the middle of fbi agents, francesca sainz could do nothing but look at him with wide eyes and mouth agape in shock.

"is this about my search history? i promise i did not kill anyone. i write books."

 · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

"ask and he shall appear."

the trainee commented as the unit chief passed the doors just after emily and dave did. however, when hotch came into full view, she could not stop herself from gaping once again.

"oh my, sir! that is illegal."

he paused at the bottom of the staircase at that, turning to the group as the others slowly distanced themselves from the girl.

"excuse me?"

she grinned at him, her voice full of exaggeration, "you took my breath away with your usual white long sleeves, but now, you're simply killing me with that dark one."

"sainz," hotch pointedly called, trying to contain his exasperation even though the day has just begun.

"i'm serious," she opened her arms on chest level, feigning ignorance before grinning widely once again, "are you looking for wife number two? i volunteer as tribute!"

he narrowed his eyes at her, almost glaringly, before closing them. regaining his composure, he continued to walk upstairs, "i'll pretend i didn't hear that."

noticing the team's amused looks at her as dave and jj shook their heads with small smiles, franz raised her eyebrows at them.

"what? dave's already working with number four."

"what is wrong with you?" derek said in a higher pitch than his normal, seemingly unbelieving of the girl's antics.

penelope grins at the exchange, jabbing to her jokingly as well, "you know he hates you, right?"

before entering his office, he looked back at the team downstairs, voice strict as usual but without serious intensity.

"and refrain from saying phrases like taking your breath away."

as they all hear his door closing, she turns to garcia with confidence and a bright grin, nodding reassuringly.

"he likes me."

[glittering-moonlillie]

Media Frenzy (Damian Wayne x Civilian! Reader)

Summary: A bad photographer takes a picture of Robin returning home from patrol...only to find him making out with some girl?? Who is this girl, anyway?

Warnings: Slightly suggestive but not that bad.

Word Count: 2370

This was requested by a lovely anon! I hope you like it!

Two years. It has been two years since Damian had met you, and one year and 2 months since he asked to court you. Damian was never really sure what kind of girl he wanted, never considered it a priority on his ever growing to-do list. He thought that between helping Gotham, maintaining his grades in college (not like that was ever hard), attending to his family's needs, socializing with friends - he would be able to envision the type of girl he dreamed of having. 

Girls came and went but none were able to sweep him off his feet like you had; the goofy girl with the sweetest smile and the prettiest jeweled eyes, reflecting the birth and beauty of a compressed universe that threatened to explode with the intensity of it all in a matter of seconds. You were a ray of absolute sunbeams that continued to sucker punch him whenever he walked past, effectively taking his breath away and forcing the blood to swim its way to his face.

It took him eight months to summon the courage to ask you out on a date since bravery seemed to be yet another thing you giddily snatched from him, and surprisingly you said yes. Even more surprising, you continued to stick around him and confess to the same indulgent feeling he was drowning in. You were like the sweet raspberry to his decadent dark chocolate. While both were inherently good on their own, they were better paired together. 

It took him a few more months after that to reveal his secret identity as Robin, thus revealing his whole family’s night time activities. He knew that it was risky, knew the plethora of mishappenings that could occur  once he told you, but he hoped and trusted that you would love him with the same passion despite all the doubts and concerns raised by his father. Besides, you were already becoming suspicious of his sudden disappearances during the night and he was tired of you assuming he was a vampire or werewolf. 

The diamond encrusted stare you gave him upon being told blew him away with the vigor of a fierce storm. It was a look of pure awe, of pure adoration, one of which he had never been the recipient of and it had sent waves of shivers through his body. 

“You risk your life everyday just to protect this city?” You had whispered in a tone that resembled disbelief. It was the type of tone that he would have to lean in and make a conscious effort to hear. “That is the coolest thing ever, I am so proud of you.”

Those words echoed in his mind during patrol ever since. Of course, Damian never was the type to need reassurance since he was increasingly confident in his skills, but somehow his heart held onto your words with a steel grip. 

Every night, Damian would visit you after patrol after your insistence that you wouldn’t be able to sleep until you knew he was not severely hurt. Although Damian was opposed to you staying up late, at the end of the day he could never deny you. 

The night was like any other and the lack of crime surprisingly bored Damian. Hours stretched on longer than he liked and the only thing that prevented him from passing out mid-swing was your grinning face washing away any bouts of negativity consuming him. A familiar warmth spread throughout his body as he spotted your frame leaning against the balcony of your apartment, head tilted towards the glittering constellations as if you could translate the secrets of the vast sky. 

He couldn’t be bothered to look up at the sky - how could he? No galaxy or universe could contain the beauty of your radiance, the brightest star intricately carved into his soul. 

Then your eyes met the moment he landed on the balcony and the intensity of the gaze made him falter, allowing him to become alarmed when you tackled him. “You’re here earlier! Did you miss me that much?”

Your laughter filled the air and he would have sworn his heart stopped at that exact moment. It always did, really. He wrapped his arms around your smaller body. “Is it wrong of me to miss the love of my life?” He asked indignantly. 

He noticed the way you shivered as you nuzzled into the crook of his neck. “You know I don’t like it when you are out in the cold waiting for me like this, Habibti. I would rather see you in bed where you are warm.” 

“I know, but the stars are so pretty.” You looked up at him, a smirk plastered from ear to ear. “Buuuut~ if you wanted to see me in bed so badly you could have just asked, Dami.”

Jesus Christ, you were going to be the end of him. 

You were so impossibly attractive, managing to make him uncomfortable in the most heavenly way possible. Like a quagmire, you threatened to effortlessly consume him whole. He pressed you closer to him so he could kiss you properly, hands tangling in each other's hair. When you slightly parted your lips, he didn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss, choosing to nibble on your bottom lip until you mewled, back slightly arching. Breath became secondary to the fireworks erupting in his core every time your lips connected, dissipating the moment you broke away. 

The two of you were fully enraptured by each other that time generously and quickly reprieved, allowing Damian to engrave this perfect moment and the events after into his mind. 

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

You woke up to the sound of the sweetly tuned alarm, sitting up with a heavy groan, rubbing the crust away from your eyes. By your side was a shirtless Damian raveled up in the mess of blankets, and for a moment you were able to enjoy the lack of tension in his face; it was pleasant to see him so calm for once. You were able to appreciate the sharp edges of his jaw and the pointed arrow of his cupid’s bow, the way his lips were tugged in a subtle smile. It was hilarious how a man with such sharp features ended up being the hugest softy you knew. 

It wasn’t often that you woke up before your boyfriend, so you were about to seize the opportunity to pepper him with kisses until he woke, only for the buzzing of your phone to tug you out of your thoughts. Usually you would have ignored the text message or notification, but your phone kept buzzing to the point where it almost became a singular buzz. 

Worried of the possibility that something horrible was occurring, you frantically grasped your phone to see what was going on. Your eyes widened. There was an onslaught of messages on just about every messaging app you ever downloaded - discord, instagram, even a few on apps that were long defunct - from anyone you had ever talked to. As you scrolled further and further down the notifications, you found a single commonality between all of them. 

You decided to open up the messages from your mother first and you were immediately confronted with a blurry picture that you assumed she had taken on her TV tuned to the local news station, she never was the type to be tech savvy anyhow. Squinting your eyes, you could barely make out your form standing on the balcony, lip locked with the ever famous Protector of Gotham. Last night - dear god - it was a picture from last night. 

Below the message, along with all the other messages you received, you were asked: Are you and Robin dating?!?? and How the hell did you manage to seduce the man?!?!

A deep scarlet creeped up your face as you read more of the messages. You had never been under the blinding spotlight of Gotham’s scrutinizing gaze, and already the pressure seemed a little too much to bear. Damian was a private man and it took a while to understand his insistence on keeping the relationship private, but despite seeing that privacy was a luxury in his family, you wouldn’t lie and say that the specific aspect did not haunt your foulest of dreams. 

The picture must have been taken from a reporter who followed Robin and immediately sold the picture to make a quick buck, and now you were scrambling to find a way to explain to your beloved family how you knew this mystery man without revealing to them that you are in a relationship with a billionaire’s son. 

Damian must have sensed your embarrassment since he began to shuffle around in bed until his eyes slowly peered back at you. The way he stared at you with those intense forest eyes…it made you squirm in your seat from the sheer devotion.

“Habibti…darling…what’s wrong?” He pulled himself up, muscles straining against his tanned skin, and as his arms curled around your torso, you breathed in the faint scent of parchment and amber. 

“My…my family is wondering how I was able to seduce Robin.” You aired out a light, awkward, chuckle as you showed him the crappy photo. 

Damian’s eyes twisted in confusion (so long for his peacefulness), traveling down to look at the photo. There was a duality with Damian and with situations such as these, you were never sure if he would act upon his arrogance or his underlying worry to be perfect. Judging from the way his lips twisted into a smirk, though, told you that his arrogance was in charge. 

Before you could utter any form of protest, Damian snatched the phone away from your grasp, beginning to scroll through the countless messages and posts. “I don’t see what the matter is, Beloved.”

“Y-you don’t see the problem?” You squeaked. “Dami, my family and friend’s now assume I am in a relationship with Robin! What am I supposed to say?”

“That you are in a relationship with Robin, obviously.” He flashed his iconic grin, eyes narrowed to thin leaves. “Are you not?”

It was almost impossible to speak when Damian stared at you so intensely, like you were his breath, like you were his heartbeat. “I-I am…but I don’t love Robin as much as I love you.”

All the air left your lungs. You didn’t mean to expose yourself to him like that, to say something so completely disrespectful. Your hand covered your mouth, and, for a moment, you closed your eyes and waited for the regret to wash away. Damian’s hand cupped your cheek hesitantly, forcing you to look at him. The smirk faded away, replaced with a tenderness that tugged on the chords of your heart. 

“Whatever do you mean, Habibti?” His tone alluded to him being more curious than annoyed, more flustered than upset, more soft than rigid. 

“I mean, it’s no secret that you have numerous personas. You jump from being Robin to Damian Wayne to whoever else people want you to be.” You mumbled with a smile, cupping his smooth face in your hands. “But Dami, my Dami? I love him the most because he is the most true. He is perfectly imperfect and impossibly and frustratingly mine.”

You pecked his nose, noticing the way it twitched slightly. “You trusted me enough to become vulnerable with me…that’s why I love Dami the most.”

As you pulled away, you could see the rose color dusted on your boyfriend’s face, a look of disbelief etched into his features. There was a brief pause, silence echoing throughout the room that was temporarily broken with the persistent buzzing of your phone. Damian looked down at the phone again, and smiled. No - he grinned. 

It had been a while since you got him to grin like that. It was the type of smile that could make thousands throw themselves onto their knees, the type of smile that vanquished the darkness lying hidden in the crevices of one’s heart, a smile that rivaled a moth’s love for flame. 

“I don’t think anyone…has said that to me before.” He turned his gaze to the floor, the tips of his ears flushed a bright red. “I love you, Habibti…I…I am afraid my words are failing me…”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his flustered state. Reaching for his hand once more, you went in to kiss him properly. 

“I am yours, Damian. I hope you remember that.” You whispered softly after you pulled away. 

Any softness Damian showed in that moment quickly disappeared as his casual smirk reappeared. “I’m quite certain I won’t forget now, seeing as our little makeout session is plastered everywhere.” 

Blankets were shuffled around and within a few seconds, Damian was suddenly on top of you and painting splotches of red on your neck. His hair tickled against your nose, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or mewl. 

“I wonder what people would think if you walked around with my marks on your neck…” He husked. “Perhaps they would stop looking at you as if you weren’t taken.”

“Damian, they don’t know I am taken. They don’t know I am yours.” You reasoned, his mouth now latched onto the more sensitive side of your neck, nipping occasionally.

His stupidly talented hands began to trail down your thighs. “Then perhaps I should show them that you are mine. Maybe I should drag us to the window and take you right there.”

Words died on your tongue as his fingers began to play around with the waistband of your pajama shorts, teasingly lifting it only to have it snap back to your skin. All the while, his lips continued worshiping your now tender skin, drawing out a half-baked string of words from your muddled mind. 

“I bet you’d like that, hm? For people to know how pretty you sing for me?” Damian pulled away from your neck, his eyes now gazing into yours while awaiting a response. Yet, you could think of none. You were left breathless and wanting, eagerly and desperately trying to fill the void he created. 

“Not going to answer me, beloved?” His finger trailed down your exposed skin. “Then perhaps I should make you talk to me, hmm?”

Ahh, I'm sorry this request took so long. I hope you like it though! I had trouble writing it at first, but I really liked how it turned out in the end <3 <3 <3

[dehydration-stati0n]

Kid, Killer, and Law Friendship HCs

Rules Word Count: 1.0k Spoilers: Wano

Kid

Kid is hard to get close to, but once it happens, you've got a friend for life

If he catches anyone messing with you in any way, he'll beat the absolute shit out of them

He's ridiculously protective in that way, especially after what happened with Killer in Wano, he's gonna make sure none of his other friends experience pain or humiliation without him intervening

Despite what his reputation suggests, he's fairly decent at comforting people in his own special way.

He'll hand you a bottle of bourbon and the weapon of your choice, and the two of you will go blow off some steam in the area nearest to you.

If you ever asked him to build you something, he'd reluctantly go and do it. Even if he muttered a few curses under his breath as he did it, he'd secretly be really happy you asked him. He takes great pride in what he does.

If you're friends with him, it'd almost be expected of you to be a part of his little crime sprees. Killer is a good accomplice on his own, but imagine having two accomplices. The three of you would be unstoppable.

He'd almost be magnetized to you, following you around wherever you go. He really likes being around people he trusts, and you happen to be one of them. Even if neither of you say anything.

He might yell at you sometimes, but he doesn't mean it in a mean way. It's kinda like his love language. He gets loud to show he cares about you. It's another one of the weird quirks he shares with people he likes.

Arm wrestles anyone??

I could see them being one of his favorite past times.

Kid is really open-minded. You could bring up almost anything and he wouldn't judge you for liking or hating whatever that thing might be.

He wouldn't mind helping you put on makeup, he actually really likes doing it for his pals.

If you manage to get him to open up to you about his emotions and how he feels, just know you're at the very peak of affinity with the redhead.

Just you, him, and Killer, dressing horrendously and causing problems.

Killer

If you're friends with Kid, you're friends with Killer. You either get both of them or none of them.

He's so thankful you're here, he desperately needs someone to help out with watching Kid

Do you like cooking? He likes cooking. Maybe you could do it with him? There are a lot of people to feed and he'd really appreciate the help.

His way of comforting people is WAYY different from Kids. Some might even say more humane.

He's more of a hugger in these situations. Not much of a talker but he can comfort you physically.

He and Kid are horrible to have as enemies, but if you somehow manage to become friends with them, they'll be the most loyal friends you've ever met. Whatever you need, Killer is there to help you out.

You two are the therapy friends for the crew.

He's really good at calming people down, so if you're ever mad, stressed, or upset in any way, it's probably best to go to him instead of Kid.

He's really knowledgeable about random things within the One Piece world and will be very internally excited if you ever wanted to sit and hear him ramble.

He likes to check in on you and the other members of the crew as often as he can. You've all been through a lot together and he likes to make sure you're all good.

He has a great memory and hardly ever forgets important dates. So if no one else shows up for your birthday or whatever niche date you might find important, just know Killer would be there.

He really likes doing things for others. It wouldn't be much of a surprise if you woke up one day to breakfast already made, or errands you were meaning to do already done.

Killer has such a great adoration for graffiti art and likes to go out with you to spray abandoned houses or broken walls with paint. He likes the artistic expression that graffiti holds.

Law

He's really big on quality time so he'll frequently invite you to sit with him in his office or out on the dock depending on if you're underwater or not.

He wouldn't mind it if you rambled on about something, in fact, he'd almost encourage you to do so.

He'd constantly ask for your feedback on a lot of his plans or thoughts he has.

The absolute dryest sense of humor. All. The. Time.

He'll try to solve just about all of your problems. Your noticing you have slow reflexes? Try this. Coffee's giving you headaches? Let him try making a pot. Something about your eye is bugging you? Let him take a look.

I hope you like cheap doctor visits, cause this guy will gladly treat you for free.

Sure, he's normally a private guy, but he'd be so honest with you. If you ask, he'll tell you. You're probably the only person who's seen him smile, or laugh for that matter.

He'd let you draw on his arm with a pen while he worked.

He's pretty strange himself, so if you had any out-of-the-ordinary hobbies, he wouldn't be the one to judge.

He wouldn't ever admit it in front of the Strawhats, but he really does like to explore, especially if it's just the two of you.

There's just something about wandering a new area with someone he finds endearing that's just so pleasant to him.

He loves to have mini-debates with you. Something about his thoughts being questioned makes him fall into a welcomed rabbit hole of new ideas and stronger plans.

Your lawyer in times of trouble.

Most nights it'll be you, Law, and the rest of the crew, sitting around below deck and playing whatever board games y'all got on you at the moment. Chess, Monopoly, Uno. Sometimes you guys'll even do puzzles.

[soapssuds]

Wriothesley x New Inmate ! Reader

Warnings | fluff, grammatical errors, wrio being down bad for reader, etc.

Note | reason for reader being sent to the fortress as a new inmate is up to your imagination <3

"I don't have any work today? Nice!"

For the past few months of being at the Fortress, you found that it was a simple and easy life. Especially since you barely had to work! Now, you weren't sure if it was because you were a new inmate or something, but, honestly, you didn't care by this point since you got to laze around and do nothing for most of the day.

Honestly, it was the perfect life for you. Way easier than what you had to deal with on a daily basis back on the surface.

You felt ... at peace. Sure you were surrounded with people who committed more worse crimes than you, but at least none of them held any sort of hostility towards you. They welcomed you here just fine. And, along with a welcome from the inmates when you first arrived also came a welcome from the Duke.

In your eyes, he was an absolute dream. He had a quick wit and a body that looked good good to be true, and his face was easy on the eyes too. In other words, having a sight like him around the Fortress definitely put the icing on the cake.

Though, despite your attraction to the man you never did have the courage to actually say or do anything about it. Not that you minded. You have a particularly long sentence and, hell, even when your time here is over you might decide to stay awhile and see what new life awaited you here.

"Huh?"

Another female innate who sleeps on the bed next to yours looked over and noticed the little gift in your hands. She couldn't help but to grin, "ooo, a gift? Who's it from?"

You scratched the back of your head, "honestly, I have no idea."

The other inmate shrugged, "well, it isn't uncommon to receive gifts from the surface."

"Isn't that considered contraband or whatever that word is?"

"Oh trust me, all mail is looked through before its sent to us prisoners, so that gift is perfectly fine if it found its way into your hands. Now, if you'll excuse me, I got an early shift. See ya, y/n."

"Yeah, see ya..."

You didn't bother to watch her leave ad you looked down at the gift in your hands. Settling back into your bed, you took a seat. Your hands shakingly unwrapping the gift while also being careful not to tear the paper.

This better not be a gift from my sister... that bitch totally left me for dead.

That was another thing about the crime you committed, your sister was in on it but ditched you when you got caught. So if she sent a gift, then you know that you'll definitely blow a fuse.

Opening the small box, however, you knew it wasn't from your sister.

It was a necklace with a rainbow rose glass pendant on it.

If there was one thing you knew, it was that your sister wasn't as kind.

So, could this be a secret admirer's doing? It couldn't be someone from the Fortress, right? None of the inmates you knew had the means of getting their hands on something like this.

Maybe it was someone from the surface? Ahh..., but you were never close to anyone up there, and you were sure you never caught anyone's eye either.

Questions on who it could be swirled around your head for the remainder of the day, but, of course, despite those questions it didn't stop you from wearing such a lovely gift. A gift that didn't go unnoticed by Wriothesley whi just so happened to catch you wearing it at lunch.

And just as he had thought, it looked very pretty on you.

"You're so weird."

"Thank you, Sigewinne."

"That wasn't a compliment... I just don't see why you won't go up to them and tell them how you feel."

"For one thing, Sigewinne, we're not exactly close enough for that. Besides, the only few words I said to them were the casual greetings I give to all prisoners when they come to the Fortress."

Sigewinne huffed, "well, just promise you won't be a secret admirer for long, ok? Cause they are very good looking and I wouldn't be surprised if someone else managed to wisk them off their feet before you do."

Wriothesley rolled his eyes as he turned to head back to his office before glancing at your smiling face one more time as you chatted away with your newly made friends.

Cute.

requested | @mitsumina12345

[mistymisfit]

So long, Marianne II

Summary: Reader is a spy working undercover in Gotham when she meets Jason Todd, who despite her better judgement she forms a very close friendship with. This story follows their escape from Arkham asylum, their fall out and the times they run into each other as they get older.

Relationship: AK!Jason x Meta!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence (I'm serious, tho- in canon it's also pretty violent), angst, hurt/no comfort (for now), this series is just my excuse to write angst lol.> copied from first part but this one's more tame i think. + Fluff if you squint.

Word Count: 3k (a bit more but who cares)

Read on AO3

Part 1- Masterlist

See the end for author's notes :)

You spent hours by his side when he was unconscious, door locked from the inside just in case and extra security measures just for him. All this despite knowing you should be safe, technically-- but you still didn't trust the very people who handled your life. At one point you feel bold enough to hold his hand but it doesn't last long since you wouldn't want him to be uncomfortable if he woke up then. It was already hard enough as it was, him being mad at you and all. You stared at him, you couldn't help it since he finally looked peaceful. Your mind wandered, you couldn't believe this was the same boy who kissed you on a random rooftop overlooking the city. "Looks beautiful from up here, you can't even tell all the crime going on down there" you had said that night. He had been waiting for an opening for more nights than he'd be willing to admit. He started to bring you to rooftops and high places more often with that intention, showing you the view and to kiss you; he'd been meaning to do that for longer than that too. Your feet dangled in the air, you were both sitting on the ledge of the building and he watched you smile.

God, he thought, if I keep staring she's gonna think I'm weird. Unable to stop himself from overthinking this any longer he just went for it, the gloved hand on your cheek and his lips on yours moved so fast you didn't even have time to realize what was happening. You thought it was cute how awkward he was about it, so when he pulled after just a few seconds you giggled. Before he separated from you, you put a hand on top of the one that rested on your face and told him "Wait, do it again". Soon the kissing grew into something less than giggles and giddiness and more into needing the other like the air to breathe, and when his hands threatened to trail lower on your back you heard a cough behind you. You remembered how mortified you felt when you saw Batman himself standing behind you. Those days were way past behind you now, he wasn't the same boy as then, he had been through too much since your rooftop kissing days.

It also upset you greatly to think about how betrayed he must feel right now. First his mentor replaces him and now he finds out you've been lying to him, both things he knows thanks to the man who had been torturing him. You were mad at him too at the time, even going as far as taking it out on the new guy a couple times-- and on an eventful night on Nightwing too. You were mean to the new boy wonder, even if he tried being friendly you'd cut him off, huffing and leaving on a good day--and cussing and yelling at him on a bad one. And that night was a bad one, one of the worst, you were supposed to plant a tracker on some Russian mobster's smuggling ship. Which was going well until a few masked vigilantes decided to show up, he blew it up. He ruined your mission and the worst part was you couldn't even blame him for it because you would have done the same if you could. You didn't even take cover, you didn't have time but he pushed you to the floor and covered you with his cape to protect you from the rubble. Quickly getting up he offered you a hand when you were on the floor from the explosion and still a bit in shock but you just grunted and got up on your own. You heard him sigh behind you as you started to focus on healing the bruises and cuts scattered over your body. "You know, you could at least be polite to me, I'm not asking you to be friends", he told you finally fed up with your attitude towards him. "Fuck you" you replied shortly and heard him scoff before saying "I just saved you". He recriminated, as if you owed him anything for that. He could've just let you die and you would have been more grateful. You glared at him and announced loudly that you were leaving, he grabbed your wrist and only got to say the word hey before you interrupted him. "I could make your heart stop right now," you threatened "I should make you drop dead on your feet". "Do it, see how it ends for you, hunted down by Batman", he taunted and you replied "Let him, I should've killed him long ago".

And then Nightwing swooped in to stop the argument from turning physical, he asked-ordered-- Robin to let you go and he listened. You were almost out of earshot when you heard "Just forget it man, the suit doesn't come with the girlfriend", everything stopped. Literally, your emotions got the best of you and you stopped time. Everything froze, you don't how far but blinded by rage you walked back, took one the sticks from his back and tased Nightwing with his own weapon. Time moved again, and the older one fell to the floor. Robin just looked at you in shock, when? how did you do that? His eyes went to his brother, groaning in pain and then back to you, throwing the escrima stick back to its owner, coldly calculated to be just right out of his reach. "the suit doesn't come with the girlfriend" you mocked in a childish tone, completely contradictory to your violent actions at the moment when you pushed your boot to his neck. You thought it was a shame since you actually liked him, you thought he was more reasonable than Batman. Robin tried to stop you, to no avail since you hit him right in the neck with your elbow without looking back. It felt almost like you had eyes on your back. He coughed, getting the air inside his lungs again. And in their confusion you pulled out a gun, aimed at Robin so he had no choice but to stay back.

"Marianne, stop" You looked back at him, standing tall and menacing, the man himself calling you by your supposed real name, the name he wasn't supposed to know. You weren't scared of him, in fact you looked at him and pushed in harder, cutting his airflow like you were taught. You could feel his hands weakly trying to pull you away, somehow whatever humanity was left in you was stuffed away in the furthest corner of your mind. He shoot a batarang that landed on your leg, it hurt yet you didn't flinch as the blood pours down, you double down by pulling the safety trigger off without breaking eye contact. "You wouldn't kill them" He spoke, his voice almost like a growl mean to scare you. You scoffed and told him he didn't know shit about you, he really didn't but what you didn't expect was him stating things you had only told Jason. "You're religious and you pray for your missing sister. Do you think your God would allow this?", the shock made you loosen your grip and the man under your foot managed to free himself and gasped for air. "Honestly, God and you both can go fuck yourselves" you bit back, before taking the weapon out of your skin, finally allowing to heal your wound. You shot it back at him, right in his shoulder, the weak point. "Leave," he ordered "I'll handle her". It was quite impressive how spot on your aim was on your non dominant hand but also unexpected, you were breaking your cover. He let you land a few hits, you knew he was letting you win a bit. But soon the cussing turned into silent sobs, "I hate you" you cried, a fist weakly hitting his armor-covered chest. "How could you?" You sniffed and he patted your back in an effort to comfort you.

Eventually you fell asleep, sitting on a chair with your head resting on the bed in front of you. The first thought he has when he wakes up is how stupid it all was; that he felt so angry at you yet he couldn't help but find your sleeping face adorable. He will wake you up so you can give him some answers but right now he can indulge himself, tucking your hair behind your ear so he can see you better. Feeling your hair now soft and clean and how free of wounds you looked, he marveled at how you seemed healthy again. This wasn't the first time he watched you sleep, there was that time he was injured and he hadn't seen you all night. He thought maybe you stayed home--you did, you only left at night when you had a mission and that night you hadn't. When he got to your building and saw you in your room he waited, you were praying. He didn't know you were religious at all, he never asked either. So he sat in quiet on the emergency stairs, in pain until you finished. Out of respect for your faith, and you, he wouldn't interrupt that.

He finally knocked on your window after he saw you sitting at your desk, papers scattered all over it. You turned to were the noise came from and when you saw him, you quickly gathered everything on your desk to hide before even letting him in. "Hey, what were you doing?" He asked, holding his side where it hurt, probably a broken rib he thought. "Studying, I have a test tomorrow" you lied, helping him in and guiding him to sit on your bed. "Think I broke a rib" he grunted, lifting his hand so you could help him get his armor off. His eyes went from the bruise on his side to you as you healed him, sight fixed on your focused expression as the pain left. "Feel any better?" you gave him a smile and he just wanted to kiss you senseless right then. "Yeah, thanks" he wanted to spend more time with you, he was trying to find any excuse to stay before you handed back his clothes. "So, uhm, are your parents here?", you shook your head no saying they were out on some business trip. "How long were you at my window?", fuck he got caught, he replied "a while" in a weak and embarrassed tone.

He noticed the jewelry you wore, that you probably left at home to avoid being recognized. The earrings, the watch, and the dainty chain you had. He took the last one in his between his fingers, playing with the pendant and asking you about it. "I'm not really- my mom believed in this more than me" you explained, "but I do it to feel closer to her". He appreciated the vulnerability you were showing then, you had told him that your parents died in a car accident--lie-- and you were adopted. You never really talked about your biological parents until now. He let go of your pendant to hold your hand, you were sitting next to each other in your bed, awfully close to the point his leg was pushed to yours next to it. "I don't wanna talk about it," you started "are going to kiss me like the other night?". You were looking up at him through your lashes, giving him a look he just couldn't say no to. He knew you said that to distract him, but he would be damned if it wasn't working. Your hands worked on taking his utility belt off, and he let you take his weapons from him, he allowed himself to be vulnerable around you to let his guard down. How could he not when you were asking him so nicely to stay for a little longer? Later that night Jason ended up falling asleep with you in his arms after you did, because moving would've meant waking you up and he'd never do that, he stayed for hours like a cat owner watching their pet sleep on their lap. But still woke up to Bruce waiting for him in the alley that your window faced, ready to tell him all about how irresponsible he had been. You were wearing the same jewelry right now, as you sleep but your relationship wasn't the same as it was then. He wondered how much of what you told him that night was true.

He decides he's had enough of going down memory lane and puts a hand on your shoulder, gently but firmly shaking you so you will wake up. It doesn't take much effort since you were already on edge and too nervous when you passed out next to him. Your head quickly jerks up in an almost painful motion that wouldn't surprise him if you got whiplash.

"You're awake" you whisper, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

"Hm, thanks" He replies through gritted teeth and you know this is the nicest thing you'd get from him in this situation. "Where are we?"

"A safe house in Chicago, you've been out for a while" You explain, and your eyes follow him sitting up on the bed and yanking the iv off his arm. He's getting ready to leave, you thought. "Are you okay? Do you want me to get rid of that scar for you?"

"Leave it, I don't want you anywhere close to me" He swats off the hand you had close to his face. He turns his back to you, putting on the shoes you left for him. It made you feel pathetic, you've done so much for him knowing he may never forgive you. And yet you were ready to screw yourself even more to help him.

"I'm sorry, I swear I was going to tell you"

"When? You lied to me about everything," He turns to see you over his shoulder when he says that, just to look you in the eye and gauge at your reaction. He had a right to be angry, but you still couldn't help the tears that started to form in your eyes "How can I trust you? I don't even know your name"

Jason was just being mean, he knew you saved him and helped him escape. He was expressing himself with anger since it was easier to acknowledge than what he really felt, scared and sad. Anger he could manage, he could make himself out to be violent and scary. But his own fear, his own sadness and recognizing how lonely he felt finding out the person he trusted the most lied to him, that he could not manage.

"Jason-" Your tone was weak, you didn't want to speak if you knew your voice was going to break mid sentence. But you couldn't let him think those horrible things about you "most of what I told you is true"

"Like what? Bet your parents didn't even die in a car accident, and you don't even have a sister" Jason yells. He nailed it, you didn't know how they died, you just knew they were dead and for your sister... you did have one, but for her safety you shouldn't have been stupid enough to tell him.

"They are dead," You suddenly feel small, like that little girl being violently trained all over again.

"Where's the exit?" He coldly asks, standing up and ready to leave through that door. You knew if he left it'd be the last time you see him, so you had to stop him. Moving faster than him, you put your back on the door and face him.

"I'll tell you everything, just please wait" You beg, holding his gaze and trying to decipher his thoughts to no success, his expression was stone-cold. All you could get from him is knowing how furious he was.

"How much of it was a lie?" He questions again. "Did you even mean it when you said you loved me?"

"Of course I love you!" Now you were starting to get pissed off too. Was he so blind he couldn't tell that? He didn't get it from ruining your mission just to save his life? Was his head that thick that stopping the bleeding from his wound until you were over-using your powers meant nothing?

"Then leave with me" The offer takes you by surprise, and your expression softens. Your brows relax until you're not furrowing them any more, and your lips part in a gasp. What? He was so cold and now he wants you to run away with him "Help me kill him"

"I can't" You turn your face to the side to avoid his eyes, to avoid looking at him if it meant seeing him mad at you again. You were not a spy out of your free will, they had something on you. And with your power you were too much valuable of an asset to be lost. Though you couldn't tell him that, that was the one thing you were willing to keep from him. The only thing you held as dear as him in your heart, sometimes even more so than him.

"Give me a reason" He demands, hovering over you and putting an arm on the door to cage you in.

"I can't tell you" You whisper, unable to look him in the eye.

"Of course," Jason scoffs and takes a step back, he couldn't believe he was foolish enough for one second to believe that you'd say yes "you'll never change"

"You're being mean," You sniff and wipe off the tears from your face as fast as you can. Then you put your hand in one of your pockets, looking for something. You push the credit card to his chest, pushing him in the process. He lets it fall to the ground, not reacting "take it, you have about 48 hours before they notice"

You unlock the door before stepping away from it, pushing him out of your way to reach for the duffle bag on the floor. You throw it at him, now you were angry too. Your patience grew thin, you were as understanding as you could and this is how he pays you, not extending the same courtesy, being selfish. You understood he had been rotting in that Arkham wing for a year but you were there too, he didn't have the monopoly on suffering. All Jason could think about was how he felt, what was done to him, not considering for a second what was done for him. Read, you risking your own neck for him. And now you were tired of it, he wanted to leave you? Then he could be your guest.

"This is for you too, no trackers I made sure of it" He stands quiet as you open the door "Door is right this way"

You lead him to the exit of the apartment, disabling all security measures on your way. He doesn't get the sudden change of attitude, of course he liked it better when you were low energy, just apologizing to him. He knows he must've pushed a button to have irritated you this much. Whatever the reason was for you to stay on this life must clearly be important to you, at least that is what he thinks pissed you off. A reason bigger than your love for him. The love that he kept questioning, yeah he deserved to be kicked out like that. He watched you hesitate to open the front door, and he understood too that when he walked out there was no turning back. "And Jason?" He turns to see you and you whisper your name. The real name your parents gave you for the first time in years. And he remembers it, your voice repeats it over and over again in his head. Cute name, he thought. It belonged to you, not your bosses, not your agency, it was yours and about one of the very few things you owned. And he knew, you finally told him even when you shouldn't have. Even when you were specifically instructed not to do that. But it doesn't matter even if it was the last time you saw him, you wanted him to know. He had to know. Only a few minutes after he leaves you allow yourself to break down, letting the tears fall as much as they please. Because you knew you had to be over it by tomorrow, that you have to leave it behind you forever.

A/N: hi, idk when will I post part 3 but just know it's in the works 🫡🫡.

[tinietaehyun]

The Case [Series] ¡! ❞

[Detective!Taehyun x Assistant!Reader ] [Case Archives]

Pairing: Detective!Taehyun x Assistant!Reader.

Contains: romance, fluff, profanity (heavy), manipulative language/behaviour, gaslighting, mentions of violence/blood, murder.

If you don’t like murder-mystery, this fic is probably not for you! This has plenty of romance but also plenty of mystery!

If not to your taste check out my masterlist.

> This is the Case archives [Series List] where you can find all the parts of this series in one place!

[ I’d thought it would be a lot easier and not take up so much room on my Masterlist! ]

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Synopsis:

The death of the star detective’s long time partner had shaken the populace. The crime in the city was at an all time high despite the almost near perfect conviction rate. So what was not adding up?

You knew Taehyun was not one to open up easily and surely the loss of his closest friend didn’t help. However, the closer you looked at all the details surrounding the victim’s murder, an awful realisation hits you.

Just make sure you don’t become the next victim before you seek justice. He’d always be one step ahead.

————————••••••••••••••—————————

1. The Case of a Lover’s Blunder

╰┈➤ Ace Detective Kang Taehyun is known for solving every single case he receives so effortlessly. He’s a master detective with a flourishing assistant who takes crime fighting ever so seriously, but what happens when a case becomes particularly personal?

2. The Case of Betrayal in the Rain [ft. Yeonjun]

╰┈➤ Choi Yeonjun was in grave danger. He knew too much and now had no choice but to run before he found out. His heart was broken to pieces; someone so close...how could they be so cruel? The taste of betrayal was far from sweet. That was for sure.

3. The Case of a Lover’s Epiphany [ft. Beomgyu]

╰┈➤ You couldn’t look at him the same. Everything made too much sense. He was right, this seemed to be more than a coincidence. The man you knew was a mere facade. It appears you had gotten trapped in this twisted game of his.

From being oblivious and blissfully ignorant, you were now going to get to the bottom of this. Even if it meant the cruelest heartbreak you’d ever experienced.

4. The Case of Tragic Reminiscence

╰┈➤ Just who was this Beomgyu guy? Was he to be trusted? Your perception of your entire world seemed to be crumbling to pieces with the love of your life at the centre of it all!

Now as you begin to investigate and equip yourself with the knowledge of the past, you were ready to pave a new future where justice could prevail (with the help of your nuisance of a partner).

After all, the ace detective wasn’t the only one capable of putting on a facade. You could too.

5. The Case of The Detective’s Game

╰┈➤ His eyes gaze at the screen of the security footage on his laptop. Paranoia fills him. He had to investigate further. You were acting different, ever so slightly different. Perhaps a normal person wouldn’t have caught the subtle difference in behaviour, but he could. It was his job after all.

He watches as you scurry back to your seat before he enters into the office through the footage.

The detective’s lips form a cruel smirk, “Oh, and here I thought you’d last way longer than Yeonjun.”

6. The Case of The Chase

╰┈➤ Hopeless and terrified you peer at your phone screen. You hadn’t slept in days. Had you lost everything? Were you that bad at your job? The detective was now looming over you. All you had was Beomgyu by your side. Taehyun had challenged you outright and yet here you were huddled up in fear.

You peer at Beomgyu’s number. You rang three times. He’s still not picking up. A sickening dread fills you. God no. No way…

7. The Case of the Detective’s Heart

╰┈➤ His long brown locks, sharp eyes that stared at you with utmost softness accompanied with that smile which you sought more often than not. Your investigation progress was reaching its peak. It appears your feelings were also at their peak. Your feelings were beginning to mix into a messy concoction.

“Don’t you see the way I look at you, detective?”

8. The Case of a Pitiful Detective

╰┈➤ Everything around you was spinning; your eyes couldn’t leave his face filled with mixed emotions. His voice deepens as he steps forward, “I let you get this far, you’re only here because I let you get here. I could see through your facade, it was endearing to say the least.“

You remain quietly trembling; you weren’t expecting this turn of events. No, no you couldn’t believe his malicious words. You glare; your hands forming fists. A laugh escapes his coy lips, “It was an error to let you get this far. Allow me to fix that.”

9. The Case is Closed - FINALE

╰┈➤ Seoul had witnessed their greatest angel fall from grace. You had unmasked and peeled back the traitor in which you once held in your arms with love. Though, you didn’t know whether you’d be alive to see him pay those deliciously painful consequences.

Most of all, you hope that you wouldn’t have to leave your beloved partner: Beomgyu. Maybe one day, you’d wake up, or maybe you’d have to wait until he reached the skies above.

Would your effort thus far have paid off? You had to wake up.

“Wake up y/n…please. Please, y/n.”

You wanted to. You heard him. Wake up!

[deancasbigbang]

Title: Ten Years Gone

Author: Labgeek2002

Artist: Kazi

Rating: Mature

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester; past Castiel/Michael

Length: 78000

Warnings: Graphic torture

Tags: Detective!Cas; Criminal!Dean; internalized homophobia; group home; mafia

Posting Date: November 3, 2023

Summary: While closing the biggest case of Detective Castiel Novak’s life--bringing down Chicago’s notorious Luguino crime family—everything gets put on hold when he catches Dean Winchester, his childhood crush, breaking the law. Soon after he snaps the cuffs on Dean, Can’ world is turned upside down as he’s left down the dark path of organized crime and police corruption. With no one he can trust, will Can learn to rely on the man who once brought comfort and protection, or will he find betrayal around every corner.

Excerpt: “Watch, watch here.  Follow the ace.” Two quick, sharp snaps of fingers directed the crowd’s attention to a singular direction. “See it? Nothing up my sleeves.  Watch the card.” Cas walked to the outer margins of the small crowd that congregated around the street magician, keeping his profile low and as inconspicuous as possible. His eyes flicked to the ace which was raised high in the air and hesitantly lowered his gaze; his heart stopped upon seeing the distinctive tattoo of a leafless tree crawling up the other man’s forearm.  He closed in a bit, his breath catching tightly in his chest as he approached and took in the dark blond wave of hair that was visible embedded within the crowd. Cas knew exactly what would follow as his mind raced back to its 16-year-old self.  A collective gasp rose from the audience followed by applause and an impressed whistle.  As the person who stood before him bent down to pick up her shopping bag, Castiel was given an unobscured view of the street performer.  The man hadn’t yet seen Cas as he grinned shyly at the appreciation, bowing his head slightly in a modest gesture of acknowledgement.  Every ounce of Cas’ being wanted to duck away before he was noticed, blending in seamlessly with the evaporating crowd.  The badge that burned in his pocket stopped him. He pushed through, putting on the bravado he learned long ago. “And for the grand finale, let’s give the gentleman back his wallet.” His words stopped the dispersion immediately and caused the street performer’s eyes to lock forward, his face a mix of recognition followed quickly by shame. “Cas…” The tone was lifeless despite the full bass of his voice which resounded through Castiel and washed him in echoes of memory.  “Dean, give it to him,” he gestured to the middle-aged man to Dean’s right with a subtle tilt of his chin. Dean reached into his own back pocket and retrieved a worn brown leather wallet, handing it back to its owner without glancing in his direction. “Call the police!” The man yelled as his face flushed red with anger.  Half the crowd, likely natives from Chicago, flicked a hand and went about their business. The remaining few, surely outraged tourists, reached for their phones to beckon an officer while chastising Dean for his scam. “You can put your phones away.” Cas drew his badge from his jacket’s side pocket and flipped it open displaying it quickly to the gentleman and surrounding crowd. “Sir, do you wish to press charges?” “What the hell kind of a question is that? You watched this man rob me!” The older man screamed. Cas could see Dean standing to the man’s left, his arms wound across his chest and his head shaking dismissively back and forth.  “Sir, I did not witness the alleged crime, I am…familiar with the act.  Do you wish to press charges?” Castiel schooled his face into the most neutral portrait of professional control he thought possible.

DCBB 2023 Posting Schedule

[lambsouvlaki]

The Crime Lord - 2

Characters: Jason Todd x fem!oc

Rating and warnings: T, non-explicit smut.

Word Count: 1,560

Summary: Jason never stopped his crime lord ways, but he did find someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. They both have to live with what the things he's done.

Masterlist

At a little past six in the evening, she looked up from the organised chaos of her desk in her run down little office building and saw Jason sitting on the corner of her desk, watching her. 

She yelped, and jumped. 

He laughed. Despite her optimism back in the early days of their relationship, it never stopped startling her, and he never stopped enjoying it. 

“Oh, you asshat,” she said, putting a hand over her heart. “How long have you been there?”

“Just arrived.” He was in civilian clothes, with the stubble of several days at his chin. “You’re working hard, I wasn’t even trying this time.” 

She closed her eyes and rubbed them. She’d sent everyone else home an hour ago. Running a non-profit was so much harder than it looked. “This project, I swear. I’m going to pull my hair out.” 

“Don’t do that, you have beautiful hair.” 

“Hmm.” She cracked an eye open. “What are you doing here?”

“Had the evening free, figured I’d save you the bus trip home.”

“You sweetheart.” She eyed her paperwork, then looked at him again. “How’s your Cantonese?”

“Worse than yours. My Filipino is pretty good.”

She perked up. “Is it? You know it’s dangerous to go telling me things like that. I’ll put you to work.” 

“Good. You’ll want to keep me around then,” said her partner of six years and the man who funded the entire organisation. 

She grinned. “You have your uses, I suppose.” 

“You ready to go?” 

“Yeah. I just need to lock up.” 

She never sat down and decided to become a cornerstone of Gotham’s charity scene, she just gently slid into it. While the Red Hood and his crew held the worst of Gotham by the throat, she looked around the supposedly regular parts of the city and was dissatisfied.

There were too many people in the poorer districts who didn’t speak much English and relied on their community, only to be left behind when disaster struck. She had always been something of a polyglot and after her literature degree wrapped up she did some work with charities in the Alley, a little here and a little there, and got to know the movers and shakers in various communities. 

She tentatively started her initiative because nobody else was doing it, and Jason encouraged her. She pushed for it much harder when emergency sirens in English warned a largely Vietnamese neighbourhood that fear gas had been seeded in their waterways and they shouldn’t use their taps for the next twelve hours. The fallout was catastrophic.

She put some people in contact with other people, who then asked her opinion on who they should speak to afterwards. She kept at it, and within a shockingly small time frame she was arranging cross community relief work across half of Gotham and was busy learning her sixth language. 

The whole thing was a money pit of course. Red Hood funded it through several shell companies, and it could be thought of as money laundering, in the style of a washing machine that always eats your socks. He went out at night and beat money out of Gotham’s organised crime, and in the morning she put it back into the city.

She was no great figurehead in the local community, but people trusted her, and that was all she needed to get on with it. Her little office wasn’t a destination but a crossroads, infrastructure that nobody stopped to look at but everyone relied on. 

Information from so many people crossed her desk, from officials in the judicial system, to the head of the Thomas and Martha Wayne Foundation, to handwritten letters from little old ladies who wanted to know just who she was to tell them not to eat produce grown in their own backyard, a little Gotham soil put meat on your bones.

When one of Red Hood’s lieutenant's planned to overthrow him, she knew about it before Jason did. 

He walked her out the back entrance, then opened the driver’s door of his car for her. 

That told her everything she needed to know.

She hopped in and didn’t even bother glancing at the backseat for the rifles that would definitely be within easy reach under a tarp. Automatically she checked the roof opposite her office, and there he was, one of Hood’s men, blending in among the air conditioning units. She had learned to be good at spotting them. She’d gotten good at all sorts of things in the last six years. 

“Where are we going?” she asked, turning the keys in the ignition.

Jason gave her an address, and she drove. 

It wasn’t their home address, or at least it hadn’t been yesterday. That was how this worked. One of the disadvantages of not being a billionaire who only dipped his toes into the Gotham crime scene: there was no retreat for them, just sidestepping.

Jason kept a hand on a gun just below the window the entire drive. He watched the roads carefully, while she planned and adjusted their route to make sure she wasn’t ever boxed in or at a standstill. 

Despite the caution, they arrived without incident. Jason tapped his ear, and said they were in the clear. 

Their home for the night was one of his old safe houses by the docks, a loft apartment she hadn’t seen in years. 

“This takes me back,” she said, as they went in. He slung an arm over her shoulder. “I had a front row seat to watch you throw Tim off of that roof over there.”

He grinned and kissed her hair. “Hopefully no such theatrics tonight. I missed you too many nights this week.”

They went up and settled in. He made her dinner and told her to put her feet up. It had been too many late nights for both of them. 

She lounged back on the couch and watched him cook for her. She smiled wistfully. 

These moments were still so precious. Jason’s relaxed side, his playful side, his sweet and needy side. They didn’t get to come out very often and she hoarded those moments greedily. They were never going to be the norm. She knew that. 

The Red Hood was not an newcomer upsetting the board anymore, and this wasn’t a holding pattern. It was the destination. 

These were not the people they were becoming, but the people they already were. 

Some days she felt the guilt of it all. He had her tacit approval, and she was complicit by every standard. 

Those among Hood's men trusted to know about her had nicknamed her Evita. She found it deeply irritating, and Jason thought it was hilarious. She would contest the comparison, she wasn’t glamorous, and they were hardly living it up. But she knew how this looked, what they were doing. 

“Al Capone was loved by his community too,” Nightwing had told her once, sourly. 

No matter how much good she did, her passion project was funded by drug money. On the days when Jason felt the weight of his chosen work too heavily, funding hers justified it to himself. Maybe it was all motivated by guilt in the end and they were kidding themselves.  

But she recalled the Gotham she grew up in. The terror, the helplessness, the filth. 

It wasn’t like that anymore. It had changed, and Jason could tally that in his soul's favour. 

Black mask had been overthrown by his own second in command a couple years ago, after getting his shit kicked in one too many times. That particular criminal empire had crumbled without strong leadership, and Red Hood swallowed and chewed up what survived. 

The Penguin had lost so much ground that in the end GCPD scooped him up and he couldn’t even blackmail his way back out. 

The Joker died in Arkham. Reports were inconclusive. Nobody was fooled.

Hell, things had changed so much that Red Hood had installed safe injection sites across the Narrows, decimating his own drug trade, and dealing the biggest blow to hospitalisation numbers in Gotham’s history, ever. 

City authorities widely condemned the move as explicit distribution, but Jason held such a grip over his own districts that there was nothing they could do to stop him. 

The two of them ate and relaxed together as evening stretched on. He pulled her onto his lap, languid and easy with years of familiarity. His body knew hers so well, as she did his.

Perhaps they were damned for what they did. 

She wasn’t a fool, Gotham’s newfound peace was bought and paid for in blood night after night. They cleaned up the city without the city’s consent. 

As she rocked in his lap, he gazed at her with such devotion. In her he saw absolution. The soothing rain after his scorching fire, the recovery only possible after the infection was burned away. 

She enabled him.

The hands of a murderer held her hips steady. They caressed her body, then cupped her jaw. The lips of a man so drenched in blood she imagined they were both slippery with it, drank from her mouth. There were no vows, no rings, but he was hers. And she was his.

His head fell forwards, and she cradled him to her chest. She wondered if he saw the blood staining their hands just as vividly as she did.

He mouthed at her neck, and whispered her name. 

She didn’t regret a damn thing. 

Next>>

[dc-and-arfrona]

Happy Birthday

Jason Todd x GN! Reader

Type: Angst

It was another lonely night in Gotham City. Jason Todd, the Red Hood, perched on a rooftop overlooking the bustling streets below. As he surveyed the city's chaos, a bittersweet reminder fluttered through his mind. Today was your birthday.

Once upon a time, you and Jason were an unstoppable duo, partners in crime and in life. You understood each other like no one else, sharing secrets, laughter, and stolen kisses amidst the madness of their vigilante lives. But as fate would have it, circumstances forced them apart.

Now, years later, the silence between them seemed impenetrable. Jason had made peace with the fact that you had moved on, creating a new life away from the dangerous world they once inhabited together. He had tried to do the same, burying himself in his mission to protect Gotham, but deep down, he couldn't forget you.

Every year on your birthday, a pang of longing tugged at Jason's heart. He couldn't help but think of the memories you had shared, the laughter and joy that had been his solace amidst the darkness. He wondered if you ever thought of him, if you remembered the countless nights spent talking about dreams and fears, or the stolen moments of tenderness they had shared.

Jason reached into his pocket and pulled out a worn photograph. It was a snapshot of the two of you, arms draped around each other, grinning like fools on a carefree night. It had been taken years ago, but it still held the essence of your bond. Gently tracing your face with his thumb, he whispered to the night air, "I'm glad we don't talk anymore, but I still think about you on your birthday."

As the city's lights shimmered in the distance, memories flooded Jason's mind. He recalled the time you had saved him from his darkest moments, how your unwavering belief in him had given him strength. There were the late-night conversations that stretched into dawn, where you revealed your deepest fears and insecurities, trusting him with your vulnerabilities. He remembered how your laughter could brighten even the gloomiest nights, and how your touch could heal wounds deeper than any scar.

But time had taken its toll, and the path they had chosen had become a dividing line between them. Jason had made choices that led to your separation, trying to protect you from the dangers that had consumed him. The sacrifice had been painful, yet necessary.

Jason placed the photograph back in his pocket, his grip tightening around it as he made a silent promise to himself. On each passing year, he would carry your memory, holding onto the moments you shared, cherishing them like precious treasures. Despite the distance, the silence, and the choices made, his heart still held a space for you.

As the night wore on, Jason's vigilante duties called him away. He leaped into the darkness, leaving behind the rooftop and the echoes of his unspoken thoughts. In the depths of Gotham's shadows, he would continue to fight, knowing that the choices he had made were for the greater good.

But deep in his heart, on your birthday and every day that followed, Jason would silently wish you well, hoping that wherever life had taken you, you were happy and safe. And perhaps, in some small corner of his soul, he held onto the flickering hope that one day, their paths might cross again.

Because even though they didn't talk anymore, the memories remained etched in Jason's heart. They were imprinted on his very being, reminding him of a love that had once been so vibrant and alive. And in the quiet moments when the city slumbered, he would allow himself to indulge in what-ifs and alternate realities.

On your birthday, Jason would find himself retracing the steps of their past. He would visit the places where you had shared stolen kisses, the parks where you had whispered promises of forever. Each location held a piece of their story, a testament to the love they had once shared.

He would sit on a bench in a deserted park, gazing up at the night sky, imagining your laughter cascading through the air like music. The stars would twinkle, reminiscent of the sparkle in your eyes, and for a fleeting moment, it would feel as if you were right there beside him.

Jason would find himself compelled to reach out, to break the silence that had plagued their lives for far too long. But the fear of disrupting your newfound happiness would always hold him back. He respected your choices, and even if it meant sacrificing his own desires, he would let you go.

Yet, on your birthday, he would allow himself to pen a letter. It would be filled with all the unsaid words, pouring out the emotions he had carefully guarded within himself. He would confess how much he missed you, how your absence haunted him even when he fought to push it away.

In the darkness of the night, he would release the letter into the wind, watching it disappear into the abyss. It was a symbolic gesture, a way of letting go while still holding on. He hoped that somehow, the universe would carry his words to you, even if they would never cross your lips.

Days would pass, and life would continue its relentless march forward. Jason would return to his duties as the Red Hood, throwing himself into the chaos of Gotham's underworld. But a small part of him would always belong to you, a silent guardian watching over your happiness from afar.

Because even though they didn't talk anymore, and even though their paths had diverged, the connection they shared couldn't be erased. It lived in the unspoken moments, in the quiet longing that whispered through their souls.

And on each passing year, as your birthday arrived, Jason would find solace in the fact that somewhere out there, you were celebrating life, creating new memories, and thriving in a world beyond his reach. He would silently toast to your happiness, his heart aching yet filled with gratitude for having been a part of your story.

For deep down, he knew that even if they would never cross paths again, the love they had once shared had shaped him into the person he had become. And in that bittersweet realization, he would find peace, knowing that their time together, though fleeting, had left an indelible mark on both their lives.

So, as the years went by, Jason Todd and the reader would live their separate lives, bound by the silent memories that would forever hold them together. And on your birthday, amidst the silence, Jason would whisper into the night, "Happy birthday, my love. I hope you're living the life you always deserved."

Masterlist

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Without Words: A Retelling of "The Six Swans"

For the Four Loves Fairy Tale Challenge hosted by @inklings-challenge.

My husband and I have never needed words. We have always understood each other in actions and expressions, in the way our eyes meet and souls entwine. With Christian, my silence has not been a curse, but a sanctuary.

But now my husband the king stands before me in my bedchamber-turned-prison as a different, desperate man. We who were once so close are distant now, with a wall between us of Christian's making. Armed guards stand between us, protecting him from me, as though it is in my power to harm one hair on his head. Christian's eyes, clouded by suspicion, are closed to the million things I say as he asks for the one thing I cannot give.

"Just one word, Eliza," he begs, with tears in his eyes. "The evidence is undeniable, but if you give me one word of explanation, I will believe you."

I would give my life to please him, but more than my life is at stake. If I speak before sunrise tomorrow, all six of my brothers will die. They have spent seven long years as swans; I have kept the silence and made the shirts necessary to break my stepmother’s curse. A word spoken too soon will kill them as surely as my silence will condemn me.

I bow my head and hold my tongue. I focus on stitching the last of the snow-white shirts so I don’t have to see my husband’s heart break.

“Eliza.” The word is half a sob. “Don’t tell me it’s true.” In a moment, Christian is past the guards and kneeling at my feet. He puts his hands over mine, stilling my needle while he gazes into my face. “If you have ever loved me, if you’ve spent one minute mourning our lost children, I beg you to speak.”

My silence becomes a hard shell of anger. Christian knows how I have mourned our children. He has held me night after night as I silently wept for them. Two boys and a girl, all lost before their first year, taken from their cradles and leaving nothing but blood-smeared blankets behind. To think that I could ever have killed them is a betrayal beyond imagination.

Yet even in my anger, I cannot blame him. The evidence against me is strong. The children were stolen from my chambers, with their warm blood spattered upon me. Christian advocated for my innocence after the first two deaths, despite all the whispers against me. It is only after this third loss, the point where tragedy becomes a terrible pattern, that he has begun to consider the rumors that follow me. Enchantress. Temptress. Witch.

There is much in my behavior to suggest it. Christian found me in the forest, mute and ragged, and married me despite my mysterious origins. I spend all my time in silent labor—harvesting, retting, spinning, weaving, and sewing the nettles I need for my shirts. If one doesn’t know the truth of my task, it is easy to turn these facts into dark conspiracy. It’s far too similar to my own stepmother’s tale, who did prove dangerous to her husband’s children.

In a small way, I’m almost proud of Christian. If someone had suspected my stepmother’s behavior sooner, my brothers may never have been cursed. How unfortunate that my husband’s suspicion is as dangerous as my father’s trust.

If I could speak, I could explain away my strange behavior with the shirts, but I have no more knowledge than Christian does of who has taken our children, and that is by far the greater crime. I sometimes suspect his mother of knowing more than she says, but I have no proof. It is Christian’s trust alone that could spare me from the grave—a trust I can only gain through words.

“I know you can speak, Eliza.” Christian’s desperation has a sharpened-glass edge. “Don’t you understand that your life is in my hands? The penalty for these crimes is death, and my hand must sign the execution order. I can save you or spare you, but you must speak.”

Words leap to my lips, longing to be uttered—words of explanation, of apology, of love. My husband—ever innocent, ever noble—does not deserve this torment, and I hate that my stepmother’s web has ensnared him too. One word from me could end his suffering—but it would destroy everything else.

I keep my silence.

Christian’s hands shake. “Please, my love, don’t make me do this.”

I place his face between my hands and I kiss the top of his head. My tears drip into his hair. Through my touch, my gaze, the very strength of my desire, I try to tell him all I feel. I’m sorry. I love you. I understand.

He is deaf to it all. He pulls away and leaves the room wrapped in a cloud of gloom, his every motion speaking of his anger at my crimes, his heartbreak at my betrayal.

An hour later, I hear the news. I will die at dawn.

#

There is silence in the square, despite the crowd that fills it. It seems as though the whole city has come to watch their queen die in the dim gray light before dawn. Christian sits in a raised pavilion at the far end of the square, his face stone, his eyes unblinking. Despite everything, my heart leaps to see him there. My husband will face my death with me. He may be misled, unjust, mistaken, but he is not a coward.

Clad in nothing but my shift, I am led to the pyre—a mountain of wood that will soon burst into flame. I thank heaven that Christian has allowed me to keep the six shirts. The intent, I believe, is to burn the fruits of my dark arts with me, but it gives me one last chance to save my brothers. Even as I walk to my death, I stitch furiously to attach the final sleeve. There is a brief moment at sunrise where I could break their curse before the flames consume me. I am determined they will live as men again, even if I must die to do it.

Even with such a burden upon me, I cannot resist glancing up at Christian every few steps. He is regal in his silence, dignified in his stillness, but I can read the sorrow and betrayal in every line of his face. His pain is beyond words, but I have never needed words to know his heart. If I die, if he ever learns of my innocence, it will break him; the thought makes my death even harder to bear.

I mount the steps to the pyre and stand against the stake. The soldiers begin to throw the ropes around my shoulders, but a word from my husband halts them.

“Has the prisoner any last words?” he cries across the open square.

To the crowd, his question will sound like a taunt to the wordless witch-queen, but I who hear his silences know his true intent. Even now, upon the very door of death, he is begging me to speak in my own defense.

Even now, I am silent. But my silence fills with the sound of beating wings.

From the east come six white swans, majestic in the rosy glow of early dawn. They fly over the square and dive toward my pyre. With all the strength I have left, I throw my six shirts high into the air, the unbound thread dangling from the final sleeve. My brothers fly into them as swans and land as men upon the ground, restored to princely human forms.

I cry aloud in wordless joy. My brothers swarm around me, laughing, crying, embracing me, protecting me from the guards and from the rising confusion of the crowd. There are cries of witchcraft throughout the square, but my brothers make enough of their story known to reassure the crowd this is an innocent act, the breaking of a curse rather than the beginning of one. The guards receive the king's orders from their captain--I will not die today. In light of this turn of events, my brothers and I will be transported safely back to the palace.

There is joy, laughter, triumph, and words—so many words. Seven long years of silence have received their reward. I hear voices that I yearned for in long, silent nights of weaving, see faces that I have not seen since we were children together in my father’s palace.

But there is one face I do not see, one voice among all that I long to hear. Christian has left his pavilion, and I cannot hope to find him in all this tumult.

#

My chambers ring with sound. After seven years as swans, my brothers have their voices back, and they are making full use of them. There is so much to discuss, so much to express.

I have broken the curse. I am cleared of the charges of witchcraft. Even my children have been restored to me. My brothers, when on the wing, caught sight of a cottage deep within the woods and found my children there in the care of a peasant and his wife. My mother-in-law, when confronted with this truth, has confessed to stealing them away and manufacturing the murder charges in an attempt to rid the kingdom of what she thought was an evil enchantress. She is under house arrest while my husband decides how to deal with her.

In my brothers' eyes, the king himself is deserving of punishment. They urge me to return home with them, arguing that I owe no loyalty to a man who tried to have me burned at the stake. Alfred, my eldest brother, is most offended by my treatment, and says that he would be within his rights to go to war over me. I am almost grateful that his right arm--emerging from the unfinished sleeve of the final tunic--remains a swan's wing, if it will keep him from taking up the sword.

My voice, weak from seven years of disuse, is unable to put passion or authority behind my defense of Christian. I cannot make my brothers understand.

I have become so many different women these past seven years--a queen, a wife, three times a mother--while my brothers are the same as they always were. I rejoice at their restoration, but my joy is incomplete. I long for the one man who hears and understands the person I have become.

While my brothers speak of plans for their return, I hear a footstep in the hall, and I gasp when I see who stands at the door.

"Christian," I say.

My brothers fall silent. My husband is haggard--clearly exhausted by the emotions of the day--and hesitant.

Alfred steps forward, an indignant crown prince. "By what right do you intrude upon us?"

"Eliza," Christian says. "May I speak with you alone?"

My brothers close around me, as aggressive as the swans they once were. "She will go nowhere with you," Alfred says.

Christian looks to me, but does not meet my eyes. "I understand I have no right to approach you. I have imprisoned you upon false charges and signed the warrant for your death. If you wish to dissolve the marriage I can release you from your duties as queen. The children may go with you, and the crown will go to my sister's son."

Behind the stiff, formal words, I hear the silent truth. Christian aches for me as I ache for him; he longs for my love, but fears he has lost the right, and so is willing to sacrifice all for my happiness. Is it any wonder I have loved him for so long?

My husband loved me as a mute and friendless girl. He gave me a home, a crown, a heart so full of love that I often thanked heaven for such a gift. He defended me from every accusation until defense became impossible. He is the father of my children and there is no one whose heart is so linked to my own. He is passionate, noble, and deeply kind. He has made my years of strife not only bearable, but joyful. The deep love that binds us cannot be erased by a single day's mistake.

There are no words to express all I want to say. Fortunately, we have never needed words. I force my way past my brothers, throw my arms around Christian's neck, pull him in for a kiss, and let my silence speak for me.

This time, he understands.