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silverinkbottle · 2 months

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Cover me in flowers..or glitter?

Summary: What's an Overlord to do after dealing with a shitty day of downed networks. Come home and bitch about it of course.

Word Count:4.5K

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Velvette x F!Sphynx!Reader

Warnings: Sexual content ahead. Female oral sex. Foul language (it's Velvette, I got to) references to drug use and self harm. 18+ only!

A/N:Hello dearest readers! Here is the promised Velvette x Reader fic I managed to spin for yall. It was extremely fun to dive into the more 'true' side of Velvette as we have seen during her private moments with the other Vees. Taking off the 'mask' as #THATBITCH. Is it too soft? Maybe? But all the same, enjoy!

Side Note: My REQUESTS are open and I am determined to tackle each of the colorful Hazbin cast in some form. It can be X Reader or not! Let me see what I can spin up! enjoy!

Hell was a fucked up place. Like watching your neighbor get devoured by a roving pack of cannibals sort of daily occurrence. Murder and mayhem went hand in hand. Yet, somehow that rush of adrenaline was preferred to your current situation. Buried under a mound of blankets, winter clothes and anything else to make a nest in as you sulked in the depths of fabric. Spoiled, you had gotten spoiled since Velvette took you in. A thin little stray that happened to fall into the satin lap of luxury. All because you intrigued the Overlord one day. Your powers wreaking havoc on Vox’s spy network of technology as you blipped in and out of existence. However, that talent came with certain limitations rapidly draining your energy if you stepped ‘out’ for too long. It wasn’t long before you had been cornered by an irate Vox and a few select underlings, the technomancer screeching about a raging headache over the phone.

Vox wanted your head, Valentino wanted your body to break on camera and Velvette, well she found you fascinating. Cameras flashed in your face as soon she met you, provoking the question on social media. Who was Hell’s Cheshire? A thief, a backstabber and all other lovely connotations. Eventually, the youngest Overlord settled on something else entirely, a useful tool for her arsenal of networks. Able to slip in and out unnoticed if you chose so and entirely willing to come at the ring of bell. Most of the time.

Your phone had been buzzing non stop since Hell went back online after Vox’s tantrum. You couldn’t imagine the headache that Velvette had to sort out for hours after. Patching up rumors and demolishing negative news with a flick of her fingers. It was fascinating watching her work from home as data zipped across the screen in a dazzling display of lights. Pushing trends for Voxtek, doxxing competition with scathing inbox drops and above all keeping her own social media red hot. Your distaste for that particular task was evident as you dodged the socialite’s flashing phone at all hours. The Overlord’s photo album was like a riddle of segmented body parts. A flash of your stomach getting inked with a fresh bloom of daisies, followed by a blurred hand reaching out to take the offending object.

There was a quiet ding of the penthouse elevator as the pile of clothes shifted an inch with your movement. Moving a scarf out of the way, you now had the perfect vantage to see Velvette streaming as soon as she left the elevator with a bright smile.

“Apologies about the little system update to the electrical grid lovelies. As you can see we are now back online! Please reset your Voxbox if further problems continue. We here at Voxtek hope to continue providing our best quality service.” Her voice was sugary sweet as your ears flicked waiting to hear the break in her act.

Five.

The small melodic beep as the stream ended.

Four.

The defiant click of the phone shutting.

Three.

A sigh.

Two.

The smallest click of heels against the floor as Velvette walked towards the couch.

One.

The delightful stream of profanity that was screamed into a pillow.

“THAT MOTHER FUCKING TWAT GOT HIS KNICKERS IN A TWIST ALL BECAUSE OF THE OLD FUCK BEING BACK. KNOCKED OUT THE SYSTEMS AND HIMSELF FOR THREE HOURS. DOES HE HAVE ANY IDEA HOW I HAD TO MANAGE THAT MESS” Velvette’s yowl bounced around the penthouse as you could almost see the steam coming off her head.

“Babes, are you listening to ME!” Velvette shrieked at your cloth fortress of solitude as you reached your hand out in a supportive thumbs up. It wasn’t enough as you hear the distinct sound of glass shattering as something heavy had been launched at the elevator’s glass door. It dinged in submission as Velvette let out another shriek of rage.

Now was the time to intervene before she grabbed another object to destroy as you hastily shot your hand out to grab her by the wrist. Her expression twisted in surprise as she was pulled into your pillowy sanctuary. A low purr rumbled in your chest as her floral perfume curled around you. Her heartbeat thudded against you as your cat-like pupils dilated from the close contact as she heaved a heavy sigh before curling under your chin. Now an air of calm floated about the shelter as darkness and your rumbling purr enveloped the enclosed space.

“Hello, you. Seems like you had a hard day.” You muttered as Velvette exhaled through her teeth as if you couldn’t have chosen the most delicate word for it. No, you knew from her more colorful vocabulary she had far more words to describe it.

“And what did you do? Take cat-naps through the entire shitshow? Must have been nice.” Velvette said tartly as you lightly carted your sharp nails through her hair. You didn’t want to pick a fight, not if she was already so burnt out from the affairs of the day.

“I spent my time building this after the power went out. Can’t stand the cold you know.” You hummed. Velvette rolled her eyes as she knew better than most that you needed climate control to be comfortable. It was a myth that Hell was boiling inferno. Even if it was, your plane shifting seemed to keep an icy grip on your soul as if wanting to drag down with it instead of allowing you to leave.

“Oh, the poor lamb, what a hardship.” Velvette’s words would have cut through the hardiest of steel, but for you, the dripping sarcasm rolled off your back with a nonchalant shrug. You did hiss in protest as she cruelly kicked off a stabilizing pillow from the stack. It all came down in a slow tumble as your arms curled around Velvette who let out a protesting whine. She was taking away your source of heat, she better be willing to provide her body heat as a compromise.

“You’re hopeless. You know that.” Velvette muttered as a faint smile ticked over your features. What happened to that wry stray Demon that evaded the Vees for months. Forcing them to ‘old’ and ‘outdated’ methods of tracking in person. All because your talent piqued their interest.

“Hm. I wouldn’t say that. I managed to keep you here.” You muttered as Velvette’s lips met yours. Gentle, soft, a silent reprieve from the madness of the world outside. Pain flicked from your ears as her fingers prodded the latest piercing at the tip of the pale ear. The cat-like features were a delicious irony from your death. Drowned in a sack like a litter of unwanted kittens. All because you had owed a drug dealer a bit too much, well, stole, thumbed the cops at him. Nasty business it was as it took months for you not to flinch at the sound of running water.

Unfortunately, keeping up your hygiene is more important compared to other demons. Your skin itches like it was swarmed by mosquitoes if you let the practice get away from you. A fucking Sphynx’s skin accompanied a bare tail and fuzzed ears. If it weren’t for the benefits of your stealth, you would have gone mad a long time ago. Much to Velvette’s fashion distaste, you preferred full body coverage of sweaters, dress suits and the like. Anything to keep your sensitive skin from the outside world.

“Testing a new experiment again? Velvette questioned as your pierced ear flicked irritated as her sharp nail ran over the reddened skin. A low hum answered her question as you gently redirected her probing hands to the edge of your sweater. Her gentle smile turned a tick towards feral as her hands slipped under the fabric, nails dragging over the sensitive skin of your stomach. It was almost a sheer reflex as your back arched underneath her touch, a delicious mixture of pain and pleasure at her touch.

“Off. I want to see.” Velvette barked as her impatient hands pulled at the fabric, easing it over your head with a single pull. Your body was a canvas for ink from piercing black to bursts of bright colors. Inky flowers planted in your fleshy parchment as Velvette’s eyes flicked over older works, trying to find the newest flower in the garden. A small singular tulip curled around your third right rib as her nail tapped it as you confirmed with a nod at her guess.

“Seems like a bit too purple, babes.” Velvette critiqued as a sigh escaped you. It had been far too long since either of you had seen the thing, but of course she remembered them as a dull little thing.

“If you insist, mistress of gardens.” You retorted with a grin. Velvette soon collapsed into a fit of giggles as you and her had shared plenty of woes about your pasts. Neither of you could grow anything green worth shit. All it took was a single glance for the flourishing flower to turn brittle and lifeless the next day. While you seemed to be overwatering or underwatering, memory turned into mush as soon as you got your fix.

Now in your afterlife, only the tattoo artist’s needle plucked away at your skin. Contaminating the sensitive pigment in an array of colors. It did seem to help or was it merely a placebo effect. Regardless, it was an interesting pastime to have as Velvette was more than willing to start off sketches or chime in about color patterns. What would you do after the canvas was full? Well, there was more than one way to skin a cat. The regenerative properties of Sinners were infamous after all.

“I know that look. We aren’t trying that yet.” Velvette protested as she jabbed a pointed nail into your cheek. A weary sigh escaped you as your past issues with your skin didn’t need to rear its head back into the quiet moment. The look of horror and shock on her face when she discovered you in the midst of flashback, sharp nails digging into the flesh of your arm. Dragging it down to tear through skin and muscle. Pain grounded you, you weren’t stuck in that bag, lungs bursting, wanting one more gasp of air that never came.

“I am sure one of the geniuses at Voxtek would be able to figure out some sort of anesthesia process” You proposed as Velvette’s smile flickered to a frown. Right, work was a touchy subject as you cupped her pouting cheeks with a gentle kiss to her forehead. Your tail elegantly twisting out her reach as you stood up from the couch, leaving her sulking against the cushions with a huff.

“I’ll run us a bath? We can use one of those glittery bath bomb monstrosities you insisted on buying last week.” You proposed as you turned the corner into the master bedroom, rolling your eyes at the loud squeal of joy that echoed after you. Double oak doors lead to the grand bathroom as numerous skin care products littered both sides of the countertop. Serums, lotions and the like, your nose wrinkled as something lilac had been spilled earlier in the morning.

It was sheer reflex for you to suck in air through your teeth as you turned the brass knobs on the jacuzzi-like tube. At least your hands shook less as you eased off your sweater. Your tail swished in warning as you heard the faintest click of the camera. Velvette and her fucking photos as you held out your hand in a silent request.

“It isn’t a bad shot, Lette. “ You praised as she smugly smiled at your approval. The cream background of the bathroom title, stark green of sweater and the pale gray of your skin. All drew the viewer's eye to the bramble of crimson roses and sharp thorns encircling your upper back. From brambles, pale forget-me-nots caressed the side of your breast, tiny yellow pea flowers branching off downward. Most importantly, your face was covered by the fabric of the sweater being pulled over your back. You liked to keep what privacy you could when it came to living with the social media Overlord.

“I did threaten to sew Valentino’s mouth shut after that comment he left last time.”

“Oh, aren't you sweet.” You cooed as her jealous streak ran as deep as the river Styx. She got to post you in all states of dishevelment with your approval. It sent gossipers into a frenzy trying to deduce who the Overlord’s lover was. All while Velvette dropped several keywords into each post about this product or that. Sex sold afterall, it was something she and the pimp moth agreed upon.

“He did speak to me about copycat videos though. Just to stir up a little tizzy with the clientele.” Velvette yawned as you rolled your eyes at the notion. Tattoos were unique from each stroke and you paid your artist an extraordinary privacy fee to keep the designs private. Now, it would be amusing to see Velvette pitch a fit in the pimp’s private studio as she critiqued each little ‘paint job’ on the copycats. Did Valentino want to make you look like a cheap fucking whore. Velvette wouldn’t let that stand as expenses and delays piled up around theoretical productions that made the moth demon’s head spin.

“Oh, now that is just cruel, love.” You teased as Velvette smiled wickedly before rummaging in one of the lower cabinets beneath the sink. Clapping her hands together as she presented her find as your ears went flat in displeasure. Oh, it was going to be a glittery mess as she ‘accidentally’ dropped the orb into the warm water.

“You know I would be running for the hills if it was any other day.” You grumbled as she flashed you a bright grin before reaching for the button of your slacks. Carefully stepping out the attire, you skittishly kept out of reach of her groping hands.

“Yes, I touched up my thighs. You don’t need to guess that.” You scoffed as Velvette’s gaze flickered over the pristine white petals of the moon flower. It’s dark vines crawling up your upper thighs as its flowering bud bloomed over your navel. Right above the soft curls of your sex.

“So, I don’t get to touch it?” Velvette pouted softly

“Not with your kit on, I don’t need another lecture on what water and other fluids can do to the material.” You tutted as you spun your finger around in a silent suggestion for her to turn around. Buttons, so many fucking buttons started from her tailbone to the back of her neck as you diligently undid the snaps with practiced patience. There wasn’t a need to rush as you could see goosebumps prickle down tanned skin as a single finger brushed over her spine.

“Oh fuck this-”

“Lette, don’t you dar-”

Your warning was an absolute failure as her arms curled around your waist, sending both of you tumbling into the vast bath. Your eyes turned into thin slits as you emerged from the water, trying to keep your breathing at slow and even pace. The gentle ripple of water as your tail lashed about with irritation as Velvette leaned comfortably against the ramp-like edge of the bath.

“Oh, you look like some sort of garden fairy, Babes, very aesthetic.” Velvette cooed as you glanced down at your soaked form. Glitter, so much fucking glitter stuck to your tattoos, your hair, and you didn’t dare ask where else it clung to.

“I hate it. I am throwing out all those damn bath bombs as soon as your back is turned.” You threatened as Velvette scoffed at the seriousness of your tone. Her finger crooked asking you to come closer as you did with a huff.

“This is going to take forever to get off.” You hissed as Velvette’s body gleamed with the fragments of glitter. Your thumb gently rubbing over her lower lip as the sparkle refused to give way to the gentle pressure.

“So, you better get to work then.” Velvette teased as she leaned further back against the cool surface, her eyes dilating as your fingers ran over a dusky nipple. Pretty little things, round and firm, but no larger than the center of your palm. The softest cooing sound slipped from her lips as the rough surface of your tongue dragged over the center of her left breast. For what felt like the hundredth time in a row, the tantalizing idea of little glimmering bar bells drifted lazily through your mind.

“You know. It would amplify-”

“It would limit my looks, babes. No. Once again. Ah fuck, do that swirling thing again.” Velvette’s protest shifted into a whine as your tongue twisted against her pert nipple. Her legs all but curled around your wet and glittery form as if it would bring you any closer. You could feel her heartbeat thud under your finger twists as it stuttered when your sharp canines dragged over the edge of her breast. Her plait form softened with each touch as the stress of the day melted away from her.

This was your Velvette. Brash, crude with an unbreakable will of steel, but at the same time, she all but melted under your attention. Until you chipped away at the sharp exterior to reveal the quiet creature beneath the rampant demands of her work. Her lips parting as her tongue curled over your fingertips. Goosebumps curled over her form as the cool saliva traced down her stomach, brushing aside the little fluff of curls as her legs twitched from the first contact with her clit.

“I can be extraordinarily convincing.” You muttered against her lips as you kissed into her smirk. Her mouth opened in a quiet pant as friction dragged over her clit. Slow measured strokes as you wanted to draw her out like a taut string. At least at first before you sent her galloping over the edge as her fingers dragged through your scalp when your toying flickered counterclockwise.

“Don’t do that.” Velvette hissed as you winked cheekily before reverting back to the same pattern. Of all things, she liked your touch in a consistent motion as she could feel each bump in her road to the ultimate goal.

“Hey, no, wait-” Velvette let out a small yelp of protest as you slid her further back onto the edge of the tub. A mere inch away from falling as her legs spread further apart trying to brace herself on the inside of the tub. You brushed against her cunt’s curl as cat-like eyes blinked lazily up at her. A silent request that was answered as her hand slid over the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

The little bundle of nerves felt like something different every time. The little ridges engorging in an endless unrecognizable pattern as your tongue swiped against it. Your own excitement rising as Velvette’s sharp nails felt prickly against your sensitive neck. Her delighted cry when your attention shifted a little to the left, the scent of her fluids lingered on your face as her orgasm built. The involuntary shudder of her thighs around your face as your hand slid up her stomach feeling it snap back and forth like a bow string.

“Close, close, close-” Velvette’s words turned into a quiet chant as her voice reached a new octave as your lips sealed around the throbbing nerves. The harsher pressure was all that was needed to topple the last bit of restraint as her insides burst with white hot heat. Your tongue brushed over her core to taste the almost sweet nectar as she weakly tried to protest with a wave of her hand.

Oh, she was out of it as her legs went flat against the tub. Her hormone flooded mind , breaking the chain of command to her muscles as she let out the smallest of cries as gravity took over. You could only watch in surprise as she fell backwards out of the bath, head first as her crumpled form shuddered with surprised giggles.

“Shit, sorry, I-” Your apology was cut off by her sweet kiss, her perfumed hair falling in your face as she deepened the kiss. All it took was the smallest shove like a stalk in the breeze to allow her to crawl into your lap. Glitter be damned, nothing could interrupt the moment as wet skin felt like silk against you.

All except the telltale chirping of Velvette’s phone as it obviously sang out it’s little song.

“Fuck, don’t-” You protested as Velvette scrambled off you with a new sense of urgency. Her shining backside dripped water as she clawed at a towel with exasperation upon seeing the caller id on the glowing screen. The telltale jabs of her fingers as she typed a scathing text, only for a chirp to follow moments later.

“MOTHERFUCKER, NOW. HE WANTS-”

“Bath is over, I am guessing.” You deadpanned as Velvette’s agitated expression flickered like a dancing flame as you swept past her with a single kiss on her pouting cheek. Despite your clothing restrictions, somehow your closet always seemed close to bursting as you idly ran your fingers over the dark blue cloth of a suit. Freezing as damp hands slid along your waist, Velvette’s lips gentle against the back of your neck in a silent apology.

“It happens Lette, I get it.” You hummed as you could her lips twitch from a pout to a smile against your skin.

“A tie is a must, babes. How about that red one?” She proposed as she waved you aside to do what she did best. Making you absolutely stunning for the entire Pride ring to fry their brains over and then some cells for good measure. Her fingers were gentle as she smoothed out the collar of your blouse before buttoning the suit jacket with a satisfied pat.

“Studs or small hoops, you think?” You asked as Velvette’s gaze blinked up from her phone for a moment before holding up a single finger. The golden studs it was then as you knew there wasn’t going to be a word out of her until she returned to the office. The blue glow of the screen was impossible to ignore as you strained your neck to try and make sense of the rapid flicker of data. The strength of her taps increases with each swipe and view as her left cheek twitches in silent irritation.

It wasn’t at your conspicuous spying, no it was about the absolutely shoddy camera work of the source. Like it was filmed on a flip phone for Hell’s sake as you could make out the barest minimum of details in the footage. A massive red building, hazy smoke and something else that flickered like disjointed images.

“Was..that a wall?”

“Yes.”

“And what the fuck is zipping across the screen like sooty tumbleweeds.”

“A fucking headache. That’s what.” Velvette growled as the ride to the office remained quiet after that. Your polished Oxford’s tip brushing comfortingly over her bare ankle as the motor of the limo broke through the small clicks of the keyboard. Oh, she was pissed as you couldn’t help but count the beat of her heels on the floor as she threw open the conference doors.

“NOW WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON. I WAS DOING THINGS.” Velvette demanded as you leaned against the door as a silent shadow. The coffee cup near Vox threatened to topple over when Velvette’s fist struck the table as her answers didn’t come as fast as the texts she sent.

“Don’t get yourself all worked up, babydoll. Seems like those things are willing to wait.” Valentino grinned as you could all but feel his scrutinizing gaze see through you like you weren’t dressed in a three piece suit, undershirt and another camisole for good measure. Or was it the flickering sheen of glitter on your throat. Its’ sparkle defiantly pierces the dark seeds of the sunflower’s center, its pale yellow petals dragging over your jugular.

“Not important.” Velvette snapped as Valentino chuckled through an exhale of smoke as he gestured the cigarette holder towards Vox who’s fingers steepled together with a twitch of impatience.

“So, as you can guess, our little loser of a spy was caught out-”

“The fucking failure failing, call me shocked.” Velvette deadpanned as she waltzed in one of the free chairs, immediately placing her feet on the desk with a cool expression. Oh, she was pulling out all the stops to irritate Vox as you quickly hid your smile behind a cough.

“Yes. But we still need surveillance on that flophouse of a hotel. Fucking prick made it clear that he wasn’t going to let something on the inside in terms of video feed. Gave me a fucking headache when I tried to-”

“Yes, yes, we know the Radio Demon seems to have sixth sense for you. Aren’t you special?” Velvette jabbed as Vox’s expression shifted from neutral to stiffening irritation. Her painted nails clicked against the firm metal of the desk as her smirk crawled onto her features.

Waiting. She was waiting for the control freak’s nerves to settle. Before dragging the proverbial dagger over his heart as Vox fixed his perfectly straight type.

“We need-”

“Not the correct word, darling.” Velvette sang out as Valentino let out a dry chuckle as there was a glitch in Vox’s screen for a split second. She intended to make this as painful as possible as your ears twitched in anticipation.

“Please have her-” The first word was spat like acid as Vox’s screen twisted in your direction. Almost uncomfortably slow as you waggled your fingers at the compromising overlord.

“Observe the hotel from the streets while we come up with a better plan.” Vox growled as Velvette clapped her hands together in childish glee as if she were a spoiled child being given a new toy.

“Done.” Velvette chirped as her arm craned up with her phone. Snapping a selfie of her, with the piercing red edge of your tie in the background. #Takeyourbabestoworkday #Voxtech #IWIN, the post hit the ground running as you approached the table, arm resting atop the chair with a casual posture.

“Not done.” You retorted

“But-”

“No more glitter bath bombs. Shit is sticking to my tongue like sand” You muttered as Velvette rolled her eyes but nodded all the same.

“Give me twenty-four hours then.” Your words came out like a slow haze as the cool sensation washed over your body. The first time it happened you thought you were dying again, but now it just felt like sinking into a cool bath. Within a blink of the eye, only the three Overlords remained.

“So, what exactly were you doing before this?” Valentino quiered with a lecherous grin as Velvette plucks a larger fragment of glitter from her hair with a scoff.

If he could only imagine.

#hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #x reader fic #velvette x reader #hazbin hotel velvette #silverinkwrites

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nunalastor · 25 days

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Dying to know what was going on with the overlords when Alastor was the youngest. He was the baby of the group but also by far the most powerful. He had more manners than the current youngest, Velvette, but he also went on a murder spree of powerful overlords as his debut in hell.

Imagine it being Jack-Jack situation, they all got the job of watching him but he kept causing mayhem while testing out his new powers. He's not even doing it on purpose (yet) and there's chaos.

Zestial and Rosie can't help but have a soft spot for him from the beginning.

😭

#hazbin hotel #alastor #nunalastor asks #baby overlord alastor #zestiel #rosie

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macsimagines · 7 months

Note

Buenos días, tardes o noches, ¿no te preguntaste cómo serían Mikey, Mitsuya y Kazutora cuando descubrieran que su amor de la infancia/novia adolescente, con quien rompieron por cualquier motivo, está a punto de casarse con un viejo amigo de ellos?

I will let your imagination fly

First and foremost, I have nothing against spanish or spanish speakers but please understand that i don't speak it and dont want to have to go through google translate to decipher a request again. NEXT, I have done this exact scenario for Mikey Here and therefore will not be including him in this

TW: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, MINORS DNI, MURDER, MAYHEM, ABUSIVE AND TOXIC BEHAVIOR

Yandere!Mitsuya Takashi

He didn't think this would happen... TBH he wasn't a yandere when you two were together or even when you two broke it off. You both had been going onto different paths and Mitsuya wasn't going to ask you to put your whole life on hold for him.

But then years later he sees you and realizes just how miserable he had been without you, how empty all the fashion shows and runways had been without you by his side.

He wants to reconnect, want to be with you again and try to do this right, his career has taken off and he wants to share it with you... but you're engaged. Nonononononono- he can't take that.

Mitsuya is smart though. He makes an offer you can't refuse. "Lemme make you a wedding dress. One of a kind. C'mon, Y/N~ You were always my favorite model."

And he spends months with you, going over design after design and fitting after fitting, each dress more breathtaking than the last to you. And hideous to him.

You're beautiful of course, the most perfect bride any man could ever ask for. And you're just out of reach. Mitsuya is like a man dying of thirst just a few steps away from an oasis.

If you were his wife you'd be the most beautiful bride, if you were marrying him the dress would've been the greatest in the world, if you were his, everything would be ok.

But you're not. It doesn't matter how much time you spend together, how hard he's trying to prove you belong with him, you still want to marry someone else.

The last fitting before the wedding that's only a few days away. "I know its last minute, but you'll love this dress more than anything," and you do. Its a dress that's completely different from the one you had chosen before but its too breathtaking to say no to.

"Takashi, it's perfect! I can't wait to wear this to my wedding!" "Our wedding, darling." "Wha-!" you don't see the hit coming, just the sharp pain in your neck and you vision blacking out are the last sensations you feel, panic rising within you when you realize suddenly that Mitsuya had knocked you out....

"Bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress, I know, but I gotta take matters into my own hands. Sleep well, when you wake up we'll be on our honeymoon~"

Yandere!Kazutora Hanemiya

He broke it off with you while he was serving time after Baji's death. It was a single moment of clarity. "I can't drag you down with me anymore, Y/N. I love you too much to destroy you too..."

Regretted it the very next morning. No matter what the detention center's therapist said about 'Healthy Boundaries,' and 'Breaking Cycles' he knew deep down it was a mistake.

When the guilt and shame he has brought onto himself aren't eating him alive, his head is full of thoughts of you. Are you doing ok? Are you happy? Are you sad? Are you staying loyal to him? Of course you are, you were the first time he got locked up surely-

Chifuyu has to tell him very gently a few days after he's released. "She's ok. Better than that. She's happy. Can't that be enough?" And Kazutora tries to let it be.

For your sake and his own and all the people that he's hurt, he tries to let you go again but it doesn't work and his resolve crumbles when he sees you on the street one day.

With him. You're smiling like an angel, like your soulmate wasn't locked away in a prison cell to rot all these years, next to some stranger, some fucking interloper.

Kazutora just shatters right there in the middle of the street and makes the biggest scene, shaking you by your forearms demanding answers.

"How could you do this to me!? To us? I waited so long to be with you again and you've betrayed me like this!" and your fiancé makes the sorry mistake of trying to get in between you two and is just dropped in five seconds flat from one devastating hit.

And he would've done more than just that if you hadn't stepped in to save him, tears and fury and hate burning in your eyes. "I wanted you, you turned me away! I would've waited life times for you, but then you rejected me! You don't get to act like you were betrayed when you gave up first!"

Your words and tears leave no room for argument, he can't say much to that, o he just lets you walk away with your fiancé and watches you the whole time, eyes searing into your back...

The day of the wedding finally comes but your groom is no where to be seen. Apparently nobody had heard from him since the night prior and you're so scared.

Of course because the love of your life has seemingly abandoned you at the altar, but what terrifies you more is Kazutora who showed up uninvited and unwanted. Smiling, wide and knowing eyes never leaving you once...

"Are you ready for your actual soulmate to step in?"

#yandere tokyo revengers #yandere mitsuya #yandere mitsuya takashi #yandere kazutora hanemiya

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defectivevillain · 10 months

Text

this broken design, ch8

pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reader

summary: “Dr. Lecter?” You blink a few times, convinced that you’re dreaming. The man’s gleaming eyes and concerned expression seem a bit too realistic to be conjured by your sleeping mind, though. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen him look worried. You quickly decide that you don’t like it.

“Hannibal, please,” the doctor responds nonchalantly. You stare at him in utter confusion. Just what is happening right now? You thought you were dreaming, but this feels a bit too vivid. “What are you doing out here?”

read the story from the beginning here. [this won’t make sense otherwise.]

[ao3 version]

apologies, the ao3 folks saw this first and i forgot to post it here 😔

Franklyn’s death is really weighing on you, even as the days continue to pass. Jack all but forces you out of the building, demanding that you take a few days off before returning. Normally, you’d jump at the chance for some free time. However, the last thing you need right now is more time to think. After an unnecessarily heated argument with Jack, he agrees to let you hold guest lectures. Unfortunately, that’s the extent of your current responsibilities. Instead of studying up on murder cases and investigating in the field, you’re confined to the classroom. It’s hard to hide your frustration and you find yourself struggling not to snap at inquiring students.

The newest class of FBI recruits is talented—that’s a given. However, they’re also far too confident in their abilities, which ends up being a hindrance. Confidence and self-assuredness can only take a person so far. When you go over the Garret Jacob Hobbs case with your class, you’re unsurprised to find that no one can produce an answer for how you narrowed in on him as a suspect. You end up having to dismiss the class early—both because of your increasing irritation and the pounding headache you’re beginning to develop. Unfortunately, your annoyed mood doesn’t deter everyone. Somehow, even after you’ve dismissed class and returned to your desk, a few students remain behind and ask you questions. You manage to get through those painfully awkward conversations and, after several minutes, you’re finally alone.

You put a hand on your temple and take a deep breath. The fluorescent lighting in the classroom is always bright, but now, it feels as if it’s burning into your eyes. You close your eyes for a blissful moment, allowing yourself to be submerged in the peaceful darkness. The clock in the far corner of the room is ticking rhythmically, the only sound to accompany the comfortable silence.

There’s a hand on your shoulder. You flinch awake and squint up at your newfound company, only to see Hannibal staring down at you with an indiscernible expression. Pain shoots through your ribs and you realize that the desk is jabbing into your skin. You slowly separate yourself from the desk, despite the compelling urge to close your eyes again.

“Good morning,” Hannibal remarks. You’ve grown to recognize that slight quirk of his lips as his attempt at concealing amusement. “It appears you didn’t get enough sleep last night.”

“What gave it away?” You answer wryly, your voice a bit raspy from your brief, unplanned nap. The lights above are burning into your vision again and it takes several moments for your eyes to adjust to the atmosphere. You take a deep breath and push your slightly-crumpled papers to the side. You can feel Hannibal scrutinizing the materials on your desk. It takes you a few moments to look up at him and realize that he isn’t paying any attention to the rather cluttered nature of your desk—it seems you were just imagining his judgment. You’re still grappling with the strange juxtaposition of growing closer to Hannibal, yet feeling as if you don’t understand him any better than before.

“Nightmares?” He asks.

You nod. “Only the usual blood and gore… murder and mayhem.” You don’t have the courage to expand on your nightmares or admit that you wake up every hour drenched in sweat and gasping for breath. You don’t mention how you have to mechanically walk to the sink and wash your hands, convinced that there’s blood spattered across your skin and staining your hands. You wipe a hand over your face and try to regain some semblance of composure. “Anyways, what are you doing here?” Hannibal rarely visits you at work—and right in your classroom, no less.

“Jack wants to speak with you,” Hannibal answers. “I was told to accompany you.” You idly wonder how well Hannibal took to being told what to do. Pushing the thought aside, you get to your feet and fall in step next to Hannibal as the two of you walk out of the classroom and towards Jack’s office.

“I spotted your name in a TattleCrime article.” Out of all the statements he could’ve used to break the silence between you, that one was an… interesting choice. You turn your head to the side and blink at him. Unsurprisingly, you can’t quite picture Hannibal Lecter sitting down and fervently reading an amateurish gossip tabloid. Perhaps you misjudged him.

“You read TattleCrime?” You ask, trying your best to keep the surprise from your voice. You shove your hands in your pockets and stare straight ahead, knowing you don’t have the energy to perform the socially-mandated eye contact. “You don’t seem the type.”

“It was an… intriguing read,” Hannibal admits. His shoes make slight pattering sounds as they click against the grey resin flooring. A few of your colleagues and coworkers stare as the two of you walk by. It seems that Hannibal is bound to draw attention wherever he goes. You almost feel like a shadow at his side, perpetually cursed to slip under the radar. Well, to others, that would be a curse; to you, it feels like a strange sort of blessing. No one pays you any attention as you walk down the halls of the bureau.

“The piece was rather timid for Freddie Lounds,” you acquiesce casually. The man at your side seems mystified by your comment and, for a few moments, the air falls to silence. You suppose the differences between Hannibal and you are rather pronounced in that regard. You can’t imagine Hannibal standing idly by amidst defamation.

“She’s written about you before?” Hannibal eventually inquires.

“Many times,” you say with a grin. Hannibal doesn’t smile back. You suddenly feel the need to elaborate. “I don’t care. It’s not like I have the best reputation to begin with.” The rest of your walk to Jack’s office is filled with a tense silence. You’re not quite sure why Hannibal is taking issue with what you said, so you instead give in and let your thoughts wander to other matters.

A minute later, the two of you are standing across from Jack in his office. Jack starts going on a tangent about the Chesapeake Ripper—which you only partially listen to—before turning to ask Hannibal a few questions. You’re a bit embarrassed to admit that you zone out through the majority of their conversation, and it isn’t until the two of them are staring at you that you realize your misstep.

“Yes?” You ask, turning to look at Jack expectantly. The man’s eyebrows are furrowed and he looks mildly irritated at the thought of your distraction. He must realize that you had no intention of genuinely zoning out, because the exasperation quickly fades from his expression.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes.” You frown at him with furrowed brows. That is a rather unusual question for Jack to ask. In your working history with the man, you’ve never once heard him inquire about someone else’s well being in such a straightforward and brusque manner.

“You’ve been quiet,” Jack frowns, looking at you expectantly. “Any thoughts on the investigation? I’d like to hear what you have to say before sending you to Baltimore.” Jack and Hannibal are both looking at you now. You pinch the bridge of your nose and stare down at the floor. Your conflicting feelings must show in your expression, because Jack continues. “Your honest thoughts.” There is significant emphasis placed on the modifier in that sentence. The clock on the wall behind Jack ticks mockingly. Time seems to drag on in this frozen moment. You take a minute to review what you’ve heard so far.

“I don’t think Abel Gideon is the Ripper,” You finally answer, knowing damn well that the Chesapeake Ripper you’re looking for is standing right across from you. “But it certainly doesn’t hurt to investigate all potential options.”

“Agreed,” Hannibal voices. You’re briefly struck with an intense, inexplicable irritation. Jack glances between the two of you and somehow seems to notice your growing anger. He raises his eyebrows at you. You take a deep breath and try to remain calm. When you’re overstimulated, it’s easy to get angry at other people for simply, well, existing. It’s hard not to get frustrated when you don't have as much control over the situation as you’d like. The reminder of another person’s mere presence—in this case, Hannibal’s—is enough to send you over the edge.

“I’d like to go alone,” you blurt out, quickly glancing at Hannibal before looking at Jack once more. Your boss seems to understand what you’re trying to say and he takes a deep breath.

“Hannibal,” Jack says diplomatically. “Do you mind if we have a private conversation?” Jack asks, his gaze still locked on you even as he speaks to Hannibal. The psychiatrist nods politely and leaves the room. The moment he leaves, you feel all the tension slowly seep from your shoulders. The occurrence doesn’t go unnoticed by Jack, whose brows furrow for a second.

“Are you sure you’re up for this, Agent?” Jack then asks scrupulously. You appreciate that he’s asking, but the hesitant manner in which he does so makes you feel as if you’re a fragile tea cup. Contrary to other people’s beliefs, you’re more than capable of handling yourself. You had done so for years without Hannibal’s assistance and you can continue to do so in his absence.

“I’ll be fine,” you answer quickly and determinedly. You clench your fists at your sides.

“Is there any reason why you requested to go alone?”

“I’m just burned out,” you respond honestly. As much as you enjoy Hannibal’s presence, you feel that you need time alone. You constantly have to monitor everything you do or say in front of the psychiatrist. That necessitated self-awareness, coupled with any preexisting environmental stimuli, can make you feel overwhelmed rather quickly. You don’t utter any of these thoughts aloud, but Jack seems to comprehend the underlying sentiment.

“Ah,” your boss says with an understanding nod. He folds his hands on his desk and levels you with an inquisitive gaze. Admittedly, it took you years to get used to Jack’s demanding stares. The power dynamics in your professional relationship made you feel as if you had to make eye contact with him in order to show proper respect. Thankfully, you eventually learned that the very notion was false. “Very well. You can go on the mission alone.”

“Thanks, Jack,” you smile slightly, feeling appreciative of your boss and his understanding. Jack Crawford can be rather stringent and assertive at times, but it’s during moments like these when you remember that he cares about your comfort in the workplace.

“And, Agent?” Jack asks. You raise a brow. “Be careful out there.” He continues. You appreciate the warning, but it sounds a bit ominous. Does Jack expect something to happen? You shake off the thought.

“Yes, sir,” You say before turning around, hitherto missing the way Jack’s eyebrows furrow at the honorific. You settle for leaving his office. Hannibal is waiting outside, but you walk past him and make your way back to your office alone.

In the blink of an eye, you find yourself standing before the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. As you look up at the building, the only thing you can feel is a profound sensation of dread. The hospital looms over you ominously, its dreary beige exterior making you feel rather uncomfortable. With each step you take, your resolve weakens. Maybe you should’ve had someone accompany you after all. You shake your head and grip the unnecessarily tall door, before stepping inside. The entrance hall is rather luxurious, despite your knowledge that the building is a government-funded prison. It takes you a moment to locate a sign and find Frederick Chilton’s office. Minutes later, you’re standing in front of an ornate wooden door that rests ajar, allowing you to see into the office. The man sitting at the desk looks up and gestures for you to come in.

“Hello, Dr. Chilton,” You decide to say, before moving to take a seat at the armchair across from his desk. The man’s attention is evidently pulled away from his papers, as he levels you with a scrutinizing gaze. You’re about to introduce yourself before understanding passes over his face and he seems to recognize you.

“The killer in the flesh,” Chilton remarks in amusement, leaning back in his chair and crossing his leg over his knee. You’re briefly struck with a resemblance to Hannibal, before you quickly do away with the thought. Chilton possesses none of the effortless grace that Hannibal does. In fact, Frederick Chilton’s movements and posture just make him seem like he’s peacocking.

“You’ve been reading too much TattleCrime, Dr. Chilton,” you remember to say, making sure to plaster a smile on your face to lighten the blow. Thankfully, the doctor doesn’t immediately recoil or usher you out of the office.

Instead, Chilton laughs. You curse internally. It seems that your prickly responses have only increased his interest. “Maybe so,” he acquiesces, leveling you with a hungry gaze. You instinctively lean back in your chair. “Care for an hour-long consultation? Entirely free of charge, of course.”

“No thanks.” You respond quickly.

“Most people would jump at the chance to speak with me for an hour,” Chilton remarks casually. At least, you suspect that he wants to sound casual. Instead, you fear he just sounds pompous and arrogant. You have to grip at the fabric of your jacket to keep yourself from saying something you may regret.

“I’m not most people, as I’m sure you’ve realized,” you snap with a little too much venom, before taking a deep breath. Lashing out at him won’t get you any closer to a conversation with Gideon. “Anyway. I’m here to speak to Abel Gideon.” You look at Chilton expectantly. There’s an awkward silence that descends across the space, before the man sighs. He looks you up and down—in a manner that makes you profoundly uncomfortable—before shaking his head.

“Unfortunately, you lack the proper paperwork,” Dr. Chilton smiles sadly. You aren’t fooled—it’s clear that he doesn’t truly care about the inconvenience this will cause you. “I’ll cut you a deal, though. You can speak with him after our consultation appointment.” Is the idea of a consultation with you really so fascinating to him? Despite his desperation, you don’t intend to entertain the thought for even a moment. You’ve met many of Chilton’s type—mental health “professionals” that treat their clients as test subjects. You have no interest in becoming a case study.

“Thank you for the generous offer, Dr. Chilton,” you say stiffly. “But I’ll have to decline; I’ll be back with that paperwork.” You don’t give him the chance to respond, instead rising from your seat and walking out of the office. You can feel the man’s gaze burning into your skin as you leave. It’s a different feeling than the one you get when Hannibal’s looking; that heated gaze of Chilton’s holds nothing but malice for you and hunger for your destruction. You can’t get out of the building fast enough.

After that catastrophe, you return to the institute and report your findings to Jack, who immediately grows irritated at the thought of you being turned away at the door. You can’t help but agree with him—you had really hoped to get everything finished with one visit. Honestly, the last thing you want to do is go to the hospital again. Unfortunately, it seems you don’t have a choice in the matter. Jack mentions that the paperwork should be ready within a few days and you’re effectively dismissed.

“Dr. Chilton has taken a rather unprofessional interest in me,” you recount, crossing one leg over the other in your designated chair. You’re back at Hannibal’s office for your weekly appointment. You’re still waiting on that paperwork from Jack, but you know it’ll be ready soon. In the meantime, you’re content to puzzle out just why Frederick Chilton seemed so interested in you. With that thought in mind, you look up at Hannibal.

The psychiatrist is completely frozen. It would be humorous, if not for the aghast expression on his face. Well, Hannibal’s expression is far from aghast—in fact, it’s almost entirely blank— but you like to think that you’ve learned to discern his true emotions.

“Are you alright?” You can’t help but ask.

“Of course,” Hannibal says with a slight smile. You avert your eyes and instead focus on the fire crackling in the fireplace. When you look at Hannibal's desk, you're surprised to find that the sketchbook from before is nowhere in sight. Perhaps he meant to hide it last time. Hannibal’s voice draws you away from your pseudo-inspection of his office. “I was simply taken aback by your choice of words.”

“What?” You frown. “Oh, unprofessional interest? I was referring to Chilton’s insistence on having an hour-long consultation appointment with me. I think he even offered to do it for free.” You shake your head in disbelief.

“You seem to be rather popular amongst psychiatrists and mental health professionals,” Hannibal remarks moments later, after he’s evidently recovered from his prior inexplicable shock.

“Can’t possibly imagine why,” you remark sardonically, finally understanding why Chilton was so interested in you. “I’m living, breathing proof of the failure of social conventions. Who wouldn’t be interested in all this insanity?” You laugh wryly.

“You’re not insane,” Hannibal maintains with furrowed brows.

“I appreciate that, Dr. Lecter,” you answer with a sincere nod. “But if that were the case, then I fear I’d put you out of business.”

Hannibal’s eyes widen, before a slightly amused smile falls onto his face. He clasps his hands and leans forward. You sense the conversation is about to take a turn. “May I accompany you on your next visit to Baltimore?” Hannibal asks politely.

“Sure,” you acquiesce. Secretly, you feel a little guilty for going alone the first time. However, you weren’t hired to be Hannibal’s partner for investigations. For a while there, you felt as if Jack was sending Hannibal with you to supervise you. It seems that isn’t the case, though—at least, that’s what you concluded after your conversation with Jack earlier in the week. “I can’t imagine it will be much fun for you, though.” You admit. The Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane isn’t the most entertaining place on the planet. You can’t quite imagine Hannibal—well-dressed, scholarly Hannibal—standing in those run-down halls. “I disagree.” Hannibal responds, wielding a wicked smirk. You feel a grin growing on your own face in response to his amenability. Hannibal will almost be acting as your security guard, in a twisted way. The thought amuses you far more than it should—so much so that Hannibal levels you with an inquiring gaze. You simply shake your head in response.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, effectively distracting you from the conversation at hand. You frown and ignore the notification, but your phone buzzes again a few moments later and you’re forced to pull it out. Your phone is currently both your work phone and personal phone, although you scarcely use it for personal matters. You get the feeling these sudden notifications are from Jack. Sure enough, when you open the encrypted messaging platform that the BAU uses, you have a few messages from Jack.

Jack Crawford: Just spoke with Alana concerning Gideon.

Jack Crawford: She was his psychiatrist for a while, and maintains that she has information you may need for your meeting with him.

Jack Crawford: I arranged a meeting for the two of you tomorrow morning.

You inhale sharply, before typing out a mediocre response and sending it. You place your phone back in your pocket and take a deep breath, feeling the need to keep yourself calm. You’ve been avoiding Alana ever since the incident… You’d rather not see her again. Unfortunately, however, it doesn’t appear like you have much of a choice. Your growing despair must show on your face, because Hannibal asks you about the nature of the messages.

“I have a meeting with Alana tomorrow morning,” you say, rubbing your hands over your face for a moment. You resist the compelling urge to altogether bury your head in your hands. What should you do? You have to attend the meeting, obviously—Jack asked you to attend and you could use more information on Gideon. However, you’re pretty uncomfortable with the idea of going alone. Suddenly, you think of a solution. “I’m normally not the one to ask, but…” You break off, feeling a bit embarrassed as you stare at Hannibal. However, the thought of Alana making any more romantic advances significantly trumps any of your current apprehension. “Will you go with me?”

“Of course,” Hannibal answers without hesitation. You feel the tension slowly leave your body. Suddenly, the world around you doesn’t look nearly as grim and gloomy. You focus on taking a few deep breaths.

“Thank you so much,” you murmur in relief. “...I’m hoping nothing will happen.” Hannibal frowns for a moment, before understanding passes over his face and his expression turns grave. He looks at you expectantly. His gaze is rather demanding—something you haven’t seen him display just yet—and you decide to meet his eyes. There is nothing but honesty in the lines of his face, the pull to his shoulders.

“Rest assured, I will not let anything of that nature occur,” Hannibal states with absolute certainty. Something about the determination in his voice and the knowing look on his face makes you feel safe. Moments like these make it even harder for you to connect him to the Chesapeake Ripper. There is no grotesque brutality in the gentlemanly way in which he escorts you out of his office after the appointment; there is no hint of ferocious violence in the softly spoken farewell he leaves you with. When you walk out to the car, the night is blanketed with twinkling stars and a full moon. There is beauty in the veiled darkness. You can’t help but think of Hannibal in the same way.

next chapter

#defectivevillain #apologies if the formatting is a lil screwy #Hannibal Lecter x reader #Hannibal Lecter x male reader #Hannibal Lecter x gn reader #hannibal x reader #hannibal x male reader #hannibal x gn reader #hannibal nbc

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geekyarmorel · 5 months

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Hi! Are you up for some Mother Miranda x reader request? I have in mind this idea where at some point MM ventures outside the village for purposes(murder/mayhem/experimentation, ahem). But let's imagine she caught sight of some pretty young woman/reader and decided to have some fun with her cause... needs. It was a one night stand and they go their separate ways. Obviously reader doesn't know who she spend her night with. But some time later, in a few months, the reader stumbles across the village and gets caught by one of Lady Dimitrescu's daughters. She's forced to work there and endures all the horrors residing in that castle. But one day MM visits, reader recognizes her and... the rest is up to you!

Hey! I didn't write so much of the one night stand thing but rather the aftermath. So here's to hoping that you like it!

Your Eyes (I'd know them anywhere)

A Mother Miranda Oneshot

You sat in front of the fireplace in your Lady's bedroom. On the pillow that she gave to cushion your knees. Tears doting your eyes as you waited for your mistress to come and punish you. You had been caught looking at their guest and the Lady had snapped at you demanding you leave immediately and you quickly fled.

Your mind was buzzing from the sight of the guest. Even though she wore a golden crow mask on her face you still recognized those icy blue eyes anywhere. Miranda.

Scenes from before you were captured playing on repeat through your head. The nights of passion, the days of lounging while skin pressed against skin. Her smile, her laugh, the way she looked at you like you were the center of her world. You remembered the times you took her to eat, taking her to your favorite spots around your city. You both wanted to make the most of her week long trip before she had to leave. You knew you'd never forget her, that no one could ever compare to her.

You remembered her words, her wish to take you with her. You wished that she could have stayed. Before she parted you promised that if your path ever crossed again, you'd come with her.

But that was before this.

Before getting captured by the daughters. You had gotten lost on a backpacking trip and they found you. Hunted you down like a predator hunted their prey. They brought you to the castle and to the horrors that oozed from the very walls. The Lady had taken to you, you were marked as her's by the bite that you bore. While you had been here you had seen so many horrible things, and your stomach twisted as you thought of what punishment awaited you. Just because you were the Lady's pet did not mean you could escape her wrath.

The sound of footsteps came from the otherside of the door, you flinched and quickly made sure you were in the position that she wanted you in. On your knees, head bowed, hands clasped in front of you. The door slowly opened and your heart began to beat rapidly and you did your best to calm it.

The Lady's dress came into your vision but you dared not look up, you could feel tension in the air as she stood there. The smell of rich tobacco filled your nostrils, you knew she only smoked when she was in a bad mood. She stepped to the side and let a blacked robe individual come to stand in front of you. You didn't dare raise your head, afraid to make a move. "Give us a moment Alcina." Her voice was just as rich as it had been all that time ago.

"Of course Mother Miranda." Your Lady replied, her weighted footsteps receding out the door that shut with a firm click.

Silence reigned for a while, before her hand came and grasped your chin softly. She tilted your head up and eyes seeking yours, you could feel yourself tremble but made the eye contact regardless. Her eyes were the same though they held a certain softness in them than when you had saw them earlier. "Hello Y/N."

"Hello." You said weakly, unsure of the emotions that were swirling inside of you.

She seemed to sense these and gently soothed her thumb across your cheek, careful of her gold gilded claws. "Easy, you are safe as long as I am near." Miranda assures you, "I am going to take you home with me. Do you have any belongings?"

"No. Everything I have and am belongs to my mistress." You repeat dutifully, like she had taught you.

You could see the way her scowl hardened her eyes behind her mask. "You will not say that again." Her voice firm with a hint of ice in it, there is loathing in her voice when she speaks again. "She's ruined you my precious little bird." You feel tears threaten to fall and she strokes your cheek again. "Come rise and let's go."

You examine her now, part of you unsure of whether or not to trust her. You want to, you want what you had back with her, but could you just shake off these horrible things that she's allowed others to do?

Miranda sighs very softly, you almost miss it. "Y/N, I know what you've seen has been horrifying but it all serves to achieve my goal. I will bring back my daughter Eva, I will have her in my arms again." She looks over your face and removes her mask with her other hand, lowering her face to yours. The bridge of her nose rests on yours, your eyes slipping close as you feel your heart stir more for her. "And after what we shared, after the way you made me feel alive for the first time in years, I want you to be by my side when I do succeed. Can you accept this?"

Could you?

You can't help the love that swells in your heart for the woman, the thought of being a family with her makes your heart leap. Could you just turn a blind eye to all that you've seen? Your heart says yes, urging you to give in while your brain remains unsure. You deliberate for a moment, the silence stretching like an eternity before you speak. "Yes. I can accept it."

Her lips press against yours, hand coming to hold you there as she kisses you again and again. Opening your eyes you see the smile that curls her lips, making your heart flutter. She places the mask back on before stepping back. "I shall be right back." You nod as you watch her leave the room. It isn't long before you hear your Lady's voice rise, anger clear in her tone. Your heart beat quickens and it makes you tremble a little but when Miranda comes back you can't help but smile as you take her hand. "Let's go home now."

#miranda #mother miranda re8 #re8 mother miranda #resident evil mother miranda #mother miranda x reader #mother miranda #mother miranda × reader #mother miranda×reader #mother miranda × Y/N #geeky answers #geeky writes #resident evil village

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 9 days

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Bruh I remember you saying how there was a point in his life where Yves was possibly facing death row because of some insane human experiments and now I’m just imagining him in court looking cunt as f in that orange jumpsuit like: “12 counts of kidnapping” *flips hair over his shoulder* “6 counts of dealing in dead human remains” *crosses legs* “18 counts of Mayhem” *bats eyelashes* “20 counts of first degree murder” “3 counts of possessing, selling or usage of weapons of mass destruction” like he’s be so nonchalant because he knows that he’s gonna be free and won’t see another night of jail and that the courts are just doing this to satisfy the loved ones of the families that were affected.

Now I wonder like, I remember in an earlier ask it looked like Yves might’ve looked quite different when he was in his doctor era, not as femme and with shorter hair, would this coincide with his mad scientist era as well? Or would this be afterwards?

I also feel like the human experimentation stuff happened while he was trying to essentially patch himself up and used live donations to do that. I dunno y but I have a headcanon that all of that may of happened earlier into his medical career, like I can imagine him first starting, always wearing a surgical mask and gloves because his face and hands probably looked DASTARDLY, and over time, as he patches himself up reveals more and more of himself.

I dunno, just my idea, probably doesn’t match up with your own tl but I was thinking about it since I saw it and now I have the time to put it into words! Love your writing and I love Yves!!!!!!!!

Tw; Yves past and full of traumas n shit, body horror and stuff

Trust me, he wasn't serving cunt in court, there was a reason why he has any video, photo and even memorial evidence of it scrubbed.

The first time he got sentenced heavier than a few years in prison without parole, he was screaming and hissing and kicking as the guards took him away. Yves was bitter and full of hatred, his quest to become beautiful again was interrupted too early because of his immature carelessness. It hasn't even been half a decade since he received his license and he's already caught. Fellow inmates avoided him because there was just something not right about that man even though he was one of the scrawniest and visibly weakest in the institution.

He already knows how to make scalpels out of nothing, Yves's extensive knowledge of human biology means that he could very easily kill or debilitate anyone without a hitch. The gangs wouldn't want to mess with him, the weaker ones wouldn't want to get his attention, and not even the wardens wanted to go near him if they could help it. The vibes were just... Off. He wasn't a pretty sight for the eyes either, especially with his scars and deformities from years of abuse.

It was only years after he 'calmed' down enough to think properly in prison. Unfortunately though, during his turbulent years, he racked up a large number of mutilation and murder victims in his facility. He was the worst and deadliest inmate in there, at one point having a judge sentence him to death because he was just too much of a threat to be kept alive.

So he sobered up, pushed aside his anguish for his looks and dignity robbed away from him. Yves considerably mellowed himself down, opting to be more diplomatic and cunning to get what he wanted. He had to learn how to seduce the people that matter without the help of his youth and looks, he would play the meek, helpless deformed cutie in distress. It managed to win the hearts of some key personnel that aided him in escaping. Not only the prison, but the system too.

Through a lengthy, convoluted, and nerve-wracking plan paved by betrayal, drugs, sexual exploitation, torture, and evil intentions, Yves somehow got his death sentence reversed. And slowly, dissolved his other penalties too with the help of his contacts and smart thinking. He sacrificed a lot to get out and most importantly, acquire experiences.

He kept going until he finally escaped, entirely. Having the authorities off his back because they cannot convict him anymore. Using every legal loophole and doing shady things to paint him as innocent in the eyes of the law. Hell, they didn't even remember him, as if he induced permanent amnesia into those who brought him to justice in the first place. He had done the impossible and he had become a traitor to everyone he had used to attain his goals, dooming them to their horrible fates because they abused and brutalized him when he was at his lowest.

From there, he had attained his secret, unstoppable weapon: patience. Yves has learned a valuable lesson, that is if he keeps acting out and thinking that he's running out of time, he will fuck up and not go anywhere.

Now that he knew the ins and outs of the system (and the psychology of those involved), the next time he was caught and brought for another court hearing in handcuffs, he wasn't serving cunt either. He had to manipulate everyone into thinking that he was innocent and simply framed for something he didn't do. Yves is playing his own chess and winning at every round, he knows all the moves and what to do, and he calculates the risks and benefits, the probability of what might happen. Who he should endear himself to and who he should appear intimidating to.

When it comes to trouble, he is never serving cunt nor flop. He is always serving nothing. Because he knew that attention can be deadly, for every case he got himself into, one of his main priorities was to keep it hush-hush. The less people know, the less he has to eliminate, the better.

He wormed back into his medical career, laying low for a bit but ultimately scheming to get back to usual programming. Yves learned how to be much more careful, and sneaky. He learned how to keep their screams muffled and enhanced his forgery skills. The importance of having numerous scapegoats at his disposal is greatly emphasized so his quest wouldn't be interrupted too soon again. Those who truly knew the monster under that calm and collected facade either feared or respected him, or both. Everyone else didn't know who he even was or his relevance to anything, that's exactly what Yves wanted: obscurity. Fame did nothing but get him in trouble and tormented, so he sunk into the comforting depths of anonymity.

Only when he got the face, hands, and feet that he wanted, Yves fucked off from the medical field to do other things he wanted. But mostly it is to work on his mental fortitude to become the powerhouse he is right now. It doesn't mean he quit entirely, though. Present day, He would still run his morbid experiments from time to time on people who wronged him; there is definitely no shortage of them in the world. Yves does that to satisfy his curiosity or to research how to make your life better.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere male #oc yves #yandere oc x reader #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere concept #male yandere oc x reader

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justanotherhh · 1 month

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Thinking about Alastor and aroace loneliness

was chatting with @creepysora about the feelings of aroace loneliness that occur when one can't fulfill the requirements of relationship structures and connections that are demanded in an amatonormative and allosexual environment -- friendships that end because of being unable to "commit" to more, or because they faded out of ones life in favour of a monogamous romantic relationship, difficulties in finding a shared language through which to form connections in the first place, discomfort with spaces and people that cross sexual boundaries, etc. -- how does one find A Place and A People without entrance into this language and these desires?

this whether or not someone might be along aplatonic and/or loveless, and/or repulsed lines or not

so imagining Alastor (alive and dead) from this perspective, if he did ever feel that, and how he'd have muddled through it in his own particular kind of way (power, control, murder, mayhem, etc)

breaking down his relationships:

mimzy: seems to be quite cold-hearted about their relationship, that is, she turns up when she needs something and alastor has enough of a soft spot that until he was at the hotel/had something "more" to fight for potentially, he let her set those terms. that could indicate some desire for closeness that couldn't otherwise be met, until the hotel? it also suggests there is some fondness for the life he had while alive, although mimzy appears so far to be the only person in hell that has carried through. as for what they were doing while alive outside of drinking and dancing, well, that's still a little mystery. if the hotel gang have become closer to him than mimzy was, then maybe he's starting to feel like he can be involved with people without it simply being about being used. speaking of the gang...

niffty and husk seem to be -- more or less -- on friendly or (in husk's case) at least open terms with him, but he's forcing them into that relationship, so on his side is that "just" power or also a way to keep them with him, to control how and when they stay and leave, to remove the danger of trust. similarly to mimzy, it's not a healthy way to form relationships, but perhaps it's the only way he can be sure to do so on his terms?

rosie -- I think rosie (from what we've seen so far) appears to be the most "uncomplicated" of his relationships, that is, it's not unequal, there's no force, no subterfuge, they don't appear to be "using" each other, they seem to be pretty emotionally honest, and she's possibly the only person who knows he's (aro?)ace (which he doesn't of course, but point is she's seen through some of his barriers and she doesn't judge or try to push, while still clearly enjoying his company). they're colleagues, but they're also on friendly terms, and don't judge each other for how they live their lives (queer metaphor there). is there a teensy edge to it along the lines of overlords generally having an air of "as long as you still have power we're equals, but only as long as you still have power," to them? this a musing, i think carmilla and zestial would be on each others sides through thick and thin from the sounds of things -- would alastor and rosie trust each other to do the same?

the other overlords -- probably not close, but he wants them to acknowledge him/pay attention to him/not forget him

vox. well. vox.

charlie. complicated. joined on as a hotelier, definitely more than a little subterfuge and manipulation involved, and of course now she's made a deal with him. yes, all of this is Plot, but it's also very... alastor-as-person. keep'em guessing, don't let them get close, always have the upper hand, even with someone like charlie, who would probably have been in his corner simply because she (terror of terrors) likes him!

angel, vaggie, sir pentious: aka "the rest of the hotel gang." I think that alastor stiiiiill hasn't integrated entirely into the hotel-as-found-family-concept, although with the reactions to his arrival (save for lucifer and husk) it seems that he's gone from standing on the sidelines (emotionally) to potentially...? accepting that he has a real place there, that he is (scary word used again) liked. which, maybe not quite right putting those three characters in one section, because he had a different dynamic with all of them, but crucially none of them were close with him in s1. they ran the gamut from creeped out (pentious) to creeped out but would still tap that (angel) to open dislike/distrust (and i assume some of that distrust on vaggie's part might still be there, considering the deal, but she does seem relieved that he's Not Dead, so progress). he calls the the hotel gang as a whole friends -- that is, in a way that strongly implies he's still not accepting it/keeping the idea at arm's length "alastor altruist died for his friends" as something almost mocking, but perhaps with a grain of truth...? potentially in s2 he'll be fighting the wish to be sincerely close with these people (minus pentious in heaven), because his instinct is that it's dangerous to be vulnerable, because they could hurt you by taking your soul by turning away when something better comes along or demanding something that you can't give

gen questions: outside of mimzy what did his living existence look like? was he looking for closeness? it does seem like he may have been, considering he does look for that in death/has quite a social circle, considering. business acquaintances that were reading the word "partner" differently, girl friends who "fell in love," boy friends who "fell in love" (less likely considering how he feels about men but still), friends who disappeared when they entered into monogamous romantic relationships, a consistent potential nagging feeling of being left behind, but not knowing how to solve that and so becoming more distant…

and then of course, there's the murders which we still don't know the contexts of and so can project all kinds of things onto -- distaste with how people cross into his or others' boundaries potentially by abusing power they have, betrayal at feeling abandoned, a way to simply keep people close on his terms, (or something completely different. I also like the idea that he murdered racists, which is a different impulse than the vaguer above ideas, but may fit into people who abuse their power/cross peoples' boundaries)

I do think there's something about being Seen (or in alastor's case "Heard" if taken more literally) and controlling the narrative that is about drawing people in in a way he can control, that does feel like it mitigates the dangers that exist in relationships, in a very particular way if you're aroace. either he controls the fabric of the relationship so that they literally cannot leave (husk, niffty, potentially charlie) or he controls the closeness of the relationship so that the terms and conditions are clearly set and shouldn't be overstepped/if they are overstepped he can easily opt out, and/or if they leave, he can't get hurt (the hotel gang, rosie and vox to an extent in that they were/are colleagues which is a very particular Type of relationship, potentially mimzy)

so he is never without people around him, and needs to know they See him/Hear him, and if they don't there's a… twitchiness there. a sense of being forgotten perhaps? of being obsolete? of having nothing more to offer? if you're not pursuing the correct kinds of connections (the only kinds of connections that apparently really matter) then how do you make sure that people don't forget you? that you don't simply disappear?

romance and (to an extent) sex are powerful forces, but in alastor's case they're forces for bad that he's trying to crowbar some kind of place for himself in, no matter how disjointed and strange and even at times cruel his way of doing so may look from the outside

#smthinsmthin the bottom part is really a different meta in the end #alastor avoiding becoming a ghost or something #aroace alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel #hh #hh meta #hazbin hotel meta #alastor meta #my meta

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odetoviscera · 9 months

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Baldur's Gate 3: The Evil Experience

on the recommendation of @leupagus: My Very Special Evil Boy, Vexation. don't worry about the blood, it's a fashion choice.

if you've been wondering how evil you can be in baldur's gate 3, wonder no more-- So Evil.

so beginning at the beginning, i of course chose the Dark Urge (obvious serial killer) origin, who is conveniently customizable, so i also made him Drow and a Lolth Worshipper and a Warlock (all of which has made him only marginally more evil, tbh, mostly the related dialogue options make him a smug bastard, although OCCASIONALLY this will give him a "hmm what if i enslaved you" option which people do indeed react to as if he's an evil maniac and they should flee and/or try to kill him. this goes great for them considering i'm the protagonist.)

i wake up on an illithid ship with no memories, as one does. i befriend a walking talking brain, by which i mean i lobotomize it so that i can more easily control and manipulate it, as one does. i may not know who i am, but i definitely know that i am powerful, mean, and more important than everyone here. also i have a great old one in my brain giving me eldritch blast, so the tadpole wriggling around in there seems normal. i crash the ship sort of accidentally and am set loose on my merry way to wrack the Sword Coast with terrible mayhem. probably. as soon as i figure out if i'm about to turn into a mindflayer.

the first sign of my uncontrollable evil mania was when i tried to talk to a squirrel in act one (actually, i tell a lie, the FIRST sign was when i was tempted to hack Gale's hand off instead of dragging him out of the portal he got stuck in, but i decided i needed a wizard more than a dismembered hand) and the narrator informed me i had been Gripped By A Compulsion and promptly dropkicked the squirrel into a tree. it died, obviously. i was given the option to decide if i cared about this and decided that my opinion was a frankly inappropriate level of malicious glee considering the heights from which i, clearly child of murder, have obviously fallen to get amnesia and get tadpoled and fall out of the sky on a dying illithid spaceship. anyway this set me up for Being Maximally Deranged, however there is No Karma Meter or any equivalent system to MEASURE your evil or limit your dialogue options-- i have free reign at all times, i COULD decide that suddenly i'm going to be a Repentant Murderer, i can do Nice Things if i want the reward or the exp or i am exercising my single scintilla of compassion accidentally inculcated by my eventual three simultaneous romances (one of which is with the mindflayer who lives in my brain/an artifact stopping ME from becoming a mindflayer. this game is so horny, very classic dnd "i roll to romance the villain". except i am also the villain.) at this point i have no romances, though-- at this point my companions watch me kick a squirrel to death and their collective response is "well… that seemed… excessive."

i also have the option to tell every single one of them individually that i am driven by a blood mania to murder and destruction. opinions of this range from "well admitting you have a problem is the first step!" to "that's nice, just point it at the enemy instead of ME". no one seems appropriately concerned about this. they'll learn.

anyway the next sign of my uncontrollable evil mania is that when i decided to be nice to a bard for no reason and she showed up at our next long rest to Join The Party (oh we do get a bard companion, that's nice, i said, like a fool.) i promptly murdered her in the night. as in i woke up covered in blood with her corpse ritually slaughtered at my feet and said "hm. probably shouldn't let anyone else find out i did this" and then sulked when no one gave me proper respect and rewards for murdering her. fortunately the next day my Evil Butler materialized to do just that, and proved he wasn't a figment of my imagination by giving me an Evil Cloak that lets me turn invisible everytime i murder someone. i spend the next half an act or so convinced i'm going to slowly kill off my party, but fortunately i develop the ability to control myself. now i only murder when I WANT to murder.

the rest of act one i am SORT OF a good boy-- i do deliberately get a child killed but i don't PERSONALLY kill her, i get a druid's snake to do it, so does it really count against MY soul? yes but only me and daddy bhaal know it so i am able to continue playing Goody Two Shoes for the rest of the act. (i don't know he's my daddy yet, but like… i know it. i, the player, know it. in my soul. i've played these games before.) delightful fallout, my child murder gets the druid killed after i Helpfully Save The Tieflings by telling the opposing force i'll totally help them break in and kill them all, then betraying them at the last minute. i kill so so so many goblins. i get an inspiration point for how many goblins i kill. goblins are still sentient. It's Still Murder.

act two, however, empowered by all my Blood And Chaos, i turn over a new leaf. sure sure being lauded by the tieflings was fun and all, but i do somewhat regret not killing EVERYONE. i'll do better this time. this shadow-cursed hellscape is really vibing with me. it's also trying to eat me every time i'm not carrying a magic lamp but you can't win 'em all. i pretend that i'm with the antagonists (can you call them villains when I'M the villain?) so i can get their lamp. it's carried by a drider who does not appreciate my sincere compliments about how beautifully fucked up he is. his loss, i'm down to fuck anyone. i'm already fucking a githyanki and a vampire spawn.

when i get to the Big Bad Tower where supposedly they'll know about my tadpole, i discover they know something WAY MORE IMPORTANT: who the fuck i am. everyone here recognizes me. no one will tell me anything. several of them are appropriately terrified. this is infuriating but also promising. the Big Bad is a smug dick and i want to eat his heart raw. i daydream about this.

my butler arrives to tell me if i murder a Special Girl i'll get a treat. i like treats and i LOVE murder so i go looking for her. she's maintaining a Magic Selenite Moon Shield over the single not-shadow-cursed place here, which i hate on principle-- also it's a harper outpost and i hate them too, they'd probably disapprove of murder. some rando minion with wings drops in to tell me the Big Bad of the region wants to kidnap her (ALIVE, he specifies) so obviously i now double want to kill her. i kill her in one round. the magic shield collapses. EVERYONE dies (including the tieflings i saved in act one! full circle.) and then i kill their shadow-cursed undead corpses again, for good measure.

my treat is getting to turn into the slayer. i KNEW i was a bhaalspawn.

behold my true glorious visage. (with blep.) my only complaint is that i can only become this hulking death machine once per long rest. it is, however, not a turn-limited form, i can stay in it Forever if no one kills me as long as i'm willing to Just Murder No Talking. also it has a spectacular ladder-climbing animation, this bitch goes down ladders face-down like a lizard, i love him.)

anyway i don't go back to the Big Bad Tower bc presumably they'll be mad about the dead girl (i'm guessing she's Big Bad's dead daughter miraculously resurrected. i'm totally right by the way.) but the last time i was there i got a quest to find the Big Bad's Relic, which is obviously his phylactery or something since he's got a whole death aesthetic-- after a whole Temple of Shar sequence it turns out his phylactery is a captive aasimar actually. my companion wants to murder her for shar-related reasons, so i give her the go-ahead since i don't have any SPECIAL reason to kill her myself. my companions should get to be evil occasionally too.

with his phylactery dead, it's pretty easy to mow through the Big Bad Tower, especially since i can now turn into the Death Machine. i don't have to talk to anyone here. i can Just Murder.

nearly kill the Big Bad but he flees to his basement, where it turns out there's an mindflayer colony, big deal, we've all got tadpoles in our brains (i've been eating other tadpoles for extra power along the way, because of course i have) okay fine it's a slightly big deal bc there's an elder brain here that my Special Mindflayer Friend is shielding us from whatever. it's under the control of the Big Bad who's death aesthetic turns out to be that he's the Chosen of Myrkul, and also here are reps of the other Dead Three, Bane and My Daddy. i hate bhaal's chosen on sight, as is traditional for a bhaalspawn. i will murder her someday. i will murder her SO GOOD.

unfortunately she and the baneite fuck off with their elder brain to lay siege to baldur's gate while i'm daydreaming about it, so for now all i get to murder is Big Bad Myrkul Edition. moderately satisfying. he turns in an Avatar of Myrkul in the second half but i destroy him so quickly he doesn't even get to regenerate with the hojillion corpses in the area. nobody murders like vexation.

off to baldur's gate to save the city/get bigger hunting grounds!

i do cure the shadow curse on my way out though, because i'm never coming back and i've left the place a blighted wasteland, why not, it gets me a pet druid.

there's also some drama with githyanki and vlaakith, as usual, turns out the Rebel Prince Orpheus is actually how my particular mindflayer (who is finally revealing that he's a mindflayer, a thing i have suspected all along because of all the psychic shit he does) is doing the shielding, etc. etc. also i let my mindflayer boyfriend turn me in a half-illithid, which means i get no tentacles but a BUNCH of new mindflayer powers to make me an even better murderer. can't wait to see who wins in the tug-of-war for my mind, body, and soul--the illithids, my great old one beyond the stars, a devil who keeps trying to get my attention, my vampire boyfriend who wants to ascend to vampire god, or Murder Daddy. my bet is murder daddy.

anyway we get to baldur's gate, where i break in bc i don't want any guards to know i'm here-- just jumped and flew my way up the side of the bridge past the checkpoint. easy peasy now that i have illithid flight powers on command no cooldowns just Psychically Levitate wherever i want to go. also i can turn into a displacer beast. that's right, i now have to option to become TWO DIFFERENT terrifying horror beasts and rip through mobs like papier-mache. my patron really needs to keep up, warlock powers are falling behind. (no they aren't, i've hit level 10 and can now eldritch blast three times in one round and every hit knocks enemies back and terrifies them. i'm gonna chew this city up and swallow it one bite.)

however, first thing when i get into the citadel: the baneite is being coronated Archduke, bc of course he is. so i head up to see if there's a chance to murder him and a room full of peers, BUT. for the first time EVER-- this little shit is willing to tell me Who I Am. Assassin of Bhaal, former high priest of His Temple, and ONE OF THE INVENTORS OF THIS CONQUEST PLAN. that little bhaalite chosen is my bhaalspawn sister (obviously) who fucking tadpoled me, gave me amnesia, and discarded me before making sure my corpse was cold. this will be a mistake! FOR HER.

in the meantime the baneite wants me to know that he is a big fan of mine, would i like to murder my sister since i already murdered the myrkulite, and then he and i can rule this city together with an iron grip and a blood knife, since he's sure he'll have a lot of use for an assassin as a tyrant. mind-reading and my brain-illithid agree that he is actually on the level about this, at least for the moment, so of course i agree. i will rule this city. and then i will murder him. and then i will murder EVERYONE. in THE WORLD.

so now i'm hunting the current chosen of bhaal so i can kill her and steal her place-- my butler is sending me divine visions of it, SHE can't turn into the slayer, i am evil daddy's favourite. she's also kidnapped one of my companions and is threatening to kill her if i show up but i care about that less.

and that's where i am so far! will report on Future Evils.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 oc #baldur's gate evil edition #truly sorry i don't have more screenshots #i'll try to remember to take more for the rest of act three lol

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fangbangerghoul · 2 months

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Fleeting Pleasures Masterpost

Tw: 18+, MDNI, violence, cursing, drug use, degradation, interrogation, murder

WC: 62,721

Chapter 1: Hemostasis

This timeline takes place somewhere in between the previous works: Settling with the Stars and Cellar Door. Our main character is learning to live a life where her past no longer has to burden them and what life means to them. They have to decide between a future with no limits or a future with stability. (Delgado, Sam Coe, MC love triangle)

Chapter 2: Hemostasis pt 2

Tensions increase as characters do not see eye to eye like they used to. Main character struggles to feel respected by her crewmates while some of them desperately just try to reconnect with MC.

Chapter 3: The Key pt 1

It has now been a couple of months since our main character has last seen or contacted her friends. What has life on the Key had in store for them? Tw: cannon violence, blood, drug and alcohol use, sexual suggestions

Chapter 4: The Key pt 2

The murder and mayhem of living on The Key can has its benefits and its disadvantages. What does this do to our main character? Tw: cannon violence, blood, drug and alcohol use, sexual suggestions

Chapter 5: Get 'Em Cowboy

It's been two months since the main character's crew members have seen her in person. What lengths will Sam and Andreja go to, to find their captain? What has Delgado found out about his Fleet members?

Chapter 6: Quien eres tu

Our main character is at her wits end and soon the jig is going to be up. This might be her end on The Key. TW: CNC, Smut, roughness, interrogation

Chapter 7: No Rest for the Wicked

Ghoul has confessed her sins to Delgado while Andreja and Sam finally have a real lead to bring themselves closer to their captain. Our characters stories are getting closer to tying back together once again and wow there are some misconceptions for both parties.

Chapter 8: Ascensionism

A whirlwind of emotions takes our characters to situations never imagined by any of them. Sam, Ghoul, Delgado. Tw: cannon violence, blood

Chapter 9: bad decisions

The aftermath of chapter 8 and how the characters are preparing themselves to move forward.

Chapter 10: Oops I Did It Again

Time is no longer linear for our characters and is moving at an alarming rate. The choices they make will decide the nearing end.

Chapter 11: Got Lost in the Game

The FINAL chapter of the Fleeting Pleasures series. It is the end of an era for Ghoul, Sam, and Delgado.

THANK YOU so much for all the readers who have subscribed, bookmarked, left kudos, commented, and stuck with this journey to the end! Your support has meant the world and I appreciate every lovely thing anyone has ever said about my story. I poured my heart, soul, and blood into this thing.

#starfield #sam coe #starfield fanfiction #the coemancer crew #coemancer #fanfic #crimson fleet #fic masterpost #fang writes #ghoul vibes only #end of an era #ao3 fic #starfield oc #starfield delgado #delgado #sam coe fanfiction

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daceydeath · 1 year

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Hierarchy (Part 7)

Heirachy: a system, especially in a society or organization, in which people are organized into different levels of importance from highest to lowest.

Pairings: Mafia Changbin x Reader Word Count: 6.2k Genre: Mafia AU, friends to lovers, slow burn romance Warnings: 18+, minors dni, swearing (too much), verbal threats, gun violence, blood, gore, murder and mayhem

You have always been utterly uninteresting, safely boring as close. You had a normal job, normal friends and the sweetest bestie on the planet but now everything is upside down and that best friend of yours is far more dangerous than you could have ever imagined.

Changbin knew they would give him shit the entire way to the meeting but he would put up with it for the small risk that he might not see you again, this life was violent and ambushes and double crosses were not uncommon he had to be sure you knew he would risk everything to keep you beside him and safe.

"When did that start?" Chan asked breathlessly still laughing at Hyunjin's dramatics.

"Today" he shrugged.

"So it's official then? Should I not have left her with Han and Minho then?" Chan teased.

"It is and she would crush them if they tried anything" he smirked "She may be just a normal girl to the rest of you but she has the over protective bitchy streak that even floors me and Felix sometimes".

"I would believe that she was quite protective of Jeongin and Seungmin the other day" Chan conceded making the other's stop with their joking around.

"What do you mean?" Jeongin asked furrowing his eyebrows.

"The other day before she gave us the journal locations she might have given Chan some lip" he sniggered looking proud.

"Might have? she straight up told me if I couldn't assure her the two of them were safe she wasn't giving me shit" Chan smirked looking pleased.

"Why would she do that?" Seungmin seemed slightly confused by your apparent need to protect him

"Because your a member, she understands that when we do things like this we have each others backs, she is just showing the same care for you as she does Lix" he shrugged watching the others turn soft for you slowly.

"Well she isn't protective of Chan" Jeongin pointed out

"Not that you have seen" Chan smirked trying to rile him up again

"Yeah, yeah whatever you can give me all the shit you want if we get out of this unscathed" he sighed looking at their surroundings and realizing they were only a few minutes away.

"Ok boys we have done this a hundred times before you all know your role" Chan turned serious quickly "when we get home we can tease the happy couple as much as we like but right now heads in the game"

"Boss" they all chorused one after the other falling silent for the rest of the way.

"Once again standard plan, we meet and see what they want, we either leave and vote or if we are getting fucked over we make a decision there are five of us here if we all agree that is all that matters" Chan repeated for the third time that day.

The meeting had been called at the edge of the two territories in an currently disused industrial area that was technically on neutral turf but both considered their end border. Appearing that they were the first on scene Chan instructed that they dropped Hyunjin, Seungmin and Jeongin at a different warehouse before continuing to where the meeting would occur.

"If they aren't here in 30 minutes we leave" Chan spoke knowing the others would hear him through their ear pieces.

"You think we are the set up and they will hit the company then?" Hyunjin hissed "I should be back at the house then"

"I'm not sure, but stay put until we know either way" Chan groaned knowing that Hyunjin was worried about both Han and Felix, both could fight, both could shoot and both were smart, they would be fine but they were younger so naturally Hyunjin was protective.

"Hyun, they will be fine" he echoed Chan's sentiment knowing that they would be, moving behind cover he and Chan started their wait for the Ateez crew.

"Boss we have approaching vehicles, three vans" Jeongin's voice broke the silence.

"Fuckers" Hyunjin snarked

"Got it" Chan replied angrily that it was already going to shit.

They were trying their best to make you relax but Felix could tell you were trying your hardest to give them a brave face to hide how scared this was making you. You were just sitting quietly on your phone as they spoke in hushed tones on their phones on and off to who you assumed were all their guys.

"Do you want me to explain what we prepare for regardless of what we expect to happen?" he asked softly wrapping one arm around you to pull you closer.

"Are you allowed to do that?" you quirked you head as Minho and Han both started to rejoin the two of you.

"Bin has already told you a fair bit I'm guessing just based on what he said upstairs" he smiled

"He's told me he's killed people, that he doesn't necessarily regret it and he would happily do it again to protect you or me. He told me how it all started with Chan and where each of you came in. He also said if I want to know nothing he wont tell me but if I want to know what he is doing he will be honest with me" you sighed chewing your lip.

"So you want to know then?" Han asked nodding.

"Yes, I don't have to know everything I just need to know the basics so I'm not totally lost and left to freak myself out" you cautiously replied partly concerned that you were crossing a line with them and partly because you knew Han could do terrible things and you didn't really need to know about that part. "He thinks this is a trap" you finished.

"He does, well we all do really" Minho admitted "but where not sure if the trap is for them or for us here which is why three of us are here with you"

"Shouldn't you be with them to protect each other?" you frowned looking slightly shaken "This place is a fortress I would be safe on my own".

"We don't all need to be together to keep ourselves safe. Hyunjin is a talented sharpshooter, Jeongin is a pretty good one too, Seungmin is great in a fight not that you could tell by looking at him and Chan has held his own since he was a kid" Felix reassured you gently.

"Besides Chan and Changbin would be beyond furious if we left you alone" Minho shrugged.

"Yeah like you wouldn't rather be with them than babysitting" you grumbled making Felix roll his eyes and Han laugh at you.

"Did you want to try listening to the voice again?" Minho asked trying to steer the conversation towards something productive.

"Ok I will figure it out eventually I guess" you smiled softly as Felix loaded the file up on his phone again. You listened to it another three times before it clicked why it was familiar. "Felix can you make the voice slightly higher I think it's too low"

"You recognize something princess?" Han excitedly smiled bouncing a little in his seat.

"Yeah but the voice isn't quite right" you furrowed your brow as Felix dashed out to get his laptop "I think".

Felix returned a few minutes holding his already booted up laptop running the program he began fiddling with the pitch of the voice running it again and again for you as he tweaked it.

"It's my boss" you whispered suddenly eyes widening as you realized, you had listened to that voice for years yet just the slightly off pitch had confused you so much.

"Your boss?" Minho repeated to be sure he had understood you.

"Yeah...um...here....fuck" you dug your phone out of your pocket and held it tightly "I'll show you" dialed you bosses number.

"Hello I was wondering when you would check in again, have you been feeling better?" Director Kim's voice floated around the room as you placed it on speaker phone so they all could hear.

"Yes Director Kim, I am. I was just ringing to talk about me returning to work in the next day or so, if you haven't already contracted a temp of course" You had put your best sweetened phone voice.

"Of course, I can give your temporary replacement notice that she is no longer needed, I would much rather spend my day looking at you anyway" He had always been flirty with you but now that you knew he was behind the phone calls your skin was crawling.

"Thank you Director Kim, I have missed being at work, I think it will make me happier to return to normal as soon as I can" you rapped up feeling queasy and a little dirty for playing along.

"We will happily welcome you back. Goodbye for now" he purred into the phone making you almost gag.

"Goodbye Director" you chirped hanging up and looking up at the three men in front of you shaking slightly.

"Oh it is totally your fucking boss" Han spat venomously breaking the silence.

"I'm calling Hyunjin" Minho announced as he walked from the room.

"You did so good bubs, Binnie will be super proud of you when he gets back" Felix soothed pulling you against him to make you feel a little better.

"Why would it be my boss Lix? I don't understand" You murmured cuddling into him further hoping it would make you feel better again.

"I don't know bubs but I will bet you everything I have that Bin will find that out for you" Felix chuckled darkly stroking your hair.

Changbin had known from the get go that this was going to be a shit show, everything about this whole fucking mess had been, but he knew his members better than the back of his own hand and he knew Minho would have put in a call or two to make sure they had enough back up at the company.

"Here we go Bin, just remember to not get too mad too fast" Chan muttered remaining stoic looking.

"Got it" he whispered back putting on his death glare for their arriving company.

"Gentlemen" Chan greeted smiling tensely as Hongjoong exited his vehicle flanked by San.

"Mr Bang, thank you for agreeing to meet me, Mr Seo pleasure to see you again" Hongjoong drawled.

"Cut the crap Hongjoong" he growled already annoyed by the whole charade making San narrow his eyes at him threateningly.

"What he means is why did you want us here Hongjoong? need to explain something to us before things escalate any further" Chan raised his eyebrow waiting for an answer.

"Well it has come to my attention that my boy Mingi has been indirectly fucking with you" Hongjoong gestured to the man on his left who nodded "and of course we come to offer our sincere apologies for this"

"Yes we are aware of that, we have his cousin as a guest of ours currently" Chan drawled looking bored.

"His cousin?" San spluttered instantly looking both angry that he was being held and at the casualness of Chan's tone.

"He's a very easy talker Hongjoong, did you know that?" Bin smirked watching the two men in front of him faces change almost imperceptibly at the news.

"Yes he's been quite accommodating and I am sure Mingi would like him returned as unscathed as possible, however his associates Jihoon and Jonwoo will probably not be returned" Chan continued trying to keep his calm demeanor intact.

"Ah I see that you are aware of the situation" Hongjoong sighed "In that case perhaps we can explain before this escalates further"

"You think Hongjoong, maybe explain why we shouldn't kill you and your crew for fucking with us?" Binnie snarled furiously at the other man.

"Changbin" Chan reminded coolly

"Mingi's uncle owes a lot of money to both our crew and the Exo crew, they want him dead for not paying fast enough, he figured out a way to get their money at the very least but enough to get him out of debt" San began evenly trying to keep everyone calm.

"Bin your girl has figured out the voice, it's her fucking boss, Mingi's other fucking uncle" Hyunjin's voice came to life in their ears making his fury bubble to the surface at an alarming rate. Chan knew it was about to go to shit so he very quickly decided to take charge before Changbin went postal.

"Continue" Chan prompted knowing the other two men could see the change in his rage level

"He was to do a job for some company director that was an associate or some shit of his uncle, he wanted what Mingi said was a simple job in exchange for twice the amount of cash owed, we thought it was just some company wanting to ruin another one" San continued while eyeing him with caution.

"Fucking enough" Chan sanpped stepping closer to Hongjoong and San threateningly causing Changbin to re focus on Chan "You were allowing Mingi to have one uncle to pay of the other's debt for the small favor of procuring him a girl that he wanted. Am I fucking wrong?"

"Yes, the money would be used to pay off his debts to both Exo and us but the girl was never going to be harmed, we don't fucking traffic women, we don't fucking traffic anyone" Hongjoong defended angrily.

"Then what were you planning to do the money wouldn't have been exchanged without her, would it? Even you're not that fucking stupid to think otherwise" Chan snarled knowing that they were lying to his face. Moving one hand to his side he gave a very subtle signal to the other members watching who instantly understood.

"Where are your men Hongjoong? Surely they would have come to the rescue by now" He asked menacingly, his hand twitching as he wanted to reach for his gun.

"There is only one way to deal with this little problem as far as I can see it" Chan continued "There are rules we all live byin this life, business is business it isn't personal, you don't fuck with innocents and you never go after a members family" Chan lectured letting the pair of them stew in their own obvious fear "These are what separate us from animals, this is what keeps us successful"

"Family?" Hongjoong blinked looking between both Chan and Changbin.

"Did that motherfucker forget to mention who the woman was Hongjoong?" Changbin grinned psychotically making Hongjoong look to San for an explanation.

"Who the fuck is the girl San?" Hongjoong spat grabbing San by his collar.

"She's a fucking no one" San spluttered eyes wide before hanging his head.

"She isn't fucking no one though is she? If she was we wouldn't be here having this fucking conversation" Hongjoong yelled at the younger man letting him go and stepping back.

"No she isn't anyone" Chan smiled finally gesturing to him to move "She's Changbin's girl, she's the Queen of our syndicate and your cock splash of a member has gotten you both killed for it" He smiled dangerously as Changbin pulled his weapon from his side, and aimed at San.

"Wait, if she is your girl then we can work this out in a way where you get revenge and send a message to every other crew in the country" Hongjoong interjected quickly looking Chan dead in the eye.

"I'm listening" Chan replied apathetically motioning for him to lower the weapon slightly.

"We had no idea we were messing with your lady, we would never do that knowingly, I will give you Mingi and his family and any other member of my crew who is involved and in return we put this behind us and never repeat it" Hongjoong proposed nervously.

"Changbin what do you think?" Chan asked him smoothly waiting for him to considder.

"You're willing to let me end every member in your crew who knew what this was? Loyalty isn't your strong suit is it?" he asked looking from Hongjoong to San who both nodded.

"If you lie to us now and double cross us later" Chan interjected "I will let Changbin unleash hell on all of you and it wont just be you who will receive his wrath".

"I swear on it" Hongjoong sighed relieved holding out his hand for Chan to shake, which he did cementing the deal that would end this mess properly.

"Now gentlemen, we need to get back" Chan smirked gesturing for the van to collect them.

Felix had made you a hot chocolate and had bundled you up with blankets in their meeting room so that you were close to him while he continued to work monitoring the CCTV around the perimeter of the company while Han and Minho came and went checking on you from time to time and to give Felix updates.

"Where are your men?" Lix suddenly asked as both of them appeared in the room again.

"Mine are in the garage and at the front keeping the entry points locked down" Minho replied casually.

"Han?" Felix asked again looking at the screens confused by what he was seeing.

"Oh mine are out of the fence line of the two gates but there are only a couple of them why?" Han looked over Felix's shoulder at the screen.

Are either set in vans? That black one has driven past four times now" Felix frowned as the same license plate displayed on the screen from the camera that scanned everyone who passed.

"No those aren't ours" Han agreed agitation in his voice. Your phone started vibrating making you look towards where it sat beside you Binnie's name flashing across the screen.

"Binne?" you smiled widely feeling so relieved to hear his voice "Are you ok? Are the others alright?"

"Were fine baby, we're on our way back now" you could hear the smile in his voice. "Is Felix with you? can you relay a message to him?"

"Of course Binnie" you sighed softly enjoying the way the tightness in your chest was leaving you knowing he was coming back to you.

"Thank you baby, tell him it was a trap and that you may have incoming, everything will be fine though we made a deal" he sounded slightly annoyed but you could help with that when he got home "I know this is probably scary but I will be back soon with Chan and the others, you're safe and no matter what happens between now and when I get here you need to do exactly as the guys say, can you do that for me baby doll?" he sounded calm which made you relax, further knowing they all were safe.

"I'll tell Lix, promise" you smiled

"Good girl baby" he muttered as you could here the others teasing him in the background before he hung up.

"Lix" you interrupted the three guys talking while all looking at the screens.

"Yeah Bubs?" he smiled turning to you slightly.

"It was a set up, Chan has made a deal and you may have incoming but they are on their way back now" you listed quickly making Felix grin at you proudly.

"You know after this a think we need to teach you how to shoot" He mused looking between you and Han.

"Oh no I don't believe in guns" you stammered putting you hands up.

"Well that's just nuts because they are very real" Han giggled pulling his hand gun from his holster and coming closer to give it to you.

"Um...no" you stuttered hiding your hands in Changbin's hoodie making Han properly begin laughing.

"You aren't freaked out by Bin getting angry, all the shit we have collectively done, over hearing screaming, seeing me covered in blood or the idea of breaking someone nose or knees but a gun makes you want to hide. That is gold" he cackled making you look to Felix for help

"Man don't tease her" Felix warned eyebrow raised.

"Han, if she tells Bin you have been scaring her with a gun he will be likely to beat the shit out of you" Minho forewarned

"She's not a snitch she won't tell Bin will you princess?" Han smirked while still waving the gun around making you shrink back into the cushions.

"Han, seriously" Felix growled getting pissed off himself now.

"Or what Felix you going to get all defensive of the girl you want but wants our brother" Han teased again getting slightly more chaotic.

"Fuck off Han! you don't know shit" you snapped glaring up at him "Don't be such a fucking arsehole"

"Ah there she is! There's the little mobster wife!" Han look pleased with himself.

"God you are a cunt" sighed Felix.

"You know it's not snitching if they get back and you are waving that gun around right?" Minho added chuckling how well he played you and Felix.

"It's not snitching if I let him see the CCTV either" shrugged Felix grinning evilly.

"I'm pretty sure it's not snitching if I bite you right now" you fumed throughly annoyed by Han "you would be the one who has to explain it"

"I don't get how you two didn't figure this out sooner" Minho smiled watching you muttering under your breath.

"Huh? who figures what now?" you quirked your eyebrow at Minho curiously.

"You and Changbin, obviously" he chuckled in reply.

"We haven't figured it out, this literally just happened" you sighed feeling frustrated but looking to Minho as kindly as you could "It is almost as new as the whole idea that Bin and Lix are gangsters, that you're all criminals, it's too new for anyone to say figured it out".

"But you love him so it's pretty much settled" Han chipped in tilting his head to look at you.

"I don't even know that yet" you admitted quietly knowing that being this honest with them might backfire on you but you could stop yourself you began fiddling with your fingers and looking at the floor.

"Bubs?" Felix tentatively whispered getting up and moving to crouch in front of you making sure you were looking him in the eye "Bin didn't force anything on you did he?" his voice so soft that you were sure his words were only for you.

"No! no Felix, you know he wouldn't hurt me" you whispered back completely taken aback by his line of questioning.

"Shit no bubs, I mean did he just tell you that you are together now, did he actually give you options to take this slowly or maybe even not get together" Felix explained hurriedly.

"We..um I asked him what it meant and he said I was his and he would never give me up, so that's what we are" you murmured embarrassed you didn't like talking about the two of you in front of the others but they were trying their hardest to look busy focusing on the CCTV screens which made you feel a little better.

"Is that what you want though?" he implored looking at you softly

"I think so... he makes me happy, he always has, he makes me feel safe" you smiled slightly seeing how concerned Lix was for you "It feels natural to be with him, I've never felt like that before" Felix let go of a deep breath and grinned at you.

"You do love him bubs you just might not be in love with him, not yet anyway" his voice still quiet but happier.

"Their back" Minho interrupted clearing his throat and glaring at Han to not open his mouth who looked gleeful about the whole conversation.

Changbin was still angry even after the silent drive back, as they got closer he noticed the first of another few vans that were scoping the area but they scattered once they identified that they were returning not wanting to risk anything with the full syndicate in attendance.

"Fuckers still prowling about" Hyunjin snarled sounding equally pissed off.

"When we get back sort out the other two but leave the kid, for now" Chan instructed casually "Unless we have any disagreements on that course of action" when none of them spoke up Hyunjin nodded firmly.

"We need to discuss what we have learnt too" Jeongin sighed disgruntledly "If this is going to end in a all out war we need to all know how and why before we start tearing people apart"

"Tearing people apart? Ha! they will be lucky if that is all Bin does to them" Seungmin dryly sighed as they parked in the garage and began making their way up to the meeting room where they already knew the others were observing the surrounds from.

Storming into the room they were collectively stopped dead by the sight of you glaring at Han waving a gun around.

"I swear to god Han once I learn how to use this you are the first person I am fucking shooting" you growled glaring hard at the man in front of you who seemed to find the whole thing amusing.

"Bubs, this is why you aren't allowed to hold a loaded gun" Felix tried to calm you reaching for the handgun in your hand as Minho turned to look at the guys who had just entered shrugging.

"Fine I'll stab him then" you snarled pulling the butterfly knife you had been carrying all afternoon from your pocket.

"No kitten, you can't stab him either, Bin would be annoyed if you stabbed Han" Minho chuckled as Han doubled over laughing.

"To be fair I don't care if she stabs him, motherfucker probably deserves it" Bin smiled feeling himself instantly begin calming down watching whatever chaos was unfolding around you.

"Binnie" You beamed dropping the knife on the floor for Felix to pick up rolling his eyes walking into his arms which he wrapped around you tightly.

"Hey! you are meant to be on my side" Han pouted indignantly.

"You started it when you started waving a fucking handgun in my face you twat" you glared again at him.

"You fucking what?" Changbin snarled looking at Han his anger rising again.

"It was a joke how was I supposed to know she's frightened of guns?" Han defended himself taking a step back from Bin.

"Because she told you she was" Felix sighed shutting down the surveillance feed from all the screens in the room.

"Then you after I had spoken to Felix about something important asked me if criminal cock is superior to any other type of cock" you added as the others all either face palmed or groaned at him.

"Fucks sake" Binnie sighed letting you go so he could take a seat then pull you into his lap, he softly kissed your temple and squeezed you slightly, you were relieved to sit there waiting to see if Chan wanted you to leave or not.

"Can we go over what we have learnt or do you need to keep shit stirring?" Chan asked harshly looking directly at Han who sat and nodded quickly.

"Our end was productive in the sense that we have made a deal with Hongjoong, he will give us Mingi, his co-conspirators and anyone else involved. In exchange we leave at least him and San alive since they did not know half the intel we did" Chan explained.

"Makes sense since we now know who the calls are coming from" Minho agreed easily.

"Now little one we need to be sure that the voice really is your boss alright?" Chan continued albeit slightly gentler with you.

"Oh we know it's him" Han interrupted "She called him and spoke to him in front of us to show us. Felix, Minho and I all agree it's defiantly him" he smiled at you before poking out his tongue which made you roll your eyes at him.

"I guess the only other part that we need to consult you on is whether you think you can cope with what is about to happen? It is going to be something you can never talk about with anyone outside of us, you can never admit you knew anything about it and you need to act as though you had no clue about any of this" Chan's voice was serious but still considerate as he stared intently at you.

"Because you are going to kill them all?" you asked bluntly meeting Chan's eyes.

"Yes" Chan's answer was exactly what you expected honest and to the point.

"Will I be safe afterwards?" you asked as you continued to meet his gaze.

"You will never be 100% safe in this life but you will be much safer after this" he admitted and you nodded silently leaning back into Binnie's chest, you could feel his warmth seeping into you back, and smell the lingering scent of his cologne swirling around you making you feel at ease.

"Does it actually matter what I think?" you asked almost cynically knowing that you needed to remain honest at all times when it came to what they did, you couldn't allow misunderstandings or confusion.

"Of course it does baby" Changbin murmured from behind you.

"Well it shouldn't" you sighed "This is your life and your job, for a lack of a better word for it, I shouldn't get a say. If your asking whether I would ever turn you in I wouldn't and if your asking if I can live with what you all do I don't get a choice you live the lives you chose and if I chose Changbin then I have to live with that too" you carefully removed yourself from Changbin's grasp before walking out of the room leaving them sitting in silence.

"Ha" Chan half laughed half sighed "She is something else"

"Of course she is" Felix breathed worriedly watching the door you had just left through before looking back to Changbin.

"I'll talk to her after we are done here, she will come around to it but she is never going to like what we do Lix" he rubbed his hand over his face tiredly.

You had yet to ask Mrs Choi if she could make up another room for you, now that you were something to Changbin you felt as though you needed to give him at least a little space to himself. You had meant to do it today but things had once again gotten a little to intense for you to worry about something as small as a spare room. However, one on the others must have mentioned it to her for as soon as you left the meeting room you found her waiting for you.

"Come Miss I have prepared you a new room" she smiled seeming her manners still perfect despite your previous efforts to have her treat you more informally.

"Thank you Mrs Choi" you whispered following her up the stairs and past Changbin and Felix's rooms to the very end of the last hallway of that wing of the house.

"This used to be guest rooms but they have seen little use since our young gentlemen took up residence here" she informed you as you looked down at the 3 last rooms you hadn't know existed before.

"I guess you don't get many guests here" you noted nodding slowly as she led you the door at the very end of the hall.

"No it is a rarity for us, this one has the nicest view of the gardens which I thought you would like" she affirmed opening the door for you and letting you enter first. The room was not all that different to the others that you had seen, ridiculously large with an oversized bathroom, but it was not personalized in any way just light grey walls and white soft furnishings the large window that overlooked the garden made you realize you must be above the library on the lower floor.

"Thank you Mrs Choi it's lovely" you smiled genuinely at her.

"We can have it personalized for you if you are staying with us for longer but I have had my maids collect your clothing which is in the dressing room on the left here and we can have anything else you would like brought in for you" she explained kindly gesturing around the room.

"Thank you" you murmured again looking around yourself.

"Mr Han thought you might need more space, I was surprised he is usually not concerned by much of the goings on here but this he was sure needed to be ready for you by this evening" she finished bowing and excusing herself before you could ask any questions.

Han? you didn't even think he thought of as anything other than a new person to annoy and tease, you blinked to yourself before going to the wardrobe to find some clothing to change into that you could shower and get ready for bed, you knew they would be meeting for a while and you were exhausted being so tense all day. Finding your comfy bunny pajamas you made your way to the bathroom for a long hot shower to try to get you relaxed before you tried to sleep.

"So how will this all work Chan? I'm assuming you have some sort of plan" Minho asked curiously watching as Chan's brow furrowed slightly as he thought.

"I'm thinking we will need to either grab her boss and see if Mingi comes running or we might have to play as dirty as they have been" Chan replied slowly the cogs in his head still turning.

"Alright I'll bite, how would we grab Director Kim?" Felix quizzed everyone in the room "We can't just waltz into his house and grab him".

"No it would have to be much more covert than that, we would need to assume he may know that we are suspicious of him so it would have to either be a full infiltrate of his security or grab him while he is going to or from work" Chan mused

"What is playing dirty Chan?" Changbin finally asked knowing he would probably not like the answer but he needed to know.

"We would need to lure him out into the open, we would to have our little one play bait" Chan sighed causing the room to pause around them. He stared hard at Chan he knew that it was a possibility that you would be needed to lure the fucking scumbag out but he never anticipate Chan would suggest it as a proper option.

"No fucking way" Felix protested angrily frowning.

"Lix it might come to it but it's not our main plan" Hyunjin tried to calm his friend gently.

"You can go down that route if you want Chan, but you will have to look her in the eye and tell her what might go wrong, what she might lose" he stated lowly starting at his oldest friend aside from you.

"That's why I suggest figuring out how to grab him" Chan groaned "I don't want her in danger truth be told I'm becoming quite fond of that little firecracker, she is a good fit with this family"

"What about another option which might just be a little less risky for the little princess" Han proposed looking from Chan to him patiently.

"Shoot" Chan replied allowing Han his input.

"Well like I said earlier she called her boss in front of us, said she wanted to go back to work which he seemed very happy about, so why don't we just let her do that?" Han finished blinking at them "We could keep her safe with the hack we already have in their security system and you could even show up and take her to lunch or something that way Mingi will have to go for her himself and we will be on hand to deal with it"

"That could actually work well for us" Hyunjin chimed in.

"I still have a guy inside" Seungmin added

"We could easily throw in another few guys as security and interns in a day or so" Jeongin agreed nodding easily.

"Ok we can try this as long as everyone is agreement and we can get it organized on time. If we can't we drop it and go back to the first idea" Chan paused "You want to talk to her or do you want us to all do it?"

"I'll do it" he replied not liking the idea at all but needing to accept that it really would be the easiest way to get to Mingi, getting up to go back to his room.

"She won't be in your room tonight" Han announced suddenly making him narrow his eyes at the younger man. "Mrs Choi set her up in one of the guest rooms, I thought she might need some space from all of us to think" he smiled slightly.

"That is actually really smart for you at least" Seungmin remarked snidely

"Fuck off, she seems to be a bit lost to be honest and besides I like her she's chill and fun" Han groaned annoyed that he was going to be the butt of the joke for the rest of the night.

"How many of you are wrapped around her fingers now? Bin, Lix, Chan, you..."Hyunjin laughed heartily

"Don't forget Minho who threatened to ask her out of Bin didn't get his shit together" Chan added making Minho shrug indifferently.

"You are all wankers you know that" he rolled his eyes at the others still making his way out to speak to you.

"You love us man" Lix grinned cheekily making the others laugh again.

A/N: Sorry this has taken me so long I've been struggling with personal stuff and it has sapped all my will to live. However I am still writing so please forgive the time between chapters. Any likes, comments or reblogs are deeply appreciated and adored you guys make my whole week xx

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz,@3sriracha,@deakyspuff,@symptoms-of-moonlight,@yoonguurt,@shownus-bebe,@ateexyz,@oiphoebe, @leanimal90,@armystay89,@frozenpeasworld,

#seo changbin x reader #changbin x reader #Mafia changbin au #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #changbin fanfic #bang chan #lee minho #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #stray kids angst #stray kids smut

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cattimeswithjellie · 5 months

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So Taskwise, pretty much everybody failed in Session 7 except Scott, right? Almost everybody got rolled up into the big group "zombify the server" task, which was a failure because they didn't manage to catch the last three uninfected players. (Theoretically the players who became red could've abandoned the horde and taken up their red life tasks, but I don't think anybody actually did that.)

Scott managed to successfully collect his bounty of diamonds he did not need before too many people started trying to murder him.

Cleo, upon realizing that both her shoulder angel and devil just wanted her to set people on fire, decided to mostly ignore both of them until they were both turned into zombies and no longer able to instruct her, so that's constructively a fail.

Grian's the interesting case here because he pressed his luck and pressed succeed on what can charitably be described as an edge case. His task was to make a pet of the first mob he saw, take care of it, take it for walks, etc. He failed if the mob died. He went into the Nether and saw a Magma Cube, then cut his footage to killing a bunch of magma cubes, then realized what he'd done, reviewed the footage, and decided that the one he'd seen was actually a different magma cube. That magma cube had despawned by the time he realized what he'd done. He got a different magma cube, dragged it home, named it, and put it in a vivarium, whereupon somebody else killed it into two smaller magma cubes, both with the same name. Etho then killed one of those smaller cubes, leaving Grian with one pet magma cube that was 1/3 of the descendants of a magma cube that was not technically the first mob he saw. But he did work very hard on the task and it was funny, so it might be enough?

(I think Martyn may have also done some tasks, but his tasks are by nature sort of different and harder to track.)

This puts the gang in a weird position for next session. They all spent this entire week causing death, destruction and mayhem with NOTHING to show for it. The secret keepers managed to get them to murder one another gleefully on green and yellow and didn't have to cough up a single reward for it, and I can only imagine that the tasks for next week will be even bloodier. Will they play along again? There is literally _no penalty_ for not doing the tasks, but so far hardly anyone has just said "no way, this is dumb, I'm not gonna." How bad can a task get before people start saying no?

And if Grian does get force-rolled next week, what does a Week 8 hard task look like? Could he even afford to say no to whatever it is, knowing the potential consequences?

#secret life spoilers #secret life #thinking too much about the block guys again

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slashthrashandcrash · 2 months

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Regarding the latest post on Ghostface, I'm actually a little curious if the Scream events took place in Jed's reality. Hearing about all these people going after some woman in the same costume and plenty of copy cat killers creating mayhem, maybe he should join in on the fun? They can't claim that his "Ghostface" is the same "one" doing all his crimes and not another. Perfect way to let loose and fade in the background. Just another reporter writing about the many Ghostface murders in the world

Chronologically, I don't think so since Danny/Jed was taken by the fog in 1993 whereas the Scream movie didn't come out (and was subsequently set in) 1996.

But I do think it would be fun if we reverse that concept! Make it so Danny was the original and it inspired Billy and Stu to pick up where he left off as the perfect cover. In the Scream universe, they already have their own parody of the "Stab" franchise based off the murders with an ungodly amount of sequels -- what if these 1996 killings and later movie adaptation were also key inspiration to the Legion brats, who were also taken in 1996?

I imagine the legacy he left behind for literal decades and an entire generation strokes his ego quite nicely, to be the inspiration for so many future copycats. Even more so to know he was never caught/killed during his spree, therefore making him the best on top of being the original. Can't beat a classic, as they say!

#ask #anon

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mcyt-rarepair-tournament · 1 month

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Okay so Cumscarian..... (mmm, such a great name) Propaganda:

They have wonderfull interactions in paired/tripled relationships, put them in a blender.

Mumbo gets a redstone friend and cultist!

They are murderers. They are cannibals. They are turning your liver inside out and your paying for it because it made so much sense when they explained it to you.

Chaos.

Cub gets another unknowing willing test subject!

Each one of them belives they are the most unsuall/chaotic. None of them are right.

Scar gets more people to admire him (and keep him safely in trouble)!

Murder and Mayhem.

Imagine the buttercups with Cub. Just Immagine it.

War profetierers in a loving relationship with the war starter and the explosives man.

Grian gets all the men!

Their love langauge is explosions and wars.

They would be so rich and completly broke at the same time.

The enrichment of introducing them to eachother would be worth the destruction of the enclourse. And the surroinding areas. And the deaths. And death rays. And cults. Look it's fine, they're so happy!

Glad you like the name! ☺️

#Propaganda

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elena-mayfair · 1 year

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Madness and old friends

Paring: Bruce Wayne x f!reader, Batman x f!reader Warnings: rating T+/M, blood and gore, violence, strong language, themes of depression Summary: New city, old friends. Feeling lost and called out by prof. Crane and his accusation that she couldn't or was afraid to build relationships with people she makes an impulsive decision to renew an old friendship. But her old friend is not who she used to be. What path will it open in front of her? Where it will lead? Word count: 7.2k Note: Gifs are not mine, credit to the authors.

Chapter one: Bright future, dark city Chapter two: Curious people

***

James Gordon did not like waiting. Waiting made his perpetually overworked mind start listing all the things he could be doing right now, made his imagination spin images of all the people he could be helping right now, made the number of cigarettes in his pack start decreasing fast. Still, he waited. He would light the specially modified Klieg searchlight located on the roof of the First Precinct of GCPD building, illuminating the sky above Blake Island with a pale bat-shaped symbol, lit a cigarette and wait. Sometimes he waited a few minutes, sometimes even an hour. The longer he waited the more anxious he became. For when Batman didn't show up it meant one of two things, either he was busy or Gotham was in trouble.

The alliance with Gotham's mysterious masked protector was not an easy one. James was a commissioner, and as a commissioner, he should obey the law in every way. He should lead his men by example. He should always act by the book. And yet, how to act perfectly by the book in a city where corruption reaches every level of government. How to stick to ideals when even the Judge and Jury are paid by Carmine Falcone, the biggest mafia boss in Gotham. How to obey the law when in this city no one breaths without his knowledge and consent. Finally, how to apply the law to criminals like the Riddler, who loved to torture people with complex puzzles, Poison Ivy, who, under the pretense of protecting the planet, would murder anyone who dared to pluck a flower from the garden, Mad Hatter, who would kidnap young blond-haired girls and subject them to mind control in the eternal search for his Alice, and finally the Joker, who was the embodiment of madness and mayhem. James knew that when facing the challenge of protecting Gotham's citizens from criminals like these, he had no choice but to create new ideals, he had to bend the law, he had to create new rules, and in the end, instead of arresting the masked vigilante had to trust him.

He glanced nervously at the watch he got from his daughter for his birthday and reached for another cigarette. Half an hour had passed and the bat symbol continued to light up the night sky. He was absolutely sure that it was visible from every Gotham neighborhood, even those far away, he checked. Years ago, when the searchlight was first installed and Batman first failed to appear, he forced his men to go out to Gotham's most remote neighborhoods to confirm that the symbol was visible. From the lonely Mercey Island where Arkham Asylum was located to the equally remote Wayne Manor as far as twelve kilometers from Gotham located in Bristol Township, the symbol in the sky was visible everywhere. That night Batman first confronted the League of Shadows and his old friend Ra's al Ghul who came to Gotham with a plan to destroy the city. Batman never told him about it, and James could only guess. The clues left in the city allowed him to piece together the facts and put the sequence of events together. Tonight, as he stood on the roof of the GCPD, smoking cigarette after cigarette, he could only hope he wouldn't have to do it again. The briefcase in his hand seemed to grow heavier with each passing minute. Photos and officer's reports, burned into his mind, seemed to manifest before his open eyes. One by one, similar murder cases seemed to appear. Photos of more nightmarishly mutilated bodies kept appearing on his desk. On the surface, they had nothing in common except the gruesome deaths. Some part of him didn't want to turn to Batman for help, didn't want to admit the fact that the police were failing to find the perpetrator, didn't want to admit that he was failing. Yet there were always too few police officers in Gotham, especially those he could trust, those who weren't fed by the kind hand of Falcone or Maroni. He needed that trust, deep down he knew that just as Gotham needed Batman, he needed that strong bond of trust that kept him firmly grounded in reality, that kept him hopeful.

"Jim," a low throaty voice reached his ears. He turned sharply, in his mind cursing his ally and his habit of appearing silently in the darkest places.

"One of these days you'll give me a heart attack," he fumed, letting out a cloud of smoke, "Busy night?"

"We'll see," he replied shortly and with a slow step approached Jim. No matter how many times they met on the roof of the GCPD, Jim never got used to the towering figure, dressed in a black armor-plated suit, whose black cape reached all the way to the ground. The only bright spots of his suit were a symbol shining with a black metallic glow in the middle of his chest, and two bright dots standing out against his cowl. Jim knew better than to stare at the masked ally so he simply opened the folder containing the case file and handed it to him, " more victims, similar to the family from two weeks ago," he outlined, "at first glance, nothing connects them except…"

"They all died the same gruesome death," Batman finished for him and took a closer look at the photos. The first report showed two young girls whose bodies were marked with dozens of incisions. Their faces, chests, thighs, the insides of their arms, were cut with surgical precision.

"Scalpel," Gordon interjected quietly, "forensics combed every inch of the apartment, found no signs of forced entry, struggle or fingerprints or DNA."

Batman made no comment, simply turned the page and looked at the next case. A young man, slim, of slight stature, beaten to death.

"I sent homicide guys to the scene, but it turned out that it wasn't a murder at all. At least not intentional. Witnesses testified that the boy went to the area of one of the smaller gangs and attacked its members. He was armed with a machete and a revolver. They beat him up. They are now in custody and will be tried for unintentional manslaughter."

Batman took a closer look at the photos of the young boy. He seemed to him the type of bookworm, perhaps an aspiring scientist, certainly not a gangster. The camera in his cowl scanned all the photos, which he planned to analyze once he got back to the cave.

He turned the page and saw another photo. This time if it weren't for the description he wouldn't have been able to recognize the victims. The photo showed two bloodstains splattered on the sidewalk. Blood, shattered bones and insides were one with the clothes.

"They jumped from a plane, without parachutes," Gordon explained quickly, "Batman, it doesn't make sense! The family from two weeks ago and the two girls would suggest that it could be the Joker's doing.

"It's not his MO," Batman interrupted, "Too clean. The Joker would have left more havoc behind. And he wouldn't act discreetly by attacking individual random people. Joker wants to be seen."

"And what's more, a boy and two jumpers destroy any substitute for a pattern..."

"No," Batman flipped through the pages again, "they create a different pattern."

"Care to share?" Gordon glared at him surprised.

"When I know more," Batman replied and handed the file back to Gordon, "in the meantime, have the security around the Joker at Arkham Asylum strengthened."

"You expect that he will try to escape?"

"I expect everything," he replied after which, without a word of farewell, he jumped off the roof and glided into the night.

***

Y/N knew she should go to bed but was too excited to fall asleep. She tried the podcast, tried reading, tried watching the meager night TV, but nothing brought her to sleep. She was thinking about Professor Crane's words and his accusation that she couldn't or was afraid to build relationships with people. Perhaps there was a grain of truth in that. Perhaps experience had taught her to be cautious, distrustful, and to always expect the worst first. Yet for those few brief moments when she was talking with Bruce, she felt so comfortable, felt so very natural, so very at ease. The conversation with him flowed so smoothly and freely. She didn't have to calculate in her mind her every move, she didn't have to think about every word she spoke, and the conversation flowed on its own, despite her ignorant remarks about him. "Consider me curious," she recalled his words and those blue eyes that for a split second came within breathing distance of her face. She giggled when the part of her that was still sixteen years old momentarily peeked out. However, the adult side of her quickly stifled the exultant teenager, "I don't need problems," she rebuked herself in her mind turning restlessly to the side and closing her eyes, "I don't need drama in my life, I need peace and quiet." And yet, even under her closed eyelids, the barely visible smirk refused to leave her.

She got up irritated, grabbed her phone, and impulsively typed a message.

"Hey, I'm in Gotham. Maybe we could catch up?"

The answer came a few minutes later, just as she was trying to assign the scent of his perfume to any of the well-known brands.

"Heya sweetie! Sounds like a banging plan! Bowery, tomorrow around 9pm? How does it sound?"

Y/N smiled at the idea of an evening spent with an old friend. "At least I won't sit at home and think," she thought.

"Sounds like a plan :) send me a pin!"

"Will do! See ya tomorrow!"

***

Saturday meant a day without therapy. Saturday also meant a day without work. On Saturday, Y/N could be calm, she could not stress about Professor Crane's perfectly targeted questions, on Saturday she could not worry about another accidental Bruce Wayne encounter during her work day. Saturday meant she could get up later than usual, run some errands, and then plan an outfit for the evening. She had hoped for a casual meeting with an old friend at some quiet restaurant, but a quick google search shattered all her hopes. The Bowery turned out to be the commercial district of old Gotham, filled with pubs, stores, cafes, restaurants, and the hottest club in town, Iceberg Lounge. As soon as Y/N saw pictures of the club she knew it was where Harleen wanted to go. The club didn't match the Harleen she knew, the quiet, sometimes shy girl with a feisty sparkle in her eyes that betrayed to an attentive observer a hidden, dormant other self. Y/N knew it, saw it come to the surface in situations of heightened tension or complete relaxation. Harleen, however, wanted to be seen seriously, wanted, dreamed of being a psychiatrist, but not just any psychiatrist, no that was not Harleen's style. Harleen and her dormant bit of insanity decided that they wanted to work nowhere else but Arkham Asylum, a psychiatric hospital for the criminally insane. They tried to talk about it but Harleen was stubborn, and Y/N had her own problems on her mind, problems that overwhelmed her, problems that made her close herself off and cut herself off from the world. And so Harleen left, and Y/N was left alone. As she was getting ready to leave, Y/N wondered if and how much her friend had changed, wondered if they would find a common language again, wondered if the little black dress and calf-length boots were too much, wondered if someone like Bruce Wayne frequented places like the Iceberg Lounge. She left her hair loose on her shoulders and swiped her lips with burgundy lipstick, just in case. She grabbed her favorite black leather jacket, smiled at her reflection in the mirror, and decided it was going to be a good night.

Bruce Wayne didn't spend his Saturday evenings as befits a billionaire. Once in a while, he would show up in town, and let the camera flash lights and the endless calls of the paparazzi focus on his person for as long as he let them. He would smile politely while doing so, turn in the direction in which he was being called, and played the role that had been entrusted to him. However, he usually didn't have to play, he usually holed up in a cave deep under the foundations of his mansion and worked, fulfilling the role he had entrusted to himself. There was always work in the cave. If it wasn't investigation, it was training, if not training it was maintenance work, if not maintenance work it was implementing new technologies and improvements. And even when everything was already done, which was extremely rare, he came here simply to sink into his thoughts in peace and get away from the world on the surface. On that evening, however, he stared for another hour in a row at the photos of the victims and the case files displayed on most of the large computer screens, as if he hoped that looking at them from a different angle would make him see something he hadn't seen before. He zoomed in and out, scaled up, framed, looking for details that could be part of the puzzle. He searched, read, analyzed, each victim individually. Who they were, where they lived, what they liked, who they were friends with, where they worked, what stores they went to, what they bought, every little detail could be important, every little detail could be a breakthrough in understanding the pattern. For Bruce saw the pattern, saw the sense in the randomness of the events, saw the similarity of the victims so different from each other, saw the pieces of the puzzle, and was able to name them however he did not want to do so. Not yet. "Too soon," he thought.

"Four cases, eight victims. They didn't know each other, they didn't frequent the same places, they have no connection to each other. And they don't fit any known pattern…" he spoke aloud hearing the echo of approaching footsteps, "It's someone new Alfred," he continued accepting a mug of steaming coffee from the butler, "it's someone precise, discreet, intelligent."

"I see you've already managed to determine that these were no random cases Master Bruce," Alfred stated while looking at the displayed photos. Bruce didn't respond immediately, he merely enlarged the photos of the family that he himself had taken a few days ago and arranged them side by side with the photos of the young girls he had received from Gordon, "a gruesome death…" Alfred quietly commented.

"The family from Narrows was the first victim we know of," Bruce took a sip of coffee without taking his eyes off the computer screen and continued, "The man died of exsanguination after he scratched his eyes out."

"Nail fragments and blood on the fingertips left no doubt…"

"A woman and a child," Bruce continued, "They died from internal burns after drinking solvent."

"We rule out the possibility that someone forced the solvent into them…" Alfred stated more than asked.

"There were no traces of forced entry or foreign DNA in the apartment. Whereas the traces I found and which were later verified by Gordon's forensics confirm definitively that the woman first gave the solvent to the boy then drank it herself," he took another sip of coffee, "No, Alfred. No matter how we look at it the facts are indisputable."

"How could a mother do such a thing to her son? What was going on in her head?" Alfred asked quietly.

"I'd like to know…" Bruce moved his mouse across the screen drawing red lines on the photos of the young girls, "They were friends, went to high school together, and later went to college together. Exemplary students, exemplary daughters," as he was saying this he outlined red lines connecting the cuts on their bodies, "good homes, loving parents, no problems, no history of mental illness or tragedy in the family…"

"At least until now…"

"On Instagram, they followed celebrities, models, singers, actresses…" the number of lines was increasing, some straight, some forming oval shapes, on their abdomens, on their faces, on their arms, on their thighs, "the wounds were made with a scalpel…."

"My god…." Alfred whispered looking at the patterns that Bruce had drawn, "it looks like surgical incisions, like the ones that are made during plastic surgery. Buist augmentation, liposuction of the abdomen, thighs and arms, fillers in the cheeks and lips, correction of the nose…."

"Anything they'd like to improve in their seemingly less than ideal bodies…" Bruce concluded.

"Master Bruce, you do not think that they also did that to themselves!" shock and disbelief tinged Alfred's voice, "it's impossible, a person is not able to inflict so many wounds on themselves and not pass out from the pain!"

"That's exactly what I think Alfred," Bruce replied grimly, "the fingerprint marks on the scalpels, the angle and depth of the incisions suggest that they did that to each other. Instead of drawing on each other's bodies with red marker pens, they drew with scalpels."

"But Master Bruce, this is not physically possible…"

"The evidence is clear, and as with the family, the toxicology came out clean. If they took any drug, it had cleared from the bloodstream by the time the bodies were found. The problem is that no known drug disappears without leaving a trace. Not in such a short time."

"What about the other victims?" Alfred asked in a tone that told Bruce he was quietly hoping for a pattern disruption.

"A couple, a woman 28 years old and a man 34 years old," Bruce displayed their photos on the screen next to the bloodstains on the sidewalk, "they got married a week before. They were flying on their honeymoon."

"And halfway there they decided it would be more romantic to jump out of a plane without a parachute?" Alfred scoffed.

"Gordon questioned the pilot," a scan of the police report appeared on the screen, "he was their friend. A pilot by passion. As a gift, he got them a flight in his private avionette. An hour after takeoff, they unexpectedly got up from their seats and, ignoring his shouts and cries, opened the door and jumped out."

"How is the man doing now?"

"He is under psychiatric observation, which is being conducted by a certain Professor Crane, a prominent psychiatrist with a very impressive resume," Bruce took another sip of coffee, minimized photos of the couple and displayed a photo of the latest victim.

"Jeremy Walters, age 17," he informed, "with him I have the biggest problem."

"As far as I can see, he was beaten to death by inferior gang members…" Alfred ran his eyes over a scan of the case file.

"Maroni's men, pawns for collecting ransoms, and intimidating small businessmen."

"Coincidence?"

"Perhaps," Bruce replied pensively, "one thing, however, troubles me."

"What's that?"

"All Gotham residents know which neighborhoods to avoid, and where not to go. What was he doing in the Maroni area?"

"Stupidity? Bravado? Need to impress his colleagues?"

"Or a missing piece of the puzzle…" Bruce minimized the images and set the empty cup down on a silver tray set on the desk.

"What are you going to do Master Bruce?"

"I need to see if there is any connection between the victims and the dockside shooting and what was in the cargo," Bruce stood up abruptly and began reviewing the state of his suit utility belt, the bottom part of which he had been wearing all this time. As he checked pocket by pocket each of them, his face was painted with calmness and complete control, like that of an experienced soldier who checks his rifle before going to the battlefield. Despite the passage of years, Alfred couldn't shake the terrible feeling that maybe if he had done more himself, maybe now he wouldn't have to watch the man he had treated like a son don the top of his suit, attach the long black cape and hide his face under the mask, becoming someone completely different.

"I understand that I'm not supposed to wait with dinner," he said in his perfectly controlled tone tinged with a hint of irony. Bruce merely smiled at the corner of his mouth.

"I'll be in touch."

You wouldn't say that Harleen looked exactly as you remembered her, for she had changed a lot. Long gone were the sneakers, loose pants and oversized pullovers she used to be so fond of. They were replaced by tight black jeans clinging tightly to her slim body, a blue shirt unbuttoned two buttons too many, and brown high-heeled boots. The beautiful blond hair she once wore in a loose bun or ponytail now fell in waves of gold to her shoulders. Eyes painted with strong black eyeliner peeked confidently from behind strong black eyeglass frames, and her lips adorned with blood red lipstick smiled wryly.

"Harleen, if it weren't for the damn pin I would have passed you on the street and not recognized you!" you hugged your friend joyfully, and she reciprocated the hug, "damn, you've changed!"

"Girl gotta look the part don't ya think!!!?" Harleen replied with a sparkle in her eye.

"Totally!"

"You've changed too!" Harleen swept her eyes over you, "what's with the goth vibe?!"

"Don't know, kinda like it I guess, feels right," you replied dragging your hands over your black dress quickly realizing that every part of your outfit was black.

"And looks right! You look fineee sweetie!" the smile on Harleen's face seemed sincere, and you could clearly hear undisguised joy in the tone of her voice.

"So, Iceberg Lounge," you began awkwardly, realizing that after so many years you didn't even know where to begin, "I hope it won't be cold inside."

"We won't have time to get cold! We'll have a few shots, and hit the dance floor!" Harleen replied with a broad smile then grabbed your hand and pulled you along, pushing through the crowd of people waiting in line to enter.

"Harleen!" you tried to stop her, "shouldn't we wait like everyone else!"

"Fuck them! My boyfriend knows the owner, we'll be here like VIPs!" she threw over her shoulder then stopped abruptly in front of the bouncer, whose physique surpassed both of you both in height and width, "Hello, Butch" she smiled playfully, "a table for two! Me and my bestie are planning to have a banging evening!"

"Miss Quinzel…" the bouncer spoke quietly but his gaze, instead on Harleen, focused on you, measuring you from head to toe, his gaze giving you unpleasant shivers as if something slimy had just touched your bare skin, "enjoy your evening," he opened the door revealing to your eyes a gigantic establishment bathed in shades of blue, white and silver.

Everywhere within your sight you could see countless tables adorned in black and white at which ladies in elegant dresses and gentlemen in suits were engaged in many conversations. Some were enjoying elegant meals, while others were sipping sparkling wines or amber whisky from shining silver crystals. In the middle of the room, at a shiny black piano, a musician was playing a graceful classical melody, soothing nerves and inviting people to dance.

"Harleen? I think we're a little underdressed," you chuckled quietly, looking around the room.

"Oh, oh don't be silly! The upper hall is for stiffs and snobs!" Harleen replied without lowering her tone of voice causing outrage from guests sitting nearby, "we're hitting there!" she added and pointed to a silver and black door with a shiny VIP sign.

44 Below, the club below club, opened its doors with rumbling synthwave bass and blinding red lights reflecting off the black walls and floors. Elegant couples chatting in hushed voices over a glass of wine turned in the blink of an eye into a sea of bodies rhythmically floating between the smoke and the blaze of light, huddled together in cramped lodges tilting glass after glass. Between one flash of lights and another, a glass of green and purple liquid appeared in your hand. You tried to stop Harleen, who was still holding your hand and dragging you deeper into the club, but she only turned around and winked wryly.

You tried to take in your surroundings, so strange and fascinating at the same time. On one side, girls dressed in skimpy dresses, latex pants and corsets dancing so close to the men as if trying to melt their bodies into one. On the other, men in suits, hidden in lodges seemed to watch everything and everyone at once. Someone winked at you, someone smiled, someone's hand touched your shoulder, another brushed your hip. The music was pounding, the lights were blinding, and Harleen seemed to be in absolute heaven, even though to you, the place looked more like hell. It seemed to you that she was waving to someone, perhaps greeting someone. An empty glass not knowing when became full again when she pulled you by the hand and slipped into a vacant booth deep in the club.

"Isn't this awesome?!" she asked throwing her shirt off her shoulders exposing a black sleeveless top, "I love this place!!!"

"It's something, I give you that!" you replied forcing yourself to smile. This is not how you imagined this evening but you decided, to go with the flow.

"It's fucking brilliant! You look tense! Drink up and let's hit the floor!!!"

"I don't drink much…"

"How so?"

"It's messing up with my head…" you smiled apologetically.

"Come on! You gotta loosen up a bit!!!" Harleen's hand landed on your shoulders "All that trauma is gonna eat you alive! And I know what I'm talking about!! I am a psychiatrist! Have a paper and all!"

"You know?" you pulled away from your friend in surprise, suspicion seeping into your mind in an instant sharpening all your senses.

"Sure I know!" Harleen countered with an innocent smile, "Just cos you ain't staying in contact doesn't mean I don't keep tabs on ya! You my bestie aren't ya?!"

"Then why didn't you say something earlier?"

"Well, it was kinda obvious you needed time! I ain't gonna rush you! You been through hell, you needed time, I get that! But now since you here, chill dude!!!" she pushed a glass in your direction, "drink up! Doctor's orders!"

You smiled uncertainly and emptied the glass.

"That's my girl!!" Harleen applauded and emptied hers, "don't ya worrie sweetie, I'm gonna take care of ya! No talks about trauma, no talks about past, no sadness! You have your therapist for that! Today, let's put some smile on that face!!"

"How do you know I see a therapist?" suspicion crept in again pushing out the brief dizziness.

"Dude, I fucking now ya!" Harleen replied without hesitation, "C'mon we know each other like whole life!!!"

"That's true…" smiled faintly, "alright then! Fun it is!"

"Fuck yeah!!!"

Batman knew that if there was anyone in Gotham who would be in possession of information about the cargo on the docks, it would be the Penguin. Nothing in Gotham happened without his knowledge. He acquired, sold, stored information more expensive and valuable than all the cocaine that passed through his club, than all the weapons he traded. Oswald Cobblepot was many things, but above all, he was a businessman. If something constituted value and could be sold for an exorbitant amount, Oswald was the first person in Gotham to take an interest in it. At the 44 Below, various transactions took place every night. The club was frequented by the very elite of Gotham's social scene, criminals, gangsters, dealers, politicians, police officers, a Judge, the District Attorney. All who contributed in one way or another to Gotham's downfall. Dealers sold drugs under the noses of police officers, passed through the hands of hookers the purest goods destined for the Judge and his men. Gangsters were striking deals to sell things far more dangerous than drugs right behind the backs of an unseeing District Attorney. And all in the underground of a seemingly pristine establishment for the upper class.

Piecing together the plan in his head, Bruce was tempted for a moment to enter the club with the door and let the whole place go up in smoke. Chase people away, burn it to the ground. He knew, however, that it wasn't the premises that were the problem, but the people. Burning down the premises would only spread the plague throughout the city until they would find a new place. They couldn't seek refuge with Falcone, who played his political games in a more discreet way, with blackmail, threats and bribes. They couldn't hole up in one of Maroni's restaurants, since he wasn't interested in political games, only in the pure profit from the arms trade, the harassment and the eternal war with Falcone. Sionis continued to pretend that he was just an influential businessman focused on industrial development. Penguin was not picking and choosing, Penguin accepted everyone and could profit from anyone. Without him, they would have scattered across Gotham like locusts, spreading all over the city. They would have become more desperate, more dangerous.

So he chose the stealth approach. Squeezing through a narrow ventilation shaft, he seriously questioned his decision to reinforce his suit with kevlar plates and attach a cape. "Superman does have a cape," he mused, "but Superman doesn't sneak into the underground clubs through the narrow shafts…" he smiled faintly, imagining Superman in his place.

The plan was simple, get through the shaft straight over Pingiwn's office, surprise him, intimidate him and interrogate him. The only problem was a quick exit. The narrow ventilation shafts were not suitable for a quick escape. More than that, they left a clear trail, an entry and exit route, betraying his tactics, something he could not afford to do. "I will have to improvise. Make my way through the crowd to the upper level exit and grapple my way out…" he planned, "it's gonna get messy."

"Everyone I've ever loved either left me or died!" you exclaimed as you downed a glass of whisky in one sip. The alcohol was starting to warm you from the inside, causing the world to spin along with the flashlights, "I don't blame you Harl, I don't have any resentments," you corrected yourself quickly, "I don't hold a grudge, you left much earlier."

"I get it!" she assured you.

"No one gave a fuck! No one!" you reached for the bottle and refilled your glass, "Not my remaining family! Not my friends!!! They did not give a single flying fuck!"

"People suck!!! Fuck them!!!"

"I didn't know what to do! I was so fucking lost! It's just…I was left alone so I said FUCK IT! Fuck it all!!! I packed my bag and here I am! In fucking Gotham out of all the places!!! Where some maniac named Joker is fighting in front of the police with a guy dressed as a bat! What the actual fuck?! What is this place!"

"It's Gotham baby!!!" Harleen replied with a wide grin.

"Who does that!? Batman and Joker!! Like mindblowing!! Who gives him right!"

"Right!!! Beating up innocent people like that!!! Fucking psycho!"

"Totally!!! What is his problem! Like dude, therapy is actually a thing! Get one!"

"No one cares about anyone these days!" Harleen emptied her glass while anger clearly painted on her face, "And fucking Gothamites, all they do is judge and judge! No one actually takes a time to think! All they want is someone to blame! They don't take time to understand!"

"Fuck them Harl!!!" you chuckled with a smile, "fuck all of them!!!" raising your glass in a toasting gesture.

"That's right!!!" Harleen smiled tapping her glass against yours, "I'm so glad you texted me!"

"Honestly, I wasn't sure if you still want to have anything to do with me," you replied sincerely.

"Don't be stupid! 'course I want to!"

"And truly, it was my therapist who convinced me," you laughed.

"What's his name!?" curiosity shone in Harleen's eyes.

"Professor Crane," you replied without thinking, "you know him?"

"I do, "Harleen replied with a sly smile, "but don't count on me to tell you anything about him! Professional courtesy!"

"Fuck professional courtesy!" you laughed, "talk!"

"He's a brilliant psychiatrist. He'll help you, free yourself from that cage you've built in your head!" Harleen replied, "And I won't tell you anything else!"

"Fine!"

The music was pounding louder and louder which meant that he was getting closer to his destination. A few more meters and he should find himself above Penguin's office. He couldn't turn on his listening or echolocation because the music would damage his hearing. He had to count on himself. He tried to listen in on the conversation, but the thin metal trembled moved by the rhythmic bass and his own careful movements. He had to rely on himself, had to trust himself, had to trust that, as in any air-conditioned room, every few steps a ventilation shaft would be cut by a vent and that one of them would be above Penguin's office. According to the reconnaissance he did, Penguin's office was about 120 square meters, the vents appeared on the ceiling evenly every 50 meters in a straight line, which meant that there was at least one in his office. A few meters and he should see one of them below him, and through it a few security guards, armed goons, and a short squat man probably with a cigar in his mouth.

"A quick attack from above, by surprise," he planned, "before he realizes what hit him."

Dancing in the middle of the crowded dance floor, for a moment you forgot all your worries and cares, forgot the stresses of everyday life, forgot the anger that boiled inside you every day when you showed up for therapy, the feeling of loneliness every time you went home, the strange excitement that appeared in you every time you recalled that blue eyes and that low soft voice. The music rumbled inside you, the alcohol allowed your perpetually heightened senses to finally relax, the lights dazzled you, and you flowed along with them. You didn't notice that within a few steps, no one was dancing around Harleen and you, you didn't notice that several men standing at the bar were clearly watching you, you didn't see the owner of the club standing behind the glass wall of his office watching you from afar, nor a stocky man heading in your direction. Nothing mattered. You were free, you felt free, you felt as the rhythm of the music awakened in you a new strength and confidence that something incredible was waiting around the corner, a confidence that Gotham was indeed becoming the beginning of an amazing new life.

You opened your eyes and saw a stocky man standing behind dancing Harleen smiling at you in a way that made you shudder. He leaned over her and said something in her ear making her stop immediately. She threw him angry glances and shouted something while gesturing intensely, but the loud music drowned out her every word. The man only smiled again, as if this gesture was supposed to be the answer to everything.

Harleen turned to you and gestured in a direction then followed him into the depths of the club.

"What's going on?!" you asked, evening your step with theirs, "where are we going?"

"The boss wants to talk to Miss Quinn," the man replied without even looking in your direction.

"Why?" you directed your question to Harleen ignoring him.

"Told ya my boyfriend knows the owner!" Harleen replied with a wide smile, "don't ya worry! Ozzy probably wants to talk business with me while my puddin' is away!"

"What kind of business your boyfriend does here?!"

Harleen didn't have time to answer. The door to the owner's office opened wide revealing a short man inviting you inside with a gesture. You didn't want to enter, your intuition suddenly seemed to have sobered up and wasn't happy about where you found yourself. Harleen stepped confidently inside, while you took two steps back, clashing your back with Butch who effectively blocked the way out.

"I'll wait outside…" you smiled softly.

"Nonsense!" a voice reached you from deep in the room, "C'mon love! Harley's friends are my friends!"

"Five armed goons, two handguns, probably a Colt M1911…" Batman assessed the surroundings from above, "one, Micro Uzi, plus knives. Two at the glass wall, two at the entrance, one at the door. They need to be taken down first. First the ones by the wall. Then those by the door. The one behind the door will manage to get inside, freeing my way out."

"Come here! Ozzy wants to meet ya!" Batman picked up the female voice and scanned the room for its source. A blonde woman with a petite athletic build was turning toward the door and gesturing inside, "Who is she? Who's behind the door?"

"You have a business to discuss!" came from behind the door, "seriously, I'll wait outside, I won't disturb you," he knew the voice.

The thugs began to move. The two at the door turned their backs to the room. In the glare of the lights reflecting off the glass wall, Batman could clearly see one of them reach behind his back and unlock his holster. "I'm out of time…" he decided after which he sprayed a bit of explosive gel in a quick efficient motion and pressed the detonator.

The rumble of the explosion, the pieces of metal and debris falling from the ceiling caused disorientation exactly as he had planned. He didn't even have to use a smoke grenade. Before the thugs had time to realize what had happened he fell from the ceiling and in two quick moves hit those near the wall. A stunning blow to the head and a kick to the chest sent them flying outwards shattering glass in the process. Somewhere behind him he heard a furious curse and a woman's cry of surprise. He didn't care. In two quick steps he jumped to the armed men at the door. A knife flashed before his eyes, but he dodged in time. Swift hand movement and the knife got stuck in the spikes of his gloves. He yanked hard sending the knife far toward the floor.

"It's Batman!" the other shouted, yanking the weapon from behind his belt. A blow to the chest left him breathless but only for a moment, a hit to the shoulder sent a bullet to the floor, a kick, to the abdomen, a dodge, "I have to move them away from the door" he thought, he parried the blow catching his arm in flight and flipped one over his shoulder with a punch to the floor knocking him unconscious. The other one just screamed, pushed through the door and started running away. For a moment Batman saw the chaos that prevailed in the club. One exit, hundreds of people, "I should have foreseen that," he thought. But he didn't have time to analyze, a strong blow to the jaw came from behind the door, sending him tumbling back into the room. He didn't fall. With a backward roll, he got back on his feet poised to fight. He quickly sent a Batarang toward Penguin effectively knocking the weapon out of his hand and attacked his opponent. Butch Gilzean was a stocky man, two meters tall and similarly wide but he was slow which gave Batman the advantage. He attacked first, stunning him with his cape, knocking the gun out of his hand, and hitting Butch's hard chest again and again, pushing him outward to finally send him crashing into the wall with a kick. The scanners in his cawl read a pulse of 47 beats per minute, and he knew Butch wouldn't be getting up anytime soon.

"Don't hurt me…." he heard a familiar female voice from a darkened corner between the door and the wall, "We are not with them…."

Y/N stood there leaning against the wall with her hands raised in a defensive gesture. She looked at him but there was no fear on her face, only shock and confusion. He quickly suppressed the overwhelming fear and surprise, "what is she doing here…"

"Leave," he replied briefly, but she did not move. He turned away from her and looked at the blonde. She did not run away from him with her eyes. On the contrary, she looked at him defiantly and with scorn, "You too. Leave, both of you. Penguin and I need to talk."

***

Standing outside, slowly smoking a cigarette you received from one of the girls who rushed out of the club, you watched as one of the windows shattered from the inside shimmering in the light of the neon lights. A black figure shot up into the sky like a phantom, and if it weren't for the fact that a few minutes earlier you had seen him, standing just a few steps away from you, you would have thought your mind was playing a trick on you. Batman rose into the air towards the tall buildings only to disappear under the cover of night.

"What the actual fuck…" you whispered.

"Told ya this night gonna be banging!" Harleen joked with a wide grin.

"Yeah…let's not do that again…" you breathed musingly.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" Harleen asked as if completely ignoring what you had just said.

"Oh no no! I am not partying with you ever again! Forget about it!" you sneered.

"C'mon sugar! It was an awesome night! Till this nutcase showed up!" Harleen grimaced, "but don't ya worry! No party tomorrow! Just thought you might go with me to pick up my puddin'! He's coming back from his short vacation and I so would love ya to meet him!"

"I don't know Harl…" you hesitated, "after this insanity, I think I need some time to cool off before Monday. Gotta work Monday."

"C'mon! don't be like that!" Harleen looked at you with her big blue puppy eyes, "Now when we are back together I really really want ya to meet my boo! Do this for me! Pretty please!"

"Fine…" you smiled in agreement, "I can't say no to you," you added and Harleen only jumped up joyfully and hugged you, "but please, no craziness tomorrow!"

"You got it sis!" Harleen agreed but the glint in her eye betrayed to you that she wasn't entirely sincere, "Where do you work by the way?"

"Wayne Enterprises."

***

Chapter four: I am innocent

***

Author note: The story continues! Thank you for your patience and my apologies for the long await. I got distracted by work, some additional tasks that you took on, and then totally got lost watching Peaky Blinders (I know, I'm late to the party but this show is absolutely brilliant! It's been on my 'to watch' list forever and the time finally came!). But a dear friend of mine reminded me kindly that she is still waiting for chapter 3 so I had no other choice but to find time and write the next chapter. Even though I was distracted lately, I kept it in the back of my mind and I'll say, going back to it was a blast! Hope you like it! And I promise I'll do my best to publish the next chapter much sooner than this one! But for now, my Dear Reader, I thank you for reading.

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