#just Crime Alley being there one minute and gone the next

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Halloween prompts year 2 day 3

Danny smiled back at the elf boy. Ever since landing in Hyrule this guy has stuck by his side and did everything in his power to help him, even going so far as to learn English and teach Danny Hylian. If it wasn't for Link Danny doesn't know what he would have done.

They were in Hyrule field, practicing Dannys portal and teleporting powers to see if he could open a portal home or teleport there. He began thinking about how pure and clean Hyrule was since it didn't have a drop of pollution and how cities were supposed to be gross and polluted. So he began focusing on pollution, smog and filth, hoping that that would take him back home.

He didn't expect to teleport a city into Hyrule.

---

Five minutes.

Jason had only brushed his teeth and washed his face and in that time all of Crime Alley had been thrown into another dimension. Typical.

Whats more it looked like they were in a green grassy area. A legit apple forest was to the North of them and probably one of the clearest, cleanest rivers he had ever seen was directly East of them. God, he could see the fish swimming in the water.

What was most surprising though was the elf people. They weren't causing trouble per say, but hes definitely had to save some of them that wandered in out of curiosity. After the second or third one he saved he noticed a fence had popped up around all of crime ally over night. There were signs on the other side of the fence with some kind of official seals on them. So elves have political leaders? Works for him, he can guess that the signs say something to the effect of "Stay out" and it should make his job a bit easier. That and the numerous woven baskets left surrounding Crime Alley filled with fruits, veggies, cloth, clothing and soap.

Jason wasn't expecting some of the elves to get through the fencing to throw an unknown liquid into Crime Alley and then run. He panicked at first, thinking this was some kind of attack, but after testing it, he discovered it was just soapy water. He didn't understand at first but soon began getting reports from his men that anyone who wandered out of the city was being captured, thrown into the shallow water of the river, and scrubbed with long poled mops.

Rude. I mean, he gets that the elf people have probably never dealt with pollution, which means they never had to smell it, but still. Rude.

Red Hood gets a bit twitchy when he learns the kids who wander out get captured but chills out once he learns the children are never harmed.

The hylians are taking them in, bathing them, clothing, teaching them to cook and teaching them thier language. They are given lots of clothes and toys and the option to stay with them if they have no where else to go. Jason has no idea about this until a short blond elf guy and a teenage human twink talk to him and explain whats going on, the twink even apologized to him and explained that all of this was his fault.

[confessedlyfannish]

DP x DC Prompt #4

When they all convene at the cave, Alfred is silently wrapping Dick's knuckles. Damian hovers beside him. Tim and Barbara are hunched over the batcomputer, not even sparing Bruce a glance as he strides over.

"Report," Batman grunts. No one reacts.

"Report!"

"Hood pushed his panic button at 2:34 AM," Barbara says shortly, straightening.

The button had been a joke, mostly because Jason would never use it and everyone knew it.

"I patched into his comm at 2:35. This is what I heard initially." At her nod, Tim presses play. What occurs next is a garble. There is the sound of high winds, as if Hood is rushing through the air, even though the comms are designed to filter out any ambiance otherwise the Bats would never hear each other. Interspersed is a mixture of static punctuated by high, inhuman screeches of metal and something else unknown.

"This goes on," Barbara says after thirty long seconds, switching it off. "Red Hood failed to respond to any attempts at contact. I dispatched Nightwing to Hood's location at 2:36 AM. He was approximately two miles away." She pulls up a GPS map of their respective locations, their beacons blinking.

"At 2:41 AM, Red Hood's comm goes off, as does his GPS," Barbara says, swallowing softly as the red beacon indicating Jason disappears. "Nightwing arrives at 2:42 AM."

Dick doesn't say anything, head hanging low as he grips the metal table he sits on. Damian glances between the two of them, expression flat but fists clenched.

"Nightwing, report."

"..."

"Scene was empty, B," Tim speaks up. "No trace of Hood, no sign of a struggle. No cameras in the alley. We've been checking the ones nearby but so far there's no sign of anyone but Hood heading in that direction...and no one, Hood included, caught in the cams heading out, not within that time frame."

"So he's still in the area," Batman concludes. "The local buildings?"

"All the entrances have cameras, which showed no evidence of Hood nor any evidence of being tampered with," Barbara says. "Nightwing, Red Robin and Robin canvased within a half mile radius to check for any signs of disturbances in any of the windows or rooftops but found no evidence to support Hood being taken. A scan confirmed several serial offenders, but when interviewed and searched there was no sign of Hood. Several in the area reported an unusual quiet for Crime Alley."

Batman forces the next question out. "Did you check the dumpsters?"

"Yes," Nightwing grits out. "Empty."

Barbara clears her throat. "I have attempted to reconnect to Jason's GPS and comm as well as restart both remotely but there's no signal at all. The thing is, when there's a disruption like that it usually leaves some sort of sign" she pulls up the audio waves, pointing at the end where the spikes conform into a straight line that makes everyone deeply uncomfortable. Upon playing, the noise from before plays before going abruptly silent. "But there is no large spike, this is clean. It just ends. His GPS is much the same. It's not off, it's just gone."

"I know you don't like to hypothesize this early on, B, but we think this involves a meta," Tim says, rewinding the audio. "We've been running the audio from Jason's comm through different filters, playing with the levels and isolating what we can and, well, take a listen--"

The screeching drops to a sort of muffle and in the background, distantly, they can hear bits of Jason's voice.

"No, I'm not---"

"--don't need--"

"get AWAY from--"

a particularly desperate yell that makes Tim flinch, "I am NOT--!"

and almost a whimper that makes Batman's blood run cold, "please..."

And then, unfairly clear even through the faint garble, Jason says "I don't have a choice, do I."

And a minute later, quietly: "Ok."

The audio cuts off.

The defeat in Jason's last words is palpable, and fundamentally wrong. Jason has never sounded defeated a day in his life, and no one knows how to process Red Hood all but giving his hands over for the cuffs. Nightwing pushes himself off the table.

"I'm going back out there," he growls. No one tries to stop him as he stalks out the cave, not even Alfred.

"I will accompany Nightwing, make sure he does not punch any more walls." Damian says, nodding tightly.

"B?" Barbara asks.

"Keep working on it. See if you can identify what could be making those noises if Hood was standing still in an alley," Batman says, walking towards the zeta tube. "I'm going to make a few calls."

[brayneworms]

c'mon, baby, you're my best fix | sampo koski

kinktober day three: dry humping

word count: 2.4k

content: dry humping, gender-neutral reader, silvermane guard!reader, hatesex elements, sex as stress relief, semi-public (alleyway), reader has been drinking but isn't implied to be intoxicated, dom!reader + sub!sampo (but he's implied to be a switch), elements of sadism + masochism, degradation, coming untouched.

♪ love in a trashcan - the ravenettes.

kinktober mlist | regular mlist

The biggest fucking lie anyone had told, ever, had come out of Sampo Koski's mouth that afternoon:

C'mooon. I can be good.

You know for a fact that this is a lie, because through no will of your own you have become quite well-acquainted with Sampo Koski, and if there's one thing you're sure of is that he has a physical aversion to doing what he's told.

He had been told, for example, the following many times: Leave me alone, Koski. You're a fucking creep, Koski. Stop conveniently walking by my workplace the very minute I finish my shift, Koski. No, you can't buy me a drink, Koski.

And yet he shows up anyway, like a bad penny, like a dog someone hadn't reprimanded harshly enough and had come sniffing around looking for scraps. Maybe you're too nice, but you sort of doubt it. You think it's more likely that Sampo likes when you talk down to him, which is a whole other can of worms that you're not remotely interested in opening.

"I get the feeling you're mad at me," comes that familiar simpering voice, sliding home into the booth opposite you. Sampo slumps forwards against the table with his face squished against his open palm, grinning that ever-present crescent-moon smile. Cut-jade eyes glimmer out at you through the half-light of the tavern. They always seem to be glittering, despite the absence of any real light. "It's this nagging feeling!" he continues gleefully, even when you glare at him. "This annoying but rather persistent voice in the back of my head keeps telling me that when you tell me to leave you alone, you actually mean it!" He gives a hearty laugh, toying with his flask of ale, and peers up at you through his stupidly thick lashes. "Still, I know it can't be true, considering what happened the other night."

Stupid alcohol. Stupid Sampo. Stupid, stupid you.

One day of weakness. Being a Silvermane Guard was never exactly easy work, but most days tended to be less harrowing than the one you'd had. Every lead you'd chased had slipped through your fingers, and your shift had ended abruptly when the brother of a victim you were seeking justice for had elbowed you to the ground in frustration and spat on you. Your superior wrestled him off you and told you to clock off early.

You supposed she was being kind, but it just made you feel more useless than ever. Boiling with anger and with nowhere to put it, you stormed to the nearest tavern with the intention of drowning your sorrows. Two cups of mead in, you'd gone outside to clear your head, and there he had been, lurking around like an alley cat, sharp eyes lingering on everyone who walked past. No doubt looking for his next easy target. You clear your throat pointedly, and he spins around. Surprise quickly melts into familiar delight.

"Captain, my Captain!" he trills, slinking over as he was wont to slink everywhere.

"Not a captain," you remind him for the fortieth time. "Why are you loitering around here, Koski?"

An affronted hand to his chest, as though clutching imaginary pearls. "Oh! Did they outlaw that, too? Going to cuff me and sling me in jail, hm?"

"Don't fuckin' tempt me," you grumble, tipping your head back against the wall of the tavern. "Can you hurry up and commit a crime in front of me, or something?"

Sampo grins. "Rough day?"

"You're not helping," you snip back, slightly unfairly. He isn't really doing anything more than hanging around being irritating. He slinks closer, slinks like he always does, like it's the only way he knows how to move. Oozing around like a toxic slime, draping himself against the wall just in front of you, arm braced against the brick behind your head.

"I could, though."

His forwardness is hardly a surprise. There isn't any danger of missing his meaning in the sleepy droop of his eyes, the lazy smile curling at his lips. Sampo is an incurable flirt to each and everyone—the thing is that most of the time it's part of the con. You know a few Silvermane Guards who have fallen into his charm and his bed that cut him a lot of slack where they really, really shouldn't.

Sampo Koski has friends everywhere, and that's what makes him so dangerous.

You know this. You have done for a while, especially because he'd been trying to worm his way into your bed for about as long as you'd known him. You resent the thought of him having any sort of power over you, though. There's no denying that he's attractive, and you've often wondered if he would be able to put his money where his mouth is, for lack of a better phrase. But handing over that amount of control to someone like Koski is just incurably stupid.

Because then you're trapped. Every time he'd catch your eye afterwards, they'd glimmer, and you'd know he was remembering your moment of weakness, inviting you to remember it too. Every time his eyes would rake down your body you'd know he'd be recalling when he'd seen it devoid of clothing, sweating, trembling. Every time he'd look at you, he'd know he'd already won.

Really, there's a very simple solution. Don't let him win.

"I bet," you breathe, meeting his eyes for once. You can see them widen slightly, his lips part in surprise before he makes a recovery from this most minuscule slip of his mask.

"Ohoho?" He lets out an irritating little laugh. "Gosh. Must have been a really rough day."

"I'd prefer it to get rougher."

Sampo's mouth splits into a wide grin, one almost fanatical in nature. "I should've pegged you as the type!" he gushes. "Why would anyone be nonsensical enough to join the Silvermane Guards unless they secretly enjoyed a little pain? Between you and me, Captain, I don't mind it either."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" you sigh. "Only a real masochist would so frequently try to get under my skin."

His lashes flutter. "I'm trying to get under much more than that, Captain."

You grab him by the front of his shirt and drag him down the alley beside the tavern. In the dusk light, the two of you slip into the shadows almost immediately, and you follow the narrow path down to the back of the tavern, where the noise of the street outside is quietened to a whisper. Sampo giggles behind you.

"What an exhibitionist you are," he says slyly. "I should've expected it from you, I guess. I guess—"

You plant two hands on his chest, shoving him back into the brick wall, and kiss him. His words flutter to a halt and he stifles a yelp of surprise against your mouth before his eyes squinch shut. His hands aren't shy, flying up to grip your waist, and you press yourself flush against him. He makes a whimpery noise into your mouth as your knee slots itself between his legs, pushing up. He runs hot, you can feel it even through his clothes, and it's a welcome immersion from the perpetual algidity of Belobog.

He grunts as he pulls away, and you take in the slightly glazed look in his eyes and the high colour in his cheeks with a tinge of gratification. "We don't have an awful lot of time," he says pseudo-apologetically. His hands fly to his belt, fingers working nimbly at the buckle. "I'm due somewhere in twenty—"

His voice stammers to a halt when your hand clamps down over his, stilling his fingers. Sampo blinks up at you, puzzled; the penny hasn't yet dropped, you suppose, even as you patiently pry his fingers away from his belt.

"What are you doing?" you ask bluntly. Sampo's lips part and he looks at you as though you're quite delusional.

"Ah... ahem?" He laughs nervously. "Is that a trick question?"

"No," you answer easily. "What are you doing?" Off his bewildered look—which you take the time to enjoy, considering how little you get to see anything but smug ostentation on his face—you shrug. "Oh, I see. That's what you thought this was? I take you into some... secluded little alley, and I get you off?"

Sampo's mouth drops open. "I—I would've—"

"Let's not delude ourselves," you interrupt, and push your knee up between his thighs again. He makes a high, shaky noise in the back of his throat, tipping his head back against the brick wall. "D'you really think you've earned that?"

"Hm?" Sampo swallows hard, the juts in his throat flexing. "I—"

"All you do is hang around bothering me," you hiss. "And you think... what, one well-timed innuendo is all it took for me to change my mind? If you want to get off, then get off." Your knee slides against him, the stiffening in his trousers, and he makes a rather pathetic noise.

"You're not serious," he gasps, cheeks flushed scarlet. His sleepy eyes are wider than you've ever seen them and trained frantically on you. "Come on, Captain, you can't mean that. W-what would you get out of it, even?" He tries for a smirk. "I promise, if you let the reliable Sampo get his hands on you, you won't regret—mmfph?"

Your fingers slip under the stupid windows flaring over his hips, gliding over the skin there. He runs so warm, and it's ridiculous considering Belobog's perpetual winter, as you curl your fingernails into the skin of the small of his back 'till it dimples and drag his hips painstakingly over the flat of your thigh.

This time, sweet as music, he doesn't talk. His mouth drops open and he lets out a shivering moan, gloved hands scrabbling on the brick wall behind him. "You really are serious," he says in disbelief even as his hips roll absently against your leg. A strained laugh escapes him as—finally—a painfully scarlet flush starts bleeding into his cheekbones. "I always knew you Silvermanes were crazy."

"Mm. Not all of them," you say quietly. "But I am. I'm pretty crazy."

Sampo shudders, one that worms its way slowly through his whole body, and then he drops his head against your shoulder. He smells nice, like smoke and mint, his hair soft as it brushes your skin. His hips move languidly against you, stuttering occasionally, unsure—until you flex the muscle of your thigh against him. A whimper breaks free, high and whiny like shattered glass.

"You're so cruel," he groans even as his body drags against your leg. You underestimated how overwhelming it would be; his breath in the hollow of your neck makes the skin there hot and clammy, and when he moans it goes right in your ear. You're certain he's exaggerating to get your resolve to weaken. Nobody actually sounds like that.

And you can feel him, hard and hot as a brand, pushing up against your leg. You shudder almost imperceptibly, because yes, yeah, you're wondering how he would feel inside you, but you can't—not tonight, you promise yourself as your teeth grit. Tonight isn't about that.

It's about winning.

"Please," Sampo grits out, turning his head so you can see slices of his moonstone eyes through the sweaty locks of hair. "I—nngh, oh—I want inside of you."

"Take it or leave it, Koski," you say, a bit too breathlessly for your liking. He shivers with a sulky noise, and the whole time, even as he talks his hips are rolling against your leg. He picks up speed as sweat starts rolling down his skin, as his hands scrabble over the brick and then fly out to grab your waist and haul you closer. His strength is ridiculous—but so is yours. You let yourself be pulled, feeling his mouth and teeth against your ear, the breathy noises spilled across your jaw.

"Oh—please, I'm close." His eyes blink up at you, wet and deceptively innocent. The look on his face is almost heartwrending. "I need you, anything—your hand, mouth, anything, I don't care, please—"

"You're going to cum in your pants against my leg like the dog you are," you spit, your hand fisting in the hair at the nape of his neck. He yelps, the flush on his cheeks darkening, eyes fluttering shut. "And you're gonna be grateful you even got that much."

Sampo moans, broken and high; his hips stutter against your leg as his hands curl into your waist so hard you're sure they'll leave bruises. But under the pleasure is a certain frustration, a sobbing sound as he cums and it sets your blood alight. You shiver with the delight of it.

The seconds that follow feel like victory.

Sampo peels away from you, stumbling back against the brick wall behind him. He's scarlet all the way down to his chest, his mouth agape and eyes wide and glittering with unshed tears as he uncomfortably adjusts his pants. They're dark and it's night, so he can probably get away with them until he gets the chance to go home and change, but the thought of him walking around in soiled underwear thrills you.

You probably are actually crazy. Sampo's annoying, but he's quite perceptive.

He clears his throat, shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "Well. Erm. That was..." He swallows. "The great Sampo really got himself in a rather sticky situation this time, didn't I?"

"Poor choice of words," you supply, and he winces, flushing harder.

He clears his throat. "Like I said, I, erm, have somewhere to be. Nice catching up, though." He puts two fingers to his temple and flicks them into the air in a mock salute. You watch as he spins lazily on his heel, rolling his shoulders as he starts his walk back down the alleyway.

"By the way," he added, pausing a few feet away. "I certainly hope that wasn't your way of trying to dissuade me." Your eyebrows raise, and he grins; his canines are sharp, and you can see them flash when his lips peel back. "Well, be serious: once you feed a starving dog, it doesn't leave you alone, does it? It comes back for more. Maybe it even follows you home."

He leaves you with that, one last lingering look and an implication that has you burning more than anything that transpired in the last ten minutes.

You get the altogether not unpleasant feeling that this will be far from the last you see of Sampo Koski.

[flamingpudding]

Part 9 of Ghost Kid in Gotham

>>Masterpost

<<1 Previous Next

Pit Demons aren't pets, now stop biting!

Jason sighed as he pulled into the bat cave with his bike. This was the third day in a row now that he was coming back into the Manor now and most likely stayed over again. Steph and Cass were due back from her mission today and Jason knew Alfred was preparing for the Family dinner that was going to happen either today or tomorrow.

Depending if Dick could finally gets Bruce out of his office.

It didn't really matter to Jason though. He was just here to… well he didn't know either but he knew that he was trying to keep an eye out for the little biter. Even if he had to deal with Timber being frustratingly annoying with the whole ghost cult thing.

So what if he could read what they claim to be squiggles. Not that he could prove otherwise, because all he saw was perfectly readable letters. Thankfully he had gotten Tim off his back for some time as he went to deal with something in Crime Alley.

He checked the group chat and scowled.

Apparently the entire Manor was in a state of chaos and Demon Brat was dragging Duke around the entire manor to have him use ghost vision to find the little shit. Not that it was helping since the last update was from 15 minutes ago and apparently the light path Duke had followed ran into a wall.

He looked over to the Batcomputer to find Tim going through the security footage. The other hadn't even so much spared Jason a glance so far too focused on trying to find how the kid could have disappeared from Damian's room without any of them noticing. Alfred and Demon Brat had put down the kid for a nap in Damian's room despite having a room prepared for the little biter and when Damian checked on the kid after doing his school work he found the kid gone.

"Still nothing on the kid?"

"Nothing, it's like the kid vanished into thin air. Not even the sensors in Damian's room picked anything strange up that could hint at his disappearance."

"I still have bite marks, so he definitely was not a mass hallucination."

Tim glared at Jason and the elder only shrugged. It was probably a bit to soon for that kind of joke. But his brothers weren't the only ones worried.

He wasn't even sure if Bruce knew, considering the last he heard was Dick and the old man having a 'talk' again. Dick was probably leaving the search to them for the moment to deal with whatever problem B was having right now.

"Think someone kidnapped the kid?"

"No. Aside from us, and probably the LoA, no one should know about Danny. The League taking him back wouldn't make sense. Besides why would anyone attempt to kidnap him from the Wayne Manor of all places? Gotham's Kidnappers might be dumb but not that dumb."

Jason sagely nodded in agreement. There was something tugging at the back of his mind but he couldn't explain what. It was like on the first day he had brought the little biter to the batcave. Over his shoulder he glanced into the direction his mind -no, the pit was urging him to go.

The pit had been strangely quiet and subdued ever since he met the kid. Protective of the biter at times but he despite the way Timber had annoyed and pestered him previously, he had not felt his own annoyance swing over into that uncontrollable rage.

There was a suspicion, a working theory. Something he wasn't yet willing to share with the rest of the family, despite the fact that he was sure that they had also noticed. It was a glaring fact that he was staying with them in the Manor despite Bruce being there too.

But until there was more confirmation Jason wasn't going to mention any of his suspicions, not if they could possibly endanger a little kid.

Because if he was right then the little biter was brought back way different than him and could also have some Pit controlling powers. The way his own mental Pit reacted to the boy was most likely proof but also what the other had found out so far. Lazarus water was fucking affecting the kids DNA.

It didn't help that Replacement had mentioned a suspicion that the League had most likely experimented with the kid and the Lazarus water judging by the scars they had discovered.

Someone might have deemed the kid a failure at first or the kid had escaped and somehow found his way to Jason's apartment with him probably being the closest thing to what the kid was.

Maybe the kid could sense him the way he could with his Pit. Shaking his head out of these thoughts Jason focused back at the problem at hand.

"I will check with Alfie, see if he knows any more hiding spaces kids would love to use." He patted his younger brother's shoulder only getting a grumble as answer before turning and going towards the elevators.

But before he could enter he once more glanced at the direction the pit was urging him to go. Hesitating, he looked back towards Timber and then the elevator.

"Fuck it." He muttered and decided to trust that stupid pit instinct or whatever that was, though with a threat in his stomach that once more just like the first time when they had searched through the cave to find the kid, the pit was leading him towards the Lazarus Pit.

Once he realized where he was going he stopped. "I should just fucking get Replacement or Demon Brat to check there." Muttering to himself he stared at the direction he was heading towards. When he found the little shit there before the kid had jumped him, chomping down on his arms.

The kid had only led go of him after he spat out green fucking Lazarus Water. Like what the actual fuck? Jason had pushed that experience as far out of his mind as he could but he was remembering it now again. It had been worrisome but they had chalked that up to the kids' contamination.

But now? Now that the pit in his mind was urging him to go there again? He couldn't help but think that there was more to it. Maybe his own dip in the pit had something to do with the little shits obsession with him?

Letting out a sigh he was ready to turn on his heel and get one of the others to check this area when he suddenly heard childlike laughter. "You are shitting me…"

With a scowl he marched towards the Lazarus Pit only to stop in his tracks the moment it came into view.

The little biter was sitting on the ground by the Pit as green glowing blobby orbs floated around the boy. The boy was poking them saying something, he couldn't really hear from this distance and then laughed. There was a light in his blue eyes that Jason hadn't seen before, a happiness even. It would be a really cute image of the kid playing with some green blobby orbs, if these things weren't probably some sort of dangerous Pit Demons.

Fuck what was he going to do now? If they were dangerous and he startled them the little shit could end up in real danger. So far they hadn't noticed him.

Grumbling while keeping an eye on the laughing boy, he sent a quick message into the chat telling the others little biter was in the batcave by the Lazarus pit. He knew the moment Tim saw the message he would come running, same with Demon Brat.

Despite knowing that was not a cute moment but dangerous, he snapped a picture anyway. Just for the record and to make sure he wasn't hallucinating or something. Because the kid was actually laughing, not hissing, not blankly staring, glaring or watching one of them but actually laughing like a kid his age with a shine in his eyes he hadn't seen before.

Demon Brat can thank him later for that picture, if Jason decides to share it with the others that was.

Echoing steps could be heard behind him and just like he predicted his brothers came running. The kid's laughter instantly stopped when he heard it too and his head snapped towards Jason, eyeing him warily. One of his hands was still stretched out towards one of the blobs, probably to pet it, but had stopped midway.

It was weird how the blobs were also now turning towards him and sort of looked displeased? Were these demons upset that they made the kid stop showering them in affection?

"Danyal!" Damn were they fast if they wanted to. Rushing past him their formerly youngest kneeled by his younger twins side patting the kid down and checking them over. Jason narrowed his eyes. Did Damian not notice the green glowing orbs that were all around the kid?

"So he was here the entire time?!" Timber asked the moment he coughed up, baffled. "How did we miss that?"

"Hey Replacement?" He had to ask, like come on, he couldn't be the only one seeing these green blobby orbs floating around the little biter and now the Demon Brat.

"Do you see-"

"What are these green blobs?"

Duke appeared next to them, clearly worried. Well that at least spared him having to ask that himself. From the corner of his eyes he watched how Tim blinked confused then rubbed his eyes like he was noticing them for the first time.

"Are those?"

"Small Pit Demons." Demon Brat answered them casually, waving one of them away when it got too close to his face. "They used to be around Grandfather's Lazarus Pit all the time. They seem to appear where Pits are and are harmless if you leave them be."

"Wait, you know about them?"

"Of course. They usually stay out of sight but it was not unusual to get a glimpse of them every now and then. Danyal used to point them out when we were younger. I am surprised that none of you ever noticed them before."

"Demon Brat, are you fucking kidding me? We got literally Pid Demons in the Batcave?!" They had fucking Pit Demons in the Batcave because of the Lazarus Pit and the damned brat didn't bother to tell them? What the fuck?

"Blob Ghosts! Not Demons!" The little biter piped up and Jason turned to stare at the kid not quite in disbelief but really? That was what the kid cared about, what they called these things?

"I don't fucking care what they are called. They still come for the fucking pit"

"Uhm…" Oh right all they hear from the kid is chirping or thrilling noises.

"What did Danyal call them?"

"Blob Ghosts."

"Blob Ghosts…" Before he knew it Tim was gone, nose deep in the weird ghost cult book muttering something about a connection between the Pits and that cult. Was he seriously carrying that book around everywhere now?

"Dami, can we keep-"

"No." Where were Dick and Bruce or maybe even Alfred? He did not want to act as the responsible eldest here. Helping Demon Brat sneaking various animals into the Manor to annoy Bruce was one thing but keeping fucking Pit Demons? Hell normally he would be all for it but fuck did he not want to deal with anything that came for the fucking Pits. Nope, this was not his kind of deal.

Apparently the kid didn't like his instant refusal as all he heard was a hiss in warning, followed by the simple command of "Smother him!"

His vision was swarmed with green and not the kind of green that happens when Pit Rage took over. No it was the kind where a lot of green glowing blobby orbs decide to swarm you. He swatted at them like they were flies, sometimes it worked, sometimes he noticed how his hand would go right through them without effect.

"Get the fuck away from me!"

"Danyal!" He could hear Demon Brats scowling tone but he didn't know what it was about until a second later he felt a weight hitting his chest knocking him over.

"WHAT THE FUCK?! GET FUCKING OFF ME!"

There was another hiss and a pain, he was getting familiar with, bloosemed in his right forearm and in between the green blobs he got a glimps of the little shit biting down on is arm a-fucking-gain. Though the kids eyes were blue he could still see a green flickering in them.

"Oh for the love of… Danyal! I told you to stop biting them!"

"Shouldn't we be more concerned about the Pit Demons attacking Jason?"

"Todd will be fine as I said they are harmless. Danyal, I said get off him this instant or I will tell Pennyworth to withhold your snacks."

"I feel like priorities aren't set right here…"

Despite his doubts… Duke still took a picture of the chaos to share with the others later. Dick surely would get a good laugh out of whatever this was.

[sacredjake]

Fade Into You

pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: fluff, some angst

here’s a little jake blurb that i couldn’t stop thinking about. every time i hear the this song i think about slow dancing with jake to it, so here it is. i whipped this up super quick so there’s bound to be spelling and grammar mistakes.

You had been mindlessly scrolling on your phone far too long, background noise from the tv filling the silence in your living room. It had been one of those days where lingering thoughts had gotten to you, plummeting your mood quickly. Once excited and feeling like you were filled with light from the sun turned into being on the brink of tears and uninterested in everything. Even your favorite tv show which usually could at least make you laugh, was’t swaying your mood.

The familiar jingling of keys could be heard on the opposite side of the door, signaling that your boyfriend had finally returned home from his short trip. He had only been gone for two days, and even then you normally would’ve been more excited to see him. As he entered your shared house, luggage and guitar case in tow, you briefly looked up to meet his eyes, muttering a small ‘hi’ before returning your attention to your phone. Part of you felt guilty, but you also were just physically and emotionally unable to do much else. You had no energy to spare, using all of it to try and claw your way out from under the metaphorical rock that held you down.

He could tell something was up, you knew he could. This wasn’t how you would typically greet him as he came home from a trip, you knew it, and he knew it. He brought his luggage to sit under the bar of your kitchen that sat on the edge of the living room, separating the two spaces while also joining them. After carefully setting his guitar case down he sat down next to you on the couch and kissed the side of your head, hand resting gently on your thigh while you kept your eyes on your phone.

“Everything okay, baby?”

You met his soft, warm, milk chocolate eyes that were filled with concern, trying your hardest to put on a convincing smile.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” Your voice betrayed you, coming out slightly above a whisper as you smiled back softly. His eyes searched yours before you broke eye contact, knowing he would see the sadness you were holding inside.

You both sat in silence for a few minutes until he stood from the couch, giving your knee a loving pat before he stood. He walked over to the bar and grabbed his phone off the counter, going through it as he walked into another room. When he returned he was holding a small speaker, one the two of you used in place of records when you didn’t own said record. You watched as he set the speaker on the mantle above your fireplace, turning it on, and connecting his phone to the device.

Instead of playing anything he pocketed his phone, and turned his attention to the large ebony coffee table that sat in the middle of the living room. Before you could ask what he was doing, he began to push the giant, and heavy, piece of furniture to a far wall. With the table moved there was now a large area of free space, opening up the room. Satisfied with the new placement of the table, he fished his phone from his pocket and tapped the screen once with his thumb. The speaker came to life with the soft sound of drums followed by a jazzy sort of guitar, soft and smooth.

Once again tucking the phone into his pocket, he walked to you silently and extended his hand out to you. He didn’t say a word, but the gentle smile he wore was asking you to dance with him. Although you didn’t feel up to it, you knew he was only trying to help, so you carefully took his hand and set your blanket to the side with the other.

He led you to the middle of the open space with your hand in his, and pulled you closer resting his left hand atop your waist. Your own hand delicately placed on his shoulder, your arm wrapped around the underside of his. He swayed the two of you to the slow beat of the song as you rested your cheek against his shoulder, looking away from him. His shoulder length hair tickled your eyelashes with each blink, but you didn’t dare move it. You heard his contented sigh slip as his cheek rested against your head, and his hand squeezed your own.

‘Won’t you tell me it’s okay, won’t you tell me what to say.

Won’t you hold my hand when nobody else has got the time.’

The two of you stayed that way for a beat or two before you tilted your head back to look at Jake. Instead of meeting your gaze, he closed his eyes, and rested his forehead against your own. He hummed along softly to the song, his chest vibrating against yours. You let his quiet hums lull your eyes closed, enjoying the tender intimacy of the moment.

‘So baby won’t you be my lady, miss you like crazy, I hope you’ll be my, my partner in crime.’

“Jake?” His name came out in a cracked and hushed whisper, like you were afraid to ruin the moment.

“Hm?” He hummed quietly, adding to the peaceful aura. You opened your eyes, finding his were still shut, and peered up at him through your lashes as best you could.

“I’ve never heard this song before.”

His eyes fluttered open as he pulled his forehead away from yours, and kissed where his was just resting. “Mmm, Sammy played it for me a few days ago while we were doing business in L.A. and it reminded me of you.”

His eyes met yours as they began to prickle with tears, a smile making its way onto your face. A few tears fell as you tried to blink them back. Jake smiled warmly at you, using the hand that was on your waist to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

“I kept thinking about how much I missed you, and how much I wanted nothing more than to hold you, and dance with you to this song.” He continued to wipe your cheeks sweetly until the tears stopped falling.

‘Won’t you tell me how you feel, won’t you make this all come real.’

Wiping his hand on his pants, he returned his hand to your waist to lightly push your hip while his grip on your hand loosened so he could spin you. When you came back around to face him, he secured your hand in his and placed his other hand back on your hip, continuing to sway you to the song.

‘Cause it’s lonely here, and I’m running out of things to say’

“You’re not good at hiding when you’re upset,” His left hand brushed stray strands of hair out of your face, stopping to cup your face, “but you know that don’t you?”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.” You cast your eyes down to your feet, avoiding his amused stare.

“Hey,” Jake’s hand on your cheek shifted under your chin forcing you to look up at him, “It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize baby. I just want you to know that you can always talk to me.”

“I know.”

His brown orbs flicked back and forth between yours trying to get a read on you. Before he could say anything else you leaned into him and placed a kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For making all the bad feelings go away.”

His face softened as if he was more relaxed than he already had been. This time he leaned towards you and kissed your lips tenderly, still swaying to the song. You couldn’t help the genuine smile that sat on your face as he looked at you lovingly. His warmth was infectious.

“There’s that smile. That’s what I’ve been waiting to see.” His thumb ran along the apple of your cheek before his hand found purchase on your hip once again. You rested your cheek on his shoulder again letting your eyes close, feeling content. It was almost like the love was palpable, like you were surrounded in the feeling of his tender loving. Like you were wrapped in it.

“I love you so much, Jake.”

“I love you too, baby. More than you could ever know.”

As the music faded out he pressed another soft kiss to your head. Even after the song ended the two of you continued to sway back and forth for what seemed like hours. Both of you basking in the moment, hearts so full and warm they felt as though they might burst or simply melt into nothing. How you were blessed to be loved by someone like Jake was a mystery to you, but you were thankful to whatever celestial being put him in your path.

And while you wondered how you got to be so lucky to love and be loved by someone like Jake, he was thinking the same thing. He thought he must’ve done something right in a past life to be blessed with you in this one, and he was thanking the universe for bringing you to him.

taglist: @malany-gvf @dannyandthekiszkas @gretasimp @popejosh4ever @gold-mines-melting @indigofallingsky @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @sunandthemoontwinflames @ageofhearingloss @lipstickitty @hellowgoodbye @demolitionndann

join my taglist here!

[maestromelancholy]

How’s this, if you want to!

Rye Cookie x Bandit Reader. Rye Cookie has always managed to catch her prey in the end, but this particular bandit, Reader, always seems to be out of her reach and one step ahead of her.

It gets to the point where Reader plagues her head and they’re all she thinks about

The Hunter and her Prey

Rye had just returned from hunting down a bounty target, and was just drinking in the saloon when she started to hear murmurs and rumors, about a bandit that had picked the wheat silo clean of it's contents.

Rye thought it could have been chili, but she remembers that when chili joined brave's gang she hasn't caused any problems here since.

She would soon be met by the silo owner, and she was told to "dispose" whoever robbed him and would be paid well for it.

Soon after their meeting Rye would start looking for you.

This would take a couple days of searching for any leads before she finally found you, in the midst of robbing a bank.

When she confronted you, it was a stare down between a hunter and her prey, nobody did anything waiting for the other side to make a move.

It was then you started to run to the back of the bank Rye being hot on your trail, she would shoot her wholegrain calibers at you, just barely being able to hit you as you dodge her shots.

She would lose you as you run through an alley, following closely behind you she would chase you in there, but she didn't see you there anymore, instead she sees multiple walls and exits where you could have possibly gone through to escape her, and you did.

Her next few encounters with you was like a game of cat and mouse, you would attract her attention by doing a crime and you would just escape her grasp by the skin of your teeth.

Rye had encountered you a total of 6 times and all of those you escaped and outsmarted her, this embarrassed her as nobody is able to escape her this many times before.

Rye couldn't think straight as the days went by you still being on the loose, she wasn't even doing it for the money anymore, she was doing it to finally catch you as you plagued her mind constantly.

It was another similar encounter with you, she found you in the midst of robbing the same bank she first saw you at, she immediately started the chase making you run quickly as she would usually make an big entrance before starting her chase.

The chase would last some time, it evolved into you desperately trying to dodge her shots that were aiming for your leg

When you turned the corner in an alley and she followed closely, her leg was suddenly pulled up high and rope tied up her arms, she ran into one of your traps again

You would look back at her with a smug look as she struggle to remove the ropes, you would usually just call your sugar horse and get away, but you were bold this time.

You would walk up to Rye, and start talking to her like an old friend, but when you got a proper look at her face, you would see that had an odd look like she was constantly thinking of something, or someone.

You talked to her for a few minutes, before walking away from her, since that trap isn't gonna hold forever and you didn't want to close when it does break.

You would get on your sugar horse but before you could get away, you hear a click from behind you.

Turning around, you could see Rye standing behind you pointing her wholegrain caliber at you.

She finally caught you...

The end...

_________________________________________

A/N: Same with this one, I kinda rushed the end as this was sitting in my drafts for a couple of weeks I think, and i wanted to finish this and my Kikimora works today, as a sorry for disappearing for no reason

[angie-leena]

Tim adopts Jason.

Little baby Tim is the one who came across street kid Jason and just. . . . invites him over. Jason of course is skeptical, but there's this little shrimp walking around the bowery and really he should just take him home. But when they make it there and Jason sees that Timmy was telling the truth about his parents not being there he decides he'll stay till they get back.

It takes Tim a week to tell him they're planning on being gone for at least another 3 months. So Jason stays.

He stays out of the way when Mrs. Mac comes over and reads through Tim's old school books while Tim's at work. He teaches Tim to cook and helps him with his homework. Tim shows him how to use a computer by hacking into North Gotham Academy and enrolling him as a transfer student from Park Row Elementary.

Jason refuses to let Tim go back to crime alley at night. Robin's gone anyways now. Tim knows he's in Bludhaven but that's not his secret to tell so he doesn't.

Jason has a hot dinner and new toys for himself for the first time that Christmas. He made Tim's presents. Tim loves them of course.

They share clothes since Jason really is just that small, but they also decide to create a meal plan for the him to catch up. They spend more time outside than Tim ever had. During the day anyways.

When Janet and Jack do get home it's been 6 months since Jason moved in and the school year is over.

They only stay for a month and neither really pay enough attention to Tim's friend who is over all the time. They let Tim stay home from the galas they have to go to. When they leave Janet hands Jason the report card he had been waiting on and tells him to keep.his grades up and she would see him at Christmas.

Years pass and Mrs Mac gets used to seeing Jason at the house and to cleaning up a second bedroom in the family wing. Jason wins a scholarship to Gotham Prep when Tim starts there, though he's pretty sure Tim rigged it.

Janet and Jack call and talk to Tim every week on Thursdays at 6 o'clock for exactly one hour. It used to be 30 minutes but now they talk to Jason as well. They send him a cell phone to make it easier to talk to the both of them.

When Jason turns 17 he's a senior trying to decide if he can continue like this or of he should get a job and move out. He knows the Drakes know he lives there and they let him stay for Tim but he's going to be an adult now. Tim doesn't want him to leave, he's his brother, they're family. But maybe Jason doesn't know that? They've never really talked about it. They just lived their lives next to each other. He knows Jason loves him and he knows Jason knows that he loves him too.

So Tim creates adoption papers for him and sends them to Guam so his parents can sign them. He's not surprised exactly when they show up a week later. He is surprised however when they sit him and Jason down to tell them they won't sign them. He can feel Jason stiffen next to him while he tells them that he had no idea what Tim was doing.

Janet smiles and its a surprisingly warm smile. It doesn't lessen the dread it invokes. Then His mother tells them she can't sign them because she signed adoption papers for one Jason Peter Todd-Drake 8 years ago. In January. Four months after Jason moved in.

[mydetheturk]

i wanna post this fic i should post this fic

fuck it im gonna post it here on tumblr because i think ao3's still down

Warnings: Dick's concussed/injured through the whole thing; there's a few mentions of vomit, and a brief scuffle, and the whole thing just permeates grief.

Bruce is dead, Damian's a baby, and Dick isn't handling it well. What's next, his dead little brother comes back from the dead? (His dead little brother comes back from the dead)

1400 words of Dick not having a good night and it's surprisingly not related to Febuwhump

~~

Dick shouldn’t be out in costume with a concussion. He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. He just – he can’t stay at the manor right this minute. It’s nothing to do with the staff – they’re lovely, they’ve always been lovely, Dick still has more in common with them than any of his wealthy-born peers.

He just can’t stay there with Bruce gone.

Dick would be staying in the penthouse if it weren’t for one thing.

Damian al Ghul-Wayne.

Damian is ten months old, soft and pudgy with baby fat, and Dick can’t leave an infant in the penthouse while he’s out being Batman. So he’s been staying at the manor, where Damian has more room to get up and go. Damian’s safer at the manor too, with its better security and larger staff. Alfred would be at Dick’s side no matter where he was staying, and Dick wanted Damian to know the manor as home.

As much as it hurts Dick to be there without Bruce.

Which brings him to being out in the Batman suit with a concussion. It’s a terrible decision and the look Alfred gave Dick after Dick managed to get Damian to sleep promised retribution when Dick makes it back to the manor. Unfortunately, Dick needs to do some recon, and with Tim unavailable, looking for the man who murdered Bruce, Dick has to do it himself.

Dick’s been hearing about a new gang boss, one going by Red Hood. He and Oracle have been trying to pin down an identity. Most of what they’ve found is that Red Hood is operating out of Crime Alley.

Dick doesn’t need a fucked up Joker-wannabe making trouble in Gotham. The real one is bad enough.

(If Dick ever gets his hands on the Joker, Gotham will be down one clown. Bruce may have had hope, but the Joker hurt Dick’s best friend and killed his little brother. Dick’s exhausted enough and at the end of his rope, so if the Joker really wants to tango, Dick will make him work for it.)

Dick takes a short breath and hisses it out before shaking his head.

Rookie mistake, really.

The world swims; Dick barely catches the wall before he drops. The unyielding brick scrapes under his glove.

He really, really shouldn’t have come out here with a concussion.

A whistle has Dick stilling.

“Damn, Bats, lookin’ rough.”

Dick doesn’t know that voice. Dick doesn’t care to know that voice.

He grits his teeth and turns, standing tall and channeling Bruce.

The person is taller than Dick, broader too, wearing a short leather jacket and a red helmet.

“Red Hood, I presume,” Dick rumbles.

“Got it in one, Bats.” Red Hood sounds amused, almost pleased that Dick found out his identity so quickly.

Dick wants to go back to the manor and check in on Damian and go to sleep.

“What do you want?” Dick asks instead.

“What do I want? What do I want?” Red Hood invades Dick’s space, muscling in. “I want the Joker fucking dead, and I want you to have done it.”

That’s… surprisingly personal. Dick wants it too, not that he can say it.

“Anything else?” Dick holds his ground while Red Hood circles him.

“The gangs and the Families out of Gotham, for a start,” Red Hood says when he gets behind Dick. “Stay out of my territory and we’ll be fine, Bats.”

Dick recognizes the tell-tale buzzing of a vocalizer. Red Hood’s hiding something. Dick waits until Red Hood is in front of him again before he lunges, ignoring the way the streetlights leave smears in his vision. Their scuffle is short – Dick can’t afford for it to be anything longer. Not that it particularly matters; Red Hood gets in a lucky elbow strike to Dick’s head and his vision whites out briefly.

When Dick can see again, Red Hood has retreated well out of grabbing distance.

“You’re injured,” Red Hood accuses.

Dick grits his teeth. He doesn’t need this right now.

“Got a problem with that?”

“Not really. Less fun to fight you like this though.”

Asshole. Dick’s orthodontist is going to be thrilled to be doing more work, with how hard Red Hood has Dick gritting his teeth in anger. Dick swings, going for a punch and gets a fist to his carotid artery for his trouble. Dick’s vision doubles. Alfred is going to kill him.

Dick drops.

Red Hood yelps and backs up, startled. Dick can hear the gravel crunch beneath Red Hood’s boots, but his head is swimming too much to care.

Hands are at the edges of the mask, flicking the release catches in the correct order. Other than Dick, there are two people alive who should know how to do that. Neither of them are with Dick right now. The mask comes off and Dick just holds his eyes closed so he doesn’t lose what little he’d managed to stomach for dinner.

“Dick?” Dick hears movement and rolls onto his back on the ground. Opening his eyes reveals that Red Hood has taken off the helmet.

Dick squints, blinking a few times to be sure. “Jay?” The freckles look right, the slight hook to his nose, scar across his eyebrow from an accident from when he was a kid. There’s a few other scars that look wrong, a white streak to his hair that’s new. It’s Jason though, as old as he should be. As old as he would be.

Dick rolls over and loses his dinner.

He breathes through it, eventually coughing up bile.

When he’s done, Red Hood is looking at Dick with unabashed curiosity. And its. It’s definitely Jason.

“You’re hurt,” Jason accuses. “Where’s the Batmobile.” The words aren’t a question and Jason hauls Dick to his feet.

The world swirls again, and Dick shuts his eyes. “Alfred will want to see you,” Dick says instead. “Stuff happened.”

“Stuff happened. Stuff happened, Jesus Christ.” Jason mutters; he drags Dick’s cowl back into place and slams his helmet back on with a snarl. “Fucking shit, Dick. Batmobile. Now.”

Dick shakily gives Jason directions to the Batmobile, lets Jason drag him to the car. He puts up a token protest but Jason nearly bodily throws Dick into the Batmobile’s passenger seat. The whole car reverberates with how hard Jason slams the passenger door shut.

While Jason recklessly drives them back to the manor, he makes a quick call. Dick catches the word bike and promptly decides he doesn’t care.

Closing his eyes is the only way Dick makes it back to the manor without hurling again. Not that there’s anything left, nor was there much to begin with.

The Batmobile jerks to a stop and when Dick shoots forward to try to get out, he gets an arm slammed into his chest for his trouble. “Stay fucking there,” Jason growls.

“Alfred’s not going to like that,” Dick slurs.

“You’re not getting out of this car without help, so stay the fuck there.” Jason grumbles as he gets out of the Batmobile. He swings around and pulls Dick out, throwing Dick’s arm over his shoulders. “Alfred!” he shouts. The name reverberates through Dick’s skull. “Alfred! We’ve got injured!”

Dick lets Jason drag him further into the Cave, where Alfred is running from the computer to the garage.

Alfred skids to a stop, looking far more unsettled than Dick’s ever seen him.

“Helmet off. Now,” Alfred demands.

“It’s hard with one hand so give me a second.” Jason sounds almost cowed; as if this is finally real and he’s actually here in the Bat Cave. He does get it off though, and Dick’s arm is barely in the way.

“Master Jason?” Alfred whispers. Jason nods, tiny and insecure.

Dick slides off his shoulders, just a little. Everything’s been getting progressively wobblier. Jason yelps his name and makes him more secure. He and Alfred hustle Dick over to the tiny medical area of the Cave, get him situated in the bed. They talk about something, but Dick is a little too out of it to care.

He might be bleeding again, might have pulled some stitches. Dick stares up at the ceiling of the Cave, up into the darkness. His little brother is home. If Damian wasn’t safe, Alfred would have said something. Dick closes his eyes. Everything else can be dealt with in the morning.

[triple-asstro]

Salaì | 2012!Leonardo x Reader | Chapter 2

chapter count: 1

a/n: hey guys, i hope you enjoy this new chapter! comments and kudos are massively appreciated and remember, you're amazing and thank you for taking time to read this and i'll possibly post next friday or wednesday <3

song: Stargirl Interlude - The Weeknd

Night skies are a wonderful place to observe criminals and enjoy the secluded rooftops. Leo rested with his chin resting on his knees, watching as he hung above the cars and streetlights. He’d occasionally take out some binoculars and observe to see if any criminals were nearby, but those occasions contained long pauses of boredom. Anytime Leo felt just about ready to give up, he’d reassure himself that it would be worth it.

Just a couple more hours. 

After what felt like an eternity, he’d caught the sight of two criminals in an alleyway, stuffing copious duffle bags into the back of a van. This would be the perfect opportunity for observation of the Vigilante. While the Vigilante could be on the side of good, it didn't hurt to observe and cast his own judgement. It was hard not to feel an odd sense of guilt as he watched them get away with the crime he was supposed to stop, but once again he reassured himself with deep breaths.

Finally, he saw one criminal jut his head up towards an overturned trash can. A blur of a figure sent Leo to become more focused, observing everything he could. The entire battle was a haze, with the movements so swift and brutal that he couldn’t keep up. When the fight was mitigated, he caught the sight of a figure wearing an oversized crop hoodie, dark cargo pants and a black gas mask, embellished with bright pink, blue, and yellow blobs. The figure turned its head to the side, before digging into its pocket and pulling out a spray can. It approached one of the alley walls and sprayed it, its arm waving with fluidity and focus. Then it glanced at its watch, and, as quickly as it came, it left. 

Leo rushed towards the alleyway, hopping from rooftop to rooftop until he jumped down into that very alleyway. The criminals were only mildly bruised but still alive. Leo turned to his left, towards the wall that the Vigilante had marked. It was a drawing of a simple cloud, the ink dripping down the brick walls with the words in the middle saying:

I could see you, stalker. 

The Vigilante is gone. 

Salaì has risen. 

‘What? Salaì has risen? What could it mean?’ Leo thought, taking out his T-Phone to take a photo. He sent it to Donnie as he pondered over the image. He couldn’t take his eyes off of it, only pulling away once he heard a rattling sound coming from the end of the alleyway. Once he was on the rooftop, he pulled out his T-Phone and dialled Donnie’s number. 

“Hey Donnie, did you see the photo I sent?” 

“Leonardo, it is midnight.” 

“Did you?” 

“No, I didn’t. I was too busy trying to make sure our idiot brothers don’t murder each other. Raph and Mikey are playing the foosball table again. Hold on,” he said, Leo, tapping his feet up and down while waiting. 

“Wow, you were right. Raph isn’t going to be happy about this, but you were right.” 

“Do you know where this specific can was made? Or where it’s sold?”

“Wait,” he said, as typing noises echoed from his end. “Okay, it’s sold locally in this convenience store near Oliver Street. I can prepare a disguise for you in five minutes-” 

“Wait wait, no. I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” Leo stammered, reaching into his pocket and twiddling with the piece of paper you gave him earlier. 

‘Casey was right’ , never a sentence you thought you’d think of in a million years. You were just being watched by god knows who and you were hoping that the message gave them the message they wanted. You weren’t careful enough. Packing your mask back into your bag, you swiftly made your way back to your apartment, opting to climb up your rusty fire escape rather than have to interact with the receptionist again. The ladders creaked and groaned with every step you took until you got to your window. Pushing the glass upwards, you crept through, stepping onto your bedsheets. The sound of soft footsteps sent you slowly but swiftly crouching into your bed, slipping underneath the covers after hearing the creaking noise of your door opening. 

“Are you awake?” your mom asked.  

“Mnhm?” you mumbled, squinting your eyes, having them immediately blinded by the orange-hued light in your hallway. “Yeah, why?” 

“The Dobsons called me and asked me if you can babysit their kid sometime next week. They’re going on a dinner date at that Italian restaurant again.” 

You stared at your mom, trying to formulate an answer. “Uh, yeah. Sure, I can do it.” 

“Good, 'cause I really didn’t want to have another conversation with Mrs. Dobson about it. She keeps yammering on about her marriage and I don’t want to deal with that. It’s also a new way to make money, especially since we’re low on rent. Thank you so much, dear.” 

With the slam of a door, your mother had left you alone. You let out a heavy sigh, letting your bag slip off of your bed and land on the floor. The comment about money burrowed into your mind. Perhaps it would come up again later but for now, it was only resting on you. Rising from your comfortable sheets, you walked towards your dresser and pulled out a pair of cosy pyjamas, in your favourite texture too. As you slipped them on, you heard your phone hum from your backpack, not loud enough to wake your mother up, but loud enough for you to notice. 

‘Who could be calling you at this hour?’ you thought, reluctantly answering the call. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, it’s me Leo!” he said as you sighed with relief, mouthing an ‘ohh’ 

“Oh, hey Leo. Why are you calling me at one in the morning?” 

“Well…” he stammered, holding an awkward pause. “I... needed another cosplay! Do you have any clothes I could borrow?” 

“Leo, what’s going on?” you groggily asked, holding back another chuckle. 

“What do you mean? Nothing! Nothing’s going on, I’m…uh… just in need of human clothes for my physique! You know how hard it is to get clothes for cosplay.” 

You stifled a laugh from yourself, which nearly brought you to your knees. “Alright Leo, I completely trust you on this. Where do you need the clothes?” 

“The alleyway near Olive Street, at the convenience store.” 

“Oh, that’s actually really close to me. I can do it right now, hold on, I'll meet you there,” you said, hanging up the phone and emptying your practically vacant bag and stuffing it with an oversized light blue t-shirt, tan cargo pants and massive beige sneakers. You exited your window and made your way back down the fire escape, landing on your feet at the last ladder. You strolled down the sidewalk, bag in hand and after a few turns, you made it to the convenience store, its bright lights still shining through the New York midnight. You snuck into the alleyway, the environment decorated with overflowing dumpsters, advertisements for seedy nightclubs and the ground decorated in damp outdated newspapers. 

You placed the bag down next to the adjacent wall, after clearing the disgusting ground. Once that wasdone, you pulled out your phone and clicked on the newest number on the list: Leo’s. 

Not even a second later, you heard a familiar crash echo from the back of the alleyway. In the shadows, a known figure emerged with another stoic expression on his face. You were laughing on the inside, not out of cruelty but out of hilarity. He was still in his ninja-turtle cosplay, which you could slightly understand. I mean it was incredibly detailed but why wear it after a convention as well? It just didn’t make sense. 

“You’re still wearing that thing?” you said, watching as his lips started to purse and his eyes widened. 

“Yeah, I guess I am,” he answered back, zipping open your bag and marvelling at your selection of clothes. 

“Just return them when you can, okay?” you said. 

“Of course, thanks.” he praised, bowing slightly towards you to which you did the same, albeit confused. “Um - hey,” 

“Yeah?” you said, turning around on your foot with your pockets in your jacket. 

An awkward silence was cast upon you as he stared into the unknown, almost starting sentences before restarting them again.  

“I won’t forget this.” 

“Me neither.” you answered with a faint smile. He gave the same smile back before going back into the shadows and disappearing completely. As you sighed out, the same smile still stuck onto your face, you walked back to your apartment. As you counted the steps you took, making sure to not step on any of the cracks, you felt your phone buzz once again. 

You grinned to yourself, your smile growing evermore wider, not even stopping once you climbed back into your window and into your bed, only stopping once you went to bed. The air was quiet and the ambience was tranquil. The only thing that hadn't eased down was the sight of amber eyes targeted right for you, staring targets into your head. 

[zappedbyzabka]

Scott McCall (The Equalizer) drabble.

Kinktober day 3: Humilation + Objectification (or at least that was the goal.) TW for dubcon, and light feminization at the end.

It’s dark out, in the back alley he’s walking in. It’s exhilarating, not knowing if there's someone following him, someone waiting in the shadows to attack. He’s an easy target in shorts and tight tank top, and he’s cold, but this fuels his excitement. Scott considers himself experienced; he’s gone all the way with his past girlfriends, laid them down and fucked them, gentle and sweet. But he never got much from it. He always closed his eyes and counted down the seconds until it was over, which is how he finds himself wandering around a part of the city his dad warned him was high in crime. He knows he shouldn't put himself in danger on purpose, just like he knows he shouldn't touch himself every night thinking about dangerous criminals shoving him to his knees and taking turns choking him with their cocks, shouldn’t fantasize about rough hands leaving bruises all over his body, but he does anyway.

Scott hears a noise and freezes; footsteps. He looks behind him and sees nothing, so he continues to walk. Suddenly he’s being grabbed from behind and there’s a sharp pressure against his throat. A knife? Two men step in front of him.

“Don’t you know you shouldn't walk around so late, sweetcheeks?” one of the men asks, getting in Scott’s face. His breath smells like cigarettes and his voice is scratchy, his nose crooked, as if it’s been broken more than once, and he looks old enough to be fifty. He reaches a calloused hand out to caress Scott’s face.

Scott gulps, “I got lost, I don’t know my way around here.”

The man raises a brow. “Really? I’d figure you’d be well acquainted with the area, considering how often I see you lurking around here.”

Scott darts his eyes away. “I just, um, like to take walks at night.”

It feels like his heart is beating a mile a minute. This is the most alive he’s ever felt.

A cloud passes over the moon, covering the men’s faces in shadows.

“He’s really pretty,” the man comments, moving his hand from Scott’s face to grab his hair instead, pulling hard enough to make him whimper. “Don’t you think, Mike?”

The other man–Mike–nods. “Very,” he agrees quietly. This man is tall, practically towering over Scott, and a little chubby.

"Are you robbing me? I'll give you anything, just don’t hurt me!" Scott exclaims, pushing his chest out slightly to the men in front of him.

"Anything?" the man behind Scott asks. He sounds a lot younger than the other men, quieter.

"Yes, anything," he confirms breathily, subtly grinding his ass into the man’s crotch.

The scratchy-voiced man grabs Scott’s face again, rubbing his thumb over his mouth. Scott parts his lips to lick the man’s thumb before he can think better of it.

The man barks out a laugh. ”I could tell you were a slut! Were you hoping some sleazy guys like us would catch you, sweetheart? Show you a good time?”

Scott can feel his face burn. “I don’t know, are you gonna show me a good time?”

The man smiles, then gives the guy behind Scott a look. He takes the knife away from Scott’s neck and steps away.

The man looks back at Scott. “Put your hands on the wall and bend over."

Scott knows he shouldn’t, but he obeys anyway. His pants and underwear are yanked down almost immediately.

The man whistles,”Would you look at that. You’re pretty everywhere!” He rubs his thumb on Scott’s hole. “You’re loose, have you already been fucked tonight, sweetheart?” the man asks, slipping his thumb inside.

Scott’s legs shake. He can’t believe this is happening.

“I fingered myself before I left the house.” Scott arches his back towards the man, “You can just put it in, I can take it.”

The man snorts. “Eager slut. Tim, come here,”

Scott looks behind him, finally getting a good look at the man who held a knife to his throat. He’s younger, no older than Scott, and his hair is bleach blond. He moves to stand next to the older man.

The man slips his thumb out, then pushes it back in slowly. “You see that? It’s trying to suck me right back in,” he pulls his thumb out again. “You can go first,” he says, pushing the younger man closer to Scott.

Tim smiles. “Thanks, boss.”

Scott can hear the clanking of a belt being undone, then feels the tip of a cock breaching him; he cries out, digging his nails into rough brick.

Tim slowly pushes his cock inside, covering Scott’s mouth with his hand to muffle his whimpering.

“Just a little more,” he says soothingly, thrusting the last bit inside.

Scott whines; it feels like this dude is in his throat. His face scrapes the bricks as the man begins fucking into him roughly.

The older man leans against the wall. “How does he feel, Timmy?”

“So fucking good,” Tim grunts, speeding up his thrusts.

The older man hums, pleased. He leans down to look at Scott. “What about you, honey, feeling good?”

Scott sniffles, nodding his head quickly. “Mhmm!”

The man smiles at him, then straightens back up. “Good.” he says, digging in his pocket, his hand coming back out with a cigarette. “You got a light, Mike?” he asks, walking back over to the tall man.

Tim leans down and licks the tears off Scott’s cheek. “You were made for this,” he groans, thrusting wildly. “Your cunt is squeezing me so fucking tight. We're gonna take you with us, gonna pass you around like the cheap fucktoy you are.”

Scott comes with a muffled sob.

[tragcdysewn]

lmao i want to scream (haha) have fun y'all

with the amount of murders suddenly happening, he was on edge more than usual, one hand ready to pull his gun at the slightest noise nearby. they'd gone through enough ghostfaces by now that being on edge and afraid was second nature. that that paranoia that never really left him was not entirely validated by the amount of murder scenes he'd been called to just today was only heightening it all to levels they didn't know he could reach. which meant that a brief shuffling noise in an alley nearby was enough to have him pulling their gun from it's holster and running towards it. they could see someone fleeing, but the person laying on the ground took priority, considering there was a chance, however small, they could still be saved. but as he kneels near the too still figure, their blood runs ice cold as her face comes into focus. no. no no no no no. she was supposed to be the one that survived, it wasn't supposed to go like this. but someone had clearly stabbed her, beyond being able to save her. she was gone, and dewey sat there in silent disbelief for... they didn't even know how long, really. he could feel their mouth moving, mouthing her name over and over, as if that soundless motion would bring her back somehow, as if it would do literally anything. sidney wasn't supposed to be the one dead, he was the legacy character the sequels killed off, not her. she was supposed to be the final girl, they were the dorky side character that was there for comedic relief, nothing more. she shouldn't be laying on the ground covered in blood, she should be breathing, running to stop whatever killer was on the loose. after a few moments, he pulled her into his lap, holding her tightly against them, as if he'd get some response from her even as they felt how cold her skin was beneath the warm, slick blood coating it. "sid... i'm sorry..." they breathed out after a second, tears welling up in his eyes as he clutched his best friend against his chest. "we'll take him down, i promise we will." he wasn't sure how long after those words he sat there, before one of their hands left her to find his phone, shakily dialing nine one one. he wasn't even sure what he'd said, only that some time later they were once again sitting in an alleyway while sirens blared, covered in the blood of someone they loved.

they hadn't even begun to think about what to tell tatum, when he ended up in whatever crappy dive bar was closest to the scene of the crime. by the time they were aware enough again to process what had happened, it was very clearly the next day, and he knew he had to face his little sister eventually, tell her that her best friend had died in the very same way she'd avoided for almost three decades. and while he was sure they looked absolutely terrible, he was positive if they went back to their apartment, they would remain there for the next week at least, and he couldn't do that to his sister, to gale. and he certainly couldn't abandon his job while they were being called on to the scene of this many serial killings. whatever had happened, he needed to find out before it happened again. so they headed off to the hospital, ringing gale's phone on the way to meet them there, not wanting to explain what had happened to the people who cared about sidney more than once if he could avoid it. a frown crossed their features as it went to voicemail, immediately hanging up and calling back as he walked. by the third attempt, they were genuinely worried, and, for the second time in twenty four hours, he felt his blood freeze over as they realized they could hear a phone ringing nearby.

no. no, please, no. there was no conscious thought beyond that as he approaches the noise, his heart sinking to his gut as he realizes it goes silent the minute gale's voicemail message floats from the speaker on his own phone. no. not her too, please, let them be selfish and cowardly, let him wish and hope that the slumped form he can now make out in front of him is anyone but her. any other time, he wouldn't let himself hope for someone's loved one to be dead, but they couldn't lose gale, especially not so soon after sidney. but as usual, luck isn't on his side, and he once again recognizes the face in spite of how badly burned her body seems to be. it doesn't even register how weird that is, that she's burned like that, all that he can manage is a strangled noise, somewhere between a sob and a scream as they feel his knees hit the ground before dragging himself forward to once again clutch a body close to him, one hand scrambling for a pulse, a breath, anything, because despite how still she is, there's no blood, and some part of him will always associate death exclusively with bloody violence, though they quickly come up short, that same strangled noise leaving him again, tears falling this time, and landing on her face before he can stop it. once again, they barely register calling nine one one until someone is taking her out of his arms, and it takes everything in him not to react to that. there's someone speaking to him then, a coworker he recognizes, offering condolences, pity that they've now had to do this twice in two days, but they barely hear it, his mind running through every ghostface he knows is here, every one that could have done this. stu is dead, and thank god for that, but the rest of them? if any of them had done this, if they'd hurt them, they were sure he'd kill them if he could. but at that moment, he followed the ambulance to the hospital, moving on autopilot to end up at tatum's room and nodding to the officer outside the door out on instinct more than anything else.

[thrushforreal]

It happened a few weeks after the Twins figured out Gotham's Vigilantes identities. In hindsight, it was obvious that Richard was planning on leaving. Robin went out with Batman on patrols less often, and when he did more often than not they were tense with each other. And than one night Robin was gone, and there were reports of a new vigilante in the next town over. Three days after, Richard Grayson, ward of Bruce Wayne, moved to Bludhaven.

But that’s not what got the whole town talking. No, that honor goes to the child that Bruce Wayne adopted two weeks after Richard left. Appearing out of nowhere from streets, High Society left wondering what this street kid did to get Brucie Wayne to adopt him. Well, all of High Society except for two children.

It wasn’t hard to connect the newly minted Jason Todd-Wayne to the new Robin that popped up not long after. The twins were just sad that they weren’t there on the first night of his debut.

It became clear that this Robin was quickly becoming Tims favorite. His photos being dominated by the bird themed hero. The two didn’t actually get to meet, or well ‘be saved by’, Jason until a year into his tenure as Robin. Surprising that night they weren’t out on rooftops for pictures. Trace had managed to get Tim to agree to take a night off to go to an arcade and diner. They had to go into some of the more seedy parts of Gotham for them not to be asked where their parent’s were but it was worth it in the end.

They stayed longer than they had intended, and the night isn’t exactly kind to two kids. So being backed into an alleyway with a gun leveled at them was to be expected really. Although it wasn’t like the thief was listening to them when they told him that they only had a couple bucks on them. The safety clicked off the gun when there was a voice above them. “Going after kids?” Two heads shot up to look at the voice, and one cracked to the side. A tooth knocked out by Robins foot. As Jason tied up the thief, throwing the gun to the side, he looked at the two kids. “Ya’ both ‘aight?” His crime alley accent bleeding through.

“Mhm.” was all Trace and Tim were able to say, Tim from excitement at Robin being right there in front of them and Trace from the shock of being held at gunpoint. Jason seemed to take it as shock from both of them, reaching up to his ear for him com.

“B?” He said, pausing for a moment for Batman to respond. “I’ve got a criminal tied up and police on the way, I’m gonna escort the victims home.” If Batman responded Robin didn’t indicate that he listened to it. Instead he grabbed onto a hand from both Trace and Tim and said to lead the way. So that's what they did, eventually coming out of their shells, talking excitedly. Tim had the foresight to lead them too a home just far enough into the safer area of Gotham.

So honestly they should have expected to be recognized the next time they saw Jason. They were just unlucky that the next time happened to be to be at a Wayne Gala. Usually their parents were either not in the country for the Galas, or they wouldn’t take them. But now, as their parents will tell them, there is a reason for their children to come with them. They can help them get close to Bruce Wayne by getting close to his son, despite Janet and Jack not approving of the childs...origins.

That is how Trace and Tim found themselves sneaking around the edges of the ballroom, grabbing snack off of tables as they go. Eventually they found themselves next to one Jason Todd-Wayne, having decided to stick to the walls instead of put up with pinched cheeks. It is Trace that goes up to him, basically pulling his arm as he protests at first before going silent. “Hi!,” they said, bringing him into the shadowed area that Tim was waiting in. “I’m Trace, although my parents call be Tracey, and this is my brother Tim Drake. He’s older by a minute but don’t let that fool you.”

There's not much to say after that, they did get close with Jason, not as close as their parents wanted. Although that friendship really only stayed within the bounds of balls a galas over the years.

~~~

this is kinda bad, but oh well. its my mental illness and this is the delusion i want

[heesangel]

Vincent’s cafe - Lee Heeseung fanfic

Summary

Missing the last train from the little town to the big city was unlike her. Seeking for shelter through the night she stumbles across Vincent’s cafe - a place where an old woman loves to nag and a young boy makes her do things she would have never thought of doing. Lee Heeseung takes her home to “see his cat”

Warnings: a lot of smoking, do you want to see my cat, maybe a bit angst

This is my first ever written fanfic on tumblr. Enjoy <3333

“I have tried to express the idea that the café is a place where one can ruin oneself, go mad or commit a crime”

- Vincent Willem Van Gogh

This town has never been the loudest. No, it is known for it’s silence and gloomy peacefulness. For the first time ever, I lift my head up to the sky, filled with an abundant number of stars. It’s truly magical anyone can tell. I am well aware that it’s now some minutes to midnight- the last train gone and everyone else my age as well. I have no choice but to stroll through the lonely street hoping to come across a place to stay until the first train arrives. I can’t help but think of how pathetic I must be to miss the last train. This never happens to me- this is not who I am but lately nothing has been working out the way it should.

My desperate attempt to find shelter for the night blocks out the melancholic melody crying from my earbuds. A bright light and laughter erupting from an alley to my left draws my attention. However, the narrow sidewalk does not seem welcoming at first glance and the brightness is hidden in the deepest inside of it.

One breath and a second- I tell myself that shelter is provided for me if I trust my senses. I get into motion and follow the narrow path. With every step the laughter blows like an icy wind against my cheeks. I’m hopeless- I could cry.

I clutch unto the brown bookbag hanging on my left shoulder as I get closer to the light. There is no going back now, I’m too scared to, yet, I’m confident that the old city is no longer where I am.

Teenagers, students, and adults of all age groups now walk past me wearing loud colored clothes. The street is now lively and filled. This is unusual for this town, especially on a weekday. When I look back to where I came from, I don’t find the dark alley.

The café’s as empty as you’d imagine it to be at midnight. Behind the counter stands a young girl, probably my age. From a distance it seems like I am taller but her dark hair and gaunt figure give the illusion of her being lanky.

I take a seat in the left corner right by the big window facing the street. Next to me sits this old couple. They exchange no words with each other. The old man, who funnily enough reminds me of my grandfather seems to play a game of Sudoku- fully disregarding his wife. When the old woman catches me looking, she points her wrinkly finger at me – “Can I help you”

“Agnes don’t harass the young girl. Please forgive her she’s agitated as per usual”

Now I can’t help but see my grandfather in him even more, maybe it’s the way his glasses sit on his nose or the groggy voice resulting from the amount of cigarettes he used to smoke. His wife rolls her eyes, mumbling something under her breath.

I reach into my bag for the vintage copy of Haruki Murakami’s Norwegian wood that was gifted to me by a classmate. So far, I’ve been liking it.

About ten to fifteen pages later the waitress walks up to my table asking me for my order.

“a vanilla latte and a glass of water”

When she comes back with my order the bell goes off- this signals that a new customer has entered the café. A tall young man in a black baseball hat.

His eyes scan the little room as if he is searching for someone. When our eyes meet a smile forms on his face. He proceeds to take of his brownish coat as he stands in front of me. The old couple on my right look up to him in an envious way.

“Gosh Gerald isn’t he just handsome. Reminds me of Ruby’s son- did you know that he models now?”

“No, Agnes. I don’t”

“Do you mind if I take a seat” he asks.

“No, please go ahead,” I reply looking over the fact that he’s placed his bag on the bench opposite of me.

“You’re from the big city, aren’t you?” he asks. He takes off his baseball hat and reaches into his bag for a pack of cigarettes. My eyes follow his every action.

“It’s my accent, right? It gives it off instantly”

“A little bit” He tears his eyes off his cigarettes and reaches them out across the table “have one?” – he offers.

I observe the red box as if it’s poison, how bizarre- who is he and why am I not suspicious of him? The numbers of cigarettes in the packet is limited to two with luck even three.

“You do not have many left, are you sure?”- he nods.

“Please do take one, I have a second box in my bag” – this time he sways the red carton from left to right.

I take one and reach for the lighter in the center of the brown table. The boy in front of me does the same. An awkward silence falls upon us as we watch each other smoke.

Part of me envies his mannerisms especially the way he holds his cigarette between his index and middle finger- he’s attractive and he knows it.

“Do you study here as well?” I ask while gazing through the old café. No, one seems to mind that we’re smoking. The young girl behind the counter seems to be as bored as always. She changes the music and plays “Let’s groove” by Earth, Wind & Fire. Usually, I would enjoy this type of music but right now it ruins the mood.

“I live here with my grandmother” he hesitates. “My mother and brother live in the city”

The old woman next to us sighs – “young man, you’re quite attractive why ruin it by smoking?”

Her husband gives us a swift moment of attention but turns back to his game almost immediately. I feel my ears turn red at her remark, I do not think him smoking ruins his visuals. It suits him, makes him look good.

“Oh, you’re right. You’re just like my grandmother – she tells me to quit. I will, eventually, one day” – he laughs, raising his hand to place an order.

“You must listen to her then, she means well. You’re too handsome to be smoking” her cheeks turn red and her smile- just keeps on getting bigger and bigger- as if caught in an act she remembers my presence and her smile drops.

“She doesn’t seem to like you, huh” I refocus on him smiling. The waitress drops off the espresso he ordered while the old woman was busy nagging. He thanks her sending a generous smile. Whoever, he is – if there is one thing he is good at, then it’s making people feel special- unique even.

“she’s just jealous” I say

.

“This coffee kinda tastes funky” he observes the brown color, swirling the liquid around.

“Does it now?”

“Want to try?”

“You’re extremely generous if I may say”

I take a sip of his coffee- as usual it’s bitter but followed by a burned aftertaste. Perhaps it’s roasted almonds. I like it.

“I didn’t get your name”

By now the song “September” is playing. It’s my favorite song.

“We can talk about that in a more peaceful and private place” he emphasizes the last two words. It’s a request and I cannot help but give in. This is so unlike me. I try to blame my change of attitude on my good mood caused by the great coffee served in this little café and my favorite song playing. What are the odds- it’s probably a sign by the universe.

“Shall we go now?”

I watch him grab a few notes from his wallet – enough to pay both my order and his. Somewhere up in my brain I set a reminder to thank him for paying.

He reaches for his hat- carefully places it on my head and carries my bag as I put on my jacket. Of course, he doesn’t forget to wish the old hag an amazing rest of her night. I have decided that I do not like her- probably because of the way she smirked at me while he bid her farewell. Maybe it’s just me but I had the feeling that she was trying to challenge me in a way.

I do not let her out of my sight while I head to the entrance of the café. The boy next to me takes me by the hand dragging me out of there.

“She’s charming” he says lighting yet another cigarette. It’s still dark outside it’s maybe 2 am.

The alleys are much quieter and the stars even more visible. Now, even the moon smiles our way- round and bright in all it’s glory. I have always loved the moon and always will- there is something elegant about it- an effortless elegance no human or object will ever reach.

“So, do I also get one”- I point at the cigarette resting between his lips.

“Oh, yeah sorry”-

Along the way we decide to take a seat on a wooden bench. The boy next to me hands me a cigarette, reaches over, and lights the cigarette. His closeness makes me shiver – he moves closer.

“Do you want to tell me your name?”

……

“Hee”

“Hee? You’re not being serious, are you?” – I ask taking a drag on my cigarette and crushing the butt with my shoe.

“I’m being dead serious. Well, it’s actually short for Heeseung” – he replaces my crushed cigarette with another. I thank him leaning forward, waiting for him to light it for me.

“You don’t think it suites me do you?”

“That’s not it. To be honest I don’t know what to say. I might be lightheaded from all the cigarettes we smoked” – my face feels stiff and so do my fingers, still I do dispose the cigarette between my lips.

“Mhmm we could go to my place. Do you want to see my cat?” – he asks leaning even closer.

I can’t help but laugh. Luckily he does too and if there’s one thing I’m taking away from this moment then it’s that I’ve never seen anyone smile as beautiful as he does.

It’s the way his eyes get tinier and his teeth are exposed – the way his cheeks turn red and he holds his tummy.

I stand up flicking the butt of the once whole cigarette into the trash can behind him.

“Let’s go see your cat”

..

I stand by the open window, smoking and gazing at the moon in Hee’s t-shirt. There’s a peaceful silent blowing through the room as he drinks his tea and I smoke out of the window.

“You like the moon?”

“I adore the moon”

As the words escape my lips the memory of me and my grandmother visiting the biggest solarium in the city resurfaces. It’s almost as if I’ve been trying to suppress the imagine of my old grandmother. Her veiny finger and arms use to scare me- the thought of ending up looking like her was disgusting to me. On second thought the woman in the café reminds me of her. It explains my resentment for the both of them.

“Sometimes, I’d just wake up to make sure it’s there. Really comforts me, you know?”

“Sure, I used to do the same when I was younger. Not with the moon though but with my grandma. I was practically raised by her while the rest of my family get to live in the city, study there and work there” he stops to relocate to his bed and continues.

“I have no choice but to stay here, watch the students from the city come and go and study something I’m not interested in. Usually, I stroll around the street just envying students from the city.” he rests his head on the pillow lighting another cigarette.

The more I stare at him the more attractive he gets. I feel lured in, in the best way possible. Thinking back to all the encounters I’ve had with people from this town; no one truly compares to him- but neither do people from the city. We are nothing but a bunch of arrogant and apathetic beings. Some of us try to stand out from the homogenous population whereas some are too focused on blending with the crowd. I believe that I was neither- all I ever wanted was to leave so I had no time to decide who I wanted to be.

.

“How’s the city. I’ve only been twice but not long enough to actually lurk around”

“Do you mind if I” – I point at the cigarette between my fingers then the spot next to him on the bed. Part of me hopes he doesn’t mind; otherwise, I’d be too embarrassed.

“Sure, sure”

“The city is amazing, big and just so busy. I’d say one easily gets lost in it, however, that’s the city itself. The people living in it make it what it is, and, in this case, people make it worse. Everyone living there is either arrogant, selfish, or miserable.”

I take one last draw on my cigarette and toss the butt in a half empty glass of water next to Hee. Simultaneously he places a new one between my lips, lights it and falls back. To be honest, I have lost count of the amount of cigarettes I smoked today. One thing’s for sure - More than I usually would.

“You would love the city; you’d probably be the mysterious guy everyone would fall for. A person who would make one’s city experience unique”

The room falls silent once more both of us drowned in our thoughts; heartbeats, short inhales with contrasting long exhales echoing all over the room. I can’t help but wonder if I am the one who killed the mood or if tiredness is the reason why we both no longer have anything to talk about.

“I don’t think this would be the case” he says breaking the silence. Still laying on my back I turn my face in his direction. Confused and no longer aware of what our last conversation was about I ask:

“What?”

He chuckles and repositioning himself until he’s laying on his side, head propped against his arm.

“I doubt that people would even look at me. I am everything but mysterious- it’s just that I don’t talk and don’t really have anything to say either”

“Now, I don’t believe you. You’ve had quite much to say”

“I mean yes,” once again he rests his back against the bed and faces the ceiling. Laying besides him, watching his every move feels like watching a beautiful movie, a documentary about a beautiful view. The beauty is real yet so distant- it lures you in but you’re smart enough not to reach out for it at the same time. It might be just a shot of a landscape with red kissed blue skies, the little things in life yet everyone stops to look.

I feel his gaze on me, his lips form into a smile.

“But for the first time I feel like there’s someone actually listening”

“I’m going to cry” I think to myself

I reposition my back, now facing the ceiling as well, as hot tears stream down the sides of my face and land on the bed. It’s scary how people share an emotion at the same time but at different locations with different circumstances.

“It feels like I’ve been lonely all my life, it’s just me and my grandma, at times my cat that keeps on appearing at my window. I feel guilty because although I love her it’s almost as if I’m waiting for her to no longer need me, which would probably be her last day on earth,” I watch him sit up and light another cigarette.

I’m grateful that he doesn’t make me feel uncomfortable- it’s been a while since I’ve cried. Who would have thought it’s because I relate to some stranger who took me home with him.

“I’m sorry, this wasn’t my intention. I guess I’m abusing the fact that someone’s listening. Do you want another cigarette? I also have tea or maybe coffee?” he runs his hands through his hair, looks around and throws the butt of his cigarette into the teacup”

“It’s too late for coffee, right? You’d probably want to sleep and catch your train tomorrow. I should let you rest. I’ll sleep in the living room, and you can take my bed. Is that alright?”

—

“Kiss me”

[valleyrunearchives]

Weightless (The Leap of a Jade Rabbit)

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Fandom: Boku No Hero Academia/My Hero Academia Pairings: Aizawa Shouta/Yamada Hizashi Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Chapters 2/?

Midoriya Izuku stopped believing in heroes when a tragedy occurred in his life. When at the tender age of 11, he lost everything that was everything dear to him, everything that was worth living for. Yet he doesn't give up. He can't give up. He decides to make a choice instead. No longer will he stand around and wait for the heroes to arrive while a crime goes down. He'll be his own hero and a hero to those who are just like him. Those waiting for help that will never arrive. In order to do that, though, he'll have to fight to survive and lie through his teeth. It won't be so bad!

After all, it's not like they can bring him in for vigilantism and Illegal Quirk Usage when he doesn't even have a quirk, right?

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When Shouta Aizawa finally caught up to the runaway criminal, he swiftly apprehended him and passed him over to the first police officer he could find. He also made sure to let them know that Tsukauchi should be the one to interview him when they got to the station. Wouldn’t do for the guy to keep lying about trying to attack people, considering Shouta watched him swing at a literal child for a good five to ten minutes before he interfered. He's honestly not sure why he waited so long but it was amusing to watch. He has the feeling the kid wasn’t lying about him trying to attack a woman before him either.

Speaking of the kid, Shouta loops back towards the alley where they first met face to face. He’s got to give him credit, he’s good at staying hidden. He’s heard rumors from some of the other heroes about him but never seen him for himself; Almost to the point that he didn’t believe he existed. Most vigilantes that the other heroes warn him about he meets within the first week or two of the rumor circulation. Vigilantes and their odd sense of justice aren’t really known for keeping on the down low. Especially to the underground heroes, most of which are a bit more lenient on them.

They could never give a good enough description of him for anyone to pick him out of a crowd either. The hood and mask he was wearing ensured that his facial features weren’t shown to anyone, Shouta included. The most he and anyone else could tell about his appearance is that he’s very short, probably in his early teens, has green eyes that are so vivid in color they can be spotted without light, and that he has freckles on his face. Enough of the little sunspots that they can be seen even over the mask he wears. It matches what the others have told him about the kid. Distinct up close, but not distinct enough to be spotted at a distance. No one can even tell what color his hair is in the low lighting areas they meet him in.

He’s got to get a name. A real one, not just the fake fairytale one he gave him before. Perhaps then he can talk to the kid’s parents and get him some help. If he could stop being a vigilante he would be a great hero for sure. Maybe he could even suggest an internship with himself and the offer to let him take the recommendation test for UA under his name to keep him on the straight and narrow path. If anything he could just escort the kid home and get his name and details from his parents himself. Regardless, Shouta won’t let his talent or skill be wasted. He rounds the corner into the mouth of the alleyway. Then he freezes.

The kid’s gone. 

He grimaces sharply, Oh fuck.

He swiftly swings up to the rooftops of the nearby buildings. He searches around on them and down in the alleyways a few blocks around. No sign of hide or hair of the kid anywhere. Not even a clue as to where he went or which direction he was headed. I have officially, in all my years of teaching and being a hero, lost a child I was trying to keep an eye on , he thinks grimly, then remembers a certain blonde with a sunny smile waiting for him at home, ‘Zashi’s going to fucking kill me for this.

He groans and reaches up to rub at his eyes now that his goggles are down around his neck. He very much reiterates his earlier statement. This is clearly a problem child he’s dealing with. A very sassy, very sarcastic problem child who fights better than some of the pros he’s worked with. He supposes since there’s no chance of finding him now that he should go home and face the music. More like the inevitable screaming. 

He sends a quick message to his agency and the hero on patrol after him that he wrapped up his final capture for the night and was heading home. He gets confirmation from both before using the rooftops to quickly and efficiently return to their simple two story home. He jumps down and lands in front of the front door. He opens it quietly, trying not to disturb if Hizashi’s asleep. It’s all for naught though as a cat pads from the kitchen to the front door to greet him, meowing the whole way. Hizashi follows a moment later, hair loose from its normal style, hearing aids visible from where they normally hide behind his headphones, and wrapped up in a comfy sweatshirt that Shouta is fairly certain used to be his at some point. He’s holding a cup of what is probably throat soothing tea. He must’ve just got home from the studio.  

The blonde grins happily at him, “Welcome home, Shou!”

He grunts in acknowledgement and toes his shoes off. Shooing away their cat from his feet, he approaches Hizashi slowly. When he’s in front of him, he leans down to plonk his forehead down onto his shoulder. One of Hizashi’s hands comes up to gently stroke his hair, “Rough night, baby?”

“You don’t know the half of it…” he winces again as he remembers what he has to tell his husband, “Um… So…”

The blonde hums in an obvious question. Shouta sighs in defeat at it, “You can’t get mad at me.”

“Oh it’s never good when you start something out with that!” Hizashi laughs good naturedly, “Couch?” 

Shouta agrees and they both move to the couch. Their cat, a siamese lovingly named Bastard by Shouta, jumps up between them to demand pets. Shouta obliges and once they’re both comfy enough, he relays the story to Hizashi. He tells him everything. From finding the kid, to watching him outsmart the crook without the use of a quirk, to his appearance and false name, to the crook trying to slip away and Shouta having to go chase after him, and finally to returning to the scene and finding the kid gone. Hizashi’s face also goes through various emotions as he tells the tale. Neutral at first, then concerned, then intrigued, then back to concerned. By the end of it, he has his face buried in his hands, hiding his current expression from him.

“So let me get this straight…” His voice is oddly low and level. Considering everything he just told him, that doesn’t bode well for Shouta. “You met a child in an alleyway. Watch him completely pummel someone with more wit and skill than some of the limelight pro heroes. Talk to the kid for maybe five minutes. And then just expected the little listener to stay where he was when you tell him to, to go running off after a criminal?”

“... Okay when you say it like that it sounds stupid,” he acquieses. 

The sigh that leaves Hizashi sounds more like one he would let out, “God Shou…”

“I said you can’t get mad!” 

“I’m not mad!” Hizashi insists, “Just disappointed.”

He blanches, “You and I both know that’s worse!” 

“I just!” the blonde lets out a low growl of frustration and finally raises his head to look him in the eyes, “I love you! You’re one of the smartest people I know. I married you because you’re so smart and I love you so, so much. But, Shou, when it comes to people and those dreaded things you call feelings, you are a complete idiot sometimes!”

“That’s… fair,” Shouta agrees.

Normally people tell you when you're having a fight with your spouse to just agree with everything they say if you want it to end early. They aren't a normal couple though. Instead of being pleased about being right, Hizashi groans in further disappointment and distress. Shouta was being genuine when he agreed though. He knows he's pretty inept when it comes to reading the emotions of high stress situations.

"Okay, so clearly I fucked up big time. Now how do I fix it, 'Zashi?" He asks calmly.

That's clearly the correct thing to ask. Hizashi brightens up with one of those sunny smiles that Shouta has come to adore. Though just a bit dimmer than it normally shines, it's still just as beautiful."You're going to have to gain his trust. And I'm sure you've realized but it's going to take awhile to do so," Hizashi says plainly.  

"Figured," Shouta confirms. 

The Voice hero reaches back to rub his neck nervously, "I hate to say it, Shou, but you're going to have to rely on the thing you hate most for this."

"Dogs? All Might's ego? Endeavor’s blatant disregard for civilian life and safety? Nedzu's weird world domination games?"

He levels a stare at him, "Small talk."

Shouta's dramatic sigh is only partially exaggerated. Hizashi giggles at him and playfully shoves his shoulder, "I'm serious! You need to ask him questions that aren't too personal to get him to open up. What's his favorite color, what's his favorite animal, hell, ask him who his favorite hero is! Also, offer to buy him small things. Hot chocolate, some food, a trinket or two! Once he starts to trust you more, he'll start opening up about the big things."

"But I have to let him set the pace on what he tells me, right?"

Hizashi snaps his fingers and gives him a finger gun, "You got it baby!"

He groans again and leans back heavily onto the couch. This is going to be a test of his patients, he can tell. Hizashi giggles again at his dramatics before flopping down onto him to rest his head on Shouta's chest. He raises a hand to run it through the blonde silk that runs down Hizashi’s back. He can do this. For Hizashi and for a kid who's clearly had to fight by himself for too long.

[saltydumplings]

Snippet #15

Crime rates had been going down at an unusual rate - criminals being dropped off at the police station anonymously or left handcuffed to rooftops, ready to be put under arrest. The hero wasn't sure what to think of it: they knew that it was technically a good thing but at the same time they couldn't help the suspicion that came with it.

They jumped from one roof to another, eyes scanning the empty alleys below and finding nothing. This was their usual patrol route - it hit all the major areas for crime - and so how? How were they finding nothing?

Frustrated, they went off their usual path, moving to some of the quieter parts of the city. They managed to stop a single mugging but that was all - one measely thief in the span of four hours; one low ranking crime that was solved with a simple punch. A month ago the hero would have been trying to catch their breath, knowing to expect as many as ten to twelve instances in one night...but clearly something had changed.

With a sigh, the hero went to sit down upon the rooftop they were on, kicking their feet out over the edge somewhat boredly. Their eyes swept over a peaceful city - the only sounds of disruption coming from the blaring of car horns or the drunk yelling of bar patrons. A few minutes passed and they remained there still, wondering absently whether they should simply call it a night when something caught their eye.

A figure. They ran across one of the rooftops below, no more than a shadow as they crossed from ledge to ledge with ease. The hero's interest was immediately peaked and they were quick to stand and jump down to the roof below them, giving chase without a single thought. They followed as quietly as they could, catching up to the other fairly well until...

Until the other noticed them. One glance back and suddenly the figure went into a full on sprint, the hero cursing under their breath as the chase became much harder - the figure far faster than they could have ever imagined, no hesitation present within the other's movements as they jumped from great heights, leaping over gaps even the hero had to take a second to think about. It was taking everything within the hero to keep their eyes trained on the receding figure, determined to keep track of them although it was clear they were losing ground. Eventually, the distance became too much and the hero lost sight of the other completely, continuing to run on until they reached the spot where they'd last seen them.

The hero came to a stop, panting slighty as they stared about - not a trace of the figure to be found.

Which way had they gone? If the hero figured that out then maybe they could--

The roof adjacent to them was higher, and before they could so much as react the figure they'd been chasing jumped down right behind them, kicking the back of the hero's legs and sending them stumbling forwards - only just able to catch their balance back at the last second.

"You would do well not to follow me, Hero," a voice warned behind them. "My fight isn't with you."

The hero whirled about, coming face to face with the masked figure they'd been chasing. Quickly, they raised their fists, getting into a fighting stance as the other began to circle them.

"Yeah? If you didn't want to fight me, why cycle back then?" the hero asked.

"To inform you that I'm not a villain, and to tell you to stay out of my way."

"That's funny...people who tend to run from me usually have something to hide - and it's never something good," the hero stated. "If you're not a villain then what are you?"

A pause.

The other simply huffed impatiently before suddenly darting forwards, the hero blocking what would have been a blow to their chest only to get kicked in the stomach. They held strong though, dodging their assailant's next attack and managing to land a punch of their own though the other hardly seemed to react to it. Soon the hero found themself forced to stick to defense only - their opponent's strikes against them coming too fast to do anything else, barely giving them enough time to even dodge. The hero quickly became overwhelmed, failing to counter one too many hits and suddenly finding themself at the edge of the roof. There was a brief moment of panic when they realised just how close they were to the ledge when the attacker kicked them square in the chest and pushed them back.

The hero fell.

But only for a second.

The hero had barely let out a cry of fear when something caught their belt and their descent was roughly stopped - a small wire being the only thing keeping them attached to the wall and not falling to their death. Their breathing was ragged as they looked up, heart pounding wildly as they saw the figure staring down at them, the device they'd used to save the hero still clasped within their one hand.

"Who are you?" the hero said.

The other leant down, idly reaching for the wire below them.

"My name is Vigilante," they replied. "And this--" They plucked at the wire and watched as the hero suddenly swayed, gasping in fear as they were swung side to side "--is my warning to you.

"Stay away."

[mayfieldss]

The unexpected - Matt Murdock

Warnings: Blood/injuries, language, violence, mentions of domestic violence, angsty Matt, and once again my 3:00am writing I am sorry if there are spelling mistakes.

AN: I don't know where I was going with this

Nothing had gone as Matt intended. He was supposed to be in and out of that alley within minutes. All he needed was information, not much, just a few names that could lead him to his next target, but somehow it all went wrong. In the dark streets of hells kitchen things were bound to go wrong of course, that being the reason why the Daredevil came to be in the beginning, but this kind of wrong was something Matt wasn't used to.

How you had stumbled into that specific alleyway at that specific time Matt did not know but you ended up there nonetheless, caught in the crossfire. You weren't supposed to be out this late, the clocks already having passed the fated midnight hour. Matt thought you would be home, safe and sound, ready to return to the office of Nelson and Murdock in the morning like always. But instead you stumbled upon the Devil of hells kitchen, who you hadn't known was your colleague and partner before this night.

What you witnessed in that alleyway, a fight between a masked vigilante and some of hells kitchens many criminals was something you weren't meant to see. Standing at the mouth of the alley for only a second, barely visible in the dim light that shone from the street lamps, you hadn't made a sound, but every head, mid fight or not seemed to turn your way for a moment.

The Devil of hells kitchen, masked and clothed in red was still a mystery to you, but every other man whose face you had now seen, was engraved in your mind. A witness to a crime was never left undealt to and working at Nelson and Murdock had taught you as much. Your first thought was to run, escape the men before one could depart from the fight to catch you, to deal to you. But you just stood there, in the mouth of the alley as if glued to the pavement at your feet.

The fight was still in progress, punches thrown left and right, but you had caught the attention of all participating and you knew there would be consequences if you didn't move soon. The masked man was shouting at you, telling you to go and you swore for a moment he had spoken your name, a part of your mind recognizing the voice too. But maybe the pressure, the fear that held you steady to the ground beneath you made you hear things that you wished were true. Because in the next moment, when sharp pain hit your side all you wanted was to hear that familiar voice call your name. All you could think about other than the searing pain in your body as you fell, was Matt Murdock. And you swore you heard him shout to you again, over and over, asking if you were okay.

When you looked up again all of the hells kitchens criminals from before had fallen, some still moving but most unconscious. The only man left standing was the Devil himself, red suit and all. Kneeling down before you he reached out a hand that you refused to take. Instead, you backed away, wincing at the pain coursing through your side, grasping at it as you shuffled back.

You felt the blood on your palm before you saw it. Sticky and red, it painted your hand as you pulled it away from your body, glancing down at it for only a moment. You did not want to risk taking your eyes away from the Daredevil for much longer than that. He still crouched in front of you, tense and dare you say worried, though you couldn't see much of the man. The only part of his face visible was his mouth and jaw, which was clenched as if he was hurting at the sight of you.

"You're the Daredevil" was all you managed to say as you grasped at your side again. The man nodded at you before he reached toward your wound, placing a hand over yours before you could shuffle further from him.

"Daredevil is a stupid name".

You don't know where the words came from but they slipped from your lips before you could stop them, bringing the smallest of nervous smiles to the man in red.

"I didn't pick that name" his words were quiet and there was something about his tone of voice that calmed you. "We need to stitch this up before it gets worse. Do you have a phone on you, to call for help?".

It was then that it hit you once more. The voice that calmed your nerves and brought a smile to your lips almost everyday came from the mouth of this man.

"Matt?" His name left your lips in a mix of confusion and fear, leaving the Daredevil frozen in place.

-

Matt should have known better than to speak to you. It should have been near impossible for someone to put the pieces together, connect the voice of a blind man they knew, to that of a dangerous vigilante. Others would have thought about it thinking; 'A blind man could never cause such harm in this city, he can barely find the stairs on his own' But you, you knew Matt better than that. Or maybe you knew life better than that.

Matt remembered something you told him long ago, the time when you first met at the doors of Nelson and Murdock.

"There's not much you can expect in this city other than the unexpected".

Matt had thought this over, making a list of predictable things to be found all over New York. He told you a few of them, listing them off proudly with a flirtatious grin in an attempt to contradict your statement. He remembered the way you shook your head at him as though he was a child dreaming of foolish things. You had latched onto the last thing on this list, the thing most common in the streets of hells kitchen—Crime.

"There are criminals here Matt, they are everywhere. But they are never expected, not really".

Matt had laughed then. Crime was always something to be expected. It was the main reason he was who he was. A lawyer by day and a fighter by night. Each version of himself working to better the kitchen by preventing crime in different ways.

"Crime is something we all expect".

He had said it so matter-of-factly because he was so sure of himself, but you were determined to make him think. And you'd succeeded.

"When you see another man or woman dead on the news you think you expect nothing more from this place. You'd brush it off, but deep down you can't believe that it's happening, that it happened. And no matter how many times it happens it will always make you wonder how someone could do such a thing. To kill, to steal or whatever they do. It is always unexpected Matt, because we all refuse to believe it could happen deep down, even when it does".

You had thrown Matt into silence then, and as you reached for the door, ready to go, you turned to him one last time "That's why I believe anything is possible, because I know that whatever happens will be unexpected".

Your words ran through his mind now, over and over like a disc in an unstoppable replay. Even if the man you knew was blind, a catholic boy, a lawyer completely different from the one the news called the Daredevil, you hadn't ruled him out. You knew it was him and he knew there was nothing he could do to change your mind.

"Matt" you said his name again, but this time quieter, snapping Matt out of his thoughts and back to reality just in time to watch as your eyes fluttered shut.

-

You awoke in Matts apartment. It was a place you knew all too well, the bright lights from the windows shining down on you as you lay on the couch, body aching. You remembered everything so clearly, seeing him, a man in full red and black, speak to you with the voice of Matt Murdock. And now laying in the apartment of said man, you knew you were right.

You knew he was in the room with you and you didn't bother to turn your head in search for him, instead speaking up so he could hear you wherever he was.

"It's you. You're the Daredevil".

A moment of silence passed before Matt moving about the apartment was the only thing you heard, other than the casual sirens of New York. He moved slowly, one step after the other, shuffling around until finally he stood across from you, leaning against one of the small armchairs near the couch. He stood without a shirt, battered and bruised and you watched his chest rise and fall with deep breaths as if it hurt him to inhale air.

Matt could hear your heart rate rise, sensing the smallest ounce of fear running through you like a steady stream of water. You were trying to control it, how afraid you were and Matt could tell. There was also anger within in you, slowly seeping out and showing itself through breaths released out of flaring nostrils.

"So this is what you do with your free time? This is what keeps you busy?" You winced as you spoke, the pain in your side growing the more you moved. You didn't know what happened, how you had been hurt. All you knew was you were too shocked and stupid to move away before it happened.

Matt simply nodded like he had in the Alleyway as you lay sprawled on the damp concrete. Now lying on his couch, which you had once found a comforting place, it felt almost the same as that hard street.

"How long have you been doing this Matt?" sitting up, you found yourself cringing in pain at the effort it took, Matt rushing over once he registered your movements to help. You pushed him back with one hand before grasping the side of the couch to stand on your own.

"I really think you shouldn't be moving around" Matt had this urgency in his voice that you had yet to hear from him. A tone that would have made you listen and perhaps take his hand in yours had the situation been different.

"How long have you been doing this Matt?" Repeating your previous question you sent him a glare, waiting for an answer. You didn't think you wanted to know, but the question was all you could think of to ask.

"Long enough".

"Before we got together?" You had gone quiet, voice almost a whisper as it began to sink in. The man you thought you knew was not who you thought he was. But you refused to believe he was a stranger. You still knew him, just not as well as before.

Matt nodded again, "Before we ever met".

There were so many things you wanted to say. Things you wanted to shout and insults you wanted to throw. You'd never liked liars and Matt had lied to you many a time now, this you had just begun to realize.

"So when you stood me up that day, when I waited outside that pasta place you'd wanted to take me to for hours, you were out beating up car thieves?".

"I wasn't beating up car thieves" Matt mumbled knowing instantly it wasn't the right answer.

"But you were busy' you paused gesturing to Matt's bruises and your own though it was pointless. 'You were busy with this".

Matt let out a small grunt as he settled himself on the small coffee table adjacent to you. "Yes, I was busy. With this".

Matt heard your heartbeat jump in a way that told him you were near tears but you were still so mad, confused and afraid, not stopping to let them fall.

"And what about the time I waited at your house all night with take out only to have you never show? Were you busy then too?"

Your words made Matt wince as he realized how many times he had let you down. He knew you could go on and on, listing all the times he had left you high and dry and all the times he lied to you about why he stood you up.

"Yeah. I was busy then too".

Matt knew this wasn't what you wanted to hear, but it was the truth and he knew you didn't want him lying anymore than he had. He wanted you to sit down, even if just for a moment so you wouldn't be in so much pain. Matt could tell that with every second you stood a new wave of agony would rush over your body. You were choking on your breath and grasping at your side as if you had just climbed ten flights of stairs with a bad stitch. He hated how much you were hurting. He hated feeling it just as much as you.

"Why were you out so late?"

Just like Matt knew you would, you scoffed at his question. If the situation was any different you would have shot back something along the lines of 'I could ask you the same thing' but in this scenario you knew all there was to know about Matts late nights.

"I was looking for you Matt" You spoke the truth and nothing but, like a girl on the stand at trial. "I came here, to your place and you weren't home. It made me panic because it was late and you'd told me all those stories about how you could get lost walking home at night-". Stopping yourself a new gust of anger swept through you. Grasping a pillow you threw it in Matts' direction, not at all doing wonders for your side. "But I know now that those stories were all bullshit!".

Matt deserved that. He deserved all of it. Every time he let you down, late for a date or something else entirely, he would mutter an excuse like that. "I got lost again" with a weak apology on the end. And you, being the forgiving angel he knew you to be, believed and pardoned him every time. Because you loved him. And now Matt knew that in all those lies he told, he'd lost your trust, hurting you emotionally and physically in the process. Because of the lies he told, you went out looking for him. You went out into the dangerous streets of Hells kitchen at night to try and help him. Now you were here, back at the apartment you had come to in the first place, bandaged and leaning on the arm of his couch. All because he lied. Before this he would have laughed upon occasion at the fact that people called lying a sin, but now he understood why it was known as such.

"I'm sorry I lied to you".

This made you laugh, something Matt hadn't at all expected. It wasn't the type of laugh Matt loved, the one that he would do anything for. The laugh that had made him fall for you in the beginning. It was harsh and sad, almost heart-breaking. It sounded like a glass shattering upon the floor, fragile and sharp.

"You're not sorry you lied to me Matt. You're only sorry I found out about it. You're only sorry that I know you're a liar".

You had a way with words, truthful, passionate words. They had always made him think, right from the start. And maybe you'd hit this one right on the mark. Had you not been in that alley tonight he would have kept telling the lies he said he was sorry for. He would have smiled his way through times when you questioned him as if it were nothing but the fault of his disabilities. Matt would say, "I fell in the parking lot", "I walked into a door", "I got lost". He would lie through his teeth over and over again had you not been in that alley tonight, had you not recognised his voice.

"Part of that may be true," Matt began unable to fully admit to his mistakes, "but I am sorry that you found out the way you did. I should have told you myself".

"But you're not sorry you lied?" You clung to this fact like it was the last rope holding you up, you clung to it knowing that it was true, but hoping it wasn't.

"If you hadn't found out about this I wouldn't have told you". Matt still couldn't confess. He couldn't bring himself to say that lying to you was something he would do again. If Matt said that, he could lose you, and he didn't want that to happen.

"I can't do this" pushing yourself away from the support of the couch you made an attempt to stumble toward the door. You felt dizzy and your abdomen burned as if the fires of hell were alight inside it but you kept moving.

Matt understood why you wanted to leave. All of this would be hard to grasp, but he couldn't let you. You were in no shape to walk around the streets, blood already seeping through your bandages, and Matt wasn't sure you could keep the secret you had just uncovered. As selfish as it sounded, you had to stick around for a while longer. So Matt moved faster than nessacary, grasping your wrist before you could make your way to the door.

Your heartrate spiked and Matt took in the fact he had scared you, loosening the grip he held upon your wrist. He pictured you with wide eyes, biting your lip like he had known you to do when nervous. Matt never wanted you to be nervous around him.

"Matt, I'm leaving" You tried to keep your voice steady, ripping your arm from his grasp though the force you used was no longer needed. Matt wished you would just sit and listen to him, and perhaps his wish was granted as when you took another step you stumbled, collapsing against the wall.

Trying to act unfazed you set out to push yourself back to your feet but Matt, who was already crouched at your side, tenderly pulled you back to the floor.

"I know you don't want to be here with me, but you can't leave in the state you're in" He waved lightly toward your side, the now red bandage making your breathing falter. "You tore open the stitches, I know you don't trust me but just let me help".

You didn't say a word and Matt took this as a form of acceptance from you, standing to go get first aid supplies. When he returned he found you still in the same place as before. He pictured you, eyes closed and head rested against the wall, with a single tear that had made it's way down your cheek. The thought sent guilt crashing against his heart once again.

With your shirt already tied in a knot above the bandages from Matt's first time tending to the wound, he had already eliminated some of the work. The hardest part now would be getting you to trust him. Kneeling down once more Matt reached a hand toward you slowly, like a man approaching some rabid animal. If Matt was being honest he couldn't rule out the possibility of you biting him, you looked agitated enough to do so.

"You hurt people Matt".

Your words made Matt freeze, a little piece of his heart chipping away as you spoke. "You hurt people, because you can".

"I only hurt those who hurt others". Matt cast his eyes down toward the first aid kit at his side, not that it helped him in any way, as he began unpacking it's contents. He knew what was coming, so he waited for you to mutter a heart-wrenching reply.

"Everybody has hurt others at some point in their lives Matt. I watched you break a mans arm tonight because you were mad. I could tell you were mad. There was no other reason to hurt him like that".

Matt reached for the bandages at your side, feeling you flinch slightly at his touch as he began to pull them away. "That man had done bad things, and yes those things made me mad, so I hit him, I broke his arm, but I had reason to".

You managed to glance down at your side as the old bandage fell away—stained with dark red—before you glanced back at Matt who couldn't yet face you.

"If I made you mad, would you hit me?" The words left your mouth before you could think them through, hitting Matt with full force. You watched as his face contorted from that of concentration to utter panic.

"No, no, no" Matt moved his hands away from your side, dropping the bandages he held to cup your face. "Never. I would never hurt you like that".

"Then why did you hurt that man?".

Matt could barely think, heart still in pieces at the thought of you scared, like a kid lost in the dark. "He was a criminal".

"It's not your job to fight criminals Matthew, sometimes you have to represent them, sometimes you do the opposite but what you're doing," You paused, reaching up to touch Matt's face, "That's not your responsibility".

The rest of the world faded then, the only thing Matt could feel being you, your calming presence—the better part of him. He couldn't stop, he knew that. The fighting was in his bones, almost an addiction. But you made the world quiet. He couldn't hear the pain that echoed through the streets of Hells kitchen. He could just feel you. He couldn't loose that.

"Please tell me you know I would never hurt you" Matt was in pain but he showed no sign, solely focused on you and you alone. He had pressed another bandage to your side to stop the bleeding but that was all he could do as thoughts raged on in his head.

You let your hand slip away from Matt's cheek "I never thought you would hurt me before and I still don't now" your voice wavered as you spoke, tears brewing in your eyes, "I just don't know what to expect anymore".

Matt felt sick to his stomach, the sound of your sudden sobs pulling apart every piece of his being. He wanted to hold you but instead he gave you space, letting the razor blades of heartbreak move through him as he listened to you cry.

He stayed like that for awhile, even after you'd stopped crying Matt waited, listening to your heavy breaths as you buried your head in your arms. When you finally spoke, your voice was wobbly and mixed with a thousand emotions, all of them combined causing a chorus of sadness, agony, and confusion.

"I can't believe I still fucking love you".

Matt was falling apart, the sad chuckle that left his lips making you look up at his sorrow filled features.

"I thought you believed anything was possible?".

In truth you still did, Matt knew that. It was something he loved and something nobody could break. He listened to your heartbeat slow, your breaths becoming calm and even, and the sound sparked the smallest of lights in that dark part of him. The sadness that had grown over the past few hours by your side dissipated slightly by the touch of your hand as you reached out.

You didn't say a word—you couldn't. So instead you grasped Matt's hand in your own. You were both in pain though the emotional damage seemed worse than the physical. All Matt wanted to do was hold you, keep you safe. And despite the endless lies you had just uncovered you couldn't deny you wanted him to hold you too.

"I would ask you to never lie to me again, but I know you will".

It was a heart-breaking statement but you both knew it to be true. So, clearly drained and tired from a night full of pain and fighting, the two of you stayed like that. Sat together on the floor of Matt's apartment. You were still deep in love with the man in front of you, you understood now that he was different than what you knew him to be, but you could still see the Matthew Murdock you had fallen for. A heart fragile and kind behind his eyes. You were still in pain beyond anything you had ever felt, but having Matt near, though your trust he had broken, made it slightly better. You didn't want to let go of his hand and he didn't want you to either.

Matt didn't want to fight anymore, at least not with you. All the things he loved about you flashed across his mind like a picture show and the fear of loosing you grew stronger than ever before, until you squeezed his hand. A reassurance that told Matt you would stay. That told him, you were somewhat okay. And that was enough for now.

-

AN: not sure how I feel about this one.

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