Can wr get jabber x reader where the reader is usually kind if a bit blunt at times but push them or under the right circumstances thye get just as crazy and unhinged as jabber. Not a masochist just unhinged
a little upfront
summary: jabber with a direct reader who’s just as crazy if provoked.
warning: softened but still realistic bf jabber, jabber himself, you are a raider, you/you’re pronouns, reader matches jabber’s vibe, jabber finds you interesting, genuine adoration, pet names, jabber thinks you two are dating, mentions of torture, crazy reader, reader has a vital instrument, pushy jabber, im sorry to my fu fans (including me), uncomfortable topics
a/n: yes….. keep em coming fellas……
also I had my own way with this a little but i tried my best to maintain your req! hope you like it!
Jabber loved the way you answered him. It was a stark contrast to his more “loving” demeanor.
You had made your presence known to the Raiders a bit after Jabber failed to capture Rudo, the Sphereite that the Cleaners adopted. You weren’t a new recruit, nor were you a Raider for a long time. You were simply hidden away for a short while, partaking in missions Zodyl sent you to do in the meantime.
When Jabber happily introduced himself to you, he had leaned in really close, his odor slapping you in the face. As nice as possible, you scrunched up your face and said, “You smell awful. Please step back from me.” which caused him to freeze and genuinely blank at your words.
Cthoni’s seriousness was one thing, but your brutal honesty was something else. It threw him off so bad he almost got turned on by it.
You thought he’d leave you alone after that.
A lot of people did whenever they encountered you, and it was all because you didn’t sugarcoat anything. You were fine with that, since you were low on social awareness.
But no— he was persistent.
Jabber was always glued to your side, even when he was supposed to be focusing on his opponent. It was almost out of character if he wasn’t demanding you to fight him every now and then.
“You look like you could beat the hell out of me, baby,” Jabber said one time, grinning. “I ain’t gon’ lie, you should hit me. It’ll relieve your stress.” He added, as if it was convincing enough for you.
You avoided him after that. His masochistic tendencies frightened you, to be truthful. It was weird enough that he stank, but wanting to be hit? It was diabolical.
You would’ve called him crazy.
But here was the thing: you were just as insane as he was.
You kept your craziness fossilized, only expressing it when you were really feeling the moment. The first few times you showed it was when you were torturing a random Supporter Cthoni picked up from one of the Cleaner’s missions. Zodyl allowed you to interrogate him, as long as you were able to get information out of him.
You used every tactic you knew— mocking, hitting, isolation without food for a couple of days, even going so far as to kill him in front of his family if he didn’t tell them what the Cleaners were planning to do next. Jabber offered to use Mankira on him, but you ignored him, as always.
When the Supporter still didn’t budge, you snapped.
“You’re so fucking rude.” You spat, tugging his hair angrily. You pulled out a match and lit it with fire in one take, watching the man’s face twist into horror.
From a distance, Jabber watched you.
The way you pressed the tip of the match deep into his skin, the way you didn’t stop, the way you smiled as the Supporter screamed, and the way the glint in your eye burned with satisfaction.
He liked you like this. It made him grin like mad, knowing you could literally be able to keep up with him if you continued being just as unhinged.
You got the information needed, though you returned back to your normal, blunt self. It completely ruined his mood, however, it wasn’t going to stop him. Not until he died.
Jabber poked you in every annoying way possible. He was also more touchy than usual. Every time you found peace, he was there to fuck it up.
The more you were manic, the more it pushed him to do stupid things. He believed that you two were soulmates, though it seemed like he was just throwing the word around like an excuse.
One day, you lounged around the opening of the sewers. The other Raiders weren’t around, so you made use of the time by practicing the use of your vital instrument— a pair of bracelets that tightened around the wrists of your opponent, trapping them into your hold. They wouldn’t be able to move with it on.
You sat down, unaware of Jabber’s hovering presence behind you. Not until you felt something shift beside you.
“What are you doing?” You furrowed your brow at him when he laid his head down onto your lap. Stiffening at his sudden cozy state, you crossly said, “I don’t appreciate being touched, Jabber.”
“Oh, but you’re not really doin’ anything to stop me right now, ma.” He chimed, a bright grin on his face, “Just thought you’d want to know how it feels like to have me as your boyfriend.” He said theatrically.
Your face remained blank.
“We’re not dating.” You said flatly, pushing him off. He yelps, landing on the ground with a “oof,” then sat up. “Leave me alone.” You added with a bite so sharp it could’ve cut someone.
”But baby, we’ve been through so much together!” He huffed, “Am I not romantic enough? Do you want me to beg?”
Your eyebrows twitched, but he continued. “I’ll let you hit me if you’re really mad! Isn’t that boyfriend material already?” He smiles with his entire teeth, “I’m really good at being a stress-ball, baby. Just oonneee hit.” He gets on his knees and leans in. “Then maybe I’ll leave ya alone..”
“You’re a bad liar.” You said, shoving him away again. You stand up, looking down at him without tilting your head, before finally turning to leave.
And he let you.
For now.
—————
You were growing extremely agitated.
It had been a couple of days since your last mission (which failed extraordinarily), and it was slowly pissing you off the more you recalled. You didn’t call it out loud, in case Zodyl or Cthoni heard, but it was obvious in your face expressions.
You hated feeling useless.
So, you did what was logical: relieving every tension in your mean body.
You found Fu by a dark corner a few minutes later. The latter was scared of you, since you’ve said some really uncomfortable truths about him and his benefits for the Raiders. Nevertheless, that didn’t stop you from approaching.
“Hey,” You called to him. “How good is your pain tolerance?”
Fu flinched, wide eyes blinking vigorously. “U- uhm,” He started. “I- it depends? I don’t really feel anything if—”
“Great.” You say, grabbing a long thread with a sharp needle, “I can try my sewing skills on your skin.”
Fu froze in horror.
You were quick to pounce onto him, pinning him to the ground as your bracelets tightened around his wrists. You watched him tremble while preparing the thread.
You were close to cutting a long piece of his skin when Bundus appeared in front of you, eyes staring down with judgement.
“Get yer ass off of him.” He grunted, towering over you, “Or ‘m reporting this to Zodyl.”
You hissed, but before you could answer, a drawl came from behind the big man—
“Eh? What’s this-?” Jabber peeked from behind, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you with a needle in between your fingers. “Dang, mama! You can do that to wimpy here, but not me?” He pouted.
Fu scrambled up the moment you let him go, still glaring at Bundus. You had respect for the man, but he really needed to mind his own business.
“Don’t worry, baby.” Jabber wrapped an arm around you, “A real man ain’t scared of no needle.” He grinned, “Try me–”
“No thanks.”
You growled, pushing him away violently. “I’d rather poison myself.”
Then, you walked away, clenching the needle and thread in your hand. Only silence filled the sewers, the three men watching your marching figure fade.
can you wrote a minific of dazai borderline flirting w another girl but being with the reader. He knows what he's doing — trying to get his beloved jealous it's the cutest thing. But they make him sleep on the couch as revenge
𝓳ealousy, 𝓳ealousy❣
⌯⌲ this will have to be my last one for the evening, then i should go to bed lol. the moment i saw this pop up in my inbox, i was like yes finally someone asked me to write this! cw: both reader and dazai are slightly unhinged.
His laughter, that very specific laugh, flies right into your ears, and your pulse jumps at the sound. Fight or flight kicks in, worry, stress. You're standing at the counter, looking over the bakery selection for a small gathering you two were invited to, something for your family that you were hoping to get out of, but they mentioned how much they missed you and hadn't seen you in so long - plus they wanted to meet this apparently handsome new man in your life.
However, this man in your life seems to be working to become single here in a few seconds. A weird feeling is overcoming you, something you aren't quite sure you've felt before, and your breathing shallows as you try following the melodic sound of that siren's soft laughter. When you turn the counter, you see Dazai leaning against the counter, the girl on the other side twirling her hair around her finger and batting her lashes at him, and your jaw drops.
He couldn't be paying any less attention to her if he tried, mouth moving but the words falling out one hundred percent meaningless, carefully selected to avoid anything that would land him in huge trouble, but meaningless nonetheless. He was bored, and to be entirely honest, was feeling a bit neglected. He noticed long ago, way before you two officially dated, that you weren't really the jealous type - he tried playing his silly little games to see how you'd react, but you never noticed. At first, that was refreshing, since he was so used to girlfriends and ghosts of lovers past getting jealous, envious, and violent whenever he was around someone else. Now, he sometimes lets the voices in his head win, believing when they say you don't like him nearly enough as he thought.
"Can I get your number then?" The clerk attempts, sliding a pen and slip toward him, and, without thinking, reaches out for it.
"Sure," he beams, that calm yet alluring confidence peeking through as he jots down Atsushi's phone number instead, sliding it back to her. As if I'd actually go out with you; Atsushi might like you though. Your jaw couldn't be any more on the floor after this, the foreign emotion stirring up, mixing with rage, and your fists ball up at your sides, and you actually start having hateful thoughts about how this bakery clerk is prettier than you, and you're about to have to hail a taxi home to pack your things and live on the street.
You don't know what to do. Should I go over there and start clinging to him? Should I bark like a chihuahua? Should I threaten- okay, no, too far. You've never experienced whatever is happening to you right now, seeing him flirt it up with this random girl at the bakery when he came here with you is messing with your brain chemistry.
Your feet move on their own, swallowing, and approach his side as normal as you possibly can, but suddenly something overcomes you as a giant, sweet smile breaks out on your features, arm linking through his, and you hold onto him for dear life. "Hi, Osamu. I've been looking everywhere for you." You bat your lashes, the clerk's face dropping instantly, and he merely gives you a smile - the smile he reserves only for you, when he's so happy to see you because he's so in love with you.
"Hello, my darling," he purrs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and you're suddenly shaking - not with that usual anticipation you get when you're near him, but with immense violence. Your cheek gracefully rests on his arm, still looking up at him with this strange innocence, before your eyes dart in her direction, and she takes a step back from the malicious, wordless death threat you have sent toward her. Also very unlike me. "I was just talking with the clerk here about the best thing they recommend we bring to your family's get together." He tells you, which isn't necessarily incorrect information.
"How about her head?" You say in the most soft and decadent voice you can muster, gazing up at him, and he has to hide his shock at your morbid words - but his smile tilts into a smirk as his eyes mildly widen.
"My... what?" She squeaks. You look back at her, that weird reactive grin frozen on your face, before you break out into a giggle.
"I said 'how about her idea'!" You lie, sneaking a glance at the slip on the surface, recognizing that is not Dazai's number. Your grip on his arm tightens, nails trying to dig through his bandages, and the only thing he can think to do is dance around in his head that he successfully got a reaction out of you after all this time - he also can't hold back the triumphant but devious smirk he wears as he directs his attention back to the incredibly shocked and unsettled clerk.
"You're in a relationship, and you still flirted with me?" She asks, incredulous, and your face drops, feigning cluelessness, as if you didn't see exactly that happening. You turn to look up at him, seeing the side of his face, and notice something in his expression shift - something you haven't seen before. His head cocks, suddenly looking at her as if she is crazy, his brows coming together.
"Flirting? No, I wasn't flirting with you," he responds, his eyes flashing as he continued pretending to not understand what she was referring to. "I'm happily married, why on Earth would I waste my time with you?" He says this as if there is something foul in his mouth, making you both stare at him - you unblinking, confused, wondering who he is actually trying to gaslight; she looks like she's been shot and is on the verge of tears.
"You gave me your number..." She holds up the paper, and he looks at it for a long moment before slowly shaking his head.
"Nope, you asked for a number, so I gave you my colleague's," she gapes, eyes darting between the two of you before crumpling up the paper, stomping her foot, and storming out of sight with a frustrated groan. "Ready to go, my darling?" He asks you, as if none of that just happened, and you drop your impression to a glare. He smiles, placing another kiss on your cheek before guiding you out to the entrance and along the sidewalk.
You two didn't speak the entire walk home, mostly because you still couldn't figure out what exactly was wrong with you, and why Dazai said you two are married when you aren't. He hummed to himself, happier than ever that he can put his mind and devious voices at ease that you do in fact like him as much as he thought you did, content you haven't released his arm, letting everyone else know you are his and he is yours.
The moment you two step inside, the door closing behind you, your arm slowly recoils, hand resting on your hip, and he stops to turn and face you. That smile plastered on his face and eyes loving and adoring as always. "Did you like her?" You bluntly ask, and his face drops.
"What?" He looks at you, dumbstruck, as if that's the most absurd question you could be asking right now.
"Did you like her?" You repeat, the rage starting to boil up. "Did you think she was prettier than me? Did you want to date her? Kiss her? Fuck her-"
"Whoa," he cuts you off, hand coming up to stop you from continuing, your mouth moving a mile a minute, and the anger is prominent in your shaking eyes vibrating in your sockets. "Whoa, no, none of that. I didn't think anything of her other than some person working at the store." He explains, that joyful, triumphant high he had been riding all crashing into a giant brick wall.
"Oh? Really?" Your voice pitches, cocking your head and staring at him with a wide and - admittedly - scary stare. "None of that? She's just... someone working at the store?" You echo, this side of you he's never seen, and he isn't sure if he should be turned on or running away. Both, maybe?
"Darling," he finally lets out an anxious, uneasy chuckle, taking a step closer to you, but your brow raises and he stops in place. "I don't want anyone other than you. I just wanted to see if I could make you jealous." He soothes, his hand daring to come out and touch your shoulder, and you stare at it before going back to him. Your eyes narrow, and he gives you another wary smile, trying to be cute to earn your forgiveness faster.
"Alright, Osamu, it finally worked," you tell him, forcing a smile on your face. "I was very jealous. So jealous, in fact, I forgot to get something for that stupid thing tomorrow!" You stomp your foot, voice raising, and his eyes veer off elsewhere.
"Ah, shit, yeah," he mumbles to himself, finger coming up to tap his chin. "No big deal, I can run and get something tomorrow morning while you-"
"Oh no. No no no no!" You wag your finger at him, and he immediately snaps his mouth shut as he looks down at you. "As if I am going to let you scamper off to the fuckin' bakery again alone with that girl working there!" His eyebrow arches, actually finding it a bit unbelievable you're still on this. "You'll probably find another one and try chasing after her while I'm not around. No, absolutely not." He stands there in silence with you for a long time, his hand carefully withdrawing, before leaning down to nuzzle his nose into your neck - you having to fight giving him any sort of positive reaction.
"Awh, I've really upset you," he murmurs with true sympathy, continuing his nuzzling up to your ear. "I'm so sorry, my darling. I just felt like you didn't like me. I know that isn't true now." He explains, sincere with his apologies, and his arms sneak back around your waist.
"No, it's true, I don't like you right now," you tell him, slipping from his embrace, and his jaw drops. You fold your arms, nose wrinkling, and let out an exaggerated huff. "You hurt my feelings!" You yell out, like a child getting bullied on the playground.
"That wasn't my intention!" He argues with you, reaching out but you sidestep him again. Your nose turns up, emphasizing your pouting more, and let out a harsh 'hmph!' "Oh, don't be like that my beloved darling. You know you're my only one. No one else in this entire existence is good enough to even begin comparing to you." He is already starting on his compliments, trying to dig himself out of the hole he threw himself in, and his nose is back to nuzzling into your neck while he holds you close. You mull his behavior over, tapping your finger on your arm, letting him continue assaulting you with his apologetic affection.
"You mean it?"
"Of course I mean it," he reassures, starting to pepper kisses along your jawline. "Lemme show you." He whispers, kissing to your lobe, his thumb caressing your hip under the material of your shirt. You think to yourself some more, the way this all made you feel, and how you did not like it in the slightest, that he thinks his sweet nothings and soft kisses will get him out of this.
"Yeah?" You match his tone, turning around in his hold to rest your arms on his shoulders, him wearing a light smirk as he stares at you with a daze. He offers a nod and a kiss on your nose. "Then show me by sleeping on the couch!" You crush down on his foot before turning off in a huff to your shared room and slamming the door shut. A yelp is caught in his throat, realizing you kept your shoes on while he is barefoot, and painfully peers over his shoulder at the couch that will be his bed for the night. Then he remembers why he is sleeping there, and he just cannot help himself from smiling and internally celebrating.
"Worth it," he grits, strained, the piercing pain bringing him back to the reality that you are mad at him and will be even more mad tomorrow when you two show up empty handed to your family's get together. "Yeah, still worth it."
stole this dynamic from an existing one i have because i literally couldn't resist.
- ghxst
minific masterlist
tag list//: @dazaisfavoritemistake @luanniidae @starr3i
Dark!Bucky this, Possessive!Bucky that... what we need is more unhinged reader!!!
So bear with me... Bucky becomes awfully distant one day, and reader is worried that he's growing tired of her and is secretly meeting someone else behind her back. So she figures that if she has his child, he'll stay with her, and she baby-traps him (spoiler: it works). Anyway, in actuality, Bucky was ‘distant’ because he was busy looking for a house for them to live in so they could start their family.
He doesn’t kiss her goodbye anymore.
Not like he used to—slow, lingering, like he’s memorizing her mouth for the day ahead. Now it’s a distracted brush of lips, a hand already reaching for his keys, eyes somewhere over her shoulder. He’s late more often. His phone is always face-down. He smells like the outside world when he comes home, not her sheets.
Bucky Barnes is pulling away.
That’s the truth her brain feeds her at three in the morning while she stares at the ceiling, counting every way she’s ever been too much. Too needy. Too intense. Too eager to build a future with a man who spent most of his life running from one.
He doesn’t touch her in bed some nights. He turns onto his side. Breathes evenly. Pretends not to feel her staring holes into his back.
So she does what any rational, deeply unstable woman in love would do.
She panics.
The thought crawls in quietly at first—soft, poisonous, irresistible.
If I had his child… he wouldn’t leave.
It blooms into obsession frighteningly fast.
She watches the way Bucky softens around kids at the grocery store, how his shoulders loosen when a toddler waves at him, how his eyes go distant and aching when he sees fathers lifting their children onto their shoulders. He never says anything, but she knows that look. It’s the same one he wears when he thinks she’s asleep.
Longing. Fear. Want.
So she stops taking her pills.
She doesn’t tell him. She tells herself she’ll only do it once. Just one month. Just to see. She times it meticulously, reads everything she can, tracks her body like it’s a mission briefing. There’s something darkly empowering about it—about deciding her future with a certainty she’s never felt before.
When Bucky finally touches her again, it’s desperate.
Like he’s been holding himself back for days.
He pulls her into his lap on the couch, mouth hot and hungry against her throat, hands gripping like he’s afraid she’ll disappear if he lets go. She clings just as hard, nails digging in, heart racing with a secret that feels too big for her chest.
This will fix it, she tells herself.
This will make him stay.
Weeks pass. Bucky is still distant—still distracted—but now he’s gentler. Watching her closely. Asking if she’s feeling okay. Rubbing her back when she’s nauseous in the mornings, brow furrowed with concern.
She almost breaks a dozen times.
When the test turns positive, she sits on the bathroom floor and laughs until she cries. It’s manic and hysterical and terrifying all at once. She presses a hand to her stomach, something feral and triumphant blooming in her chest.
Mine. Ours. Forever.
She waits three days before telling him.
Three days of rehearsing every possible reaction. Rage. Betrayal. Silence. Walking out the door.
She tells him in the kitchen, hands shaking, voice too bright.
“I’m pregnant.”
The world stops.
Bucky stares at her like she’s spoken a foreign language. His face drains of color. His hands brace on the counter.
“You’re… what?”
Her heart slams against her ribs. “I—I know it’s a lot. And I know you’ve been distant and maybe you don’t want this and maybe I messed up and—”
He crosses the room in two strides and grips her shoulders.
“Distant?” he repeats hoarsely. “You think I’ve been distant because I don’t want you?”
Tears spill over before she can stop them. “I thought you were leaving. I thought there was someone else.”
His expression crumples.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathes.
He pulls a folded packet of papers from his jacket pocket with shaking hands. Mortgage listings. A printout with a little house circled in red. A sticky note in his messy handwriting: extra bedroom. nursery?
“I’ve been trying to surprise you,” he says quietly. “I wanted it to be right. I wanted to be sure I could give you—give us—something stable. I didn’t want to say anything until I knew I could do it.”
Her stomach drops.
“Oh.”
He presses his forehead to hers, eyes wet, voice breaking. “I was gonna ask you if you wanted to start a family. I just didn’t know how.”
Guilt twists in her chest—but beneath it, something darker hums with satisfaction.
She cups his face. “You don’t hate me?”
He lets out a broken laugh and sinks to his knees in front of her, pressing his ear to her stomach like he can already hear something there.
“Hate you?” he whispers. “I’m terrified. I’m in love. And I’m not going anywhere.”
He looks up at her then—soft, reverent, ruined.
“I’m yours,” he says. “Both of us are.”
And as she cradles his head against her, fingers threading through his hair, she thinks—
summary: Azriel’s known about his mate for years. At first he was overwhelmed—someone for him? But time passes, and the bond doesn’t click for her. He can’t bring it up on his own. (What if it’s wrong, what if he’s gotten his hopes up over nothing, what if, what if, what if…?) There’s no way she’ll have him. Not a female like her. So sweet. So kind. So easily flustered by the slightest of his remarks. The heat that warms her cheeks nothing more than discomfort. But if he can get her to accept it… it doesn’t matter after. She can run. She can leave. She can love someone else. But she’ll always be his.
All he has to do is catch her.
a/n: Don’t look at the plot holes, they’re shy. Based off this ask.
warnings: stalker/manipulative Azriel, a smidge of angst that is resolved, kissing in the woods as rain washes away the blood and dirt
word count: 2,058
~~~~
Your palms slip in the mud, sandals lost from your feet as you try to scramble backwards, something hard digging into the base of your spine. You’re caught at the base of an oak.
Sweat slides down your temples. Chest heaving. Nausea stirring. Thighs trembling from exertion.
Sabre teeth flash before you, claws gouging mud from the ground, tongue flicking saliva from its mouth.
You’re going to die. There’s sweat cling to your body. Mud and grit lodged beneath your nails. A cloying damp digging into your spine. Lungs searing, aching for breath, more, more, more…
The creature rears on its tail, serpentine body coiling tight as fangs flash and your knees pull to your chest, arms covering your face.
Steel hisses through scales, a bubble bursting as liquid gurgles. Mud splats on your bare shins as a heavy weight hits the wet earth. Copper bleeds through the forest air.
No teeth chew your flesh.
Cool, silken darkness slithers down over the bark, wrapping your shoulders, swirling round your waist. Paces squelch in the damp mud, pausing nearby.
Then, “You’re okay…”
That voice…
Your arms fall away, staring at the male knelt before you, the massive serpent’s head laying decapitated by his side. Blood flecks his brown skin—red ink scrawled on parchment paper that’s been posted through your letter box day after day. Possessive words that fall deaf on romantic ears, while intensity glitters in the dark eyes before you.
“…Az…riel…?”
He nods, his black, inky hair grown long enough to flop over dark brows, soft and spiky in his eyes.
“It’s me.” He tells you. “You’re okay.”
Breath shudders through your chest, at once suctioned into your lungs with such force you nearly wind yourself.
You tip yourself forward, uncaring for the gritty mud slicking your bare knees as you struggle forward, arms flying over his shoulders as you shudder. The serpent’s thick throat lies severed at his back, and your fingers clutch at the dark linen of his shirt, staring at the bleeding red hole of its throat you could have been swallowed down.
His wings shift, pulling taut at his back, and the gore is hidden from sight. Warm, stable hands spread across your back, his fingers curling around the side of your ribs, thumbs softly strumming the bones.
“You’re alright,” he reminds, soft and low. “You’re okay.”
“You killed-… You saved…” Breath stammers, lungs stuttering. “Azriel…”
“It’s okay,” he whispers, distant enough his breath won’t frighten your ears. “Everything’s okay.”
But the moment hasn’t ended yet for you. You’re still curled against the tree, the serpent rearing over you. Azriel hasn’t arrived yet.
“Y-you…” He’s here.
You can feel him.
He’s just beneath your fingers, holding you together.
“Azriel…”
Fierce, familiar hands brace the front of your ribcage, ever so gently pushing you to a distance where your eyes can meet.
Quiet spreads light through the air, time falling away as he engulfs your world. His gaze is grounding, hauling you out from your mind, soul spreading swift through your limbs now it’s been dragged, timid, from your skull.
“You saved me…” You breathe, at last having the sense to push tears from your eyes. “You… You-…”
His eyes soften, stroking your sides, a small, disarming smile gentling the edges of his mouth. One hand lifts to cup your cheek, securing your gaze. “I never thought it would be you in need of saving,” he murmurs, eyes twinkling.
It’s beyond you how he can manage such kindness in a moment like this. How he can be so patient, and forgiving despite the terror in your veins.
A laugh cracks from your lips, hurried, and more than a little frantic. “Guess I owe you,” you force out, hands trembling, forcing yourself to swallow the fear lodged in your throat.
It doesn’t budge.
His eyes glitter like black diamonds. Shining coal. Spilled ink.
Amusement plies his lips into a slow smile, teeth hidden in his mouth. “Promise?”
You heave down another breath, trying to swallow past the lump blocking your oesophagus.
You try to laugh. Try to roll your eyes at his teasing.
It’s no help to your nerves, how much he’s touching you. So delicately. Like you’re something sweet and fragile.
It’s making you want him to reach his fingers in, and peel back your petals. Flourish with colour and pollen, and tempt him closer. Find out just how sweet your centre is.
For a moment you forget about bargains. Forget about deals, and the magic that leaks from your mouths.
Somehow.
You manage a shaking smile, “I promise.”
Pain stamps itself on your back, a billion needles swiftly pricking your skin, seeping ink inside before withdrawing, leaving your flesh poked and seething.
Stupid, stupid decision.
Azriel’s pupils expand, then breath is fluttering from his lungs, offering a breathless smile before resting his brow on your shoulder. Relief clears his scent of its remaining tension. Tension you had presumed was the symptom of the serpent.
He’s murmuring something. Murmuring something too soft for you to hear. His mouth brushes your skin in the same pattern over and over. Repeating endlessly.
His shoulders slump, wings turning lax and you’re once again confronted with the violence of his care. The gaping throat, raw and crusting in places.
Your fingers shake as you clutch onto him. His fingers stroke the sides of your waist, meandering across your back, exploring the curve of your shoulders and tracing up the nape of your neck. His fingers are free and wandering, traveling with a curiosity and greed he’s never once acted on. Those fingers sink into your muddy hair, and he lifts his head to gaze at you, close enough to feel breath against your still mouth. Close enough the tip of his nose brushes your own. Close enough his lashes send a fluttering breath ghosting your cheek when he blinks.
“Accept it,” he whispers. “Accept me.”
You blink, not understanding his words, periphery coming into view again.
“Accept…?” You whisper, scanning his face. “Accept what?”
“Me.” He breathes. “Our… The bond.”
You blink, body pausing, “…what?”
He swallows, shifting your body in his arms—so delicate; you’re so fragile. “There’s one between us. I can feel it. I’ve felt it for years.”
“A…” You don’t know what to say.
“A mating bond,” he whispers, “for us.”
Your skin cools, remembering parchment shoved through your letter box, riddled with carefully curled letters, sketched in bloody red ink. Delicate and beautifully scrawled—years of practice to perfect the jagged kicks in his fried nerves.
A bouquet left on your kitchen table, found after a long night out, coming back to a locked door that must have been tampered with while you were away.
Torn pages slid between the iron of your windows, trapped between the panes, containing short passages from stories you sometimes recognise. Passages you love; passages you’ve never read before; passages that make your hairs stand on end.
“…You…?”
You stare at him. Breath trembling.
It’s him?
It can’t be.
But his eyes show a hunger you’ve never seen in him before.
At least not one you’ve noticed.
“You don’t have to stay,” he whispers, voice hoarse, and it’s real. It’s him.
“I won’t force you into anything,” he swears, attention briefly dropping to your mouth, then lifting back to your eyes. He swallows. “Except this. This is it. …It’s all I want.”
“You…” you stammer, lungs panicking. “You- You sent the letters. The notes.”
He nods.
“You left the flowers? The pages?” He nods.
You stare at him. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
It’s softer than a whisper.
Revulsion fills his eyes. He looks away. “I’d never…” His throat rolls. You hear it move. “I wouldn’t do that to you. It’s not your…” He looks back at you, and your heart stutters. “I’ll deal with it. You don’t have to… I’ll keep out of Velaris. I’m leaving you alone. It’s not your problem.”
Fear filters through your blood. Panic slipped into your drink.
“Accept it,” he repeats.
His eyes are imploring. Intense. A gravitational pull all to themselves.
Words catch in your throat. “I don’t know how.”
His features pale. Hands stiffening. Fingers falling away from your hair; your skin.
“Please…” His breathless plea’s not directed at you.
“Don’t disappear,” you choke out, sinking fingers into his hair, smearing crusted mud against the crest of his cheek, flecks of blood flaking away.
“You should’ve-” Told me.
“Why didn’t you-” Tell me.
“Please-” Don’t leave me. Don’t be so cruel to yourself.
You kilter into him, and his eyes widen, arms catching you as his back hits the serpent’s dead scales. Blood pumps out into the mud, and your knees and hands mix it well as you struggle over him, struggle to pin him down so he won’t leave, struggle to correctly find his mouth amidst the panic.
A sound catches in his throat as your wet fingers splay across his shoulders, mouth pushing down atop his own.
You taste him, swipe across his lips, pry him apart with your teeth and tongue.
You recall the hunger in his eyes, the desire he had. For you.
His hands shake, then they’re gripping your waist, slow at first, then rough, slipping beneath your top, spreading muck and blood up your bare back. Overhead the clouds converge, dark and heavy and ripe with rain, the first few droplets spitting onto the serpent’s scales; wetting the dried dirt on his cheek; cooling the burning heat of your skin.
Azriel’s wings shift, readjusting himself in the mud, sitting upright so you’re over his lap, knees deep in the mud either side his hips, and he’s hungry again. All over again. Fingers creeping and crawling while your own stroke and squeeze, pushing your mouths so close together there’s no room for fresh air.
You pull away panting, clutching back to one another before you’ve reset, and the rain falls heavier, pittering into already gathering puddles. His mouth is hot and everywhere, and your lungs burn but you’ve never been so desperate and starving with the solution already before you.
Water streaks down your back, soaking your clothes, wind whipping at wet linen as the trees hiss, rain pelting his wings that flare then draw in close, shielding from the slanting rain.
You’re coming undone.
————
Her mouth is persuasive in a way even his own twisted imagination couldn’t comprehend. Luring him in, seducing him, convincing him she wants him.
It can’t be true.
He’s spent so long convincing himself otherwise, wallowing in freezing misery and endless hunger that having her on top of him, open-mouthed and touching seems impossible. He wouldn’t have made the effort to lure the serpent so far from it’s home if he’d believed he had a chance. Wouldn’t have aggravated it so it would chase the first scent it caught. Wouldn’t have hounded her with notes and love letters detailing the affection he wished he could give her.
But she’s here, a weight in his lap, a pushing heat against his skin that soothes every place she touches. A single, mellow flame stolen from the sun, coddled by darkness and brought down overnight just so he can drink her in and warm his hands without fear of burns.
The bond glitters in his chest, pulsing like a river preparing to flood its banks. Brimming with molten gold searing at the dam blocking its path.
His hands grip her waist, lifting her so they can be equal on their knees, so his arm can push at her spine so she can push into him, front flush to his chest and when their mouths collide again, the dam dissolves.
Nails rake through his hair, clawing at his shirt as her body noticeably heats, her legs shaking in the cocoon of darkness they’re sharing, the roaring of the wind kept far enough at bay he can hear when she whispers, “the bond… I can feel it.”
Azriel feels it too. Feels the pent up pressure finally release, met with surging waters that hiss and boil on contact, rising to share temperature.
Never did he think he’d experience the relief of mutual adoration.
Never did he think the Mother would deem him worthy of love.
Maybe she doesn’t.
But the female on top of him—his mate… In her eyes, he’s worthy.
Summary: Once the ever doting lover of Emperor Geta, you have now been cast aside and betrayed. Marked for public execution, you make one final attempt to cement yourself into the memory of the man you love. (No use of y/n)
Warnings: angst, character death, blood, violence.
Word Count: 1k+
Author’s Note: honestly I had an idea for a scene and my friend said do it. So here ya go!
AO3 || Masterlist
You bide your time quietly, in the shadows of your former lover’s room. The guards will be coming for you soon, but they won't look here. At least not at first. By the time they find you, it will be too late. You will not let anyone else decide your fate. Not after the years you spent, bending over backwards in these very chambers.
And then suddenly he is here, alone. He storms into the chamber, slamming the door behind him. You watch him silently as he stumbles about the room in a blind rage. You wonder briefly what has angered him; you wonder if it is about you. He grabs a vase and throws it, screaming out into the silence of the night and yet still no guards come rushing in. Then you truly are alone, you know. Only when he has quieted do you emerge from your hiding place.
“So it’s finally, just us then? Geta?” Your voice is low as the shadows melt away to light.
He whips around to face you, the shock evident on his face, before it steels to a blistering anger.
“What are you doing here?” He hisses at you, then glances about the room as if searching for any others who may hide in his shadows. You stalk towards him predatorily, eyes narrowed and hungry for blood.
“Surprised to see me? After you so callously threw me away?” The threat in your voice is thinly veiled and his eyes widen in surprise. Most don’t have the courage to speak to him in such a manner. The ones who did are all gone now. Thrown to the lions and gladiators for public entertainment. The fate he would have befall you for some imagined transgression. Your death warrant has already been signed in a familiar pen, and here and now, you have nothing else left to lose. You know nothing of the fear those men faced. “I am not a possession, Geta. Not anymore. In your betrayal you have freed me from any idolization you had previously claimed. I am nothing but a woman scorned now.”
You draw a blade from behind your back and his eyes catch on it immediately. It glistens a glorious gold. It was a gift, from him nonetheless, and you watch as recognition, then fear, flash in his eyes. You take a step forward and he takes one back, bumping into another side table and knocking something else free, to shatter against the floor.
“GUARDS!” He calls out, but you know they are too far away now. He is the one responsible for sending them so far away, in fact. Certainly there is some lowly, expendable attendant, close enough to hear any distress, likely running off as you speak, to get them. They will be there soon. But, not soon enough. You watch as tears form in his eyes and you sneer.
“Are you going to cry for your betrayal? You are pathetic Geta! Face me like a man if you are to condemn me to death!”
He turns on you suddenly, vicious and snarling, teeth bared in barely contained emotion. There he is, you think, the other side of the coin. The other face to this man you love. This is Emperor Geta.
“Who are you to address me as such? I am your emperor! I am your master! I am your god!” Briefly, the fear leaves his eyes and he is suddenly upon you with fast steps and his hand closes around your throat. He squeezes and you allow him this last assault on your person. You lean into the grip and watch as his eyes darken ever so slightly. You let your eyes fall close. His voice is dripping with bravado and venom, it demands respect. And you almost lose yourself to the memory of what it was like to be his. But you can hear it. You can feel it. The underlying tremble of a man who knows he no longer has power over you. A man who understands deep down that he is mortal.
Slowly you open your eyes and look at him, the resolve of what must be done blazing anew within you.
“You are nothing to me any longer. Do not speak to ME as though I am one of your whores. You have lost the right.” You spit back, low and dark and sad. The hand around your throat tightens. His face comes ever closer and you feel his hot breath fan over you.
“And how should I speak to you? You are NO ONE! YOU ARE NOTHING! HISTORY WILL KNOW NOTHING OF YOU!” He sounds desperate as he yells at you. Like it isn’t you he’s trying to convince.
You rush him then. Your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, knocking him from his feet. He reaches out, but his instinct is untrained. He can’t seem to decide whether he should grab hold of you or brace his fall. He chooses wrong as his hands circle your wrists. You keep pushing further still and you both tumble to the floor. You land on top of him, weighing heavily upon him, pinning him down.
“I have never cared whether history remembers me. I have only ever cared about you.” Your eyes burn hot with unshed tears but you don’t waiver in your actions. You maneuver your wrists around, despite his struggle against you, until you hold his hands in yours. His fingers are cold. You wrap them around the hilt of the blade and hold them there, hold him there. “I have only ever had loyalty to you! I’ve only ever loved you!”
You looked deeply into his eyes. This close you can see the depths of his brown irises, and a sense of almost peace comes over you. There is something comforting about knowing your final moments will be with him. And then you push, and feel searing pain as metal pierces through skin, muscle, and organ. As blood spurts from your wound onto his chest and bile and blood rises in your throat. It is acrid and metallic on your tongue and you spit it out. You watch in slight amusement as he flinches when red splatters across his delicate features. You lean down, barely holding yourself against the gravity that threatens to drag you into darkness, the edges of your vision fading fast. Your lips graze upon his, just shy of one final kiss.
“Now-“ your throat produces a wheezing sound and more blood gurgles onto your tongue. It continues to drip out and onto his face. His eyes stare up into yours in unabashed horror. You relish the pain that swirls there, feeling a sick sense of joy that this hurts him too. “Try… and forget me.”
And with your final breath finally passing from your lips, you collapse upon him fully. Finally accepting the fate he has dealt you, and sealing it for yourself. In the blink of death, you might have sworn his arms close tight around you, that he might have even shed a tear. You will never know.
The look within your eyes haunts him for the rest of his measly, pathetic little life. It wasn’t anger or hate, but love so unconditional that he had no choice but to feel the depths of his betrayal against you endlessly. It torments him and he lies awake at night and wonders why you had looked upon him so tenderly as you enacted something so cruel. Only in his final moments staring into the face of his brother as blade sliced through flesh, did he finally understand. Why, even in death, you had been too kind to him.
Hiiii, i have a request, what if we walk on the members of p1harmony cheating on their partner.
Sorry if i wrote something wrong, english isn't my first language
thank you🫶🏻
pairing: P1Harmony x reader
warnings: Cheating, angst, p1Harmony being cheaters, hard cursing
disclaimer: not my pic!
Okay, I usually don't like to write stuff like this but my ex cheated on me as well so I decided to make the reader a fierce and badass woman who just FOUND OUT she got cheated on! Because none of you deserve to get cheated on!!!!! You hear me? NONE OF YOU
Keeho
You had heard the rumors before. Whispers on social media, blurry photos, and that one fan account that swore they saw Keeho and another idol together after a music show. You brushed it off every time, trusting him. Keeho was always open, always reassuring. “Don’t believe everything you see online,” he had said once, smiling like the truth lived in his dimples. And you believed him.
Until tonight.
You were watching a livestream from some award event—just background noise while you folded laundry. The camera panned across the red carpet, catching a glimpse of idols mingling, waving, laughing. Then, for half a second, there he was. Keeho. Hand in hand with her. Not holding hands like friends. Holding hands like people who had forgotten the world existed.
Your body went cold first. Then the burn came—slow, crawling from your stomach to your throat, until you couldn’t breathe past it. The phone trembled in your hand. You replayed that half-second over and over, hoping the angle was weird, that maybe she had just brushed his hand. But no. Every frame screamed the truth you didn’t want to face.
You sat there for a long time, staring at the wall, feeling the quiet twist tighter around you. Then the sadness curdled into something darker. You started moving—grabbing the hoodie he’d left on your chair, the toothbrush next to yours, his favorite mug that you’d pretended to hate because it was chipped. Everything of his went into a box. No tears this time. Just silence and a steady, shaking rhythm in your chest.
By the time he arrived, headlights cutting across your porch, the box sat outside like a waiting verdict. You didn’t plan to see him—but curiosity was cruel. You peeked through the window as he climbed the steps, confusion spreading across his face. He looked tired, still in his event clothes, hair tousled from the night.
He knocked once, then called your name. You opened the window instead.
“Oh hey,” you said, voice calm in a way that scared even you. “You might want to be more careful at events. Cameras are everywhere, you know.”
He froze, his hand still hovering over the doorknob. “Wait, what are you talking about?” His voice cracked, the kind of crack that begged for a chance to explain.
You laughed—a sharp, tired sound. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
He stepped closer to the window, guilt already written all over his face. “It’s not what it looked like, I swear. She—”
You cut him off. “Stop.” The word sliced through the air. “You’re lucky I only threw your stuff out instead of setting it on fire.”
His eyes softened, the way they did when he was trying to fix something with words. “Y/n look....I’m sorry,” he said, and for a moment, it almost sounded real.
You shook your head, the anger keeping you upright. “You can take your sorry and shove it up your ass.” You leaned against the window frame, folding your arms. “Now, if you don’t want another livestream catching you picking through your ex’s porch at midnight, I suggest you take your things and fuck off."
He didn’t move at first. Just stood there, looking at you like he wished he could rewind time. Then he bent down, picked up the box, and whispered your name again, quieter this time.
You shut the window.
His car engine faded down the street, leaving only the hum of the night and your heartbeat, still pounding against your ribs. You stared at the empty porch, the ghost of him already dissolving into the dark, and told yourself this was revenge enough—letting him see exactly what it looked like to lose you.
Theo
You thought the night would be sweet.
A small surprise, nothing huge—just coffee the way he liked it, the one with too much caramel syrup, and a box of donuts because you knew he’d been living off studio vending machines again. Theo had texted you earlier that he’d be “working late.” You imagined him humming behind the mic, headphones askew, lost in melody. So you thought: why not show up, be the warmth in his long night?
You even smiled to yourself on the walk there, picturing his reaction—his wide grin, the soft “You didn’t have to, babe,” before stealing a sip of your drink like he always did.
The door to the studio was slightly open, a sliver of light spilling into the hallway. You raised your hand to knock but froze when you heard it—his laugh. Not the polite one. The one that crinkled the corners of his eyes. A girl’s laugh followed, softer, close.
You leaned closer to the door. Through the gap, you saw them. Theo, half-turned toward the producer’s assistant, his arm looped casually around her waist. Her hand rested on his chest, fingers playing with the chain he always wore. They were whispering, faces too close, the air between them heavy with something you’d once thought belonged only to you.
Then he leaned in.
So did she.
You cleared your throat. Loudly.
Both of them flinched apart like guilty kids. Theo’s eyes went wide when he saw you standing there, coffee cup in one hand, donut bag in the other. The assistant mumbled something and fled the room like smoke.
You stepped inside, your smile sharp enough to cut glass. “Hi,” you said, voice bright, cheerful, wrong. “Long night?”
“Babe—” he stammered, running a hand through his hair. “I—it wasn’t—she just—”
You held up a hand. “Relax. Everything’s fine.” The fake smile didn’t waver, even as your heart clawed at your ribs. “I actually brought you something.”
He blinked, confused, eyes darting between you and the coffee cup. “What?”
“Your favorite,” you said sweetly. “Extra caramel right?”
Before he could move, you tipped the cup forward, watching the liquid pour across his laptop keyboard in a slow, hissing wave. The smell of burnt sugar and electronics filled the air. Theo just stared, frozen, mouth slightly open.
You set the empty cup down beside the puddle, turned to the box of donuts, and launched them against the wall. Frosting splattered across the soundproof foam in pale pink and chocolate streaks.
For a moment, the only sound was the quiet dripping of coffee from the table.
Theo pushed back his chair, standing. “Okay, I know you’re angry—”
You met his eyes, your voice low now, steady as a loaded gun. “Don’t,” you said. “Don’t come any closer.”
“Can we just talk—”
“I said don’t.” You took a step back, shoulders squared. “Because if you touch me, Theo, your face is going to be the next thing I smash against that wall.”
The words hung between you, sharp and final.
He stopped.
The studio light flickered, catching on the ruined laptop, the donuts sliding down the wall like melting ghosts. You turned to leave, the door creaking behind you.
Theo called your name once—soft, desperate—but you didn’t look back. You’d brought him something sweet, and he’d ruined the taste himself.
Jiung
You were curled up on the couch when your phone rang. It was late, the kind of late where thoughts got louder and the room felt too big. Jiung had texted earlier that he was going out with friends, told you not to wait up. You trusted him. You always did.
Your friend’s voice came out rushed, uneasy. “Listen....I didn’t want to be the one to tell you, but… I’m at the club right now. I saw Jiung.”
Your chest tightened. “Okay,” you said slowly. “And?”
There was a pause. Too long. “He was kissing another woman. Like—making out. I’m so sorry.”
For a moment, everything went quiet. You thanked your friend, hung up, and just sat there. Your hands rested uselessly in your lap. The hurt came first, heavy and suffocating, pressing down until your eyes burned. You pictured his smile, the way he promised loyalty so easily, like it was a given. You felt stupid for believing it.
Then the sadness snapped.
Anger rushed in, hot and electric. You stood up so fast the couch creaked behind you. You didn’t cry. You didn’t hesitate. You went to your room, pulled on something sharp and confident, something that made you feel tall. You fixed your hair, your makeup deliberate and bold. If Jiung was going to embarrass you, you would not arrive broken.
The bass of the club hit you the second you stepped inside. Lights flashed red and blue, bodies pressed together, sweat and alcohol thick in the air. You scanned the room once, twice, until you saw him.
Jiung stood in a dark corner, one hand tangled in another woman’s hair, her mouth on his like nothing else mattered. He looked careless. Comfortable. Happy.
Your jaw tightened.
You walked straight toward them, every step steady. When you reached him, you tapped his shoulder.
Jiung turned around, already smiling—until he saw you. His face drained of color. His mouth opened, probably to say your name, probably to lie.
You slapped him.
The sound cracked through the music, sharp and clean. The club seemed to inhale all at once. Jiung staggered half a step back, hand flying to his cheek, eyes wide with shock. The woman beside him froze, her hand still half-raised, lipstick smeared.
You didn’t say a word.
You turned around and walked toward the exit, heels striking the floor in time with the pounding bass. Behind you, the crowd erupted. Cheers, whistles, laughter. Someone shouted approval. Someone clapped. The club carried you forward like a wave, loud and unapologetic.
Jiung called your name, his voice lost in the noise, cracking with panic. You didn’t stop. You didn’t look back. He didn’t deserve that last glance.
The cold air outside hit your face, grounding you. Your hands shook now, the adrenaline fading, but your spine stayed straight. You had walked into the fire and left without burning.
Inside the club, Jiung stood frozen, cheek red and stinging, surrounded by noise and strangers. For the first time that night, he looked small. And you kept walking, heart pounding, knowing the slap wasn’t just anger—it was the sound of the door closing behind you.
Intak
You had always felt it.
The way his phone tilted away from you sometimes. The way his voice shifted when a certain name came up. Intak swore he didn’t talk to his ex anymore. Promised it, hand over heart, eyes wide and sincere. You wanted to believe him. You told yourself that trust meant swallowing the ache and calling it nothing.
Then one afternoon, boredom got the better of you. You checked his location, half-expecting to see the practice room. Instead, a restaurant pin glowed back at you.
Your stomach dropped.
You called him. No answer. You grabbed your keys and drove, knuckles white on the steering wheel, your thoughts racing faster than the traffic. By the time you arrived, you already knew what you would find. Still, the sight hit like a punch.
Intak sat in a corner booth, her body pressed close to his. His arm wrapped around her like it belonged there. She laughed into his shoulder, and he leaned down to kiss her like it was muscle memory. Soft. Familiar.
You walked straight to the table.
“Wow,” you said. “Practice must’ve changed locations.”
Intak jolted like he’d been electrocuted. His face drained of color. “What—why are you here?” He pulled away from her too late.
You looked at him, really looked. “So you lied to me,” you said, calm in a way that scared even you.
He stood up so fast the table rattled. “Okay wait I can explain. It’s not—”
“Don’t,” you cut in. “You already explained when you told me you were somewhere else.”
His mouth opened and closed, apology scrambling over itself. “I’m sorry. I messed up. Please—”
You laughed quietly. “Don't worry honey. I mean I lied to you, too."
He froze. “What?”
You crossed your arms. “I lied every time I told you everything was perfect. I lied every time I said I was happy. I lied every time I told you I had a GROUNDBREAKING Orgasm thanks to you."
His eyes widened, wounded pride flashing through the guilt. “Wait, what the fuck?"
“Uh huh,” you said coolly, “And I'm not even done! Your last solo? It SUCKED!"
The words landed harder than you expected. He flinched.
You tapped your chin, pretending to think. “What else...ooh right! Remember before we started dating and I promised you that San and I had just been friends?"
His breath caught. “Yeah.”
You met his gaze, unblinking. “Oh well, I lied.”
Silence swallowed the table. Even his ex shifted uncomfortably.
“He did fuck me,” you added, voice steady, deliberate. “And unlike you, he made me cum for real.”
Intak’s face crumpled, shock giving way to something raw and helpless. “Why would you say that?”
You picked up your bag. “Because apparently we both are huge fucking liars."
You looked at both of them then, offering a polite, venom-sweet smile. “Enjoy your dinner. I hope it’s worth it.”
You turned and walked out, heels striking the floor like punctuation marks. Behind you, Intak called your name once, desperate and cracked. You didn’t slow down.
The night air hit your face, sharp and cleansing. Your hands shook, but your chest felt lighter. You had said everything you needed to say. And this time, none of it was a lie.
Soul
You were tipsy in the good way, warm and buzzing, packed into a booth with your girls. The music was loud, the lights low, and for once, life felt light. Someone asked about your love life, and you smiled before you could stop yourself.
“You know,” you said, stirring your drink, “I actually just started seeing someone.”
They leaned in immediately. You talked about Soul, about how strange and sweet it felt, how new everything was. How he was quiet but attentive, how you liked the mystery of him. You laughed, cheeks warm, heart stupidly hopeful.
When you excused yourself to go to the bathroom, you were still smiling.
You didn’t expect to see him.
Soul stood near the hallway, half-hidden by shadows, leaning close to another girl. Her hand rested on his arm. He bent down to say something in her ear, and she laughed, fingers tightening like she belonged there.
Your smile fell apart.
For a second, you thought you were wrong. That your brain was glitching. Then Soul looked up and saw you.
His eyes widened.
He stepped away from her immediately and walked toward you, meeting you halfway before you could even move. “Hey,” he said, voice too careful.
You stared at him, your confusion slowly turning sharp. “What is this?” you asked. “Are you on a date or something?”
He hesitated. Too long.
“…Yeah,” he said quietly.
The sound that came out of you surprised even yourself. You laughed. Loud. Broken. It echoed down the hallway, turning a few heads. “You’re kidding me, right?”
He frowned. “I didn’t mean—”
“We literally just started dating,” you said, laughing harder now, disbelief curling into anger. “Like, days ago. Did you forget that part where we said that this is an official relationship?”
He opened his mouth, closed it, rubbed the back of his neck. “I was going to tell you, I just didn’t know how to—”
You tilted your head and mimicked him, exaggerating the pauses, the nervous gestures. “I just didn’t know how to—” You dropped the act instantly. “Wow. Incredible performance.”
“Please, let me explain,” he said, stepping closer.
“Fuck off,” you snapped.
The word landed hard. He froze.
You took a step back, pointing at him. “Don’t do that thing where you act confused. You knew exactly what you were doing.” Your voice shook now, but you didn’t stop. “You don’t get to have me and shop around at the same time.”
“It wasn’t like that,” he said, panic creeping in. “I just—”
You cut him off. “Don’t get near me again. Ever.”
The finality in your voice made his shoulders drop. He stood there, silent, watching as you walked past him toward the bathroom, then straight past that too, back toward your table.
Your girls saw your face and stood up instantly, questions spilling out. You shook your head. “We’re leaving.”
As you walked out, you didn’t look back. You didn’t need to. Soul stayed rooted where you left him, surrounded by noise and lights, realizing too late that new beginnings were fragile things. And he’d broken this one before it even had time to breathe.
Jongseob
Morning crept in quietly. Pale light slipped through the curtains, painting the room soft and harmless. You woke first, as you often did. Jongseob slept beside you, face relaxed, lashes resting against his cheeks like nothing in the world could touch him.
You leaned over and kissed him quickly, a habit born from affection. He shifted but didn’t wake. You smiled faintly and slipped out of bed, padding into the living room.
That was when his phone lit up.
The vibration was small, almost polite. You told yourself to ignore it. You really did. But then you saw the name on the screen.
Minji.
Your chest tightened. You picked up the phone, hesitation buzzing in your fingers. One message. Short. Clear.
Thank you for last night. I had a really good time.
The room felt suddenly too bright. Too loud. Jongseob had told you he was at practice. Complained about how tired he was going to be. Apologized in advance for not texting much.
Your hands went cold.
You didn’t cry. You didn’t scream. You just stood there, staring at the words until they burned themselves into your head. Then you set the phone down carefully and walked back to the bedroom.
Jongseob was still asleep.
You sat on the edge of the bed and watched him for a while. You memorized the rise and fall of his chest, the way his lips parted slightly when he breathed. You wondered how easily he’d slept after lying to you.
Then you stood up.
You grabbed the vase from the dresser, flowers drooping lazily inside it, and walked back to the bed. Without hesitation, you tipped it over.
Cold water crashed down on him.
Jongseob jolted awake with a shout, scrambling upright, hair plastered to his forehead, sheets soaked. “What the fuck—what are you doing?”
You crossed your arms, your voice steady and sharp. “Did you have a good time with Minji?"
Confusion flickered across his face before panic rushed in. “What? No, you don’t understand—”
“You’re disgusting,” you said flatly. “A lying, cheating motherfucker.”
He shook his head, water dripping from his chin. “I didn’t—she’s just—”
“I read the message,” you cut in. “So cut the bullshit.”
His mouth snapped shut. His eyes darted around like he was searching for a version of reality that would save him. “Why were you even going through my phone?"
You laughed once, bitter and short. “Don't you dare make me the bad guy here.”
You didn’t hold back then. Every insult you’d swallowed came spilling out. You told him how small he looked now. How trust evaporated when lies piled up. How disappointing it was to realize that the person you defended so fiercely wasn’t worth the effort.
“I want you out,” you said. “Now.”
He stared at you, stunned. “You’re serious?”
You nodded toward the window. “Don’t forget your phone.”
He turned just in time to hear the distant crack of plastic against pavement. His eyes widened as he rushed to the window and looked down.
You met his gaze, unflinching. “Go get it,” you said. “And don’t come back.”
He stood there, drenched and silent, as you opened the bedroom door and waited. The morning light no longer looked soft. It looked honest.
"I got ninety-nine problems but you won't be one, like what ?"
Summary : a racist detective clearly made a mistake by being a little too misogynistic but also provoked someone he shouldn't have. Pt.3 of unhinged BAU reader
Warnings : Sexism & misogyny. Workplace discrimination / microaggressions. Implied racial and cultural bias. Emotional abuse / verbal hostility. Harsh interrogation tactics. Distress involving a missing child. Parental shaming / accusations of neglect. Dark Humour and sarcasm.
The local detective cleared his throat. Loudly. Too loudly.
“Well,” he said, arms crossed, eyes sliding past her to Hotch, “we usually have our own agents asking to be apart of telling the parents but maybe one of your female agents could help..”
She turned slowly at the detective. She didn’t look at the detective yet. Hotch noticed. His jaw tightened.
Derek raised an eyebrow. Emily folded her arms. JJ went still.
The detective continued, digging his own grave. “You know, someone who won’t escalate things. This family’s already emotional. And no offense y'all are a little too much—”
“No offense?” she echoed pleasantly, finally facing him. “That’s new. Please proceed, tho I'd recommend with a lil caution.”
The detective smiled thinly. “I feel like your male coworkers wouldn't give the same attention to the parents. Maybe Agent Prentiss could take point. Or Agent Jareau. Even you too.”
Emily scoffed. “Wow.”
JJ blinked. “Are you serious right now?”
The detective waved a hand. “I’m just saying—this is a sensitive situation. And sometimes cultural differences can make things… tricky.”
That did it.
Hotch stepped forward, voice ice-cold. “Explain what you mean by cultural differences.”
The detective hesitated. “Well—males are considered as very… direct. Families like this respond better to—”
“To what,” Hotch cut in, “a white female officer speaking over them?”
Silence.
Derek smiled like a man enjoying a show. “Careful,” he muttered. “You’re almost saying the quiet part out loud.”
The detective bristled. “Now hold on—”
“No,” Hotch snapped. “You’ve interrupted Morgan twice, dismissed Prentiss entirely, spoken down to Jareau, and now you’re questioning my other agent’s competence because she doesn’t fit your idea of agreeable.”
He turned to her briefly. “Are you okay to proceed?”
She grinned. “Oh, I’m thriving.”
Hotch looked back at the detective. “Good. Then you go inside.”
The detective muttered, “Figures,” under his breath.
Hotch heard it. “Say that again.”
Nothing.
Hotch nodded once. “Do your job,” he told her quietly. “However you see fit.”
She saluted lazily. “Your funeral with HR.”
Inside the interview room, the parents sat rigid with fear—the mother red-eyed, hands clenched; the father vibrating with anger. She didn’t sit.
She leaned against the table, arms crossed. “Alright,” she said calmly, “what exactly do you want me to do.”
The mother sniffed. “Find our daughter.”
“Okay. Then here’s the truth,” she replied. “Your daughter didn’t disappear. She left. With a man.”
The father slammed his hand on the table. “That’s impossible!”
“Is it,” she asked, tilting her head, “or is it just inconvenient.”
The mother sobbed harder. “How can you talk about her like that?”
“My parents would’ve beaten my ass into a new personality if I pulled this,” she said evenly. “But judging by how shocked you are? Parenting score’s going even lower this time.”
“That’s cruel!” the mother cried.
“No,” she said. “Cruel would be lying and say you're doing a wonderful job as parents.”
The father stood. “This is unacceptable. You’re supposed to help us!”
“I am helping you,” she said. “I just don’t do comfort lies.”
The mother screamed, “OUR DAUGHTER IS MISSING AND YOU’RE STANDING THERE JUDGING US?!”
She checked her watch. “What I’m doing is budgeting my patience. Also? I haven’t had coffee today.”
The father stared at her. “You care more about coffee than our child?!”
“Well, duh,” she replied. “I can’t solve crimes dehydrated.”
Then, casually: “And she’s still in the city, an emergency at a time — favorite motto.”
Both parents froze.
“What,” the mother whispered.
“Where is she,” the father demanded. “Is she alive?”
She nodded. “Very much so. She’s with a man. Voluntarily. And right now, the worst thing you can do is interfere.”
“I WILL SUE,” the father shouted.
She pulled out her phone and slid it across the table. “Go ahead. HR’s on the line.”
The call was active. And we could hear an annoyed voice on speakerphone.
She stepped back. “I’ve got a briefing. And then coffee.”
Outside, the detective scoffed. “Unbelievable. That’s how the FBI operates now?”
Hotch turned slowly. “Yes,” he said. “And if you undermine my team again, you’ll be explaining that attitude to your captain.”
She handed Hotch a piece of paper. And the rest of the team went to search the missing girls.
Ehat if reader got captured and turned into a Talon by the court of owls? Lets say they heard a scream for help and went to investigate but it was a trap and the got captured . Lets assume readers spider powers are still used as extra help . Maybe the batfam finds out when the court sends reader to a place that batfam was in. What would be the reactions and what would they do?
Songbird's Eulogy
I'm gonna be honest, I loved this ask and this will become a serie if you guys want to read it!
Dividers made by @thecutestgrotto
W.C: 8k
Tw: blood, description of dead bodies and their wounds, probably bad description of Alzheimer in a character
The air in the Batcave was so thick with tension that it could be cut with a knife, most of the family present except for Alfred, who was upstairs cooking dinner and Cassandra, who was in Hong Kong at the moment.
Tim was at the computer next to Bruce, who was observing Tim working while the younger vigilante was typing away and looking at several screens that played what looked like the same videos all at the same time, trying to find anything different in it even if the video kept showing the same things over and over again while mumbling stuff with Bruce, exchanging theories as to what was happening or if one of the two found anything that the other missed.
Dick and Damian were sparring but both were distracted, as they were both doing the same moves over and over again, their eyes unfocused as their minds were thinking of the case while Jason and Duke were both working on their bikes, exchanging tools and also sharing information of the case as Jason had some information thanks to the Crime Alley kids, even though it did cost him a lot since many of those kids had contradicting stories so knowing which ones were true or not was difficult and time consuming.
Stephanie was the only one who was sipping on some tea Alfred made her a few minutes ago while reading the same file of the case to see if the police missed anything or to see if her reading it for the 20th time would result in her finding something she didn't notice before, her eye twitching as she kept hearing the same ominous whistle from the speakers on the batcomputer, making it even more annoying and creepy.
The yet another ominous whistle is her breaking point. She suddenly slams the cup on the hard wood of the table, as if she wants it to tremble. Luckily the cup didn't break. As everybody realises where the sound is coming from their head snap towards that direction, as if snapping out a trance. This unexpected event pulled Dick out his alert mode, and as Damian's punch hit his side he falls down in pain, loudly complaining about the hit being "too strong" while Damian ignores him to walk up to Tim and Bruce. Jason and Duke also both looked up from their bikes with a concerned look, they were both tuning out the audio from the batcomputer for the twelfth time, and almost jumped at the sharp sound.
Bruce looked at Stephanie without saying anything as the girl glared at him and Tim, who just looked like he was on the bring of a nervous breakdown as he was replaying the videos at the same time to find anything that could be useful for the case, even though he was doing that for at least two days and nothing showed up, even though he sent all those videos through all kinds of analysis software the batcomputer had and even the Justice League had in the Watchtower.
"Can you please stop replaying that damn whistle?! I've been hearing that shit for the past week and I swear to god, if I hear that one more time I will kill you Timothy Jackson Drake and no Lazarus pit will be able to resuscitate you after I am done with you."
And Stephanie did look ready to kill, her eye twitching as she glared at Tim, who just sipped on a cup full of an overly caffeinated drink with eye bags so prominent that the girl wondered for a few seconds how long he'd been awake to study the security feeds from Babs, autopsy records, police reports and any leads the detectives had at the moment and whatever the vigilantes could find.
The girl kept glaring at Tim, ignoring Dick's groans and Damian's voice as he told him to stop being a baby, while Duke and Jason went back to take care of their own bikes while still talking.
In her frustration, she threw all the files that she was reading on the table, ignoring how all the papers and the photos in the files scattered on the table and made a mess.
"How the hell are we supposed to find this supposed killer?! The only thing we have is this fucking whistle" she started, her frustration clear in her face as she hadn't slept in days thanks to the extra hours of patrol and her refusing to go to sleep to help with the case, "and this!".
She stopped her rant to quickly search through all the files and photos for a specific one, stopping once she found two that she deemed good enough and grabbed them before walking up to Tim and Bruce since they were the ones who were the closest, ignoring Dick and Damian who were walking up to them to see what was happening.
The moment she showed them the pictures, everything fell silent. Faint breaths were felt in the air, like oxygen was slowly running out as tension and discomfort slowly grew as everyone stared at the pictures. The photos were horrid, whoever did that was full of rage as both bodies on the photos were scratched, especially on their sides, arms and chest, like the killer was scratching them while the victims were trying to cover themselves with their bodies as other areas of their body, like their chest and stomach was ok with no scratches present. But the most horrible thing that caught everyone's eyes just like the first time they all saw the bodies was that both victims sported the same killing method, with both of them having their necks cut open in the most gruesome way possible as the killer scratched the necks of the victims.
Everyone shuddered, except Stephanie, as they stared at the photos since the girl was showing them to everyone around her to make a point and to show how crazy it was to find any clues just from those wounds.
The older man stared at his kids without saying anything as Damian and Stephanie started arguing once again about who did it, with Stephanie accusing the League for all the murders happening in Gotham while Damian was defending the League as he explained that no good assassin trained under the League, and especially under his grandfather, would kill their targets in such a stupid and sadistic way since they were trained to kill efficiently and quickly while this killer acted like they were playing with their victims and wanted their deaths to be slow.
Bruce just sighed as he recognised how exhausted his kids were from the stress of the case while they kept fighting, with Dick joining Steph's side and Tim joining Damian's, knowing that they wouldn't listen to him if he told them to take a break or to stop fighting, especially since he was always the first one to ignore that suggestion when offered.
He quickly grabbed his phone once he heard it ringing, thinking and hoping it was Gordon or Barbara with any news about the case before looking confused and worried when he saw that it was Alfred calling him. He picked up and could hear a woman's voice in the background talking to someone as Alfred just said "Master Bruce, Miss Amelie has arrived with Boris and she wants to see you, it seems that she's having an episode" before hanging up, most likely to make some tea for the unexpected but not unwelcome guests that arrived.
He sighed before noticing Tim looking at him alongside the others who stopped fighting once they heard what Alfred said on the call, making him sigh once again since he knew he couldn't ignore Amelie to keep working on the case so he just started walking to the elevator to get upstairs faster instead of using the stairs.
He looked a bit surprised when both Jason and Damian also got in the elevator but didn't say anything to the duo, knowing how close the two have gotten to the woman after years of her coming to the Manor looking for him. He thanked Tim patience for managing to convince Alfred on getting a smartphone so he could call and text the rest of the bats without having to get down to the cave every time due to his old age, which proved itself useful as now the older man had now a folder full of recipes he and Jason share to each other, plus all the passive aggressive messages towards everyone or someone specific when he found them not taking care of themselves.
As the trio walked to the room designated for her when she decided to come they could already hear the woman talk to a man who was trying to calm he down, before stopping to look at the door once she heard Bruce knocking and then entering. The woman immediately ran to Bruce in tears, her beautiful hair in the messiest bun that made Bruce wonder what happened as he knew how attentive she was with her hair as a model, something that she now didn't do as much after the accident, and her eyes almost fully red from her tears.
"Bruce! Bruce you have to listen, my baby is out there, I know that [Y/N] is not dead! The hospital keeps telling me that my little star is dead but I know that they're lying! Bruce please, find our little star". She started crying once again, her face on his chest with her hands holding his shirt as she cried about [Y/N] not being dead, that her little star was out there and to not listen to the hospital and the police, begging the man to help her.
Bruce looked at Boris, who just sighed when he locked eyes with him and shook his head, looking exhausted with bags under his eyes that were challenging Tim's, before looking down at Amelie once again. He only now noticed that she was in her pajama, one of her slippers missing, and holding one of [Y/N]'s old plushie to her chest with one hand as she kept her tight hold on his shirt with the other hand, her hand trembling like she believed that he wouldn't believe her if she let go of him. "Amelie, it's ok, we're searching for [Y/N] along with the police, we'll find them soon" he murmured softly as he managed to untie her hair and brush it a bit with his fingers to help her relax, smiling softly as she visibly started to relax when she felt his hands in her hair and massaging her scalp.
"Find our baby, please" she mumbled, her hold on his shirt starting to loosen as he kept massaging her scalp, making Bruce hum and reassured her for a few minutes, knowing that it was helping as she slowly let go of him and just hugged the plushie close to her chest.
Once he knew she was calm enough after all the reassurance, he gently put his hands on her shoulders to lead her to the couch, where Damian and Jason were already sitting and waiting for her and Bruce. On the table in front of the couch were a few albums and after helping her sit down on it he handed one to her, opening it to a random page and pointing to a random photo of [Y/N], who was giving their biggest smile while on the car, their mouth and cheeks covered in ice cream. "Why don't you tell them who [Y/N] is, I'm sure Damian is curious to know about his older sibling," He suggested softly, smiling to her as she immediately started to talk about [Y/N] while leaning on Jason, the plushie now in Damian's arms as the two boys listened intently to the woman even though they probably heard the same story almost every month, but they didn't seem to care especially when the woman would remember new stories every time she came.
Bruce got up when he knew Amelie was fully engrossed in talking about [Y/N] and walked up to Boris, knowing the man was her caretaker and most importantly, he was the only person who knew her best. "Boris what happened? Are you ok?" he asked, mostly wanting to know if she was getting too hard to handle for him alone as he saw a bruise on his cheek and if he needed help, knowing how much he was already doing for the poor woman since the accident.
"I was making her lunch when she went in [Y/N]'s old room and started to call for them but I was too busy to hear her and distract her. She started crying and started to remember that night, I'm sorry Bruce but I can't do this alone anymore." was what the man said out of exhaustion, his eyes filling with tears as he tried to keep it together while in the same room of Amelie, probably not wanting to cause her distress if she saw him crying.
Bruce just nodded and patted the man on the shoulder before walking him to the kitchen, smiling at Alfred when he already had some tea ready for them and few sandwiches on a plate. He sat down on a stool next to Boris and offered him some of the little sandwiches, knowing the man probably skipped dinner to come to the Manor with Amelie at such late hour.
"Boris, we've been friends ever since Amelie came here for the first time after what happened, and you know I wouldn't say this if I didn't believe you could do this alone, but you need to hire another caretaker or at least a house keeper so she can help you with normal activities." He started, knowing the man was stubborn and also felt responsible of taking care of Amelie after the accident. "I mean look at you! Did she hit you or?" He asked, noticing that the bruise was already fading, which meant that it happened some time ago but still made it concerning since Amelie was never violent before.
Boris sighed once again, making Bruce wonder if that was the only thing the man did all day, before explaining "It was my fault, I entered the house late at night after having to run to the store to grab a few things that I needed badly for Amelie and for lunch but she thought I was an intruder, she didn't recognise me," he stopped for a second to take a deep breath, tears slowly running down his eyes as he remembered the look of fear in Amelie's face as she didn't recognise him, "I managed to take off my hat but she did manage to throw a small statue we had in the living room at my face" he finished.
Bruce patted the man's back when he heard Boris's sigh and offered him a few tissues, knowing the man was tired and would finally accept his help in the form of a caretaker or house keeper that he would pay for, even though he's already paying for his mortgage and every single bill without the Belarusian man knowing, not wanting him to feel indebted to the richer man than he already felt.
"Maybe a house keeper can help me, the house is honestly a mess and I can't keep up with it, plus I can't keep looking out for her when cooking, it's just impossible for me only" Boris said before starting devouring all the sandwiches on the plate, stopping once or twice to drink some tea so he wouldn't choke. He blushed when he noticed Bruce watching him "I haven't eaten in two days, Amelie has been incredibly difficult and I never found the time to eat" he explained and thanked Alfred when the older man presented him with a plate full of pasta that he made for the starving man once he heard his stomach grumble loudly when he entered the kitchen.
Bruce smiled at him and patted him on the back once again "it's ok Boris, I'll hire someone and pay for it, you just relax here for a bit and eat, you look spent" he said before suddenly hearing Barbara's voice in his ears, telling him that another body was found in an alley thanks to a few cameras around and she already notified the police but he should send someone there before the police ruins the crime scene.
The man quickly got up and escused himself out of the room to use the comms in his ear to tell Damian and Duke to go, telling both boys that this was top priority and to go immediately, ignoring Damian's complaints since he was with Amelie and she was finally telling him and Jason a new story about [Y/N]. He once again ignored the boy's complains and ordered him to go with Duke as he needed him to protect Duke while he was using his meta abilities as all the previous crime scenes didn't reveal anything so they needed Duke's abilities to know something.
As he finished speaking to Damian and receiving confirmation that he was going with Duke he went back into the kitchen to smile at Boris, who was at his second plate of pasta and absolutely devouring the dish, and gave him a quick excuse "sorry, some problems at the WE, make yourself comfortable and Alfred will take care of everything" before leaving to the batcave, sending a quick text to everyone currently in the Manor to not leave anything bat related upstairs as there were guests staying in the Manor. He sent the text as he entered the elevator, the doors closing in front of him as his thumb pressed sent on the text.
When the doors of the elevator opened again to show the familiar cave he quickly ran to the batcomputer to check the video that Babs sent, a bit surprised when he saw that Tim wasn't on the chair right in front of the computer like he expected but he quickly found him once he scanned the room, sleeping on the floor with Stephanie on top of him as she sipped on her tea and using her phone like she didn't do anything when she noticed Bruce looking at her with his usual dissapointed stare.
"Hey I warned him, he's the one who played that whistle again so I just executed on my threat" was the only thing she said before going back to using her phone like nothing happened, making Bruce sigh but he didn't do anything about it since Tim was sleeping instead of focusing on the case and drinking ungodly amounts of coffee and energy drinks. "Just move him to his room afterwards, don't want him to sleep in the cave" was the only thing he said as he sat on the chair and focused on the multitude of screens of the batcomputer.
He opened the new video once he finally received the notification from Babs, keeping his line with Duke and Damian open to be ready if anything happened to the two while at the crime scene, before sitting back to watch the video, hoping that it wouldn't be as useless as the others they had.
Duke was in his bike with Damian behind him with his own helmet, talking with Babs on the comms as she guided him to the crime scene, breaking so many laws as he drove since he knew that if he got there after the GCPD then the crime scene would be ruined and it would be difficult for him to use his ability with police officers walking around the crime scene.
As he took a very sharp turn he quickly switched his comms line to talk with Damian and asked "you ok there little man?", knowing that he was driving very dangerously but he couldn't afford to waste a single second by following the law at the moment. He laughed when he just heard Damian click his tongue and then just lightly hit the side of his helmet to say that he was ok.
The duo quickly got off the bike when they finally reached the alley and Damian quickly went around it to close off the alley both ways so the GCPD wouldn't enter it without his permission and mess up the crime scene while Duke set his bike in the other side of the road in another alley before finally walking inside the right alley, stepping over the yellow tape Damian quickly put before going to the other side of the alley, taking many pictures of all the blood he saw on the floor in small puddles, alongside a phone that he quickly put in an evidence bag so Babs could see if there was anything that could be useful.
He found a gun with only one bullet inside while the bullets rounds were lying around before the body, and as he grabbed it to put in an evidence plastic bag, alongside the used bullets rounds in another bag. He quickly found the bullets that were fired in a small pile next to the victim's body, all covered in blood and obviously having been taken out of whoever got shot, making him shudder when he saw them as he wondered who was crazy enough to actually pull the bullets out of their body and leave them on a pile like they were returning them.
When he finally reached the body he had to give himself a minute at the sight of the man's slaughtered throat, feeling bile coming up his throat as he couldn't manage to look away at the man's body, the terrified expression on the poor man's face as he died still impressed on his face, his clothes tattered and in some parts torn that Duke's first thought was that he got attacked by a wild animal but the clean cuts on his arms and cheeks showed that it wasn't an animal.
As he stared at the corpse his hand slowly travelled to his throat as he felt pain from it, like he was experiencing the same pain the man felt when it happened and he didn't even use his powers to see the past, making him even more horrified at what he was seeing.
With trembling hands he raised his phone to take some photos of the body and the black veins that showed on the side of his neck, making Duke think that the man probably got poisoned but he couldn't pinpoint the exact poison used just from the black in his veins and skin.
As he kept taking photos he noticed that the black travelled down to his right arm, probably where the man got poisoned with a needle or knife but he couldn't see it from where he was standing so he slowly encouraged himself to move, trying his hardest not to puke as he put on some gloves so he wouldn't leave any prints that could incriminate him or ruin the crime scene.
He slowly raised the torn sleeve of the man's shirt to hopefully find the knife or needle wound but instead he saw something that made him connect his mask camera's to the batcomputer so Bruce could see what the boy was seeing, as he was sure the photo wouldn't be able to capture everything he was seeing.
The right arm of the man had a bite mark that was obviously made by a human mouth, making Duke feel sick and almost puke as he could see how deep the bite was just by the skin around it broke, showing signs of struggle from the man but that didn't do anything to stop it or making it let go of him.
Duke got up and made a signal to Damian to stay alert as he was gonna use his powers and needed the boy to be ready since he would be vulnerable while watching what happened, afraid of what he was gonna see after seeing the man's wounds and bite. He also turned off his mask's camera to not worry Bruce once it all turned black from his powers.
He sighed and started using the shadows of the alley to use his Ghost vision, his eyes turning white completely as his body froze in place to watch and finally know who the killer was.
(this is what happened, it will be written with italics)
Duke opened his eyes and saw that he was now in the same alley and was standing right in front of the guy, now alive and animatedly talking on the phone with someone as he paced back and fort in the alley while smoking a cigarette.
Duke ignored the man's conversation with whoever he was at the other end of the phone call to slowly walk around the alley, mostly to see if there was anything suspicious that wasn't there when he first came to check the body but unfortunately everything was the same as when he arrived for the first time.
He kept looking around for a bit before stopping when he heard an ominous whistle, the same one he heard from all the videos Babs sent them, making him grab his eskrima sticks to defend himself and the man out of habit before remembering that this already happened and he couldn't do anything to stop whatever happened next.
Duke looked back at the man when he heard him stop talking after he heard the whistle, his face turning into a terrified expression, his phone dropping on the floor as he tried to grab his gun with shaking hands, making it more difficult for the man as Duke could see how nervous he was. Both men froze as they heard the same whistle from the same being but with more insistence to it, like they were asking permission or calling for someone with how insistent the whistle sounded to the African-American teen.
Both men quickly looked to the other side of the alley, showing a badly illuminated street thanks to a broken streetlamp that kept going on and off, showing an empty street but once it went off and on again a kid, maybe 14 years old or less was standing in the alley under the streetlight.
As they both stared at the kid, Duke tried to study the kid since the alley wasn't that big but could only see up to the kid's face, even though most of it was hidden by a white mask that was familiar but he couldn't really see it perfectly from that distance while the man was cursing under his breath in Italian, making Duke wonder who the kid was and how the man knew them and especially wanted to know why he was so scared of them.
Then, all of the sudden, a low whistle came from the rooftop of one of the buildings around them, making the kid jump up in joy before getting in position, making Duke curse under his breath as he managed to understand that the kid was he killer from how scared the man was after he heard the other whistle.
Everything else happened in such a blur that Duke thought Flash was in Gotham by how fast the kid was that even he had difficulty see them, before seeing that they were biting the man's arm, their teeth so deep in the skin that blood was already trickling out the kid's mouth and into the floor to form a few small puddles.
In panic and from the pain of the bite, Duke witnessed the man shoot the kid in the leg for two times and three times on the sides when he saw that the kid didn't even flinch from being shot in the leg but the kid remained attached to his arm, black slowly spreading around their mouth to the man's skin, making him drop the gun.
Once the kid finally pulled away from the man, Duke could see that the venom was already spreading from the black spreading through the man's arm and was slowly going to his head.
Duke kept watching in horror and in guilt as he could've been there to save the man but instead of patrolling the street he was back at the cave to help the others solve the case of these killings while the actual murderer was watching one of their many victims cry and beg for their life while smiling with their mouth full of blood of the victim.
He thought that would be the end of it, that the kid would kill the man by tearing his throat open but instead the kid skipped over the man, making the man stumble back before falling on the floor, claws coming out of their fingers like cats, and just started scratching the poor man body with no objective, their smile the worst thing Duke was seeing as he could see how the kid wasn't being forced or controlled by someone.
No, they were doing this because they liked it. They thought it was fun.
As the vigilante watched, he heard another whistle from the same person but it was shorter, like the person was calling the kid like it was time to go home and to stop playing since the kid looked annoyed when they heard that whistle since their smile got replaced by a pout.
Duke watched as the kid huffed and looked down at the man before smiling once again and leaned down as the man kept begging to be let go, that he wouldn't work for The Penguin anymore and that he was sorry for everything he did but the kid just kept smiling as they put their hand on the man's neck, their claws slowly retracting but not going fully back.
The kid kept smiling as the mask stared right into the man's eyes as he calmed down, thinking the kid was gonna let go of him, like he was spared and got lucky before his eyes got wide in fear and pain as the kid's claws came out and the kid tore open his throat, his hands trembling as he tried to cover the bleeding wound, his fingers and hands already covered in blood by how fast he was losing blood.
Duke just watched as the man's eyes filled with tears as he watched the mask of the kid and their smile, knowing that his death wasn't an act of revenge or because he was a bad person. His death was just the sick ending of a game the kid was playing and he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
He kept watching as the kid then used a wall as support as they used their claws to pull out the bullets like nothing happened, leaving all of them on a small pile near the man, making Duke wonder once again what even the kid was when they weren't reacting to pain normal people would be screaming and crying from.
The last thing he saw before the vision stopped was the face of the kid staring directly at him, like they knew he was there since they gave him the biggest smile possible and even waved at him before his vision went black, their mask the only thing he could see as he was still trying to remember where he saw a mask like the one they were wearing.
(end of flashback)
Duke gasped as he finally woke up to the real time and not watching the murder happen before starting to hyperventilate and move around in the alley like he couldn't see as he couldn't figure out what was happening around him and he couldn't stop seeing the kid's smile and the man's face filled with terror as he couldn't do anything to help the victim and was made to watch a slaughter.
In his panic he didn't see Damian running up to him and calling his vigilante name but could feel someone pushing him and moving him before feeling himself getting carried somewhere, surely by Damian as he knew he was the only one there that could help him.
Everything else happened in a blur, he could feel himself being carried somewhere via grappling hook as he could feel the wind on his face and then the cold bricks of the rooftops under his fingers, making him calm down as he could feel that he wasn't in the alley.
He did relax a bit once he knew he wasn't in that alley but just couldn't calm down, his mind too focused on what he saw and wouldn't let him remember any of his calming techniques that Bruce and Jason taught him, his eyes slowly filling up with tears as he felt like he was gonna pass out as he kept gasping but felt like no air was entering his lungs.
Duke was still gasping for air when he felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Bruce's face without his cowl, making the poor boy surprised as he knew the man's strict rules on the masks when out on patrol before seeing the man breathing and gesturing the boy to copy him and after a few tries where Duke couldn't focus enough and started crying he managed to copy Bruce's breathing, his mind slowling down as oxygen finally started entering his lungs.
He smiled at the man when he finally calmed down enough to not need to copy's Bruce's breathing and just hugged the man, too grateful to care that they were on patrol and that he had important information about the murder that happened in the alley. No, he just needed a moment in his father's arms, even though his real father was still at the hospital but Bruce was there and he needed to feel protected and safe and he knew that Bruce's arms where he felt the safest.
As the two hugged, he looked at Damian and just smiled when he saw that the boy was standing next to them, hand on his katana to be ready if anyone suddenly came to attack them, making a mental note to hug the younger boy when they would go back to the Cave.
[Damian Pov]
He was annoyed. He was angry.
Those were the only two emotions he felt as he waited in the alley while Duke used his meta abilities for the case. He should've been home with Amelie, listening to another story of his older sibling and how they would climb stuff just to grab something because they refused to admit that they needed the small ladder they had in the kitchen that was there specifically for them.
But instead he was on a smelly alleyway in Gotham and waiting for the police while playing on his phone, acting distracted but he was still high alert and ready to strike anyone with a small batarang if they were going to attack Duke while he was watching.
While waiting he did feel watched but even after doing a quick check around the alley and the rooftops near the alley showed that there was no one the younger vigilante considered a threat to him and the yellow vigilante, making him even more frustrated as he was craving for a fight just to relieve some stress.
After a bit he noticed that the GCPD had finally came with Jim Gordon in one of the two cars so he quickly walked up to the detective so he could start the investigations right after Signal was done using his abilities, discussing with the older man about the murder and how the police should take care of the evidence as he saw in the other case files the detectives didn't take everything around the victim and there was some missing information because of the missing evidence, which didn't sit right with Damian and made him even more annoyed that the police wasn't doing its job right.
While talking he suddenly heard some noises from the alley and as he turned around he could already see Duke in distress by the way he moved and breather that he immediately ran up to him and after assessing the situation and how Duke was too much in distress to answer him he managed to pick him up and grapple away, using the comms to call Babs and how he needed someone to come help him as he didn't know how to calm Duke.
Once he reached a rooftop that Babs said was safe since it didn't have any cameras around, he quickly put Duke down and tried to calm him down using Dick's lessons but couldn't manage to get Duke focus on him as he kept moving and pushing him away whenever he touched the older boy and didn't listen to him.
As he kept trying to calm down Duke he started to grow frustrated, not towards Duke as he knew he probably saw something that shocked him deeply which caused the panic attack, but he was frustrated with himself as he couldn't remember Dick's advice and seeing how he couldn't help Duke made him feel helpless.
He was an assassin, he knew how to kill a man with just a pen and leave no traces. He knew every poison known and unknown to man and was incredibly smart for his age but couldn't manage to help one of his family out of an panic attack.
He felt useless but when he saw his father land on the rooftop he couldn't help but breathe out a sigh of relief as he knew Duke was in good hands now that he was here to help and moved out the way to stand guard and protect them as he wanted to do something and feel useful in his own way, walking around the roof to check if anyone could get there to attack them.
As he stood guard, a hand on his katana ready to grab it if needed and the other on a pouch that contained some batarangs in case, he suddenly felt a presence from behind him, making him quickly unsheath his katana and attack whoever managed to get behind him before standing there in shock as a Talon, more precisely a kid was standing in front of him and blocking the blade of his katana with their hands. As he stared he noticed that they weren't using their hands but some sorts of talon that were coming out of their fingers.
He glared at the kid and let go of his katana when he knew that it wouldn't be useful to fight and decided to use it as a distraction by letting go of it, smirking when he saw the kid look at the katana falling and used the few seconds to turn his body around to kick them on the chest with all his strength to push them away, watching as they tumbled a bit before falling in another Talon's arms in a dramatic way that Damian didn't notice, too occupied to stare at the other Talon who just arrived to think that the kid was being dramatic.
He quickly grabbed his katana and put it back in its sheath, keeping one hand on his birdrangs while he watched the masked kid and Talon look at each other via their mask before the kid started signing stuff that Damian couldn't understand as he recognise the sign language they were using.
As he watched them sign he turned to look at Bruce and Duke and was shocked to see Duke looking like he'd seen a ghost as the vigilante stared at the kid who was furiously signing to the Talon and looked frustrated when said Talon signed something that they didn't agree with.
He looked at Duke and Bruce and made a hand signal to Bruce to keep an eye on the duo as he checked on Duke, wanting to see if he was ok and could keep his posture if the two Talons decided to fight the three vigilantes, confused as to why they were there as they managed to take down the Court just two months ago and sent many Talons to a secret building out of Gotham, where they could be fee from the Court's influence.
Damian quickly walked up to the African-American male and grabbed his arm, forcing him to get up "Signal, report on what you saw in the alley, make it quick. We don't have time to useless details" he demanded, needing to know if Duke had some useful information to use in the upcoming fight and especially if the two Talons thee were involved in the streak of murders happening around Gotham.
Duke looked down at Damian as he was still looking at the kid and the Talon who were still fighting in their own sign language, his face looking like he swallowed a very sour candy before starting to talk "a Talon obviously but they're different from the other Talons we fought Robs." He took a deep breath to think about what he was supposed to say to be useful for him and Damian in the imminent fight.
"You have to be on your guard when fighting against that kid Robs, they're the ones who have been killing people in Gotham" he started, taking a deep breath as he tried to remember what he saw and staying calm, knowing he could seriously put Damian and Bruce at a disadvantage if he had another panic attack. "They're fast and have talons on their fingers that can be retractable. Their bite is venomous and it seems like the venom is very quick to spread if you get bitten." he explained, shuddering as he remembered the kid biting that man's arm.
The trio froze when they heard the kid whistle happily and jump around like they won something big while the Talon looked defeated, a hand on his shaking head but the three vigilantes could see by his body language that he was amused by the kid celebrating even though his whole face was covered by a mask.
Damian immediately got in fighting position with his katana and signalled for Duke and Bruce to do the same as he knew that the kid wanted to fight before watching, confusion clearly written in his eyes, as the kid started taking off parts of their armour like their chest plate and throwing it on the ground until their only piece of armour were two metal pieces on both arms and legs while everything else was left open and was just covered by some black clothing that looked too big on the kid.
By the way they were taking off most of their armour, it seemed like they wanted to feel every hit on their body like a sick maniac who is eager to feel anything that brings them joy or even just a thrill of excitement and the adrenaline that comes with it.
Duke was ready with his eskrima sticks in hand and stood next to Bruce, unsure on who the assassin wanted to fight first but he was ready to help if they suddenly attacked either Bruce or Damian. The older man grabbed his batarangs and glared at the two Talons, unsure on what they wanted but ready to fight if they tried anything to hurt his family.
Damian watched in silence as the kid finished taking off most of their armour before staring back at Duke and Damian with the same smile on their face, a bit confused when he saw them frowning as he watched them. He was too late to realise what was happening when the kid whistled two tunes at the same time and stood next to the Talon.
The youngest vigilante barely had time to warn his father before the Talon suddenly attacked the man, pushing the man to a part away from the kids on the rooftop while the kid applauded as he watched the two fight. He turned to glare at the other Talon and barely had time to raise his katana to protect himself as the kid was suddenly in front of him and used his talons to scratch his face.
He struggled a bit to hold his katana, his arms shaking as the kid was pushing their talons to reach his face. Fortunately for Damian, Duke was there to rescue him by kicking the kid on the stomach, making them stumble away while holding their stomach.
But they didn't back down as the Talon quickly recovered in not even a minute and this time attacked Duke with their talons, who was ready with his eskrima sticks and defended himself before pushing their talons down and managing to punch them right in the face.
As the three fought, Bruce was fighting with the older Talon before noticing that he wasn't trying to kill him like every other fight he had with his association but instead he was trying to keep him away from his kids and the shorter Talon that was with him, making the bat vigilante confused as to what their relationship was as he never knew that Talons could form familiar relationships in the Court.
Damian frowned as he and Duke weren't strong enough to capture the kid or not even manage to make them falter slightly. He glared at the kid who was looking at their nails while waiting for the two to regain their breath, making Damian even more angry as he knew the kid was obviously making fun of him and Duke by the way they were acting.
He made a hand motion towards Duke to tell him to get ready as he ran towards the kid, starting to fight them and keep them occupied as Duke made his eskrima sticks connect to turn them into nunchaku, starting to whirled around to gain speed until Damian managed to push them away and distract them for enough time so he could hit them in the face, and in the process made their mask fall off alongside their hoodie from the way they fell.
Damian stared as the kid laid down on the rooftop floor, completely frozen as their eyes were closed before suddenly opening them and getting up with a sick smile on their face, not caring that the two vigilantes could see their face, pushing some of their hair away from their face as the hoodie let their hair free.
Damian watched in shock as he was standing right in front of [Y/N], their older sibling who was believed to be dead or missing after they disappeared 8 years ago from a car accident while on their way home after attending the kid's dance recital. The same kid who was now standing in front of him, looking no older than 12 and wearing the Talon's uniform.
He couldn't do anything as they whistled and looked at the other Talon, who pushed Bruce away and walked up to them, grabbing their stuff in the process before picking them up and walking over the rooftop edge.
He finally managed to move once he realised that he was about to let his older sibling go without doing anything and started running towards the Talon, ignoring Bruce and Duke's voices before yelling out a "[Y/N]", reaching his hand out to grab them but was too late as the Talon jumped off the roof and as he looked down they already disappeared into the night.
The only thing that he could think as he thought of everything that happened was 'I need them back', especially now that he knew that his older sibling, the one he heard so many stories about and dreamed of hanging out with them. He refused to let them leave now that he knew he would have the possibility to have them in his life.
