#Suspicious activity monitoring

[mouseratz]

anyway so yeah if you are falling for the idea of the suburban security camera you're falling for the shit the cops and other fascists are selling you. it is kind of that deep. like, it doesn't make you one on its own, but it's a big part of their worldview; it preys on racist fears and prioritizes property over human lives, and they have good reason to want you to act this way. these kinds of beliefs build the groundwork for them to thrive, if that makes sense.

#i am not saying that crime doesnt happen or dont protect yourself. #i am specifically speaking about this idea of monitoring your neighbors for suspicious activity at all times.

[godnectar]

Yan cheater is crazy

・✶ ｡ﾟ𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 ;

cw: cheating, stalking, attempted gaslighting, jealousy, some violence, sabotage, guilt tripping, etc. ( inbox link )

𖣠 YANDERE CHEATER! who's a master of deception. he will act shocked and hurt if you dare suspect him of cheating, putting on a convincing display of innocence in front of you and whoever who was the fucker you call friend placing such horrendous and disgusting but unfortunately true thoughts inside your pretty little head.

𖣠 YANDERE CHEATER! who, even if he doesn't really feel too guilty about his actions, quickly starts to see red the moment a goodbye text from you arrives on his phone. a few hours later, it's his knuckles, the ones splattering crimson against your bff's face, unhappy and frustrated with how easy was for them to undo the blindfold of your eyes and finally see how much of an unfaithful asshole your man was.

𖣠 YANDERE CHEATER! who would continue monitoring his darling's online presence even after your breakup, tracking your activities on social media and messaging apps to gather information about your emotional state and any potential love interests, jaw clenching furiously every time he finds out you've posted a new picture or story out with your companions.

𖣠 YANDERE CHEATER! who, if you ever start dating someone else, would definitely try his best to sabotage this recently formed relationship, employing nasty tactics like sending suspicious texts and pics about your new lover from a burning account to create doubt and insecurity in his sweetheart's mind. we could try and say that, if he can't have you, no one will– but that would still be dumb for him, as he knows you'll always end up coming back seeking his sweet, warm, and deceptive embrace.

𖣠 YANDERE CHEATER! who would also take his time to arrange situations where he can coincidentally bump into you, making it seem like it's fate the one bringing you back together as soulmates and not his dirty play. of course, he would double down on his previous apologies, promising that he has changed and is willing to do anything to make things between you two right.

𖣠 YANDERE CHEATER! who, if he notices at any moment the doubts appearing in your mind, will end up using his last but hopefully useful card, and question about whether you have ever truly loved him, suggesting that you're responsible for the fact that his heart has searched for someone else's affection when your touch started turning cold.

"baby... why do you cry? you're the one who made all of this happen– the least you could do is try and love me rightly."

© godnectar 2023. please do not modify, translate, or repost my works on any platform without my permission.

#godnectar #reader insert #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere male #yandere x you #possessive yandere #clingy yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere drabble #yandere headcanons #yandere hcs #oc x reader #yandere oc #oc x you #male oc #dark content #yandere au #yandere cheater #yandere x darling #yandere imagines #tw: yandere #tw: yancore #tw yandere #male yandere #yancore #oc yandere #yandere original character #yandere oc x reader #tw cheating

[rashoumon-homo]

No Such Tastes In Men pt.3 (Dazai x Reader)

Dazai x Male Reader, NSFW

-> Content Warnings: male!reader, anal sex (Dazai receiving), bottom Dazai, dom!reader

-> 1.9k words

NSFW CONTENT AHEAD - READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

<- Previous Part

When Dazai approaches you for your weekly meeting, you can tell there’s something more on his mind. He’s biting his lip, eyes not meeting yours, while you give your report on suspicious activity you’ve monitored in the past days. It’s not like him to be so distracted, so nervous, so you stop mid-sentence and fold your arms over your chest. 

“Alright, spit it out,” you say, eyes narrowed. “You’re thinking so loud it’s drowning me out.”

Dazai gives you an apologetic smile. “That obvious, huh? I was trying to find the right words to invite you back to my place after this meeting.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Why do I want to invite you over, or why was I thinking so hard about how to ask you?” he asks.

“Both, I suppose.”

On the surface, Dazai looks as calm as ever, but to the trained eye he’s clearly nervous. That slight tremble of his hands that he hides by shoving his hands in his pockets; how his gaze flicks away as he laughs nervously. “I wanted to try something new with you.” He swallows. “I want you to fuck me.”

You can’t help but laugh, relieved. “That’s it? You don’t need to be nervous to ask me that! We’ve been getting each other off for months now, it’s no big deal.”

“Only during the weekly meetings,” he clarifies. “And only with our hands or our mouths. Inviting you over outside of that time frame, and to actually fuck me– which would be my first time, mind you– is different.”

You shrug. “I don’t think it’s weird, if that’s any consolation. You want me to top?”

Dazai nods. You smile and step forward, tucking his hair behind his ear. “Alright,” you murmur. “I’ll make it good for you, don’t worry.”

He shivers, breath catching in his throat. His reaction lights a spark inside you, your heart racing at the prospect of making him melt in your hands; getting to fuck those pretty whines and moans out of him. 

“I’ll let you get ready. 9:00 tonight?” you suggest. 

Dazai nods. His eyes are wide and if you had better hearing you swear you’d be able to hear his racing heart. 

“Hey,” you say softly. “Don’t stress too much, okay? I’ll take care of you.”

As you leave the alley, you hear him say quietly, “That’s why I’m worried…”

***

You knock on Dazai’s apartment door a few minutes before 9. He opens it a second later, his face flushed and a nervous grin on his face. He’s changed into a much more casual outfit; a plain t-shirt and jeans. It’ll be much easier to get him out of it than his work clothes would have been. 

The apartment is warm and cozy. There’s music softly playing from a speaker by the tv, something slow and romantic you don’t recognize. He leads you to the living room and invites you to sit down on the couch, then heads to the kitchen. “Want anything to drink?” he calls out. 

You smile to yourself. He’s trying so hard to set the mood and it’s kind of adorable. “Water’s fine,” you reply. 

He appears a second later with two glasses: water for you, and whiskey for himself. You down half the glass in a couple gulps, while he sips his drink and sits beside you rigidly. 

“Relax,” you remind him, bumping your shoulder into his. He smiles sheepishly in return and takes another sip of his drink. 

“You hook up with women all the time, don’t you?” you ask. “Why’re you acting so shy?”

“It’s just… different,” he says with a sigh. “You’re the only guy I’ve ever been with, and you’re so experienced. I don’t know what we are; what our boundaries are. We’ve made each other cum a dozen times but we’ve never even kissed. I just… don’t want to do the wrong thing.”

You smile sympathetically at him. “We don’t need to figure out a label right now unless you want to. But you do make a good point about boundaries. For me, anything physical is fine. You can touch me, kiss me, bite me, whatever you want. I’m fine with you calling me ‘baby’ or whatever during sex, just don’t blindside me with an ‘I love you’ or anything.”

Dazai shakes his head and laughs. “Pfft, I wouldn’t do that, don’t worry. My boundaries are the same. And I don’t mind if you leave marks or anything, they’d probably get covered by my bandages anyway.”

“Since we’re both okay with kissing,” you say playfully, “Want to get our first kiss out of the way? Might help you relax a little.”

Dazai sets his drink down and scoots closer. “Okay,” he says, cautiously reaching his hand up to rest on your shoulder. You cup his jaw in your hand and stare into his eyes for a moment. Your other hand rests at his waist. You brush your thumb along his lower lip and pull him forward so your foreheads meet. 

“God, you’re handsome,” you whisper, then bring his lips to yours. He kisses you softly, tentatively, at first, but then you part your lips and he mirrors you, tongue dipping into your mouth. You hear him groan quietly into the kiss and you can taste his whiskey on his tongue. His hand slides up from your shoulder to your cheek. He holds you surprisingly gently, more so than you expected anyway. 

When you break apart, you’re both breathing hard, cheeks flushed and soft smiles on your faces. 

“Better?” you ask. 

He grins and kisses you again in response. This time, he swings his leg over yours to sit in your lap, his fingers threading into your hair. You trail your kisses down to his neck, where you suck hickeys onto his skin. 

“I could do this all night, just keep kissing you until my lips hurt,” he says breathlessly. 

You laugh, the vibrations tickling his neck. “I can think of something better,” you say. Then you grab the undersides of his thighs and lift him up. He wraps his arms around your neck and crosses his ankles. 

“Which way to the bedroom?” you ask, still nibbling at his neck. 

“Down the hall, first door on the right.”

You continue kissing him as you carry him down the hall, and with some difficulty (considering you’re carrying him, kissing him, and have never been here before) find your way to the bedroom. You lower him onto the bed and climb on top of him. 

“Doing okay?” you ask. You sit up and pull off your shirt. 

Dazai nods enthusiastically, then pointedly bucks his hips up to press your erections together. You both groan at the contact, and then it’s a tangled mess of you grinding against each other while trying to pull clothes off. 

Finally, you’re able to slip his boxers down and get your hands on that cock. You’re careful not to touch him too much; you don’t want him cumming before it’s time. But just a little for now is fine, to tease him. 

“Gonna have to stretch you now,” you say. “It’s probably gonna take a while since this is your first time, but-” You stop talking when you see Dazai looking to the side, embarrassed. “What…?” you ask.

“It is my first time, but I’ve, uh… fingered myself before?” he says quietly. 

“Oh?” Just that “oh?” is enough for Dazai to crack, spilling the secret he’d tried to keep all day. 

“A little after we first hooked up, I tried fingering myself, cause I was curious, and it was really good but it wasn’t enough and then I ended up buying a dildo but pretty soon that wasn’t enough either and I realized what I really wanted was YOU and that’s why I asked you to fuck me,” Dazai says quickly. 

Your eyes widen with surprise. “Pass me the lube,” you say finally. He hands it to you, looking a little apprehensive still. You coat your fingers, then slip one in. Dazai gasps quietly as he feels it go in. He’s loose, way more than you expected. And so soft and warm inside. You add another and ask, “You stretched yourself before I came here, too, didn’t you?”

Dazai nods. “Mmh… wanted to be ready…” he moans. You slip a third finger in and curl them, petting his walls while searching for his prostate. “Feels so good when it’s someone else’s fingers,” he says. He’s squirming and letting out little breathy grunts as you finger him open. And then you brush over his prostate and he jolts and cries out. Applying just the right amount of indirect pressure has him writhing under your touch and moaning lewdly. 

“Please,” he begs. “I need more…”

“Think you’re ready?” you tease. It’s too much fun taking him apart like this. 

“Please,” he whines. And he looks so pitiful and needy that you just have to oblige him. 

“Alright,” you say. You kiss him to distract him from you pulling out your fingers, then grab the condom he hands you and roll it on. “You sure?” you ask again, this time your voice tinged with genuine worry. “If you want to stop at any point just let me know and-”

Dazai impatiently pulls you down into a bruising kiss. Precum smears onto your stomach as he pulls you close, and you can feel how hot his cock is against you. “Fuck me,” he says desperately. 

You nod and line yourself up with him. You hold his hips in place as you slide in, as slowly as he will let you. Once you’re all the way in, you grind your cock against his prostate and he mewls, pushing his hips further into you. 

“So full…” he groans. “Please… move…”

And so you do. You drag your cock almost all the way out, then thrust in. Dazai positively wails at the sensation. “Fuck,” he cries. 

“You’re so tight and so perfect,” you moan, thrusting in again. The feeling is addictive; Dazai’s hole is sucking you in so nicely. Soon you’re thrusting at a regular pace, holding Dazai’s hips and listening to him moan. 

Fuck, he’s loud, too. Between his loud cries and the sound of the bed frame hitting the wall, he’s sure to get some complaints from neighbors. But you can’t even bring yourself to care. He’s so perfect, so fucking sexy. 

“Please… gonna…” Dazai moans. “Touch me…”

You barely wrap your hand around his cock before his back is arching and he’s cumming hard, moans cutting out into a silent scream as he reaches his peak. The feeling of him tightening around you brings you over the edge too. You thrust hard into him one last time and let out a guttural moan. 

As your orgasms taper off, you collapse onto Dazai’s chest, listening to the rapid beating of his heart. 

“Holy shit,” he says finally. 

You laugh. “Yeah?”

“I think I’m bi.”

Dazai starts laughing and then you laugh too, kissing him lazily. Maybe you’re just caught up in the moment, but you can’t help but feel like there’s something more between you two than just sexual exploration. It’s something to ask him about later, for sure, but for now you just want to be two happy, sweaty, cum-covered bodies tangled together. Besides, the way Dazai kisses the top of your head? That’s gotta be as good as it gets.

Tag list: @suru1990

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#rashoumon writes #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai x y/n #dazai x male reader #dazai x m!reader #dazai smut #bsd fic #bsd #dazai bsd #sub dazai #bottom dazai #bungou stray dogs

[butterfly-lies-chase-them-away]

Behind the Mask - Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader (ONESHOT)

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader Scarecrow x Batgirl!Reader Word Count: 15079

Warnings: Enemies to Lovers, fear toxin, Scarecrow x Batgirl

Summary: (REQUEST) While chasing down the Scarecrow in Gotham, Y/n forms an unexpected bond with the mysterious figure. As their relationship deepens, Y/n finds herself navigating the blurred boundaries between friend and foe.

A/N: I got a request for Scarecrow x Batgirl!reader with enemies to lovers and I fucking JUMPED at this one, I did not mean to write this much, holy shit. I didn't really have a plan going into this one, so when I started writing, I was going from top to bottom, so whatever happened happened and I clearly went OFF! While writing this, I kinda had comic-book!Scarecrow in my brain for reasons I couldn't explain, but ya know... it's the same dude so yeah. I really hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it 💚

-

"I'll need you to be on watch in the Narrows tonight," Bruce instructed Y/n as he fastened his suit, his tone carrying the weight of his responsibilities.

"Any you want me to keep an eye one in particular?" Y/n asked, adjusting her own suit in preparation.

"Many, but the Scarecrow’s been more active recently, I want you to look out for him, I have the Joker to deal with." Bruce replied, his gaze distant as he mentally prepared for the night's challenges.

It had been a a few months since Y/n first became the Batgirl. Y/n often found herself in the wrong place at the wrong time, or perhaps it was the right place at the right time, depending on how one looked at it. As a bystander in Gotham City, she frequently stumbled upon scenes of crime and chaos, unwittingly becoming entangled in the city's never-ending struggle for order.

On one occasion, while walking home from work, Y/n witnessed a mugging in progress. Without hesitation, she sprang into action, using her self-defense skills to fend off the assailant and protect the victim. Little did she know, Batman had been monitoring the situation from the shadows, impressed by her bravery and resourcefulness.

This became a regular occurrence for Y/n after that, seeking out injustice in the city and protecting those in need. With each encounter, Y/n found herself drawn further into Batman's world, her actions catching his attention time and time again, forging an unexpected bond between herself and the Dark Knight.

Under Batman's guidance, Y/n evolved from a mere bystander into Batgirl, a symbol of hope and strength for the citizens of Gotham. With her skills and determination, she stood shoulder to shoulder with the Caped Crusader, ready to confront the darkness that threatened to consume their city.

The two of them went their separate ways, Y/n finding herself in the Narrows, poached on a building. And as if on cue, she heard screams coming from an alley. Immediately jumping into action, Y/n dropped down and rushed to the scene, and just as she expect, the man with a burlap mask stood over a helpless person, screaming and scratching on the floor.

"Refining your toxins, Scarecrow?" Y/n's voice echoed down the dimly lit alley, drawing his attention like a moth to a flame.

"Alone in the shadows, Batgirl?" Scarecrow's distorted voice floated back, his eerie presence sending shivers down Y/n's spine.

Without hesitation, Y/n surged forward, her determination driving her towards the looming figure of Scarecrow. Scarecrow's agility was surprising, a testament to his cunning and prowess.

Despite his speed, Y/n's athletic skills allowed her to gain ground. With a swift motion, she held out a Batarang, sending it spinning towards Scarecrow's feet. The makeshift trap worked like a charm, causing him to stumble and crash to the ground.

"Lost your footing?" Y/n taunted, her voice laced with determination.

"Lost your vision?" Scarecrow retorted, his words accompanied by a sudden burst of suspicious powder that engulfed Y/n's senses.

Coughing and disoriented, she struggled to maintain her balance as her surroundings blurred into a hazy fog.

In the midst of the chaos, Scarecrow seized the opportunity to strike, delivering a well-aimed kick that sent Y/n tumbling to the ground. With a pained groan, she collided with the unforgiving pavement, the impact jarring her senses and rattling her confidence.

As Scarecrow's footsteps faded into the distance, leaving behind only the distant echoes of the Narrows, Y/n cursed her carelessness. Still reeling from the encounter, she struggled to regain her bearings, her vision still clouded and her body aching from the fall. 

"This better not be permanent," Y/n muttered under her breath, frustration evident in her voice as she struggled to regain her footing amidst the haze of her blurry vision.

With the aid of the wall for support, Y/n navigated her way out of the Narrows, determination guiding her steps despite her impaired sight. Fumbling for her walkie-talkie, she summoned Batman, her admission tinged with a hint of embarrassment.

"Hey, uh... Could you bring the Batmobile? I can't see," Y/n confessed, her tone a clear indication of her frustration.

"On my way," Batman's reassuring voice crackled through the device.

As she waited at the end of the alleyway, the familiar roar of the Batmobile's engine signaled Batman's arrival. He lifted the roof of the vehicle, his presence a comforting presence in the midst of Y/n's uncertainty.

"You getting in?" Batman's usual impatience brought a hint of levity to the situation, his words a welcome distraction from Y/n's predicament.

"Yeah, could you help me? I can't see properly," Y/n admitted, her voice tinged with embarrassment. "It's all just a black blob."

Without hesitation, Batman leaped out of the car, his strong hand reaching out to guide Y/n safely into the vehicle. As they embarked on their journey through the city's shadowy streets, Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the steadfast ally by her side.

"Rough night?" Batman's gravelly voice broke the silence, cutting through the tension that hung in the air.

"You could say that," Y/n replied, her tone heavy with disappointment as she settled into the seat beside him. "Will my vision be like this permanently?" Y/n asked, the question bugging her for the last 10 minutes.

"Hard to tell with the Scarecrow, but you should be okay. It's a surprise he didn't use his fear toxin on you," Batman remarked, his voice betraying a hint of concern.

Y/n let out a sigh of resignation, her shoulders slumping as she leaned back against the seat. In the darkness of the Batmobile, surrounded by the faint hum of the engine and the steady rhythm of the city outside, she couldn't help but feel a sense of vulnerability. But even in her moment of uncertainty, she found solace in the presence of the silent guardian beside her, a reminder that she was never truly alone in the shadows of Gotham.

-

Fortunately for Y/n, her vision returned within an hour, relieving her of the temporary blindness. Despite Bruce's insistence that she call it a night and rest up, Y/n's determination to uncover more about their adversary remained unyielding. In the depths of the Batcave, she was immersed in her research, combing through databases and news articles in search of a lead.

"Thought you'd be down here, Master Bruce holding you back?" Alfred's familiar voice echoed through the cavernous space as he descended into the Batcave.

"No, I was supposed to head home an hour ago," Y/n admitted, her attention still fixed on the glowing screen before her.

"Well, shall I fetch you some supper then?" Alfred offered, ever the attentive caretaker.

"It's alright, Alfred. Thank you," Y/n replied, offering a grateful smile in his direction.

As Alfred approached, he cast a glance at the screen, taking note of Y/n's diligent research and the meticulous notes scattered around her workspace.

"My, you've certainly done quite the thorough job. It's no wonder you landed that internship," Alfred remarked, his tone filled with pride.

"You and I both know I only got that internship at Arkham because of Bruce's influence," Y/n laughed.

"You ought to give yourself more credit, Miss L/n," Alfred's voice held a gentle admonishment as he glanced over Y/n's work. "When is your first day, anyway?"

Glancing at the clock, Y/n realized it was already 1 AM. "Tomorrow," she answered.

"I beg of you to go home, Miss L/n. Your sleep schedule is bad enough as it is," Alfred urged, concern etched in his voice.

Y/n let out a weary sigh. "I guess I'll have to leave the Scarecrow for another time."

Y/n and Alfred made their way back up to Wayne Manor, Y/n gathering her belongings in preparation to depart. Despite her reluctance to leave her research behind, she knew that rest was necessary if she wanted to be at her best for the challenges that lay ahead. With one last glance at the Batcomputer, Y/n bid farewell to the Batcave, her mind already turning towards the mysteries that awaited her on her first day at Arkham.

-

Y/n's first day at Arkham Asylum began with a mix of anticipation and nervous energy. The towering, foreboding structure of the institution loomed against the gray skies of Gotham, its reputation preceding it.

Working at Arkham Asylum had always been a dream for Y/n, fueled by a deep fascination with the psychology of criminals. And there was no better place than Arkham. She was aware that Bruce had played a pivotal role in securing this internship for her, primarily to make it easier to access the criminals and their files. Yet, this knowledge did little to dampen her enthusiasm. In fact, she saw it as practical to use her role for the greater good, combining her academic interests with her goal to protect Gotham.

As she stepped through the heavy, security-laden doors, she was greeted by Dr. Penelope Young, one of Arkham's leading psychiatrists and her supervisor for the duration of the internship.

"Welcome to Arkham Asylum, Miss L/n. I'm Dr. Young. I'll be showing you around today and discussing what you can expect during your time here," Dr. Young said, offering a firm handshake that Y/n returned.

Their tour began in the more benign corridors of the asylum, where Dr. Young outlined the history of Arkham, its purpose, and its challenges. She spoke with a passion that contrasted the grim surroundings, her belief in rehabilitation and understanding of the human psyche evident in her every word.

"As you'll soon learn, Arkham is more than just a holding facility for Gotham's criminally insane. It's a place of complexity, where psychology and security intersect in ways you won't see anywhere else," Dr. Young explained as they navigated through secure checkpoints.

The tour included visits to various departments, including the high-security wards where Gotham's most notorious villains were held. Dr. Young's explanations were thorough, covering the protocols for dealing with dangerous inmates, the importance of mental health assessments, and the ongoing research aimed at better understanding and treating profound psychological disorders.

"Your role here, Miss L/n, will involve assisting with patient assessments, participating in therapy sessions, and contributing to our research projects. It's crucial work that not only helps us understand the minds of those we're treating but also aids in ensuring the safety of Gotham City," Dr. Young said, her tone serious yet encouraging.

As they concluded the tour in the library, filled with texts on psychology, criminology, and the history of Arkham itself, Dr. Young offered some final advice.

"Always remember, the work we do here is challenging and often thankless. But it's also incredibly important. You're going to see and experience things that will test you, but I believe you have the potential to make a real difference."

Y/n left the tour feeling a mixture of awe and trepidation. The weight of her responsibilities at Arkham Asylum was now fully realized, but so too was her determination to meet the challenges head-on. As she prepared for her first assignment, she couldn't help but feel that her journey into the heart of Gotham's darkness was only just beginning.

-

Patrolling the rooftops alongside Batman had become a familiar part of Y/n's night life, yet that particular night, her performance was far from her usual standard. Missteps, a lack of balance, and a series of other minor blunders affected her efforts. Aware of Bruce's patience, she nonetheless couldn't shake off the feeling that she was more of a liability than an asset to Batman during their late-night surveillance.

"Fuck, sorry," Y/n muttered, hastily picking herself up after her foot caught on an uneven crack on a rooftop in the Narrows.

Batman halted his advance, turning to face her with a concern that seemed to pierce through the shadows of his cowl. "You should head home, you need rest," he suggested.

Y/n's gaze dropped, a wave of embarrassment washing over her. She knew he was right, yet admitting it felt like conceding to a weakness she couldn't afford.

"You're exhausted. It's been a long day," Batman tried to reassure her, recognizing the toll the day's events had taken on her.

"I know, but I feel like I need to be here," Y/n insisted, her voice a mix of determination and frustration.

"Is this about the Scarecrow again?" Batman's question cut through the tension, his insight honing in on the heart of her persistence.

"...Yeah," Y/n admitted, a mix of resolve and vulnerability in her voice.

Her obsession with stopping Scarecrow had pushed her to her limits, yet she felt an unyielding need to confront the fear he spread across Gotham. In that moment, beneath the expanse of the night sky, her dedication to their cause was as clear as the weariness she fought against.

The Scarecrow was Y/n's first real challenge with one of Gotham's notorious Rogue's. Until now, her experiences had primarily involved run-ins with lesser-known criminals. Unmasking the Scarecrow, whose identity remained a mystery to all of Gotham, would be a monumental achievement for her.

"Why don't you hang back a bit? You can stay on the scene, but I'd rather you not engage in anything major," Batman suggested, his voice carrying a note of protective caution.

Y/n nodded in agreement. She decided to approach the situation with caution, opting for observation over direct confrontation. From her vantage point on a nearby rooftop, she kept a vigilant eye on the Narrows, tracking Batman's movements as he patrolled the shadowy labyrinth below. That's when she spotted him.

Quickly, she grabbed her radio to alert Batman. "Scarecrow spotted near the north apartments!" she reported, urgency lacing her voice.

As Batman sprang into action, heading towards the reported location, Y/n felt a surge of determination. She knew she couldn't just stand by. Moving with purpose, she leaped across rooftops, her movements a blend of precision and grace, as she closed in on the two. Her heart raced with a mix of excitement and fear, fully aware of the dangers that lay ahead yet driven by a deep-seated resolve to make a difference.

His pursuit was relentless, a testament to years of honing his skills for moments just like this. The Scarecrow, a master of terror and manipulation, darted ahead, his movements erratic and desperate, aware that the Dark Knight was closing in on him.

The Scarecrow, realizing the inevitability of his capture, turned to face Batman, a sinister smile playing across his lips, hidden beneath the grotesque mask that had become his signature.

In a swift movement, Scarecrow pulled from his tattered coat a small canister, unleashing a cloud of his fear toxin directly at Batman. The gas, a potent concoction of Scarecrow's own design, filled the air, a visible miasma of terror.

Batman, caught off-guard by the sudden assault, attempted to evade the cloud but inhaled a breath of the toxic fumes. The world around him twisted horrifyingly, his vision blurring as the gas took hold, plunging him into a nightmarish landscape of his own fears. Towering figures of his past adversaries loomed over him, their taunts echoing in his ears, while the loss of his parents replayed in agonizing detail, a never-ending cycle of pain and guilt.

Y/n's heart skipped a beat at the sight of Batman collapsing, overcome by the Scarecrow's fear toxin. Without hesitation, she reached out to Alfred through her radio.

"It's urgent. Batman's been incapacitated by Scarecrow's fear gas. You need to get him immediately," she relayed with urgency.

Without waiting for Alfred's confirmation, she sprung into action, her body moving almost on instinct. She descended from her vantage point into the alleyway below, her cape billowing behind her as she set her sights on the retreating figure of the Scarecrow.

"You just can't let it go, can you?" Scarecrow taunted, turning to hurl a canister of his sinister concoction in her direction.

The moment the toxin enveloped her, Y/n's reality twisted into a nightmarish tableau. She fell to the ground, a scream tearing from her lips as the shadows around her seemed to swell with judgment and scorn. But this was different, alongside the overwhelming fear, a heavy drowsiness dragged at her consciousness.

This was no ordinary fear toxin, she realized with a struggle to maintain her awareness. Her breaths came in labored gasps, each one a battle against the encroaching darkness. Her strength ebbed away, leaving her helpless on the cold, unforgiving ground of the alley. Her vision blurred, yet she could make out the Scarecrow's figure looming over her, his mask a grotesque visage that pulsated in her dimming sight.

As her field of view narrowed to a point, she saw Scarecrow bend down beside her, his hands reaching out to grasp her. Then, as if a curtain had fallen over her world, everything succumbed to darkness.

-

The throbbing in her head was the first sensation that pierced through the fog of unconsciousness, a relentless pounding that seemed to echo through her entire being. Gritting her teeth in discomfort, Y/n reached up, her fingers pressing into her temples in a futile attempt to sooth the pain. With her eyes still firmly shut, she sat up from the surface beneath her.

As she became more aware, her palm registered the unmistakable chill of metal against her skin. Hesitantly, she allowed her eyelids to part, squinting against the dim light that filled her unfamiliar surroundings. This place, cold, sterile, and decidedly unwelcoming, was far from the familiar confines of her home or the Batcave. Panic fluttered in her chest as the realization set in.

She found herself lying on a stark, metallic table, the centerpiece of what appeared to be a neglected laboratory. The air was thick with the scent of chemicals and decay, a testament to the room's dubious purposes. With a growing sense of dread, Y/n ran a hand through her hair, her movements halting as another alarming detail dawned on her, her mask was missing.

She took a sharp intake of breath as she frantically searched her surroundings, her heart racing. Though still clad in the protective gear of Batgirl, minus her utility belt, the absence of her mask left her exposed, vulnerable. 

The sound of the door creaking open sent a jolt of adrenaline through her. She became tense, preparing for who might come through that door, her mind racing through possibilities and plans of escape.

As the door swung open, the Scarecrow stepped through, his presence immediately filling the room with a palpable sense of dread. His iconic, scratchy burlap mask seemed to leer at her, the tattered edges of his suit fluttering slightly with his movements. Y/n's heart sank, deep down, she'd known he would be her captor.

The realization of her vulnerability flashed through her mind, sparking a defiant glare, even as she attempted to shield her identity by casting her gaze downward.

"You needn't bother trying to hide now," Scarecrow's voice cut through the tense air, a smirk audible in his tone as he closed the distance between them. "I've seen all I need to see."

Acknowledging that hiding was no longer an option, Y/n understood that resistance might still sway the balance in her favor. With a burst of energy, she attempted to launch herself off the table, only to crumble to the ground, her legs betraying her strength.

"Easy, you've only just regained consciousness," Scarecrow taunted, his steps hastening towards her prone form.

In her struggle to stand back up, Scarecrow's hands suddenly steadied her, pulling her up with a firm grip on her arm. Yet, even in this vulnerable state, Y/n's resolve didn't falter. Her hand darted out, seizing a scalpel from a nearby table, and she held it towards Scarecrow, who instinctively raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. The air between them crackled with tension, each poised for the other's next move.

Scarecrow's voice was calm, yet firm. "You're hardly in a position to resist effectively. Let me help you back onto the table before you injure yourself further. The scalpel isn't necessary," he advised, his tone bordering on reasonable.

Y/n couldn’t help but notice how professionally he spoke. 

"So you can subject me to more of your experiments? Yeah nah," she laughed, sarcastically.

Scarecrow, unfazed by her resistance, replied with a hint of a threat, "Whether you agree or not, you're in no condition to stand. It's only a matter of time before you collapse again."

She knew he was right. She could barely feel her legs, and the bits of sensation she did have was undeniable pain. With a reluctant sigh, Y/n let the scalpel clatter back onto the table.

Seeing her give in, Scarecrow lowered his hands and gently supported her around her waist, guiding her with a care that contrasted with his usual menace. He lifted her effortlessly, placing her back on the medical table with a carefulness that seemed out of character. Her legs dangled off the side, the height of the table leaving her feet dangling in the air, a subtle reminder of her current vulnerability.

"Why am I here?" Y/n demanded.

"Had I not intervened, you would be dead," Scarecrow replied.

"So, you hit me with your gas for shits and giggles? Or am I just another subject for your midnight experiments?" Y/n's tone was laced with anger.

"I never intended to expose you to the gas," Scarecrow clarified, moving to grab an item from a nearby table.

"And what? Your hand just slipped?" Y/n retaliated with sarcasm.

"I thought you were the Batman," Scarecrow confessed as he returned to her side.

"And how does that change anything?" Y/n challenged.

Ignoring her, he held a cup, what appeared to be cloudy water. Scarecrow pressed the cup into her hand. 

"What's this?" Y/n asked, raising her brow.

"For your headache and numbed legs," Scarecrow responded.

Y/n eyed the cup warily, her skepticism evident. Scarecrow sighed, his voice distorted by his mask.

"If I intended harm, it would have been done already," he assured her.

"Then answer my question," Y/n pressed.

"What question?" Scarecrow responded quickly, playing the fool.

Y/n rolled her eyes. "Why does it matter that you gassed me if I work with Batman?"

Scarecrow remained silent, his gaze fixed on her. She returned his stare, peering into the depths of his blue eyes, an aspect she'd never noticed before, having never been this close to him without a fight.

"Why don’t you want to hurt me?" Y/n rephrased her question.

"Because I don’t want to," he replied simply.

Y/n's shoulders sagged in defeat as she took a sip from the cup, relieved to find it tasted just like water.

"What's your name?" Scarecrow's question caught her off guard.

Y/n shot him a judging glance. "Seriously? Are you dumb? Or do you think I am?"

Scarecrow chuckled, the sound crackled by his mask. "Your face isn't much of a secret now," he remarked.

"True, but a name would give away too much, wouldn't it? Besides, I doubt you'd share yours even if I asked," Y/n countered.

"Fair enough. Batgirl it remains," Scarecrow said.

Concern creased Y/n's brow as she broached the subject weighing on her mind. "So, what's your plan for me now?"

"You're not in any shape to leave just yet," Scarecrow observed.

"Okay, but when I am?" Y/n pressed.

Scarecrow hesitated. "I can't say for certain when that'll be," he admitted.

"You're the reason I'm drugged up…it was your toxin," Y/n pointed out.

"I didn't anticipate having to save anyone after using the gas," Scarecrow replied, his gaze drifting away.

Y/n sensed there was more to his reluctance than he let on. "Why won't you let me go?" she demanded.

"I told you—" Scarecrow began, but Y/n interjected firmly, "I want the real reason."

Scarecrow settled into a chair at a nearby desk.

"Aw, is the Scarecrow feeling lonely?" Y/n teased, her tone light despite the tension in the air.

Though she couldn't discern his expression behind the mask, she could practically feel the weight of his glare.

"Hey, if you keep up with that attitude, I might just have to pay you a visit in the Narrows," Y/n teased further, her words laden with playful defiance.

Y/n couldn't shake the uncertainty creeping into her mind. Was she really entertaining him with her banter?

"I suppose I'll have to hold you to that," Scarecrow retorted, his tone tinged with a hint of amusement.

Y/n couldn't believe what she was hearing. Did he actually want her to visit?

"...Batman must be worried about me," Y/n spoke aloud.

"You'd be correct. He's been searching the Narrows looking for you," Scarecrow confirmed.

She's now aware of their whereabouts. Somewhere in the Narrows, not entirely helpful, but better than nothing.

Relief washed over Y/n. "So he's okay then?" she asked anxiously.

"I only administered a small dose. He's perfectly fine," Scarecrow reassured her.

"Can I leave in about 10 minutes?" Y/n requested.

Scarecrow sighed. "Yes, but let me perform one final check first," he insisted.

He approached her. "Can you stand?"

Y/n noticed a tingling sensation in her legs, a welcome sign of returning strength. She gingerly hopped off the metal table, feeling Scarecrow's supportive grip immediately. Taking a moment to steady herself with his assistance, she eventually managed to push him away gently.

"Considering how quickly Batman bounced back, I'm sure he'll be able to assist you if you encounter any further issues," Scarecrow remarked.

"So, can I go?" Y/n inquired.

"Yes, but you'll be blindfolded," Scarecrow detailed.

Y/n watched as Scarecrow grabbed an unexpected item from his coat, her mask which she had completely forgotten about. She accepted it, placing it securely back on her face. Following this, he produced a blindfold, carefully tying it around her eyes.

"What about my utility belt?" she questioned.

"It's been left in the alley. I expect Batman has already located it with the tracker," Scarecrow informed her.

It made sense, had the belt been here, Batman would have pinpointed her location instantly due to its tracking device.

"Give me your hand," Scarecrow said.

Y/n reached out, feeling Scarecrow's grip. His hand was bare, contrasting with her gloved one, allowing her to feel the unique texture of his skin. Together, they navigated towards what Y/n presumed was the exit.

"Mind your step," Scarecrow instructed.

With extra caution, Y/n raised her foot higher than usual, stepping over what she imagined was the door frame. The sound of metal underfoot suggested they had transitioned onto a metallic grate.

"Coming up to some stairs," Scarecrow said.

As Scarecrow slightly descended, he guided Y/n to the first step. Clutching Scarecrow's hand for support, her free hand found a handrail. They carefully descended the staircase together.

"Last step," Scarecrow informed her.

Her feet found solid concrete below. They continued their journey outside, Y/n blind to their surroundings. After about ten minutes wandering the Narrows in silence, Scarecrow halted.

"I'm going to spin you so you won't know which direction we came from," Scarecrow explained.

Y/n snorted, "Feels like a weird game," she joked.

Gently, Scarecrow placed his hands on her shoulders and started to spin her. Y/n laughed, her steps becoming unsteady as she spun. Once she was sufficiently dizzy, Scarecrow ceased the spinning.

"Can I take off the blindfold now?" Y/n asked.

Scarecrow loosened the knot, freeing her from the blindfold. Blinking against the light, she surveyed her surroundings, her balance off from the spinning.

"I have no idea where I am," she admitted, scanning the area.

"That was the point," Scarecrow replied.

A small smile formed on her lips. "Hey, thanks for not killing me," she uttered, a phrase she never imagined saying.

"I apoligize for using the gas on you," Scarecrow said.

"I appreciate the apology...So! See you around?" Y/n tilted her head, looking at him.

Scarecrow seemed taken aback. "You aren't planning to tackling me to the ground for Batman?" 

She shook her head.

"Then, yes... until next time, Batgirl," Scarecrow affirmed.

With that, Y/n walked away, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the alley. Glancing back one last time, she found he had vanished into the shadows.

As Y/n made her way towards the mouth of the alley, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows with a swift, purposeful stride. The figure's imposing silhouette was unmistakable against the dimly lit street. Batman, cloaked in his iconic cape, his gaze fixed intently ahead.

He approached Y/n, his presence commanding yet reassuring. "Where have you been?" Batman's voice, deep and grave.

Although aggressive, she knew it was his way of showing his concern.

Y/n sighed. "I'm fine, thanks! But I wouldn’t have been if not for an unexpected turn of events," she responded, her voice a mix of relief and bewilderment.

Batman surveyed the surroundings with a beading eye, then returned his attention to Y/n. "Scarecrow?" he asked, already piecing together the encounter from the clues left behind.

"Yep," Y/n confirmed.

Batman summoned the Batmobile with a press of a button, and it swiftly glided around the corner, halting with precision in front of them. "We'll discuss it on the way," Batman suggested, sliding into the driver's seat of the Batmobile.

Y/n quickly followed, hopping into the passenger seat. The top sealed shut with a soft hiss, and they set off toward the Batcave, the engine's low rumble filling the air.

"As soon as you were hit with the toxin, I ran after Scarecrow. I know you said not to but I couldn't just stand by," Y/n recounted. "He hit me with some kind of super version of his toxin... I blacked out and later woke up in his lab... He had saved my life," she reflected, still piecing together the surreal events.

"Scarecrow...saved you...after he was the one to endanger you..." Batman's voice betrayed a hint of skepticism.

"Exactly... He said he mistook me for you and used a more lethal toxin," Y/n clarified.

Batman mulled over the information, "This must be part of some elaborate scheme."

"...When I was unconscious, he took off my mask," Y/n added quietly, the weight of her vulnerability in that moment hanging between them.

"We can't change what's happened," Batman responded with an unexpected calm. "For now, you need to stay at the batcave."

Y/n understood the protective gesture, Batman was ensuring her safety. This meant her encounters with Scarecrow would be on hold, a disappointing, yet perhaps for the best, turn of events.

-

Upon their arrival at the Batcave, Bruce insisted on conducting his own check up of Y/n to ensure her well-being. As he meticulously checked her condition, Y/n found her thoughts drifting back to Scarecrow.

The lanky figure behind the coarse, burlap mask now intrigued her more than ever. Despite her efforts to thwart his plans and her alliance with Batman, Scarecrow had spared her life. His actions defied the logic that he should have seen her as a direct threat, deserving of his lethal wrath.

Throughout their encounters, Scarecrow had consistently avoided using his fear toxin on her, opting for less harmful methods. And on the one occasion he did administer it, he promptly provided an antidote and went as far as looking after her back at his lab.

What puzzled her further was his reluctance, or perhaps refusal, to let her leave. There seemed to be an underlying reason he didn't want her to go, adding layers to his already complex persona. This unexpected mercy and the mystery shrouding his true intentions only deepened Y/n's curiosity about the man beneath the mask.

-

Y/n's second week interning at Arkham was unfolding better than she'd anticipated. Tasked with interacting with the less dangerous patients, she found them peculiar yet unexpectedly sweet, a stark contrast to her initial assumptions. Each person, in their own right, contributed to the unique tapestry of Arkham's inhabitants.

Walking through the asylum's corridors on her way to Dr. Young's office with a stack of files in hand, Y/n was absorbed in her thoughts, hardly aware of her surroundings. This lack of attention led to a collision with a passerby, resulting in her files scattering across the floor.

"Shit, sorry," she blurted out, immediately kneeling to gather the scattered documents.

The individual she bumped into stood frozen, offering no assistance or reaction. Once she collected her files and stood up to face him, she found herself looking at a tall, slender man adorned with rectangular, wire-framed glasses, his expression one of bafflement.

"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention," she said, hoping to break the ice.

Yet, the man remained silent, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open, offering nothing but a fixed stare. With an awkward smile, Y/n excused herself, moving past him to continue on her way.

"Sorry, again... Have a good day," she added, before turning her focus forward and spotting Dr. Young near her office.

"Met Dr. Crane, have you?" Dr. Young asked, observing the scene.

Glancing back, Y/n saw the man, now identified as Dr. Crane, retreating hastily down the hallway.

"Apparently. He a quiet one?" Y/n asked, intrigued by the unusual man.

"Not at all," Dr. Young confided with a hint of amusement. "He's known for being quite outspoken and, frankly, a bit abrasive. But let's keep that between us."

Y/n let out a soft chuckle, appreciating the candid insight. Together, they proceeded into Dr. Young's office. As they delved into their tasks and discussions, the brief encounter with Dr. Crane swiftly faded from Y/n's mind.

-

Barely two hours had passed, with Y/n engrossed in her task of organizing files, when Dr. Young re-entered the office, fresh from her break.

"It seems you've caught the attention of Dr. Crane," Dr. Young remarked as she stepped inside.

Y/n glanced up, puzzled. "Huh?"

Dr. Young, settling into her chair with a chuckle. "Well, in the cafeteria, Dr. Crane cam up to me out of the blue to ask about you. Considering he never engages in conversation unless it's strictly necessary, that was quite the surprise!"

Curiosity piqued, Y/n continued, "What exactly did he ask about?"

"Just your name and your role here," Dr. Young replied with a smile.

The thought of garnering anyone's interest, let alone Dr. Crane's, hadn't crossed Y/n's mind. Yet, she brushed it off, doubting it would have any significant impact on her internship.

-

Back at her home, Y/n found herself sprawled on her bed, engulfed in the unfamiliar territory of idleness. With Bruce sidelining her from night patrols, the once exhilarating darkness of Gotham's nights now stretched endlessly before her, filled with nothing but the quiet.

Letting out a sigh, she flung her book aside, a tangible sign of her growing restlessness. Reluctantly, she rose and drifted towards her computer, where the glow of her screen illuminated tabs of research left untouched since yesterday. Though the news articles of Scarecrow she had found offered little in the way of breakthroughs, she held onto the hope they might yet yield something of value.

It was then that a sudden thud against her window broke the silence, startling her. Turning to look, she expected to find nothing more unusual than a disoriented bird that flew into it. However, the repeated thudding suggested this was no ordinary accident.

With a sigh, Y/n approached the window to investigate. A crow was the culprit, determinedly striking the glass over and over. Attempting to shoo it away with a tap against the window proved futile, the bird was either stubborn or really dumb. About to turn away in defeat, Y/n noticed something clutched in the crow's beak, she naturally had to investigate.

Concerned it might be choking, she opened the window to offer assistance. The crow, uninvited, hopped boldly into her room and onto her bed.

"Hey! You’re gonna get my shit all dirty!" Y/n protested, trying to usher it off.

Yet the crow remained unbothered, stationed firmly on her bed. With a curious tilt of its head, it released its hold, letting the object, a piece of paper, fall onto her duvet.

Realizing the crow was unharmed, Y/n let out a sigh. "Okay, you can leave now," she suggested, gesturing towards the open window.

However, the crow remained stationary, its gaze fixed on her as if it had more to say. They stared at one another awkwardly, the air between them thick with uncertainty. The crow nudged the piece of paper with its beak, then lifted its eyes to hers, prompting her attention.

Reluctantly, Y/n shifted her focus to the paper, curiosity getting the better of her. The paper was torn and foled. She unfolded the ripped fragment to reveal a message that sent a jolt of shock through her.

'Found you.'

The simplicity of the message belied its ominous intent, transforming her initial confusion into a wave of dread. "Holy fuck," she muttered, her pulse quickening.

As if its mission was accomplished, the crow took its leave, soaring out the window. Y/n raced to the window, a futile attempt to keep it from leaving. "Oi!"

But her plea vanished into the night, leaving her to face the silence of her room. The solitude that had once been merely boring now felt ominously oppressive.

How had Scarecrow found her? The question echoed in her mind, a reminder that her sense of security was more fragile than she had ever imagined.

Y/n wasted no time in dialing Bruce's number, her fingers trembling with anxiety as she waited for him to pick up. When he finally answered, she didn't bother with pleasantries.

"He found me," she blurted out in a tense whisper.

"Y/n? What are you talk-?" Bruce paused. “How?”

"I don't know how he did it, Bruce. There's no way he could have tracked me from that night," Y/n replied, her nerves palpable. “He sent his fucking pet crow, or something to my window with a little note saying he found me.”

"I think it would be safest for you to stay at my place for a while," Bruce suggested, his tone urgent.

"Yeah, but what if he figures out… you know?" Y/n's worry crept into her voice.

"Is there anywhere else you can go?" Bruce asked, his concern evident.

Y/n's mind raced, but she couldn't think of any safe alternatives. "Not really," she admitted reluctantly.

"Okay, just stay safe. I'll be checking up on you," Bruce instructed firmly.

"I'll do my best," Y/n sighed, feeling a sense of dread settle over her as the call ended.

She dropped her phone on her bed along with herself. Sitting on her bed, she ran her hand down her face groaning. She just prayed he was as nice as he was the night before.

-

The next day, Y/n felt a sense of unease as she walked through the corridors of Arkham towards Dr. Young's office. Upon entering, she was met not only by Dr. Young, but also by the presence of Dr. Crane.

"Good morning, Y/n. I'm sure you're acquainted with Dr. Crane by now," Dr. Young gestured towards the man in the room.

Y/n nodded awkwardly, turning her attention to Dr. Crane. "Hello, Dr. Crane," she greeted, extending her hand for a shake.

"Miss L/n," he replied, his voice crisp and professional as he took her hand.

There was something strangely familiar about his touch, though Y/n couldn't quite place it. Brushing it off as mere coincidence, she focused on the conversation at hand.

"Well, we've decided to switch things up a bit and provide you with more opportunities around the asylum. Today, Dr. Crane has kindly offered to mentor you instead of me," Dr. Young explained.

Y/n nodded, trying to maintain her composure. "Oh... cool," she replied, though her uncertainty lingered beneath the surface.

"My work primarily focuses on the higher-risk patients, so today I'll be showing you around those areas of the asylum," Dr. Crane explained, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Alright, shall we get started?" Y/n asked, eager to begin.

"Certainly," Dr. Crane replied, opening the door for Y/n to exit first. She thanked him and stepped into the hallway, where Dr. Crane joined her.

"So, Miss L/n, what led you to Arkham?" Dr. Crane inquired, initiating conversation.

"Well, I studied at Gotham University for five years and managed to get an internship here. It's an opportunity I couldn't pass up," Y/n replied.

Dr. Crane nodded, showing interest. "You're interested in psychology, I assume?"

"Naturally," Y/n confirmed.

"And outside of Arkham, how do you spend your time?" Dr. Crane asked, delving deeper.

Y/n wasn't prepared for such a personal question, and she found herself struggling to formulate an answer. In truth, much of her time was split between intensive research and her activities as a vigilante. "Uh... research mostly," she replied, keeping her answer vague.

"Any specific areas of focus?" Dr. Crane probed further.

"Primarily psychology-related topics, and occasionally delving into articles about various personalities in Gotham," Y/n answered, trying to keep her response casual.

"Ah, the Gotham Rogues, I presume? Have any in particular piqued your interest?" Dr. Crane inquired, his gaze lingering on her as they made their way towards the elevator.

Y/n had been informed by Dr. Young that small talk was rarely on Dr. Crane's agenda, suggesting his continuous questions might stem from a lack of social que. Yet, as a psychiatrist, his understanding of social dynamics should be adept, making his approach puzzling.

"Ah, well... each of them are interesting in their own way, to say the least," Y/n replied, deflecting deflecting to keep the conversation neutral.

Acknowledging her response with a nod, Dr. Crane diverted his eyes ahead, the silence momentarily enveloping them as they approached and entered the elevator. With a practiced motion, he swiped his keycard and selected their destination floor.

The elevator began its descent in silence, the hum of its mechanism filling the small space. Dr. Crane stood with a composed posture, hands clasped behind his back, while Y/n could feel the tension in the air, an undercurrent of unspoken thoughts swirling between them.

After a moment, Dr. Crane broke the silence. "The study of fear is particularly fascinating, don't you think?" he started, his tone measured, eyes fixed on the elevator doors as if addressing the question to himself. "It's primal, yet so complex. A fundamental emotion that can be both a hindrance and a survival mechanism."

Y/n, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation, nodded in agreement. "Yes, it's quite a paradox. It shapes so much of human behavior, yet we understand so little about its underpinnings."

The elevator dinged, announcing their arrival at the high-risk patient floor. As the doors slid open, Dr. Crane stepped out, gesturing for Y/n to follow. "Indeed. And it's within these walls that fear becomes a canvas, each patient painting their own portrait of terror."

The topic of their conversation enveloped Y/n in a sense of unease. While it was natural for a psychiatrist to delve into subjects like fear, given her recent unsettling situation, discussing it now stirred an unwelcome and deep-seated discomfort within her.

They walked through a secured door after Dr. Crane keyed in a code, entering a corridor lined with reinforced glass cells. The patients inside varied in their reactions to the newcomers, some pressed close to observe them, others retreated into shadows, and a few remained indifferent, lost in their own worlds.

"As you'll see today, our approach to treatment varies greatly, tailored to each patient's specific needs and... inclinations," Dr. Crane continued, leading Y/n past the cells. "Observation and understanding is key. Fear can be both a lock and a key in our field."

Y/n felt a chill run down her spine, not just from the atmosphere of the high-risk ward but from Dr. Crane's words. They echoed with a depth of knowledge and an intensity that felt almost too personal, as if fear itself was a familiar friend to him.

As they continued their tour, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling that Dr. Crane was studying her just as much as he was explaining the procedures and philosophies of Arkham Asylum. There was a calculated curiosity in his gaze, a probing quality that made her wonder what he saw when he looked at her. 

Their footsteps echoed softly as they walked through the corridor, eventually halting in front of a door. 

"This," he announced, ushering the door open with a gentle push, "is my office."

Crossing into the new space, Y/n found herself standing somewhat awkwardly, uncertain of what was to come next.

"I have a few patient appointments scheduled today. You'll have the opportunity to observe. But first, there are some reports I need to deal with. I imagine you have tasks of your own to do in the meantime?" he suggested.

With a nod from Y/n, he settled into his chair behind the desk, drawing out several files and a pen. As he began to write, Y/n couldn't help but observe him, a sense of déjà vu washing over her. There was an inexplicable familiarity in his presence that she couldn't quite identify.

Catching her gaze, he looked up, peering over his glasses. "Is there something on your mind?" he asked.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, considering her response carefully. She wasn't sure if she should bring up her recent encounter with the Scarecrow, especially given Dr. Crane's interest in fear and psychology. But something about his demeanor encouraged her to speak up. She cracked it down to the fact that he was around higher risk patients at arkham so he should understand.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, choosing her words carefully. She didn't want to alarm Dr. Crane or reveal too much about her involvement with Gotham's underworld.

"Well, actually..." she began, her voice measured. "I recently had a rather unusual encounter with someone who... operates outside the norms, let's say."

Dr. Crane raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Go on," he prompted, leaning forward slightly.

"There's this... guy," she began, her voice thoughtful. "Who put me in a rather diffucult situation. But instead of leaving me in trouble, this guy… helped me. He claimed that his actions were never intended to inconvenience me, but rather someone else entirely. It's all rather confusing to me."

As she spoke, Dr. Crane listened attentively, his analytical gaze fixed on her. There was a calculating intensity in his eyes that sent a shiver down her spine, but she pushed past it, determined to convey the essence of her experience without divulging too much.

He leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers thoughtfully. “Why do you think he wouldn’t have helped you?” he asked.

“Well this... guy... well, he’s not exactly known for his generosity,” Y/n said, choosing her words carefully.

"I see," he murmured, his tone contemplative. "It seems you've had quite the... encounter."

Y/n nodded, relieved that she had managed to convey the situation without revealing too many details. 

“Well... what about the situation confuses you?” he asked.

“The fact that he helped me, I just don’t understand it,” Y/n said.

“Had you encountered this individual prior to that?” Dr. Crane inquired.

“Yes, and he wasn’t particularly pleasant,” Y/n replied.

“Perhaps he had a change of heart, felt remorse... or maybe you interested him in some way,” Dr. Crane suggested.

Y/n recognized that Dr. Crane might not offer much assistance, especially since her account was far from the complete truth, but she valued his perspective.

“Yeah... maybe,” she said, considering his viewpoint.

-

The two appointments proceeded smoothly. The first patient was a paranoid individual, tormented by incessant fears of lurking threats in the shadows. As for the second patient was a woman struggling with intense anxiety and recurring nightmares. Dr. Crane navigated through their sessions with his calmness and precision, offering insightful observations and gentle guidance.

As the day progressed, Y/n found herself drawn into the complexities of the patients' minds, witnessing firsthand the challenges they faced and the therapeutic approaches employed by Dr. Crane. 

By the end of the day, Y/n felt a newfound respect for Dr. Crane's expertise and a deeper curiosity about the human psyche. 

Leaving Arkham, they boarded the Akrham train heading to the city center. "I trust today has been insightful for you," Dr. Crane remarked as they found their seats.

The clatter of the train tracks provided a rhythmic backdrop to their conversation as they settled into their seats. Y/n nodded, reflecting on the day's events. "Definitely," she replied. "It's given me a lot to think about."

Dr. Crane inclined his head, his gaze thoughtful. "Understanding the human mind is a continuous journey, filled with both challenges and revelations," he remarked. "But it's a journey worth undertaking."

Y/n nodded in agreement, absorbing his words. As the train rumbled on, she noticed that her stop was nearing.

"Thank you, Dr. Crane. You've been a really amazing mentor today," Y/n expressed her gratitude.

Dr. Crane nodded, acknowledging her gratitude. "You're welcome, Y/n. If you ever need any guidance or have any questions in the future, feel free to reach out," he said, his tone surprisingly warm.

As the train slowed to a stop at Y/n's station, she gathered her belongings and stood up. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you again," she said, offering a polite smile before stepping off the train.

"Have a safe walk home," Dr. Crane bid farewell as the train doors slid shut.

As she walked away from the station, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of curiosity about Dr. Crane. There was something intriguing about him, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. But for now, she pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the rest of her day ahead.

Alone in the dark, a wave of fear washed over her. Her home was just a ten-minute walk from the station, but after receiving that ominous message yesterday, she felt more uneasy than usual.

The usual nightly weirdos on the street didn't bother her much, no, it was the thought of encountering Scarecrow that sent shivers down her spine.

As she walked, a group of guys stepped out from a dark alley, eyeing her with leering grins. "Hey, sweetheart, looking for some company?" one of them called out, his tone dripping with sleaze.

Y/n rolled her eyes, unimpressed by their attempts to intimidate her. "Sorry, boys, not interested," she replied, quickening her pace.

As they closed in, Y/n sprang into action with lightning speed. In one fluid motion, she lunged towards the nearest assailant, her hands moving with precision. With a swift twist, she disarmed him, the weapon clattering to the ground with a metallic clang.

Before the others could react, Y/n hit him with calculated strikes, each one finding its mark with pinpoint accuracy. With each opponent she incapacitated, the threat diminished, until finally, all that remained was a pile of defeated adversaries at her feet.

Just as she thought the situation was under control, a familiar chill ran down her spine. The dim streetlight cast eerie shadows as Scarecrow emerged from the darkness, his silhouette looming ominously. Y/n's heart raced, her muscles tensing in anticipation.

The air seemed to thicken with tension as Scarecrow's gaze swept over the scene. She braced herself as the Scarecrow raised his hand, expecting the worst. Shielding her face, she awaited the inevitable assault, but instead, she heard screams erupting behind her. 

Reluctantly lowering her arms, she turned to witness a man writhing on the ground, his cries echoing through the deserted street beside a discarded firearm. Her gaze snapped back to the Scarecrow, her eyes widening in astonishment.

"One missed," he remarked coolly.

“Scarecrow…” she uttered, caught between greeting him and still processing the situation.

“Y/n,” he acknowledged.

“So...you know my name now,” she remarked, her tone barely masking her worry.

“Would you prefer I call you Batgirl still?” he asked, sarcastically.

“I suppose there’s no point,” Y/n shrugged, conceding to the truth.

Observing him in the dimly lit street, she couldn't help but notice his eerie yet intriguing presence. “Nice suit,” she commented, attempting to break the tension.

“Thank you,” he replied courteously, his mask concealing any expression.

Despite his seemingly benign demeanor, she couldn't shake off her unease about his sudden appearance. “What are you doing here?” she probed cautiously.

“Making sure you got home safely,” he responded matter-of-factly.

“You’re following me?” she questioned, her suspicion growing palpable.

“Looks that way,” he confirmed, his voice protraying no hint of emotion.

“...I’ll be off then,” she stated, turning to head back home.

His footsteps echoed behind her, prompting her to halt and face him. “You’re still here?”

"You don’t think I was just going to leave,” he remarked.

“Then can you at least not stalk behind me?” Y/n requested, her tone surprisingly composed despite her lingering unease.

Closing the distance between them, he fell into step beside her. “You know Batman might find you,” she warned.

“Not tonight, I saw him off chasing the Penguin,” he assured her.

Y/n looked ahead, contemplating their unusual companionship. “So… are you going to hurt me?” she questioned, her voice hinting her vulnerability.

“I didn’t hurt you before, why would I now?” he countered.

“Well, why else are you here?” she pressed, her curiosity piqued.

“It was you that said you’d ‘see me around’,” Scarecrow reminded her.

She recalled their earlier exchange, surprised that he remembered. “I didn’t think you’d remember… or care,” she admitted.

They lapsed into silence for a moment before Y/n broke it. “How did you find me?” she asked the question that was weighing on her mind since she got the note.

“It was coincidence,” Scarecrow replied cryptically.

“Seriously! That's all?” Y/n protested.

“I saw you... and gaining access to you was a simple matter after that,” he explained.

Y/n paused, contemplating the implications of his words.

“Wait, so you mean to say... Did I see you around?” Y/n's curiosity peaked.

Scarecrow's silence spoke volumes, confirming her suspicions. Y/n's mind raced, attempting to pinpoint any instance where she could have crossed paths with Scarecrow during the day, but nothing came to mind.

"You're annoying, you know that? Why can't you just tell me who you are?" Y/n pressed, frustration lacing her words.

"And give you the chance to share with your caped crusader? I think not," Scarecrow retorted with a hint of amusement in his distorted voice.

Y/n scowled, "This is bullshit. What kind of friend are you?"

"Friend?" Scarecrow echoed, a note of mock surprise in his tone.

Realizing she had referred to him as a friend, Y/n hesitated, "Well… I don’t know."

"Considering me a friend? That's rather... optimistic of you," Scarecrow jested.

"You know what? Fuck you," Y/n snapped, pushing him away in annoyance.

Scarecrow's laughter, distorted and chilling, filled the air.

"About that crow yesterday..." Y/n shifted the topic.

"Ah, yes, Craw," Scarecrow interjected.

"Craw... you named your bird after the sound it makes? What are you, five?" Y/n couldn't help but mock his choice.

"Feeling particularly bitey today, aren't we?" Scarecrow remarked with a hint of amusement.

"I'm just pointing out the obvious. You could have called him anything and you settled on 'Craw'? It's like naming a cat 'Meow' or a dog ‘Woof’," Y/n countered.

"I doubt your question was solely to critique my naming choices," Scarecrow deflected, steering the conversation forward.

"So, you have a trained crow... cool," Y/n conceded.

With a snap of his fingers, Scarecrow summoned the crow, which gracefully swooped down to perch on his shoulder.

"Fuck, that’s impressive," Y/n admitted, genuinely taken aback.

"He's a good companion," Scarecrow acknowledged, affectionately caressing the crow's feathered chest.

"And yet, when I mention friendship, I'm desperate?" Y/n teased with a scoff.

"I'm merely taken aback... You haven't even tried to call Batman on me yet," Scarecrow observed.

"Well, if he can have his criminal friend, I don't see why I shouldn't either," Y/n reasoned, thinking about Bruces weird thing with Catwomen.

"It only seems fair," Scarecrow conceded with a nod.

As they approached her apartment complex, Y/n paused and faced Scarecrow.

"I guess this is where I leave you," she remarked, a hint of reluctance in her tone as she gestured towards the looming building of her apartment complex.

Scarecrow tilted his head slightly, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than usual. "Seems so. You'll be safe here, I presume?"

Y/n couldn't help but feel a pang of irony at the question, considering who it was coming from. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Thanks for helping me back there," she quipped, offering him a small, genuine smile.

Scarecrow nodded once, sharply, as if dismissing any need for gratitude. "Take care, Y/n."

With those parting words, he turned and disappeared into the shadows from where he came, leaving Y/n to stare after him for a long moment. Shaking her head slightly, as if to clear it from the surreal encounter, she turned and headed towards her apartment, her mind swirling with thoughts about the night's events and the enigmatic figure that had just left her side.

-

The anticipation for her next encounter with Scarecrow had always been tinged with impatience, but now, there was a distinct shift in her desires. Gone was the sole focus on capturing him, instead, she found herself wanting to talk, even hang out with the guy.

Wandering the corridors of Arkham, her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by an exasperated shout not far from her location. “Damn bird!” echoed off the sterile walls.

Curious, Y/n turned on her heel to investigate. A large bird flying through the hallway, causing a commotion. But this was no ordinary crow, as it swooped closer, she recognized it instantly. Craw, Scarecrow's supposed good companion.

As the crow landed gracefully before her, Y/n crouched down, gently scooping him up. The security guard, panting from the chase, approached with a look of annoyance plastered across his face.

“Stupid bird,” he muttered, reaching out to snatch Craw away.

Y/n, cradling the crow protectively, assured him, “It's fine, I've got this. I'll make sure he's put outside.”

The guard, too worn out to argue further, simply shrugged and departed. Alone now, Y/n shifted her focus to Craw, who seemed quite content in her grasp.

Noticing a piece of paper held in his beak, she gently grabbed it, speaking softly to the crow, “Hey there, pretty. How did you manage to find me here?”

Placing Craw on her shoulder, she unfolded the note.

‘I’ll see you tonight.’

A smile unknowingly crept across her face as she read the message. Shortly after, Craw took flight from her shoulder, darting down the corridor.

“No! Craw, I need to take you outside!” she called after him, her plea falling on deaf ears.

With a resigned sigh, she watched him disappear deeper into the Asylum. “Well, he's someone else's problem now.”

Despite the mild chaos, the note clutched in her hand warmed her heart, igniting a flutter of excitement for what the evening might bring.

-

The walk home felt different for Y/n this evening. Each shadow cast by the dim streetlights seemed to promise the appearance of Scarecrow, echoing his note that said they would meet again. With every step, her anticipation grew, turning each corner with a mix of eagerness and anxiety, expecting to find him waiting in the familiar alley where their paths often crossed. But tonight, the alley remained empty.

The silence of the alleyway, usually filled with the tension of their encounters, now hung heavy with disappointment. She lingered for a moment, scanning the shadows and empty spaces where he might have stood, half-hoping for the rustle of his coat or the soft click of his approach. But there was nothing. Just the quiet of the night and the distant hum of the city.

As she continued her walk home, the excitement that had quickened her steps faded into a dull ache of letdown. Thoughts raced through her mind, pondering why he hadn't appeared. Had something happened to him? Had Batman managed to intervene?

Reaching her apartment, Y/n couldn't shake the sense of solitude that enveloped her. Inside, the quiet of her home only amplified her disappointment. With a heavy sigh, Y/n resigned herself to the evening's solitude, dropping onto her bed.

As she lay in the quiet of her room, Y/n found herself wrestling with thoughts that mocked her for entertaining the idea of a friendship with someone as complex and dangerous as Scarecrow. How could she, grounded in her own principles and duties, truly expect to build a connection with a figure who thrived in the shadows, a master of fear? 

Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a thump against her window. Startled, she glanced up, only to find the familiar silhouette of a crow striking the glass. Hurrying over, she opened the window, allowing Craw to flutter into the room. Peering out the window, her pulse quickened at the sight below.

Scarecrow stood on the ground, gazing up at her with his usual get-up.

"May I come up?" his voice floated up to her.

Without hesitation, she swung onto the fire escape, releasing the ladder for him. As he ascended, a mixture of surprise and anticipation filled her.

"Why are you here?" she inquired, as he stepped through the window into her room.

"I said I'd see you tonight," he replied.

"I thought you’d just walk me home," she admitted, a smile playing on her lips despite herself.

"Indeed, I intended to, but I was held up," Scarecrow said, his voice carrying a touch of regret.

Inside her room, with the city's night as their backdrop, she couldn't help but jest, "So, the man behind the mask has a life?"

Scarecrow chuckled below the mask, “That I do.”

Now settled in her room, Y/n found a comfortable spot on her bed, her back resting gently against the headboard.

With a curious tilt of her head, she ventured, "Could I possibly hear more about the man beneath the mask?"

He hesitated for a moment before answering, "I was caught up at work, actual work, something that required my immediate attention."

This prompted Y/n to recall her little interaction with his crow eariler. "Speaking of work, how did you manage to send Craw into Arkham?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Let's just say he found his way through a window," he replied,criptically.

Scarecrow chose a spot at the foot of her bed, directly opposite her, and gracefully seated himself. Craw saw it as an opportunity to hopped onto his thigh, finding comfort in his familiar presence.

As they sat in Y/n's room, the silence between them was palpable. Y/n couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. Curiosity, apprehension, and a strange sense of comfort in Scarecrow's presence. She studied him closely, trying to decipher the man, but his expression remained hidden.

"So, what really brings you here tonight?" Y/n finally broke the silence, her voice betraying a hint of nervousness.

Scarecrow glanced at her, his gaze piercing. "I wanted to check on you," he replied simply.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, skeptical of his intentions. "Check on me?" she echoed, searching his face for any hint of deception.

"Yes," Scarecrow affirmed, his tone unwavering. "After our encounter the other night, I thought I should make sure you're okay."

Y/n's initial skepticism softened slightly, replaced by a flicker of surprise. Despite their strange relationship, Scarecrow's concern for her well-being was unexpected.

"I'm fine," Y/n reassured him, offering a small smile. "But why go through the trouble? You're not exactly known for your kindness."

Scarecrow's lips quirked into a faint smile, the gesture almost imperceptible. "Perhaps I'm not as one-dimensional as you think," he remarked.

Y/n's curiosity piqued at his response, but before she could delve further, there was a sudden knock on her apartment door.

“Y/n? I called you but you didn’t answer,” it was Bruce.

The sudden interruption sent Y/n's heart racing, a surge of panic flooding her as she heard Bruce's voice through the door. She momentarily froze, realizing the difficult situation she was in. Glancing frantically at Scarecrow, she leaped into action, her movements swift and desperate.

"Under the bed, now!" she hissed, urgency lacing her whisper as she practically shoved Scarecrow towards the hiding spot.

Without hesitation, Scarecrow complied, slipping under the bed. No sooner had he vanished from sight than Y/n dashed to the apartment's entrance, her mind racing with excuses.

"Hey, Bruce, sorry about that. My phone's been on silent, what’s up?" she managed to say with a feigned nonchalance as she swung the door open, greeting him with a practiced casualness.

"I said I'd swing by to check on you. Everything's been okay lately?" Bruce asked, stepping past the threshold with a concerned glance.

"Yep, all good here," Y/n replied, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Y/n found herself desperately seeking a solution that wouldn't raise Bruce's suspicions, yet every moment he lingered increased the risk of Scarecrow's presence unmasking Bruce's own secret identity. Trapped between a rock and a hard place, she was at a loss, her mind racing for a strategy that seemed increasingly elusive.

Then, an ominous thump from her bedroom shattered the tense silence, causing her heart to plummet into her stomach.

"What was that?" Bruce's voice sharpened with alertness, his instinctive concern prompting him to move toward the source of the sound.

Y/n's anxiety reached it’s limits until, unexpectedly, a voice came from her bedroom. "Y/n? Who's at the door?" It was unmistakably Scarecrow, yet his voice was stripped of its usual menacing distortion, sounding disarmingly normal.

Panic painted Y/n's face with a stark shade of horror, a silent scream at the realization of her rapidly unraveling situation. However, Bruce's reaction took a turn Y/n hadn't anticipated. His expression, initially furrowed with concern, smoothly transitioned into an amused smirk.

"I didn't realize you had company. I'll leave you to your...guest," he said, his voice laced with an uncharacteristic lightness.

In that moment, Y/n's dread shifted to a baffling sense of relief to mild embarrassment. The flush of embarrassment that crept up Y/n's cheeks. The implication in Bruce's assumption that her "guest" was there for reasons more intimate was mortifying, yet it was a far more palatable scenario than him suspecting the presence of a notorious criminal in her bedroom.

"U-uh, yeah, sorry," she managed, her voice a mix of awkwardness and gratitude as she escorted Bruce to the door.

Pausing at the threshold, Bruce turned back to her, his expression lightly amused. "Have a good night," he said, his voice carrying a hint of jest before he delivered a playful wink and departed.

As Y/n closed the door behind him, a wave of relief washed over her, tinged with a lingering embarrassment. As Y/n reentered her bedroom, her gaze fell upon Craw, who had perched on the shelf by her door. 

"Are you still hiding under my bed?" she asked, her knees pressing against the cool floor as she peered under the bed.

There he was, Scarecrow, his frame stretched out beneath her bed, an unexpected sight that was oddly endearing. "Yeah," came his muffled reply.

"It's safe to come out now," she assured him, her voice lifting with a mix of relief and warmth.

As Scarecrow emerged, his presence seemed to fill the room. "What was that thumping sound?" she asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Craw decided the door looked interesting," Scarecrow quipped, a hint of affection for the mischief-maker in his tone.

Y/n's eyes darted to Craw, her expression one of mock frustration. "You bloody bird!" she growled, though the crow seemed preoccupied with scratching his wing with his beak.

"And thank you, by the way. My heart nearly stopped when he headed towards my room," she admitted, her hands finding their way to her hips.

"Who was that, if I may ask?" Scarecrow's curiosity was evident, his head tilted.

"A friend," she answered simply.

"Just a friend?" he probed further, an edge of something playful in his voice.

"Jealous?" Y/n teased, a light chuckle escaping her.

"Should I be?" he parried, his voice laced with amusement.

Y/n's laughter filled the room, a sound of genuine amusement. "Bruce is just a friend. Though now he probably thinks I've got a secret lover stashed in here," she said, the humor in her situation not lost on her.

"Bruce? As in-" Scarecrow started, only for Y/n to jump in.

"Bruce Wayne? Yes," she confirmed, closing the loop on his thought.

"I would've expected the Batman, not Bruce Wayne," he mused, his voice carrying a note of mock disappointment.

"Batman wouldn’t bother with the front door, that’s for sure," Y/n laughed. 

Y/n chuckled, her fingers idly tracing patterns on her bedspread. "So, did you... you know, take off the mask when you called out?" she asked.

Scarecrow's response was matter-of-fact. "Well, yeah. I don’t know if you can tell, but my voice isn’t naturally distorted," he pointed out.

Y/n's playful pout betrayed her teasing tone. "That's not fair! My room got to see your face before I did!" she exclaimed, feigning offense.

"Your room is quite the lucky spectator," he remarked, his tone filled with amusement.

"I bet you won’t show me cause you’re insecure," Y/n teased with a playful glint in her eye.

Scarecrow tilted his head. "Or perhaps I prefer the mystery. Keeps things interesting, doesn't it?" His voice was muffled slightly by the fabric covering his features.

Y/n laughed, shaking her head. "Interesting for you, maybe. I'm just sitting here guessing if you're secretly a model or if you've got a face only a mother could love."

"Guess you'll just have to keep wondering," he replied.

The room fell into a comfortable silence, filled only by the soft rustling of Craw shifting on his perch. Y/n found herself studying Scarecrow, trying to glean any hint of the man behind the mask from his posture, his movements, even the way he spoke. There was an undeniable curiosity bubbling within her, a desire to know more about the mysterious figure who'd become an unexpected constant in her life.

As the night wore on, their conversation flowed, ranging from trivial banter to more serious discussions about their contrasting views of the city they both operated in. Despite their differences, Y/n felt a strange sense of kinship with Scarecrow, a connection forged in the unlikeliest of circumstances.

Eventually, Y/n yawned, the lateness of the hour catching up to her. Scarecrow noticed, standing up from where he had been sitting. "I should go," he said, his voice carrying a note of reluctance.

Y/n nodded, feeling an unexpected twinge of disappointment at the thought of him leaving. "Yeah, I guess it's getting late."

As Scarecrow moved toward the window, Y/n called out, "Will I see you again?"

He paused at the window, turning slightly to look at her. "I'm sure you will," he said, a hint of a smile in his voice.

And with that, he slipped out into the night with Craw flying after him, leaving Y/n with a mix of emotions and the lingering thrill of their conversation. 

-

After two calm weeks, Bruce finally agreed to Y/n resuming her nightly endeavors alongside him. Although he harbored lingering doubts about Scarecrow, Y/n managed to clam his concerns, assuring him that Scarecrow would not pose a threat.

As Y/n and Batman moved stealthily through the Narrows, the dense fog seemed to cloak their presence further, blending them into the night. This part of Gotham, with its tight alleys and towering buildings, felt like a world entirely its own.

"Keep your guard up," Batman whispered, his voice barely carrying over the mist. "The Narrows are unpredictable."

Y/n nodded, her senses on high alert. The Narrows always had a way of keeping you on your toes, its residents too used to the shadows. But tonight, there was an odd stillness, as if the very air was holding its breath.

Suddenly, Batman stiffened, his head tilting slightly, the universal sign that he was receiving a communication through the cowl's integrated comms. Y/n watched him, waiting for instructions, knowing that whatever had just come through could very well dictate their next move.

After a moment, Batman turned to her, the glow from the city behind him casting a shadow over his face. "Riddler's causing trouble downtown. I need to go now."

"I'll stay here. Keep an eye on things," she offered, already mentally preparing to handle the Narrows alone.

Batman nodded, a silent message of trust and confidence in her abilities. "Be careful," he said before grappling away, disappearing into the night sky.

Alone now, Y/n felt the weight of the silence around her. The Narrows, with its whispering shadows and secrets, suddenly seemed even more foreboding. She took a deep breath, centering herself. This was her domain too, her responsibility.

"Thought he’d never leave," came a voice below her, drawing her attention downward.

As Y/n leaned over the edge of the rooftop. To her surprise, Scarecrow stood on the balcony below, his figure illuminated by the faint glow of the city lights.

"You've been here the whole time?" Y/n exclaimed, taken aback by his sudden appearance.

"I've been waiting inside. The place was abandoned," Scarecrow replied calmly, gesturing towards the building behind him.

Y/n hopped down from the rooftop, landing gracefully on the balcony beside him.

"Wow, Batman and I need to step up our game," she remarked, impressed by Scarecrow's stealth.

"Haven’t seen you as Batgirl in a while," Scarecrow noted, his gaze lingering on her.

"Yeah, thanks to you. I was sidelined. Batman thought you were gonna go after me," Y/n explained, a hint of frustration in her voice.

"Keeping you safe. Wise man," Scarecrow replied cryptically, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

Y/n chuckled, shaking her head. "More like overprotective," she whined.

Y/n could hear Scarecrow smirk behind the mask. "He has reason to be. You're not exactly easy to replace."

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully. "Flattery will get you nowhere," she teased.

"Where's Craw?" Y/n asked, looking around.

"Is my presence not enough for you?" Scarecrow teased.

Y/n side-eyed him, and Scarecrow chuckled. "He's back at my lab."

Scarecrow leaned against the balcony railing, his gaze scanning the darkened streets below. "So, what's the plan now? Are you patrolling solo?"

Y/n nodded. "Looks like it. Batman got called away to deal with Riddler downtown."

Scarecrow hummed in response. "Well then, I guess it's just you and me tonight."

Y/n raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in her expression. "You planning on causing any trouble?"

Scarecrow chuckled, shaking his head. "Not tonight."

They fell into an easy silence, the sounds of the city filling the air around them. Despite the darkness that surrounded them, Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie with Scarecrow, an unexpected ally in the night.

Y/n cast a sidelong glance at Scarecrow, noting the unusual cleanliness of his attire. "Not the usual tattered suit?" she pointed out.

Scarecrow glanced down at his suit. "Well, one has to look clean to impress," he replied, glazing at her.

"I'm sure Batman doesn't mind how you look," Y/n quipped, a playful glint in her eye.

Y/n leaned her back against the balcony railing, her gaze meeting Scarecrow's with a hint of mischief.

"Although, I must admit, the rugged look suits you," she teased, a sly smile playing on her lips.

Scarecrow chuckled softly, his gaze meeting hers with a spark of amusement. "Is that so? Perhaps I should stick to the tattered aesthetic then," he countered, his tone laced with flirtatiousness.

Y/n's laughter rang out across the night sky, the sound mixing with the distant hum of the city below. "You do you, Scarecrow. Just don't expect me to swoon over every torn thread," she replied, a playful glimmer dancing in her eyes.

Scarecrow leaned in slightly, his voice lowering to a whisper. "Ah, but what if I told you I have a whole wardrobe of tattered suits just waiting to impress you?"

Y/n chuckled, her heart fluttering at the playful tone in Scarecrow's voice. "Just for me? Scandalous.” 

"Well, if torn threads won't do the trick, I'll have to find another way to catch your eye." Scarecrow added.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a mischievous grin. "Oh? And what approach are you planning to take?"

He leaned in even closer, his gaze locking with hers. "I suppose I'll have to rely on my charming wit and irresistible charm," he replied, his tone filled with playful confidence.

Y/n chuckled, the sound light and melodious in the night air. "Smooth talker, are we?" she teased, her own playful demeanor matching his.

Scarecrow's grin widened, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Only when I'm in good company," he admitted, his voice softening slightly as he held her gaze.

Y/n's cheeks flushed at his words, her gaze lingering on his captivating eyes. "You certainly know how to flatter a girl," she teased, unable to suppress the flutter of excitement building within her.

Scarecrow chuckled softly, the sound sending a thrill through Y/n. "Only because you make it so easy," he murmured, his gaze holding hers with an intensity that left her breathless.

"If I weren't on duty, I might have been tempted to steal a kiss from you right here," she teased, her fingers playfully tugging at his noose.

With a wink, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the abandoned apartment, leaving Scarecrow to ponder her words.

"You never know, the night is young," he remarked, his voice laced with playful innuendo.

"Oh, but I could never kiss a man whose face I've never seen," Y/n remarked.

"Oh, but the mystery adds to the allure, don't you think?" Scarecrow countered.

Scarecrow chuckled, the sound echoing in the dimly lit room. "Who says you haven't seen it before?"

Y/n halted in her tracks, her eyes widening in surprise as she turned back to face him.

"So, I have actually seen you before?" she asked eagerly.

Scarecrow nodded, a hint of amusement in his demeanor. "Yes, indeed," he confirmed.

Her excitement grew, and she leaned in closer. "Did we talk?" she pressed.

"We did," he replied, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

Her disbelief turned into sheer astonishment. "Oh my god! Seriously? Can you tell me more?" she exclaimed.

"We had quite a conversation, and we crossed paths a few times afterward," Scarecrow disclosed.

Y/n racked her brain, trying to recall any details, but she was drawing a blank. Feeling frustrated and a little foolish for not making the connection, she sighed. Despite now knowing what he sounded like without the mask, she still couldn't piece it together.

"Holy fuck! That's incredible!" Y/n exclaimed, laughter bubbling up from within her. "Can you give me just a tiny hint about what you look like?" Y/n pleaded.

"Sorry, but that would spoil the fun," Scarecrow replied.

Y/n persisted, "Well, do you at least know if I find you attractive?"

"Why do you want to know that?" Scarecrow questioned.

"Because it might have to kiss you after all," Y/n teased.

Scarecrow considered her words before responding, "...I don’t know. You didn't seem particularly impressed when you saw me, you were just a bit awkward at first. But to be fair, so was I."

There was a hint of vulnerability in his tone, though Y/n couldn't be sure. "Perhaps my awkwardness was due to the fact I was starstruck?" she offered playfully.

Scarecrow sounded unconvinced. "Unlikely," he countered gently.

"Or… could it be because my attention was already captivated by someone else? Maybe a certain Scarecrow?" Y/n teased, aiming to lighten his spirits.

Scarecrow's demeanor shifted, his voice tinged with defensiveness. "Why the sudden interest, Batgirl? You've never shown any feelings towards me before. What's changed?" he asked.

Y/n found herself confused by the unfolding situation. When had she begun to flirt with Scarecrow, and why was she so invested in making him believe she was romantically interested? Whenever this change occurred, she didn’t mind it.

"Woah. You started this, and don't act as if you weren't flirting with me too," Y/n retorted.

Scarecrow's tone never softened, his eyes narrowing as he studied Y/n's face. "And if I was? What are your intentions, Y/n?" he asked.

"I don’t know! I was just bantering, playing along… what were your intentions then? How do I know you're not just leading me on so you can gas me again?" Y/n retorted, turning the tables on him.

This clearly offended Scarecrow. "You know it was an accident."

"Do I?" Y/n challenged.

Scarecrow's expression softened, a hint of regret in his eyes. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he said quietly.

Y/n felt a pang of sympathy. "I know," she replied softly. 

They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of their conversation hanging in the air. Eventually, Y/n spoke up again. "Look, I didn't mean to upset you."

"Look, I didn't mean to upset you," Y/n said, her tone sincere.

Scarecrow took a deep breath, visible even through his attire. "And I apologize if I seemed defensive. It wasn't my intention."

Their eyes met, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Both were treading uncharted waters, neither sure of where the current would take them but willing to navigate it together.

"So, I've been meaning to ask," Y/n began, again with the playfulness in her voice, "do you wear contacts?"

Scarecrow tilted his head slightly, "Prescription ones, yes."

"But not colored?" she probed further.

"No, why do you ask?" Scarecrow's response carried a mix of curiosity and amusement.

Y/n's tone softened, warmth seeping into her words, "It's just that... you have really pretty eyes."

"Again with the flattery?" Scarecrow teased.

"It's just the truth," Y/n replied with a grin.

"And here I was thinking I might get a kiss," Scarecrow joked.

Y/n chuckled, shaking her head, "I told you, I’m not going to kiss a man I don’t know."

Scarecrow shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes, "That’s a shame."

The distant wail of sirens interrupted their banter.

"I should probably leave now," Scarecrow remarked.

"Yeah… see you later?" Y/n said, a hopeful note in her voice.

"Count on it. Until then... See you at Arkham," Scarecrow said, disappearing into the night.

Y/n's mind raced to piece together the puzzle he had inadvertently presented her. It took a moment for the realization to sink in, but when it did, her heart skipped a beat. 

"Wait a minute!" she called out, but it was futile, Scarecrow was already gone.

Her mind buzzed with newfound clarity. Tall, lanky, formal speech, glasses, and now, a connection to Arkham. It all clicked into place with a sudden jolt of realization. How had she not seen it before?

"Holy fuck," Y/n breathed, her pulse quickening.

The pieces of the puzzle were finally falling into place, revealing a truth she couldn't ignore. Scarecrow... was someone from Arkham. And in that moment, a single name echoed in her mind with chilling clarity.

The conversations they'd shared, the topics they'd discussed, all pointed to one undeniable truth. His fascination with fear, his strange approach to their encounters, it was all too familiar now.

The memory of their first meeting flooded back, and suddenly, it made perfect sense. The shock on his face, the careful choice of words. It was Dr. Crane, right before her eyes.

Y/n couldn't believe she hadn't seen it sooner. How had she missed the signs? How had she not recognized the man behind the mask all along?

Now faced with this newfound knowledge, Y/n was at a crossroads. Should she maintain the facade of ignorance, carrying on as if nothing had changed? Or should she confront Dr. Crane, acknowledging the truth that lay between them? And what about the promise she'd made, the playful banter about kissing him. Was it all just a game, or did it hold deeper significance now?

One thing was certain, she couldn't risk revealing her discovery to Bruce. As she grappled with these thoughts, Y/n resolved to tread carefully, to navigate this delicate situation with caution. The truth had been revealed, but its aftermath remained to be seen.

-

Throughout the morning, Y/n felt restless as she awaited her encounter with Dr. Crane. Stuck in Dr. Young's office sorting files, she impatiently waited for the opportunity to find him. 

As soon as she finished with the files, Y/n swiftly stored them away and left the office, determined to seek out Dr. Crane in the secure section of Arkham.

As Y/n made her way through the corridors of Arkham, her mind raced with anticipation. She had been waiting for this moment, hoping to confront Dr. Crane. Suddenly, she spotted him in the distance, his figure unmistakable amidst the gloom. Their eyes locked, and she saw a hint of amusement in his expression, as if he knew she was coming.

Her heart skipped a beat. Feeling a surge of determination, Y/n hastened her steps, closing the gap between them with purpose. As she reached Dr. Crane, she grabbed his arm firmly, surprising him with her sudden boldness. His smirk widened slightly, betraying a mixture of surprise and curiosity at her actions.

Without uttering a word, Y/n tugged him along, leading him towards his office. Dr. Crane offered little resistance, seemingly taken aback by Y/n's assertiveness. As they entered the office, Y/n swiftly closed the door behind them and turned the key in the lock, sealing them inside.

"You sly motherfucker," Y/n breathed out.

Entwining her fingers in his hair, she drew him closer, her lips crashing against his in a fiery embrace. The kiss ignited a whirlwind of emotions, fueled by pent-up desire and the thrill of discovery.

Caught off guard by Y/n's sudden boldness, Dr. Crane hesitated for a moment before surrendering to the intoxicating allure of her kiss. His hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer as the intensity of the moment enveloped them both.

For a fleeting moment, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in their own private universe of passion and longing. But as the kiss deepened, an obnoxious buzz interrupted the moment, reminding them of their surroundings.

Reluctantly breaking the kiss, Y/n and Dr. Crane gazed into each other's eyes, a mixture of surprise and desire reflected in their expressions.

"I... I didn't expect..." Dr. Crane began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words.

Y/n's heart raced as she searched his eyes for any sign of regret or hesitation. But instead, she found a spark of something else, a glimmer of longing and vulnerability that mirrored her own.

"I'm sorry," Y/n whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "I just couldn't resist."

She noticed a blush creeping up Dr. Crane’s cheeks as he adjusted his glasses.

"Am I fogging up your glasses?" Y/n teased.

Dr. Crane chuckled nervously. "Not disappointed, I see," he replied, his tone unable to hide his embarrassment.

Y/n smiled, her eyes twinkling with affection. "Now, I could never be disappointed in my Scarecrow," she said, her words filled with warmth.

Dr. Crane's blush deepened at the endearing nickname, but he tried to maintain his composure. "I hope you don't go around kissing all your superiors," he joked, attempting to deflect the attention.

Y/n grinned mischievously. "Just you, Dr. Crane," she said, her tone teasing yet sincere.

Dr. Crane's lips curled into a soft smile at her response. "Seeing as circumstances change, you can call me Jonathan," he offered, his voice tinged with newfound intimacy.

"Well, Jonathan… I'm glad to finally know the man behind the mask," Y/n said with a smile.

"You better not go off telling your bat friend about this," Jonathan warned playfully.

"And lose my nighttime companion? No way," Y/n retorted, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Jonathan chuckled at her response. Y/n’s eyes drifted to the closed office door.

“We should probably be getting back to work now," Y/n said, a hint of reluctance in her voice.

"We should, yes..." Jonathan began, his gaze lingering on her. "But I've never been one to follow the rules too closely," he added, drawing her closer into his embrace.

Y/n chuckled softly, realizing she wouldn't be leaving the office anytime soon. With a smile on her lips and a newfound connection in her heart, Y/n embraced the unpredictable journey ahead, knowing that whatever was between them was going to be complicated. But as Jonathan's lips met hers once more, Y/n felt a rush of exhilaration, realizing that wouldn’t want it any other way.

-

A/N: Thank you so much for the request 💚 I really did enjoy writing this fic, enemies hit differently when it's in superhero fics and I love it. Even with the fic being 15k long, I wasn't sure how to make them 'lovers', so I ended up just making them playfully flirt and just turn it into real attraction cause...slay. So yeah, it's a bit fast paced but I am still happy with what I've written and I hope yous are too :) It took me quite a while to write as I've just been so busy with Uni and work lately, finding time between has been difficult. Thank you again and I hope you enjoyed 💚

#fanfic #jonathan crane #jonathan crane fanfic #jonathan crane x reader #dc scarecrow #cillian murphy scarecrow #batman scarecrow #the scarecrow #scarecrow #scarecrow x batgirl #batgirl #reader is batgirl #scarecrow x reader

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yo if the requests are closes ignore this!

Can you do the Housewardens with a fem!Mc wth the powers and personality from Denji from Chainsaw Man? (Like the other one you did)

Please and thank you! <3

I love your writing

Thank you so much! I'll do a few! 🖤🖤🖤🖤

Chainsaw Reader (2) | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Leona Kingscholar

“I want to touch it so bad!” 

“You should stop saying suspicious things so loudly.”

“Why not! Why should I hide that I looove touching your body parts?”

“Just say tail. Please.”

He finds your idiotic and loud personality to be problematic

He’s used to leading muscle-heads in his dorms that are motivated by pride, ego, or even personal gain

But only you 

only you would ask to put your hand down his pants for compensation

He doesn’t mind 

He just wishes you’d be a tad bit quieter

It also doesn’t help that you’re able to turn into a chainsaw demon

Which is fine, if it didn’t make taming you any easier

But once he’s got the hang of it your time, your attention, and one day your heart belongs to him

“Oi (Y/n), You’re chainsaw form is pretty scary right?”

“Yeah why?”

“Just want to see…will those herbivores be so happy to kiss up to you if you showed them the real you?”

“I dunno.”

“Let’s find out then.”

“What makes you think I’m going to do that?”

“I’ll let you motorboat my pecks.”

“Done.”

He loves when you get rid of the herbivores for him

And puts you on his level of a true predator

Too bad your motivation is just so flimsy

“It’s fine I’ll make it work long enough until they can’t leave.”

Idia Shroud

“Aaaaagghhgh!!! Your like a customizable MMO RPG skin!”

“Gee thanks you - - have skin too?”

“Thanks?”

Is torn between being horrified and beyond enamored

Move aside vampire/werewolf love stories he’s in love with a chainsaw!

When he gets past his initial fear

He dives right into studying

Checking your arms for the scars from your regenerative ability

Or bashedly admiring the drawstring on your chest

“Oh wow….you’re so–your chest is just–”

“Cool? “

“AHEM! Uh yes…the width is very uhm nice!”

He’s also amazed at how little it takes to get your attention

But realizing it he can’t fall behind the others who so easily prop their bodies up as compensation

It does help that he monitors his rivals online activity but still

He’ll beat them

“Sorry Ortho this mission is rated M for mature and this solo mission is going to decide whether I win the chainsaw’s heart!” 

“Yay! Good luck brother!”

“Thank you! Now where is that maid outfit?”

#yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yanderes #yandere #yandere leona kingscholar #yandere leona x reader #yandere leona kingscholar x reader #yandere idia shroud #yandere idia x reader #yandere idia shroud x reader #yandere idia #yandere leona

[dawndelion-winery]

hello! I saw that your request status was open and recently ive read your "you fell first, they fell harder" can we get a part 2 of that? (w diff characters, any characters are fine!)

Idk can you?

You Fell First

They fell harder

Ft. Pantalone, Alhaitham, Scaramouche

Pantalone:

He knows all too well how easily emotions cloud one's logic

And he fully plans to exploit that fact

It just amuses him greatly to see how willingly you'd obey him, almost like a pet

Until it started to seem more like you were just a doting master, and he, your spoilt cat

It finally dawned on him when you'd noticed he looked a little tense and offered to massage his shoulders

The more he relaxed into your touch, the less he wanted you to stop touching him

Until he caught one of your hands and brought it to cup his own cheek

Nuzzling said hand before planting a kiss on your palm

Yes, he could definitely get used to this sort of treatment

And you should get used to giving him said treatment or he'll loom over you pretending to be monitoring you

Really just looking for an opportunity to hold you from behind or something

Alhaitham:

Disgusting icky plant man

He probably just didn't realised he was fond of you ngl

Which leads to a lot of "they're just a friend" moments

He's holding doors for you, even doing a lil jog to make sure he gets to the door before you do - very friendly behaviour

Leans his head on your shoulder when you flirt with him - classic friend activity

You're such a great friend for tagging along to help out with all his shenanigans<3

But why are the people he's trying to negotiate getting so...chummy with you?

Now that won't do, he's the only one who's supposed to kiss your knuckles and sidle up to you

"What are you, grouchy, their boyfriend?"

"That is correct, so if you had any semblance of sense left, you'd step away from them."

Scaramouche:

First he thinks it's a joke; you're friends now, friends joke about these things, right?

Then he starts to suspect you're trying to pull a prank on him and break his heart like everyone else dear to him did; very funny, but he's figured it out so please stop

But when you insist it's not? He's still suspicious

It's like feeding a feral cat, you drop the food (your affection) a little bit in front of you and step back so he can inch forward and snatch it up before retreating, getting a teeny bit closer to you each time

He also finds comfort in you patting his head - ruffling his hair and the likes - not that he'd admit to it outright

But you'll find he's more willing to incline his head towards you, especially when you're in need of a little comfort

You'll probably never really notice just how hard he's fallen for you because he won't make it obvious, but know that anything you feel for him, he feels stronger

He scares himself with how much he adores you, how much vulnerability he shows you

And that's really the only way to know you've caught him hook, line, and sinker, because under no circumstances would he let himself be so bare before simply anyone

Taglist[send an ask to be added/removed]: @myluvkeiji @pluvioseprince @aqui-soba @favonius-captain @tiredsleep @raincxtter @gensimping-for-all @irethepotato @almond-adeptus @mx-kamisato @yuzuricebun @chaosinanutshell @heizours @haliyamori @callmemeelah @sadlonelybagel @plinkuro @thevictoriousmoon @mastering-procrastinating @lovers-on-the-eiffel @cxlrosii @miss-fantazmagoria @lychme

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #pantalone #regrator #alhaitham #scara #scaramouche #pantalone x reader #regrator x reader #alhaitham x reader #scara x reader #scaramouche x reader #genshin pantalone #genshin regrator #genshin alhaitham #genshin scaramouche #genshin scara #winery specials

[salty-says]

Going back to my roots and writing. (Haven’t written fan fiction for 3 years 💀). Anyway the One Piece Live Action has caused me to become very active on tumblr and fall down rabbit holes.

So here is a little Drabble about Shanks x Luffy’sMom!reader

A/N: LMFAO I DIDN’T KNOW ANY OP PLOT RLY BEFORE WRITING THIS AND I KNOW KNOW LUFFY’S FATHER IS GARP’S CHILD NOT HIS MOM 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

Being the daughter of a marine admiral meant that she grew up with an instilled hatred for pirates. Garp put her through training early on in hopes he could mold her to become a great marine like himself.

She developed fighting skills and had a strong sense of justice. That was until she went out on a mission in her teens to monitor a suspicious group of pirates. The other marines she went on the mission with decided to take their anger out on said pirates beating them to a pulp. A nasty feeling resonated within her chest as she watched her fellow marines serve their definition of justice.

That night made her start to hate the marines and the sham they were. She disconnected herself from Garp and moved to Foosha Village to start her own life away from the marines and her father.

She was very wary of pirates still. Always held onto some lingering fear for them deep down, always looked behind her back.

On the island she bought a quaint cottage and began her own garden in hopes to sustain herself without having to rely on the villagers for supplies.

After a couple of years, she found her place on the island and even become well know for her fruits and vegetables. She always brought her fresh produce to the market each morning, where she had a cute booth. The villagers adored her and also took interest in her mysterious past.

She sometimes found herself going to Party’s Bar after she made good friends with the bartender, Makino. They would talk about all there was to talk about on the island. Sailors, pirates, bandits all passed through.

However one day, old memories began resurfacing. Ones she thought she repressed long ago. She ended up going to Party’s Bar to get shit faced in hopes of shutting everything out.

At the same time as she was downing drink after drink, some sailors stopped on by at the bar. One of them was clearly very interested in her. So in her drunken state she let the man take her to an inn on the island to stay the night.

She didn’t think much of that night until one day she started feeling unbearable nausea. She went to the doctor and found out that she had gotten pregnant.

That was 9 years ago. Her small cottage now occupied by her and Luffy. She absolutely adores Luffy and would do anything for him. Sure he would frustrate her here and there but she was his mother and she loved him more than anything.

She was keen on Luffy’s interest in pirates and sailing the ocean. She decided to not share her own reservations about pirates, as she wanted Luffy to establish his own opinions when she herself couldn’t at his age.

a pirate ship became very well known around Foosha Village. A grand ship with a Jolly Roger with 3 lines across the left eye. She was aware of their presence but didn’t take mind as long as they didn’t interfere with her.

Often Luffy would come back late for dinner beaming about the stories he heard from a man named “Shanks”. She learned that he was the captain of the ship that housed itself at the docks.

With a simple reminder of him to be careful she encouraged Luffy to learn more about Shanks and his crew.

One day while she was at her booth in town, a red-haired male approached her. Instantly she noticed how cute he was and how the white shirt he wore let her admire his toned muscles.

With a blush she darted her eyes back to his face and he deeply chuckled. She smiled, “How can I help you today sir?”

“I’m looking to purchase most of your stock,” he smirked at her.

She quirked her head to the side and smiled, “Either your throwing a big party or heading out to sea.”

“Maybe both,” the red-head shrugged.

She giggled and began showing him the crates of fresh produce. He handed her some berry, “got any plans tonight?”

She blushed, “no, none really. Probably just going to make some dinner for me and my son.”

His smile faltered a bit at the last part, “Ah, I presume your married then. Sorry if my advances made you uncomfortable.”

She threw up her hands in dismissal, “Oh no. You didn’t make me uncomfortable. Actually your advances are quite welcome,” she leaned on the counter, “and don’t worry there is no husband you have to worry about.”

“Aye, how lucky am I?”

She smirked, “quite lucky”

He chuckled and leaned forward towards her, “I never introduced myself. The name’s Shanks.”

Her eyes widened a bit and her body shifted away from him. He quirked his eyebrows at this, confused by her sudden change in composure.

“..pirate,” she quietly murmured to herself. Shanks in hearing this now understood her sudden shift. “I can assure you sweetheart,” he grabbed her hands gently, “I’m a very good pirate.”

Her eyes lightened and body relaxed at his touch. And with a slight apology she told him her name. “Only a beautiful name such as that can suit a beautiful woman such as you.”

She blushed. “It’s scary how much you’re flustering me. I don’t think I would let you leave this island if you keep this up.”

“I wouldn’t mind staying a while.”

“I think my son would like that. He’s very fond of you. Your name graces our dinner table every night.” She rolls her eyes.

Shanks’ eyes widen a bit connecting the dots, “I presume Luffy is your son then?”

“Aye”

“That make sense now. He did say his mother was wary of pirates because she used to be a marine. And looking at you now, I’m glad you’re not one anymore because you’re way too beautiful.” He kissed her knuckles.

Her face turned red. “Please take me out to dinner before I pass out from how flustered you’re making me.”

“As you wish, sweetheart.”

#red haired shanks #shanks x reader #shanks #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece live action #opla #opla shanks

[stardustdiiving]

Wanderer doesn’t hide the fact he likes Nahida

I totally get Wanderer being snarky is a funny punchline but sometimes I see Wanderer portrayed as being super snappy and mean in response to Nahida trying to be nice to him and I can’t help being like no!!!!!! He wouldn’t do that to her!! :(

Often people seem to think their dynamic is Wanderer being grouchy & mean & telling her to screw off all the time because he doesn’t want to admit he ~actually enjoys Nahida’s company~ but man like. Wanderer isn’t some edgy moody teenager that Nahida has to keep on a leash and scold regularly whenever he acts out—he’s a grown man who’s actually pretty emotionally perceptive/intelligent when he wants to be in my opinion—he’s just very blunt and cynical and often rude/harsh as a result

Wanderer hates sugarcoating his emotions & if him liking Nahida is majorly because he feels she’s proven it’s more or less safe to trust her, i don’t think he has any reason to hide the fact he genuinely respects her and is regularly open about this when he interacts about her in canon. He may grumble about her requests or emotional earnesty because, well, it’s Wanderer, but imo if he were regularly snappy/mean to Nahida even in an “all-bark-no-bite” way we would’ve see them interact like that on screen already—but we don’t, and the fact that’s now how does treat her is a part of their dynamic I find very endearing and enjoy a lot—so I want to highlight it!

Like…look at how he talks to/about her even just going off of inversion of genesis alone:

I feel hes noticeably more cordial and cooperative with Nahida compared to say, Traveler & Paimon—he doesn’t try to intentionally provoke her for fun (or out of spite in the case of early IoG) the way he does with us/Traveler, both in Inversion of Genesis and Parade of Providence. He spends all of PoP intentionally trying to act suspicious/up to no good to mess with the Traveler & Paimon whenever we run into him—and then we get to the end of the event and find out Nahida just… asked him to monitor the event to make sure there wasn’t any trouble (+ wanted him to make friends LOL).

Like we literally see Nahida playfully tease him on screen and he doesn’t snap or get really grouchy with her…he just tolerates it like a mildly disgruntled cat

Which is…cute! I think it’s very endearing, especially when I don’t feel Nahida is usually playful like this unless she considers them an equal/friend—it feels like maybe she picks up on his energy a bit and adjusts her sense of humor/friendliness accordingly so it’s more intuitive/comfortable for both of them

Everyone jokes about Nahida dragging Wanderer into socializing and making friends right—which is true and something I think is very silly & fun, but again…while Wanderer may grumble about it I don’t think he’s actively mad or fighting with her about it even hyperbolically. Look at how he responds to Nahida telling him she wants to help him reach out to people in Parade of Providence:

This, combined with how he mentions feeling about Nahida not wanting him to isolate & be lonely in his birthday letter (“I can see that she was looking for a chance to make my life more fulfilling, but has she ever stopped to think about what an "experience" it is for others to meet me?”) gives me less an impression Wanderer is outwardly indignant and grouchy about Nahida trying to help him and more like…openly appreciative of the gesture but just doesn’t really think he’s worth the effort

I again think the specific way his responses to her trying to help him emotionally are always worded again show a distinct respect he has for Nahida as a person, and he seems genuinely grateful by the fact she gave him a second chance when, given how internally harsh Wanderer is about things and himself and how much he’s internalized expecting to be used or disregarded by others constantly unless he fights tooth and nail to not be, he probably didn’t expect any sort of grace at all post losing the gnosis, much less having someone seem to genuinely believe in him & want him to be happy/stable when he took said offered chance

I just think Wanderer is someone who cares a lot about being straightforward, especially about things that really move him emotionally, and think it’s really sweet he feels moved enough by Nahida’s encouragement & goodwill towards him to genuinely want to try with life. I get so sad when It seems like people think Wanderer is too like, emotionally immature or jaded to ever care to express how he feels about Nahida even in his own blunt, recovering nihilist way (when he explicitly does in canon IMO) and have him be snarky & grouchy to Nahida constantly, or believe he’d find her being good naturedly silly/childish annoying and scoff at her for it (people seem to think he hates children when he canonically does not and is quite fond of them!! I personally think some of that soft spot comes from finding childish earnestness + innocence kind of bittersweetly cathartic/comforting to see and would be something he’d actively like about Nahida!!) 😔

This is something I always try to portray in my own fanworks of them I just like it a lot, I want people to see the vision!!! Their relationship is very mutual on effort put in from both sides & Wanderer is more open about respecting Nahida than you may believe—which means he actively tries to acknowledge her kindness towards him and she doesn’t have to babysit him or drag him into cooperating with her all the time! And I find it very touching and sweet!

#scarmouche #nahida #wanderer #genshin #hat radish #I had a lot of fun writing this post if you can’t tell. I love talking about my hat radishes #maybe this is too long for ppl to want to read but that doesn’t stop me….we ball #wanderer nahida friendship agenda & my insane passion for characterization are eternal #fern.txt #fandomferns

[beansprean]

Every Night's Like an Open Frame

A lil sequel to “Waiting on Mr. Right” ;)

Series also on AO3!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Aerial shot of a parking lot with one car and a single story building with a temporary sign strapped onto it that says ‘open all night’. A permanent sign on a pole out front says 'Arden Heights Dark Bowl' in purple LEDs, several letters burnt out. A speech bubble pops out of the building that says, 'Guillermo!' 1b. Inside, a medium shot of Nandor and Guillermo facing each other in profile, bowling lanes with LED striping in the background. A monitor is hung above them listing their scores up to the sixth frame, showing Nandor at 46 and Guillermo at 52 with two additional strikes in the last two frames. A little cartoon bowling pin appears on screen, saying 'strike!' The entire room is lit with neon green, purple, and red lights. Nandor sweeps his arm toward the scoreboard angrily and shouts, 'Why did you not tell me you were such a skilled bowler?!' Guillermo tosses his arms out and snaps back, 'Because that’s the first question you’ve asked me all night! You’ve only been talking about yourself!' 1c. Shot of Guillermo over Nandor’s shoulder, showing only one other occupied lane a ways behind him. Nandor throws his arms up, fingers curling in a strangling motion, and replies, 'You said asking questions was a first date activity! This is our second!' Guillermo slumps with a tired frown, pointing out, 'Only technically! The getting-to-know-eachother part is continuous, Nandor. You’re not getting to know me at all.' 1d. Reverse shot of Nandor, who crosses his arms and huffily asks, 'Oh, so you are not interested in hearing about my large penis and great vampiric powers?' 1e. Reverse shot of Guillermo, who purses his lips together and glares back, cheeks flushed. 1f. Repeat. Guillermo mumbles through gritted teeth, '…Not the point.' 1g. Medium shot of them both in profile. Nandor leans forward with a triumphant smile, poking his finger at Guillermo’s face, and crows, 'Aha! See? I am providing the necessary information to ensure you will agree to future dates!' Guillermo leans back away from his pointing finger, pouting in embarrassment and glaring to the side. He mumbles back, 'Shouldn’t I get to do that, too?' 1h. Shot from behind Nandor as he whips around to face the viewer, back to Guillermo, a triumphant grin still wide on his face. He says, 'No need!' Guillermo peers suspiciously at him from the background. 1i. Close up of Nandor’s hand as he sinks his fingers into a red 16-pound bowling ball on the return rack, Guillermo visible behind him clutching his own arm and looking mildly confused. Nandor continues, 'I have already decided how I feel about you.' 1j. Close up of Nandor in profile on a bubbly pink background as he holds up the ball in front of his face to inspect it with a serious expression. He says, 'I cannot imagine anything you could say that would make me want you more.' Close up of Guillermo staring at him, eyes wide and sparkling, cheeks flushed, as Nandor continues, 'Or anything that would keep me away.' 1k. Wide shot, bust of Guillermo small in the center, blushing and looking frustrated with himself as he thinks, 'Why is this working for me?' The background is full of dancing red flags. Offscreen, Nandor continues, 'But very well.' 1l. Shot over Guillermo’s shoulder as Nandor turns to face him with a grin, one hand on his hip and the other holding up a peace sign with the bowling ball held up on his fingers. He says, “Whomever hits the most little white men-“ Guillermo interrupts, correcting, 'Pins.' Nandor continues, '-on the next turn will have to answer a personal question.' 1m. Full body shot from the lane as Nandor turns toward it and dips to roll the ball with a confident smile and decent form. His bowling shoes do not match his outfit. Guillermo stands behind him in equally ugly shoes, watching.

2a. Close up of the bowling pins as Nandor's ball flies down the lane, knocking down some but not all. 2b. Close up at the scoreboard showing Nandor's score of 4 in frame 7. There are more bowling sounds from offscreen. 2c. Repeat, Nandor's score updates to show a spare as he knocks down the rest of the pins. A cartoon pin appears on screen with a wink and a thumbs up, announcing, 'Spare!' Offscreen, Nandor crows 'Ha!' 2c. Close up of Nandor looking very smug as he turns toward Guillermo and sweeps his arm toward the ball return behind him. He says, 'You're up, Guillermo.' 2d. Medium shot of Guillermo as he takes a green ball and readies it in his hands, squinting back at Nandor who stands behind him. Nandor is still holding his arm out and smiling, though the smugness has faded some in favor of affection as a little pink heart floats around his head. 2e. Close up on Guillermo in profile as he turns himself toward the bowling lane, bringing the ball up to balance in front of his face. His furrowed brow and the neon lightning strike in the background enhance his intense focus. 2f. Full body from below as Guillermo steps forward and takes his shot, form perfect and eyes forward. 2g. Shot of the lane from above as Guillermo's ball immediately veers sharply right and sinks into the gutter. 2h. Further shot of the ball rolling in the gutter down towards the pins. 2i. Close up of the ball falling off the end of the lane with a plunk, leaving all pins untouched. 2j. Close up of Guillermo looking calm and unsurprised, brows raised unconcernedly as the animated pin presses it's gloves hands to its face in shock and shouts 'Uh-oh! Gutterball!' Behind him, Nandor is a picture of shock, arms flying out beside him, eyes bugging, mouth dropped open. He shrieks, 'Wha- Guillermo!'

3a. Medium shot of Guillermo as he turns his back on the bowling lane to face Nandor, one hand on his hip and one eyebrow raised. Offscreen, Nandor stutters, 'That's not- You weren't supposed to-' Slightly pink in the face despite his confident veneer, Guillermo interrupts and asks, 'Now you have to answer a personal question, right?' 3b. Reverse shot of Nandor on a purplish pink background filled with question marks. Nandor frowns and tilts his head, baffled, but replies 'I- I suppose, but-' Guillermo interrupts from offscreen again and says 'Great.' 3c. Wide shot of them both in profile, the bowling alley stretching out behind them. Guillermo steps closer, still holding his confident and unbothered expression, and asks 'Do you wanna go make out in the parking lot?' Nandor's eyes bug out in shock, cheeks flushing purple. 3d. Repeat. Nandor rushes forward to take both of Guillermo's hands in his own and hold them up between them, leaning close and staring with a sweaty and flustered intensity. He replies, 'I was wrong. I am wanting you even more now. Tell me everything about you while we are doing the making out.' Guillermo's face breaks into a silly grin, amused but not uncharmed by this response. 3e. Exterior shot of the bowling alley from above, Guillermo now leaning against the building with Nandor pressed against him as they make out. Guillermo's right arm is around Nandor's waist and his left hand is pressed to the wall above by Nandor's. Dialogue drifts down the screen as they canoodle. Guillermo: 'Mmm, but I never went to art school or anything, it's just a hobby.' Nandor: 'I would love to see your work... Would you draw me, too?' Guillermo: 'Maybe...if you'd pose for me.' Nandor: 'However you want, Guillermo... Oh! You can roll your tongue? So can I!' Guillermo: 'Hahaha!' Nandor: 'You are full of surprises...' Guillermo: 'You have no idea...' The neon sign above them takes up most of the panel; more letters are now burnt out to spell 'The End.' /end ID

#wwdits #nandermo #mlm #valentines day #guillermo de la cruz #nandor the relentless #what we do in the shadows fx #what we do in the shadows #every nights like an open frame #there are worse things i could do #tawticd #my art #fanart #fan comic #image described

[goosewriting]

Underneath

summary: after getting stationed at the fortress inquisitorius, it seems a certain inquisitor takes an interest in reader.

relationship: inquisitor Cal Kestis x gn!reader

warnings: (18+) me being absolutely delulu, slow-burn-ish??? as it can get at 7k lol, making out at the end and fade to black, sexual tension if you squint, psychometry 

word count: 7.6k

A/N: started writing this back when i restarted JFO and got cal’s inquisitor clothes, so it’s been in the works for quite some time. also i had made pancakes back then and was sad about having no one to share them with, so i shall share them virtually with all of you <3

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

As long as you can remember, you’ve always been fascinated by the way people communicate with each other. Now, as a linguistics and behaviour expert, you count yourself lucky to be one of the probably few people who actually like their job. Stationed in an Imperial office on your home planet, you mainly monitor comms and analyse the occasional security holovid in an attempt to weed out any suspicious activity. 

In fact, it was thanks to you that a rebel cell was found, since you caught a suspicious exchange on unused frequencies, which earned you a promotion. You were content with that already, but then your superior said he’d put in a good word for you, as he’s always felt like you were far more capable than just listening to comms all day, and that you could use your skills better in service of the Empire. 

Fast-forward three months and lo and behold, you’re now stationed at Fortress Insquisitorius. 

It’s the first day and while you’ve got the grand tour of the place by a group of stormtroopers especially assigned to you (you still can’t quite believe you get your own little squad of troopers), there’s still some time before dinner. After dismissing the men, saying you’ll catch up to them later at the mess hall, you walk around, further checking out the place. 

As you turn a corner to a hallway you haven’t been to yet, you notice it looks rather deserted. You check the small sign on the wall; this leads to one of the bigger residential wings, but not yours. So you decide to turn on your heels and head the other way. Except that before you can even take a step in that direction, you’re stopped in your tracks by an invisible force and turned back around again. This hold around you isn’t so tight that you can’t breathe, but you do feel the pressure keeping your arms at your sides and your body suspended in the air, the sole of your boots hanging barely an inch over the polished floor. Unable to resist your captor, you’re met with an Inquisitor, of all people, who slowly walks towards you with one of their hands in the air, holding you in place.

They come to a halt before you, the helmet tilting slightly to the side as the eyes under the red visor study you, out of your view. 

“Who are you?” comes the distorted voice. Despite the modulator, you can tell by the tone and body language it’s a man. You’ve heard stories about Inquisitors, and despite being stationed at their base, you hoped you wouldn’t have to interact with them. Just your luck, and in an empty hallway no less.

Nonetheless, you tell him your name, station and even your office’s room number. Just in case. 

“I’m new,” you add, as if it wasn’t obvious by now. He remains eerily calm and still all the while. With a polite smile, you throw the question back at him, “And you are?”

His helmet tilts the other way ever so slightly as if your question took him by surprise.

“Inquisitor Kestis,” he replies after a second. “Cal Kestis”

“Well, nice to meet you, Inquisitor Cal Kestis,” you say. If you could move, you’d stretch out your hand towards him out of habit as a greeting, but he probably wouldn’t take it either way, so you’re glad you don’t get the chance to embarrass yourself. Yet, anyway. 

For a few moments, he just stands there with you in his invisible grasp. Is he looking at you? Did he space out? You suddenly feel your stomach complaining about its emptiness.

“Uhm, could you let me down again?” you ask, looking down at the floor tiles and back up at the red visor. “I’d like to go get dinner.”

Without a word, he places you back onto the ground surprisingly gently, then takes off in the direction he came from, disappearing from your view as he turns a corner. Well, you think to yourself with a satisfied nod as you make your way to the mess hall, I think that was a solid first impression. Good job, me.

The next day, you officially start your new job, and you’re all sorts of excited and nervous. You’re still intercepting messages, decoding and translating encrypted communications, but on a much higher level this time. These are important people you’re monitoring. You’re also called as an interpreter when there’s holocalls with parties who refuse to have droids in the room. Besides, the officers and generals seem to actually enjoy having you around, with your happy and optimistic demeanour in this otherwise cold and sterile building. You know that Imperial staff can be rough sometimes, but you’re convinced that the kindness you put out into the world eventually comes back to you. So you make sure to treat everyone equally, with kindness and respect, wearing a smile whenever you get the chance.

The days go on, and you see all sorts of people around the place. You do see some Inquisitors from time to time, mainly in the hangar. Occasionally they make an appearance in the mess hall as well, but they usually sit alone and for a very short amount of time on one of the round tables in the far corner of the mess. You never see Inquisitor Kestis there, though. 

As you sit with your little trooper squad, you chew on a stringy piece of meat deep in thought, not really paying attention to the conversation. This Kestis has you intrigued if you’re being honest with yourself. You still don't understand why he talked to you. The other Inquisitors seem to ignore you, as well as everyone else, most of the time. Besides, Kestis could have just talked to you. There was no need to Force-hold you or anything. Was he trying to show you he’s in charge or something? Doesn’t that mean that he felt threatened? 

With a light scoff at yourself — because the notion of an Inquisitor being intimidated by you is pretty silly — you take another bite of your food, your gaze scanning the mess hall without looking at anything in particular. The thing is that, since you don’t see Kestis in the mess hall like, ever, you only catch fleeting glances of him here and there when you see him slip into the elevator or turn a sharp corner at a hallway. You furrow your brows. It’s almost like he’s avoiding you. And that makes you just much more intrigued in what his deal is.

When the squad is in a good mood, you try to slip a question into the conversation about the Inquisitors here and there, asking if they ever saw their faces or what they’re like, and what they do. The troopers can only tell you the rumours you’ve already heard in a thousand different versions, the details getting more violent and out of hand every time you hear them. You dismiss most of those stories; you’ve noticed that a few Inquisitors walk around without a helmet. And others are pretty direct in their attitude towards others, getting into arguments or even physical fights when something bothers them. So they all want the rest to know who they are and be scared, many even seem to enjoy the fear in people’s faces. But Kestis? The few times you’ve seen him, he moves like a well-oiled machine. His face is always hidden, every movement is calculated, and he doesn’t waste his breath on any unnecessary syllable. That’s just proof that he has a carefully curated persona he wears when he’s out and about. But once he’s alone, when he gets to peel back all those layers? You truly wonder what lies beneath. 

One evening you find yourself thinking about him yet again, suddenly concerned about his eating habits, wondering if he’s okay and eating well. For some reason that you still can’t quite comprehend, you decide to just go to him. After all, if he didn’t want to see you, he’d just send you away, right? By now you’re very well aware about what the Inquisitors are capable of, but you’re both on the same side, so surely there’s nothing to worry about. 

At least that’s what you tell yourself as your feet carry you to the mess hall that evening.

After you’re done eating (the food today is better than you would have thought), you order a second portion to go. You start walking down the hallway, looking for a console or a droid. You know where the residential wing is, but you don’t know what floor the Inquisitors’ rooms are, and doubt there’ll be specific directions towards them. It isn’t long before you do find an R4 unit, and you ask where the Inquisitor quarters are. The cylindrical droid beeps and jumps a little with a startle, at first unwilling to tell you, afraid that if it does, the droid will be sliced in half. But you promise the droid that you won’t tell on it. So after some more convincing and promising the droid you owe it an oil bath, it finally brings up a holomap of the place, showing you where you want to go with a blinking dot. 

With a pat on the head, you say your thanks and go to where the map said. Soon enough, you find yourself in a wing of the building you’ve not only never been to, but one you didn’t even know existed if it wasn’t for the droid. The design of the walls is even sleeker here, and the sound of your boots echoes through the hallway. The further you walk into this wing, the fewer people and troops you come across. Even the constant rumbling of machinery behind the panels seems to be quieter here. 

After some more minutes of walking, you finally reach the door you’re looking for. There are no signs or name plaques, but you remember the number on the door from the droid’s map. The lettering is almost the same shade of black as the door, so it took you a moment to find the right one. But you’re fairly sure this one should be it. 

Taking one final deep breath, you knock on the door. In the seconds waiting for a response, you suddenly feel silly about being here. He’s a full-grown man. An Inquisitor. Why did you think he’d need you to bring him dinner? What if he didn’t like it anyway–

The door opens with a whoosh, and you look up. For some reason, you were expecting to be met with the red visor of his helmet. Which now that you think about, doesn’t make sense; if he’s in his quarters, he wouldn’t be walking around with his full uniform on.

Instead, you’re met with a pair of intense yellow eyes, and equally fiery red hair on his head. Your breath hitches and you’re not sure if it’s the surprise of seeing his uncovered face or the realisation that he’s incredibly handsome, and it just caught you off-guard.

He gives you a quick once-over, momentarily looking at the box in your hands, then bringing his eyes back to yours, boring into your very soul.

“Why are you here?” he asks in a flat voice.

“I haven't seen you in the mess hall today. Or, any other day, really,” you explain, unable to tear your eyes away from him. “Ever since I've started working here. So I brought some food in case you haven't eaten yet…” Your voice starts trailing off at the end as you once again realise how dumb that sounds out loud.

He holds your gaze a little longer, narrowing his eyes at you as if to scrutinise whether you're being honest or not. While you hope he’ll accept the food in case he actually hasn't eaten yet, that's all you expect to happen. You’re counting on him taking the box and leaving you be, so you can go back to your quarters and continue reading your novel, which you are actually looking forward to.

To your surprise, the Inquisitor takes a step to the side, silently inviting you in. You walk past him, slightly bowing your head as a thanks, and take in his quarters. You're not sure what you were expecting, but it's surprisingly… normal. Bigger than the barracks and other quarters you've seen, including yours, but still normal. There’s a banner with the Imperial emblem hanging on the far wall, a couch on the other side, and a round table with some chairs in the middle, as well as a kitchenette. Everything is neat and clean.

You hear the doors close as you walk to the table and place the box on it, turning back around to Kestis, who’s eyeing you curiously.

“It’s still warm,” you tell him, pointing at the food.

He walks by you to pick up the container, and that’s when you notice he’s still wearing his gloves. It strikes you as odd to be wearing them in the confines of his own room, but to each their own. Kestis walks to the kitchen and pours the food onto a plate and throws away the take-out container, then rummages in a drawer for a fork.  After walking past you to sit at the table, he takes off his gloves and places them neatly next to him on the table.

“Sit,” he orders without looking at you, and takes the first bite. You sit down across from him.

“Have you already eaten?” he asks.

“Yes, Sir,” you give the honorific a try, and he seems to like it. “At the mess hall.”

“I wouldn’t have any food to offer you either way,” he states, and lifts his gaze to look at you. “This visit is… unexpected.”

“I’m sorry for intruding, Sir. I didn’t mean to. I just–”

“You just what?” He shoots you a look akin to a glare.

“I was just worried, I guess,” you say. He scoffs.

“Please don’t act like you care,” he retorts. “If you need or want something, just tell me upfront.”

“What? No, I- I’m not acting,” you reassure him, raising your hands slightly to underline you’re being earnest. “I’m not trying to gain something in exchange. I was genuinely worried about not seeing you in the mess hall.”

His fork stops mid-way from the plate to his mouth, and the intensity in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine.

“Why?” he asks. You squirm slightly in your seat.

“I’m not sure myself, to be honest,” you admit, and you can’t help the defeated slump of your shoulders. “You were the first one who talked to me when I got here out of their own volition and not because of work. After our chat, I was hoping to see you around or something…”

The pause that follows lasts for a couple of seconds only, but it feels eternal. Until finally, Kestis lets out a short sigh and continues eating.

“I usually avoid the mess hall,” he says, his voice much more gentle now. “Too many people. Too much noise.”

“I see,” is all you manage to reply. 

Taking the two last bites of his meal, Kestis sets down the fork. That’s my queue, you think.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to keep imposing,” you say, rising up to your feet, and he does the same. Before turning around, you search his eyes one last time. “That’s really all I wanted to do: to bring you the food. I’ll be going now. Good night, Sir.”

The Inquisitor walks you to the door, and just as you walk past the threshold, his words surprise you.

“Next time you could bring two portions.”

You whip around, but the door whooshes shut with a hiss.

— — —

After that, you two fall into a strange routine where you get dinner to go and bring it to his quarters so you can eat together. The conversations start out as polite small-talk, but soon enough you can broaden your topics, ranging from work to anecdotes and fun facts you picked up here and there. 

While the tone remains polite and all in all pleasant, you do notice that he’s very careful not to touch you. You think it’s because he’s being respectful, but unbeknownst to you, it’s because he wants to get to know you organically, and not pry into the echoes of your belongings. Even if he knows he could, and you’d never even know, and despite his growing curiosity, he feels… compelled to try. For you. Because you bring a refreshing factor into his otherwise stale life, like a gentle melody in the cold vastness of space. 

It’s rare to run into Cal, as he’s recently allowed you (and only you) to call him, in the halls or in the hangar. As fate would have it though, you’re just about to get into a ship with your trooper squad to leave for a job off-planet, while Cal happens to be getting off his own ship at the same time.

You don’t want to disturb him. Even if you want to wave at him from afar really badly, or even call out to him. But you think he’d appreciate it if you keep your relationship, whatever it is, a secret. To your complete surprise however, once he spots you in the ever moving crowd of the busy hangar, he comes to you.

Beelining towards you, he comes to a stop in front of you, sporting his full uniform. And while the group around you stiffens up and some even take a precautionary step back, you feel very at ease in his presence, greeting him like you normally would with a smile. If you’re being completely honest, you feel kinda proud that one of the most feared Inquisitors on base came to you, and that everyone seems so scared of him while you are completely relaxed, though still remaining respectful of course. 

“Welcome back,” you greet Cal with a genuine smile. “I hope your mission wasn’t too eventful?”

“It all went according to plan,” the distorted voice says with a static crackle.

“That’s good to hear,” you reply. 

Cal’s head shifts ever so slightly, the visor looking past your face to something behind your back.

“Is there a problem, trooper?” the Inquisitor asks, standing a little taller as he addresses the soldier who’s shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

“With all due respect, Sir, we’re on a tight schedule-“

The trooper next to him elbows him in the side.

“Is that so,” Cal asks rhetorically, and you can’t really read his tone because of the distortion. Still, you decide to intervene.

“It’s okay, we can still make it on time,” you assure him and shoot the trooper a pointed look while whispering to Cal that he’s new. “But yes, we should probably get going. I’m glad I got to see you, though. Thanks for stopping by to say hi.”

Cal nods and makes room for you to walk past, while the others keep a noticeable distance between the Inquisitor and themselves as they walk around him. When you reach the ramp to the ship, you turn around one last time. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but you’re still surprised to see Cal standing there, hands behind his back, facing your direction. You give a little wave with your hand, then hurry up the ramp and take a seat. As the ship takes off, you’re checking the data on your holopad. You suddenly feel something on your cheek, like the faintest caress of a summer breeze, and you could swear you just heard a voice in your head.

‘Come back safely.’

As the ship activates the hyperdrive, your hand involuntarily comes up to touch your cheek where the skin still prickles from what you can only describe as a ghost’s touch. 

— — —

Ever since then, you notice a shift in the way everyone treats you, even your superiors, but especially the troopers. Some seem to get out of your way completely when you come walking down the hall, while others are especially attentive to your needs, offering to help you whenever you look like you’re lost or are searching for something. That one trooper who had spoken up to Cal, you haven’t seen him around at all. In fact, it isn’t until two weeks after the incident that you decide to ask one of your other squad members where he is, and she tells you that he got reassigned to not only a different squadron, but an entirely different planetary system. You have a hunch about who’s responsible for that, but you're still not quite sure why he would go to such lengths. Had he really felt that disrespected? You should watch your tone with him from now on, lest you also be sent to some backwater planet…

However, Cal still acts as he always has around you. You still eat dinner in his room, like you’ve been doing for a while now. And while it may just be your wishful thinking, it seems like his whole body language has finally started to soften too. When it’s just the two of you, his shoulders are not as tense, his jaw not as tight, his eyes not as harsh. Even the way he talks has changed. Others may not notice, but you’re literally trained for this. His choice of words has shifted to a less strictly professional lingo, allowing himself to articulate more freely, as well as use more face expressions, voice tone changes and hand gestures, compared to how he acted when your dinner routine started. At some point, he even stopped wearing his gloves around you all the time.

On one hand, for the past couple of months, dinner has been the highlight of your day. You get to spend time with someone who actually listens to you, not because of work, not because you have data they need, but because they just like to spend time with you. Or at least you hope he does. 

On the other hand, you’ve been noticing a slight knot in your stomach whenever you stand in front of Cal’s door, waiting for it to open. As well as the prick of heat on your cheeks when he reacts to your jokes (you haven’t seen him properly smile or laugh out loud yet, but you’ll get there). And let’s not forget the involuntary hitch of your breath accompanied by the skip of your heart when you discover him in the same room with you when you weren’t expecting to see him. 

Somewhere deep within you, you know what all of those mean. But you like the relationship that you’ve built with him, no matter how weird it is, too much to listen to your gut right now. So you just push all and any thought of that kind waaay back into the darkest corner of your brain, hoping it’ll pass.

— — —

One day, you’re feeling a little blue, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Cal. He asks what the problem is, and you tell him you miss something from your home planet. He assures you, whatever it is, he can get it for you. So you write down some things and he orders them. Only two rotations later, the package is at his door. 

He's really curious to open it but decides to wait for you to get there that evening. When you’re finally in his quarters and he shows you the box, you’re super happy and unpack everything: it’s candy, some fruits he’s never seen before, a jar of what looks like herbs, and another jar with a blue spread of sorts. 

You hum, thinking about what to show him first, and decide to go for the jar with the spread. Picking it up, you’re about to start explaining what it is while you open it, but whatever you plan to say gets cut off because of your fruitless effort to screw open the lid. You give it a second try, but it just won’t budge.

With a sheepish look, you wordlessly hand him the glass and when he takes it, there’s a cocky smile on his face that you’ve never seen on him before. You bite your tongue just in time to stop some witty remark, because it would have been a jumble of sounds and no coherent sentence anyway. For in a split second, all those feelings and thoughts you have been repressing come back all at once in one massive wave that crashes over you, drowning everything else around you.

If that small of a change in his face has such a big effect on you, you wonder what else there is. What would a proper smile on him look like? Would he ever properly smile at you? With you? For you? And if it was the other way around, if it was you wearing a cocky grin, looking down at him, how would he—

Oh, oh no. You’re in it bad. So bad. 

The sound of your name snaps you back to reality, where Cal is offering you the now open jar, waiting for you to take it. You blink a couple of times, your eyes moving from his face to the jar, then back to his face. One of his brows rises to give you a questioning look. Heat spreads on your face, ears and neck at the multiple images that appeared in your head. You give him a quick thanks, grab the jar, and turn around to hide from his gaze. Already familiarised with his kitchen, you walk up to the counter to rummage in the drawer for a spoon. Taking a deep breath to try and calm your racing heart, you turn back around. Cal is still standing by the table, following your every movement with his yellow eyes. And for some reason, you feel like all the walls you had managed to pick away at ever so slowly have been pulled up again around him.

You’ve heard stories of Force users being able to read minds, and right now you really hope they’re not true. What if he can sense your thoughts? Is he… disgusted at you? 

Somehow managing to regain your composure and willing away most of the prickling heat on your face, you explain to him what this spread is called in your mother tongue, which translates to something like “sweet of milk”, and how delicious it is.

You’re still by the counter, not really wanting to get into Cal’s space, and you take a spoonful of the jar’s contents and put it into your mouth.

“Hm, it’s so good,” you say, offering him the spoon to give it a try himself.

He suddenly seems to revert to his normal self and approaches you, grabbing a new spoon from the drawer. Ah, you should have known, he doesn’t like sharing cutlery. Or cups. Or… anything, really. Odd, but you’ve always just attributed it to him being scared of germs or the like, which is very valid. It’s probably the same reason why he’s wearing gloves all the time, especially outside. 

As he twists the spoon in his mouth, you see Cal’s face light up for the first time; he likes it. You’re relieved.   

“So glad you like it! Alright then, let’s make some pancakes. You’re going to love them,” you exclaim. 

Seeing the rest of the imported goods on the table, you tell him to try some candy while you work. You take off your bracelet, leaving it next to the box, and roll up your sleeves to get to work.

While the pancakes are cooking, you watch Cal’s reaction to the sweets. He first inspects it closely in his fingers; it’s shaped like a short stick with stripes in different shades of pink. You tell him the wrappers have trivia facts about animals, but they’re written in your native language. So while he chews on the soft candy, he walks over to you, holding out the wrapper for you to read.

“What does it say?” he asks, and you can’t help feel extremely endeared. Your eyes fall to the paper in his hands.

“It’s about banthas. It says that both females and males have a pair of spiralling horns, and they grow a knob a year. So you can tell the age of banthas by how curly their horns are,” you read out loud. “Huh, I didn’t know that.”

“Interesting,” Cal remarks with a short nod of his head. He chews some more on the candy while inspecting the drawing of the bantha on the wrapper. He seems to like them a lot. In fact, he goes back to the table and takes a second one. He asks you what they’re called again, saying he will probably order some more for himself. 

Flipping yet another pancake, you tell him their name and smile to yourself, glad you managed to introduce something nice and colourful into his life. Not that being an Inquisitor wasn’t fun… was it? Truthfully, you have no idea how they feel about what they do out there. You’ve tried getting something out of Cal, but whenever the topic of his work comes up, he shuts you out. You also try not to listen too closely to the gory details of their work that are talked about in quick whispers in the hallways. Either way, you like to think that you broke whatever monotony there could be for Cal, even if only a little bit. Maybe he even looks forward to your moments together, as you do.

The Inquisitor asks what the other jar with the herbs is. You explain that it’s actually leaves for an infusion, and ask if he could put the kettle on.

Suddenly this whole moment feels strangely domestic, and you reprimand your heart for yet another beat it just skipped. It’s just a normal hangout between… colleagues. Making pancakes and having tea. Absolutely normal, strictly professional behaviour, yes. 

You flip the last pancake and watch as Cal stands up to get back to the kitchen, but when he puts the jar with the tea leaves back on the table without really looking, his bare hand grazes your bracelet. With a sharp breath through his teeth, he suddenly tenses up, and his gaze is fixed on some spot behind you, without really focusing on anything. You’re not sure what’s happening, but he’s completely frozen up, and you start panicking.

After turning off the heat on the stove, you hurry to stand in front of the Inquisitor, unsure what to do. You call his name repeatedly, but he doesn’t react. Your hand comes up to the side of his arm but you hesitate, stopping just before touching him. Looking up at him, you try calling his name again; still no reaction. So you don’t really have a choice. You place your hand on his upper arm and give him a gentle shake.

“Cal,” you call yet again. “Cal, what’s wrong?”

He takes a big gulp of air, as if he had forgotten to breathe all this time. After blinking a couple of times, it seems he’s back with you, and his eyes dart back to yours, boring into your skull with an intensity that takes you off guard. You’re quick to remove your hand from him and instinctively take a step back to give him some space.

“A-Are you okay?” you ask. “You just spaced out really hard for a moment.”

“Yeah I’m- I’m fine,” he replies, and it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him stutter. “It was… something occurred to me that really took me by surprise, is all.”

“… Right,” you stretch out the word, waiting for him to explain what he meant further, but he reverts completely back to normal in an instant. 

“You asked me to put the kettle on, right?” he asks and is already on his way to the kitchen. 

“Uhm, yeah,” you follow him with your gaze, confused, then remember an important detail, so you join him in the kitchen. “Oh, but don’t let it boil. That will ruin the leaves. Just gotta heat up the water.”

“Got it.”

— — —

After some more preparations, you’re both sat at the table, and you show him how to eat the pancakes. They’re not like the thick, small pancakes he knows. These ones are larger in diameter and very thin. You demonstrate how to evenly apply the blue spread, stack the cubes of fruit you prepped, then roll up the pancakes like a tube and pick it up in your hands.

“Ta-da,” you exclaim. “And now, enjoy.”

Taking a big bite, you squeal at how good it tastes. It’s been ages since you’ve had this! 

Cal imitates what you did earlier, putting together his own pancake tube, and takes a bite as well. Even he can’t help the low moan that escapes through his nose at this fantastic combination. You giggle at the sight, enjoying it immensely that you get to see all these sides to him that probably no one else has seen. Once more, your brain is invaded by the thought of what else there might be to Inquisitor Cal Kestis. If he allowed you to lower wall after wall, layer after layer… what would you discover? 

You shake your head to rid yourself of the images starting to form. Nope, can’t go there. 

Instead, you decide to show him how the tea is brewed. You grab a small cup and pour some tea leaves in there, which are chopped much more finely than other loose tea Cal has seen. Then you place the special straw that came in the box in the cup. Cal has never seen something like it; it’s essentially a metal tube that is flat at the top and ends in a bulbous shape at the bottom full of little holes.

“So, let me get this straight,” he starts once he understands the mechanics behind your concoction. “Instead of putting the contained leaves in water and then removing them to drink the tea, you just put loose leaves in the water and filter it through the straw to drink the tea?”

“Essentially, yes!”

“That’s so many extra steps…”, Cal sighs, bringing his hand up to hold his temple.

“It’s literally the same,” you laugh. “Just in a different order.”

Pouring hot water into the cup, careful not to overspill it, you offer the cup to him.

“The things you make me do…” he says under his breath, taking the cup and giving it a tentative sniff. 

“Oh please,” you say teasingly, and a grin spreads on your face as you prop up your chin on your elbows. “As if you’re not having the time of your life today. I saw how many candies you ate earlier.”

Cal’s eyes dart down to your lips and back up so quickly that you miss it. With a defeated sigh, he gives the tea a try, grimacing at the bitter taste. You chuckle.

“It certainly is an acquired taste, but give it a chance. It gets better with time, trust me.” Kinda like you, you think.

He looks at the cup and back at you, kinda lost on what to do now.

“You’re supposed to suck on the straw until there’s no more water left, then you pass it back and I pour another one,” you explain.

“So many extra steps,” he repeats with a playful shake of his head, but he does as you said, if only to humour you. Once the straw makes the typical noise of there not being any more liquid at the bottom of a cup, he passes it back to you. With a smile, you pour more water into it, and have a drink yourself. He seems a bit shocked about that.

“Oh yeah, this is a drink passed around in a group, and everyone drinks from the same straw…,” you explain. Not to sound like a 12-year-old, a voice in your head says, but that just was an indirect kiss with an Inquisitor. You clear your throat. “Sorry, I guess I should have asked for a second straw so we could both use one each. I was going to offer another round of tea to you after I’m done with this one, as it usually goes, but if it makes you uncomfortable…”

Cal straightens up in his seat in surprise at your words.

“Why would it make me uncomfortable?”

“You don’t like sharing cutlery and stuff like that, right?” you ask, now confused as well, thinking back to when he clearly grabbed another spoon to try the spread. 

“Oh, uhm, that’s… never mind.”

He fidgets with his fingers for a second, but when he notices you watching him, he hides his hands under the table. You merely hum in response, taking another sip. Is he… nervous? The mood seems to have shifted again and now you’re completely lost as to what’s going on. All those years of training and studying, yet this man before you remains a mystery.

The rest of the evening is spent eating pancakes and drinking tea, holding a pleasant conversation, albeit a superficial one. At times, it feels like his eyes are completely fixed on you, but within seconds, it’s like he can’t even look at you. 

Concluding you’ve overstayed your welcome, you offer to quickly wash up, then be on your way. He merely nods and helps to bring all the dishes to the counter, then goes back to the table. You assume it’s to get another candy from the box. But you don’t mind; you offered to wash up after all. 

Silence envelops the whole room, the only sound being the water coming from the tap. As you’re putting the last of the dishes on the little drying rack, you sigh. Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea after all. Full of questions and doubts, you dry your hands on the towel, fully set on ending the evening by thanking him for getting the things in the first place, saying you had a good time and keeping your goodbyes short. You aren’t even sure if you’ll manage to appear here with a straight face for dinner tomorrow after everything that happened today, the problem being mainly the things playing out in your own head.

Being so deep in thought, you don’t notice the presence behind you, so when you turn around, you’re almost nose to nose with Cal. You can’t help the surprised little “ah, kriff!” that escapes you at his sudden appearance. With the counter behind you though, there’s nowhere for you to back away to, and Cal isn’t budging from where he stands. 

“Don’t forget this,” he says in a low voice and holds up your bracelet, which you had left on the table earlier. He’s so close that you can feel his soft breaths on your face.

“R-right, thanks.”

Looking anywhere but at the Inquisitor, you take the piece of jewellery and put it on your wrist. It takes you a couple of tries though, because your fingers are trembling. In fear, anticipation or something else, you don’t really know. You fumble for a moment until you finally manage to secure the clasp. Cal however, is still standing right in front of you, his hands now coming up to rest on the counter on either side of you. You don’t dare to breathe.

“Uhm, what’s going on?” you ask in an impossibly small voice. 

“I think you know.” 

It takes every last drop of courage in your body, but you scrape it all together and put it into lifting your eyes to look at Cal. And when your gaze meets his, the breath is knocked out of your lungs entirely. He’s looking down at you so intensely, so hungry, you can’t even begin to describe what you’re feeling. Your brain is long gone, you realise, so now you’re entirely at the mercy of what Cal does and whatever physical reaction that gets out from you. And it seems he’s very much aware of this, enjoying the state you find yourself in, if that tiny side smile is anything to go by as he leans in next to your head. You go completely stiff. 

“If you want me to back off, tell me now,” he says directly into your ear.

You take a shaky breath, and the last of the voices in your head all but screaming at you to get out of there is abruptly shut up. Anything and everything in your mind and body is Cal Kestis right now, and for a split second, you wonder if he’s using some Force mind trick on you or if this is all you. That thought dissipates instantaneously though when you feel Cal’s breath tickle your ear, still waiting for your response. You merely shake your head, and it’s so subtle he probably wouldn’t have caught it if he didn’t have his face right next to yours. 

With his cheek now against yours, you can feel him smile. Properly smile. 

“Good,” is all he says, and before you know it, his lips are on yours. 

His arms snake around your waist, pressing your body into his, and he devours you with such ferocity that you need a moment to regain control in your limbs. Once you do, your hands are all over him. One fists the shirt at his back, the other goes into the hair at the nape of his neck and you give it a gentle, tentative pull. The groan that leaves his lips is intoxicating, and you know right then and there that there’s no going back from this. Not tonight, not ever. This is all it took for you to know you’re officially addicted to Cal Kestis. 

He tilts his head to deepen the kiss further, his tongue pressing against your own and pushing both your hips into the counter behind you. You can’t help the low moan that escapes you. Any other day you would have felt embarrassed, but today you don’t care. You’re making out with a kriffin’ Inquisitor and it’s great. As if he could hear your thoughts, Cal gives your bottom lip a nip, starting to leave a trail of bites and licks along your jaw, while his hands slide to the backside of your thighs. Before you can process what he’s doing, you're being lifted onto the free counter space like you weigh nothing, with Cal standing between your legs. One of his hands slowly moves further up your thigh, and your whole body feels like it’s on fire. 

Suddenly, something occurs to you, and with a breathless “wait” you tilt your head to the side to take a breather and try to regain any rational thought you may have left. You’re both panting heavily, and while he looks openly annoyed at your interruption, he places one last kiss on the corner of your mouth, then backs away a bit to let you take a break. 

“What,” he finally says, and it’s less of a question and more of an impatient bark, as you still haven’t said anything.

Your brain is going at a thousand miles an hour, there’s too much input from everywhere, but you still manage to find the words somehow.

“I just- This is- Not that I’m not enjoying this immensely, but… why? All of a sudden?” you ask, finally feeling like you’ve caught your breath again.  

Cal huffs with a slight roll of his eyes, running a hand through his hair, and while you probably should be a little bit offended at his gesture, you’re suddenly way too focused on what you have the chance of witnessing: the way his hair messily falls into his face once he drops his hand. The clear blush adorning his freckled and scarred cheeks, nose and even the tips of his ears. The puffy lips, mouth still parted. The backlighting coming from the main room behind him almost gives him an ethereal glow, making the golden hue in his eyes stand out even more. You commit the image to memory. 

“The bracelet, when I touched it earlier,” he starts explaining, but when he sees you just as dishevelled as him, he decides he can’t be bothered right now. “It’s called psychometry, I’ll explain it to you later.”

With an impatient grunt, he just picks you up and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. 

“Right now there are more pressing matters,” he mumbles into your shoulder.

You realise you’re being carried towards the door that’s always been closed every time you come over. When you both approach, they slide open with a hiss and you’re met with his bedroom, as you’ve always speculated that’s what lies behind it. 

Letting you fall backwards onto his large bed rather unceremoniously, he starts climbing on top of you, but before putting any weight on you, he stops and looks down at you with a serious face. 

“Last chance to back out,” he offers.

You can’t help at chuckle, and grin up at him. 

“As if.”

Your hands shoot up to hold him by the collar. You have no idea where the confidence even comes from at this point.

“I want you, Cal,” you say breathlessly, and that’s all it takes for him to be on top of and all over you again. Let’s just say pancakes and tea aren't the only treats you’ll be getting today.

— — —

A/N 2: inq!cal has a sweet tooth, honk if you agree

A/N 3: where my palitos de la selva gang at B)

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @dybynyght, @galaxtic-writings, @kalea-bane, @soka-writes-things, @padawancat97, @riddikulus-obsessions, @optimisticprime3, @starilicious, @ivelostmyabilitytoeven, @alternatescififandomelover

#goose feathers #cal kestis x reader #star wars cal x reader #inquisitor cal kestis x reader #jedi fallen order x reader #star wars x reader #listen if milk is blue in star wars #it makes sense for dulce de leche to be dark blue right? #let’s just go with it #look at me bringing irl cultural aspects into my writing wow

[yandere-romanticaa]

It's a crime just how there's no content for this series, especially because the men in this show are just out of this world. Lucky you, I have thing for the Lord of Crime.

Hell is empty and all the devils are here - that is what William liked to tell you from time to time.

Afternoon tea with William James Moriarty and on occasion his brothers as well, was always lighthearted and enjoyable. Their home was always warm and welcoming, their smiles contagious as the sun and the food they would fill your belly with was always out of this world delicious. Playing games with William became one of your favorite hobbies ever since moving to this neighborhood the Moriarty family took an odd liking to you, William in particular. He would tease you until your ears would burn from embarrassment, his red eyes gleaming with mischief as he would sit across you, a knowing little smirk on his face. He was a bit of a bully like that but it was all in harmless fun at the end of the day. William would never take it far, he detested seeing you in a sour mood. Sometimes if he felt like it, even his elder brother Albert would join in on the fun as Louis calmly watched the commotion in the background, his stance seemingly neutral.

Yes, the Moriarty brothers were a charming little bunch. You loved being with them, you loved being with William. You couldn't deny the way in which his mere presence made your heart flutter. He was handsome, so incredibly handsome. And his unmatched wit only make him more lovable, how could you not fall for him? On the surface he really was the perfect man of anyone's dreams. One simple glance from him took your breath away, as if he somehow managed to crush your lungs with some otherworldly ability unknown to you. William James Moriarty really was the perfect man.

Which is why it became harder to ignore some of the things which disturbed you in the dark of the night.

Suspicious men would linger around the estate, like wild beasts out on a prowl. You managed to identify them as the Moriarty house staff and there was a question which would linger in your mind for ages - what in the devil were they up to in the middle of the night?

They could not be this active by their own choice, someone most definitely ordered them to make haste with whatever mysterious task they were up to. The men clearly knew what they were doing as they would always move with precision and determination, their weapons always hidden well despite being safely covered by the inky black darkness.

You lost sleep over this, monitoring them quickly bled into your evening activities. The Moriarty brothers were hardly ever spotted, it was mostly just the staff. At first you figured that you were nothing more than paranoid and was just looking for an excuse to oogle at William, which wasn't necessarily untrue either. To any random person passing by the men were doing house chores and obeying their bosses. They were good and hardworking men, you had no right to judge them for something that they clearly were not at fault for.

Things took a sharp turn once one of the men came back to the Moriarty estate with a few splatters of blood on his fine white shirt. It was carefully concealed in order to avoid suspicion and yet you still saw it.

Someone out there was dead or dying and you knew who was responsible.

There was no turning back now.

And William, ever the charmer, kept luring you in. The more you observed him the more you came to pick up on his ticks and came to the realization that he was not the simple but perfect gentleman who had so carefully crafted his image. He was like a venus flytrap and you the dumb little fly, it was inevitable that he was going to catch you one way or the other.

He found it amusing how you watched over everyone like a hawk. It could not be more obvious but he still silently praised you for your efforts. It was good to remain vigilant, especially in a cruel world like the one you both lived in. Evil and wicked men roamed on the streets freely, who knew just when one was going to snatch you up.

In your eyes, maybe he was one of those men too. Regardless, he was planning on enjoying this silent game of cat and mouse he had set up. And you never failed in taking on the bait, each and every time.

#someone shoot me for not writing for this series sooner #yandere #yandere x reader #yancore #yandere imagines #yanderecore #yandere x you #yandere aesthetic #professor moriarty #yuukoku no moriarty #william james moriarty #moriarty the patriot #yandere william james moriarty #yandere william moriarty #yandere moriarty the patriot #yandere yuukoku no moriarty

[eksvaized]

Part Six König / Ghost / Reader [ Previous 〡 Next ] ︱AO3 ︱Wattpad ︱ taglist (if you want to be added - let me know!): @strawberrygato, @ghostslittlegf, @eskalotte, @abcdbleh, @yawning-grave81, @liamwholover, @valira-demaur, @idek101-01, @mizu-bozu

After König has done his utmost to soothe your frenzied state, he gently ushers you into the bedroom. With a gentle push, he makes you lie down before wrapping you in a mountain of blankets. Then he disappears into the bathroom because he still needs to take a shower and wash all the dirt and grime off his body.

During this interlude of solitude, you attempt to corral your frenetic thoughts, which are galloping through your mind at a frantic pace. The relentless racing of your thoughts intensifies the throbbing in your head. Your eyes are puffy and bloodshot. Strands of your hair cling to your damp cheeks. But, at least your sobbing has ceased, and your tears have evaporated, leaving behind only their salty residue.

The silence that cloaks the room, like a comforting shroud, begins to massage your nerves, unknotting the taut tension in your shoulders. It’s as if an oppressive weight is slowly being lifted, and the waves of stress and anxiety are receding.

Everything that happened—days filled with worry, nights marred by a lack of sleep, the conversation with König—now seems just like a distant, bad dream. A nightmare that you’ve just woken up from.

Surprisingly, when you accused König of cheating, the argument did not escalate into a full-blown fight. Despite the tension and your skepticism, he was able to persuade you that there’s nothing going on between him and Sarah. He confessed that there might have been times where their interactions could have been misconstrued as flirtatious, but he assured you that his relationship with her remained strictly professional. König made it clear—she isn’t his type, and he has absolutely no intention of jeopardizing the relationship that he has built with you over the past two years just because some woman happened to bat her lashes at him.

When you asked why he keeps entertaining her presence, why he doesn’t outright reject her advances, his response was that he simply couldn’t afford to ignore her. He revealed that the higher-ups had grown suspicious of Sarah, likely due to her recent transfer. Their tendency to scrutinize everyone and everything, as if looking through a magnifying glass, had led them to task König with the responsibility of monitoring her activities. This was an assignment he had initially desired to refuse. However, his resistance was eventually chipped away by the promise of additional compensation for his efforts.

“And I need that money—” His statement caused your eyebrows to knit together in confusion. After all, his current income was more than sufficient. “I’m saving it for something.”

His cryptic response only ignited your confusion, like a spark in dry tinder. When you probed, he only offered a shake of his head. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He planted a kiss on your forehead, and said, “Can’t tell yet.”

You trust König, and you want to believe him and everything he’s told you. However, after your mind refuses to quiet down, you get out of bed. As your bare feet touch the cool floor, a shiver slithers down your spine. You kneel down in front of König’s duffel bag, which he has thrown down by the wardrobe. After rummaging through the pockets, you pull out his phone.

Deep down, you know there is something you need to do, something crucial, before you can forget about all of this, before you can lay your doubts to rest.

The soft hum of the shower from the bathroom abruptly ceases. Your eyes dart to the closed door as you freeze in place. You strain your ears, listening for the telltale sound of footsteps, but there is none. You know you can’t let König find you snooping through his phone again. So, with your heart pounding in your chest, when he doesn’t come into the room, your attention returns to the phone in your hands. You enter his passcode and unlock it.

Your mind is consumed, fully focused on one task: checking for any new text messages from Sarah. Every ounce of your being needs to know, to confirm, if he and Sarah had been in any form of contact while he was away. Your eyes hungrily skim through all the conversations, the old ones, and the recent ones. But after what seems like an eternity, you come to a heart-wrenching realization. The entire conversation thread between him and Sarah, every single exchange, has vanished. He has scrubbed his phone clean, like a crime scene, meticulously wiped of any incriminating evidence.

Why would he go to such lengths to delete everything if there was truly nothing going on between them? After all, you’ve already read all their messages, so there’s no point in hiding them now... unless he didn’t tell you the whole truth.

The whirlwind of thoughts in your mind is unrelenting, each one darker and more terrifying than the last. Amidst this chaos, an idea emerges. It’s a foolish one, so much so that you can almost hear the voice in your head chastising you for even giving it a moment’s consideration. It’s an idea you shouldn’t even entertain, let alone consider acting on. Yet, time is a luxury you simply don’t have. You take a moment to draw in a deep breath, attempting to steady the storm within you. With a newfound, albeit shaky, resolve, you press the call button.

Slowly, you walk to the window; the phone clutched tightly in your hand. As you press it to your ear, the nerve-wracking beeping sound echoes in your head. Each beep seems to amplify your unease, stirring up a churning sensation in your stomach. Deep down, buried under layers of rational thought and logical reasoning, you know it’s wrong to call Sarah. But you want to hear her voice; you need to speak with her, even if you are not sure what you are going to say.

The beeping comes to an abrupt halt, and your heart seems to stop beating for a moment when you hear the high-pitched ‘hey’ from the other end of the line.

You hold your breath, remaining silent, hoping that she wouldn’t catch on that it isn’t König who is calling her.

“Miss me already, hm?”

The urge to say something, to tell her to stay away from König, is overpowering, but the words are stubbornly stuck in your throat. Your body freezes, as if ensnared and bound by unseen chains that constrict tighter with each syllable she utters. Your fingers curl around the curtains, grasping them tightly as if their thin fabric could somehow prevent you from collapsing. Your legs feel wobbly, like they might give way underneath you at any moment.

“You left without saying goodbye, and now I can’t stop thinking about you… and your promise to have a cup of coffee with me after you return. Although I was thinking… Maybe we should go for something stronger? A beer for you, and some nice fruity cocktail for me. Of course, I’ll expect you to be the gentleman I know you are and pay—”

As if in slow motion, the phone slips away from your trembling hand. It crashes onto the ground with a sound that reverberates throughout the room. Skidding across the floor, it disappears from sight, hiding somewhere under the dark abyss of the bed. Despite its disappearance, Sarah’s piercing voice continues to echo, as she giggles, calling out to König in an annoyingly sweet tone.

This is all too much for you: you shouldn’t have called her, you shouldn’t have dared to touch König’s phone. This was all a mistake—trusting König was a mistake.

A crushing pressure, akin to an iron band tightening around your chest, begins to build, making breathing feel like a grueling battle. Your breaths become rapid, erratic and shallow, and each gulp of air is harder to catch than the last. Your vision blurs at the edges, the world around you spinning out of control. Panic sets in and you realise you need to escape from the house; an overwhelming urge to leave, to run and hide from the world until it stops spinning, takes over. Until the feeling that you are going to run out of breath and faint subsides.

Managing to gather some strength, you hurriedly pull a sweater over your head and stuff your feet into your sneakers. With a newfound urgency, you bolt out of the bedroom, forcing your legs to move even faster when the sound of the bathroom door creaking open reaches your ears. But before König has a chance to see you, before he has an opportunity to catch and stop you, you’ve already fled the house and the front door slams shut behind you.

The icy breeze greets you outside, whipping against your exposed skin and leaving a chilly, tingling sensation on your face. You stand there for a moment, allowing the cold to seep into your bones and the uncertainty to creep into your mind. But then your feet carry you across the empty street. After a few minutes of frantic doorbell ringing, or rather, smashing the button with your index finger until your nail chips off, the door finally creaks open. Simon’s face peers through the crack, his eyebrows knitted together in surprise. It’s clear that he didn’t expect to see you tonight, especially because you had declined his earlier offer to come over.

“Can I come in?” You ask with a trembling voice. But before he can answer, you push past him and step inside. You’ve decided that you aren’t ready to take no for an answer—not tonight. Your options are limited, to say the least. Your family lives across the country, and you don’t have any friends you can turn to. Simon is the only one you can rely on.

A few days ago, in the serene hours of a late-night conversation, he made a promise to you. He told you that you could count on him. That no matter what happens, if you ever need anything, he’s there for you.

After you step inside, Simon closes the door, his tall figure casting a long shadow on the worn-out carpet. He turns around to face you, his eyes filled with quiet patience as he waits for you to explain why you’ve shown up at his doorstep like this, why your eyes are red and puffy from what seems like hours of crying, and why you look like you want to kill someone.

“I think he is lying to me,” you say. Simon’s face contorts into a puzzled expression. He’s unsure about what you’re referring to. “My boyfriend. I confronted him earlier. He said he wasn’t cheating, but I didn’t believe him. I don’t know why—I ended up calling her...” You trail off, pausing to exhale. “I don’t know why I did that. But when she picked up—she didn’t say much—but just the way she spoke, the flirty tone in her voice... makes me think he didn’t tell me the whole truth.”

Simon lets you vent for the rest of the night and listens to you without interjecting. At first, you struggle with articulating your whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, but the encouragement in Simon’s eyes, the light hand squeezes, and his small, understanding nods embolden you. He keeps you talking, letting you rant until your words run out and there’s nothing left to say.

“You can stay here tonight,” Simon offers. “...if you want.”

You nod. The idea of spending the night on his couch doesn’t necessarily sound like the epitome of comfort, but the thought of going home tonight fills you with a sense of dread. You don’t want to see König; you can’t even bear the thought of looking at him. You need a brief respite from his presence, some time to process everything and decide on what you want to do next.

As your eyes graze over the clock, you can feel the weight of exhaustion settling in, realising how late it is.

“You don’t need to babysit me for the rest of the night. You should go to bed,” you say, but Simon shakes his head.

“I don’t mind staying up, and I doubt you want to be alone.”

As you lean into him, you find a comfortable spot where your head rests on the curve of his shoulder. Your hands fall into your lap and you tug at the hem of your sweater, fiddling with the loose thread. His arm drapes over your frame. The rhythmic motion of his fingers on your shoulder, tracing soothing, tight circles, releases the anxiety in your body, leaving you feeling completely relaxed.

A yawn escapes your lips, and you rub your eyes in an attempt to ward off your drowsiness. Simon says something, but his words are lost to you since you’re not paying attention. You raise your chin to look at him, a question “What?” leaving your lips.

“Are you tired?” He repeats and his eyes lock with yours. “You can sleep in my bed if you’d like. I’ll take the couch.”

You suddenly become aware of just how close he is—the space between your faces is virtually nonexistent. You can feel his warm breath on your skin as he exhales, his arm slowly slipping down from your shoulder, his fingertips lightly tracing your curves before he rests his hand on your hip.

Your eyes, drawn as if by a magnetic force, gravitate towards his lips. An insistent voice in the back of your mind scream at you to draw away, to retreat from the uncharted territory you are about to cross. However, you choose to defy it, silencing the voice and clearing your mind. Slowly, you inch forward, closing the remaining gap. Simon doesn’t recoil. He doesn’t reject your advance. After an initial moment of stillness, he reciprocates, his lips brushing against yours.

As he kisses you, his touch on your cheek is both soothing and exhilarating—a paradox of sensations that leaves your heart pounding in your chest. His thumb traces gentle circles on your skin as he deepens the kiss, subtly urging you to tilt your head to accommodate him. You find yourself being gently maneuvered onto the couch, with him looming over you. His body presses against yours, becoming a source of heat in the cool room.

You know that you shouldn’t be kissing him, that you shouldn’t be allowing him to touch you. Yet, you find that you can’t, or perhaps more accurately, don’t want to stop. And he, in his silent acquiescence, doesn’t move away from you either.

A/N: this will be the last update till the weekend cuz I have to focus on uni and exams for a bit p.s. most of you know that I'm editing this fic (hence why I deleted the old chapters), and so, if you have read this story already & know how it will end, please don't spoil it in the comments because I enjoy reading reactions from people who have stumbled upon this story for the first time anyway, thank you for reading and commenting!! all the feedback motivates me and makes me excited to edit and post rest of the chapters :)

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #call of duty #writing #cod #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #ghost x reader #ghost cod #simon riley x reader #konig cod #konigxghostxreader #konig call of duty #konig x reader #fem!reader

[sunatsubu]

PSA ABOUT PHONE SCAMS FROM GOVERNMENT OFFICIAL IMPERSONATORS So. I almost fell victim to a really elaborate phone scam. Now that I've had time to process it, it's deeply unsettling how convincing the scammers were, and I don't know how far they might've gotten if it hadn't been for a tumblr post that I'd read recently, warning about these strategies. For the life of me I can't find that post now which is a shame because it explained the strategies very well, but I'll try to reiterate the main points I remember that helped me realize in time that I was being scammed. Hopefully no one else has to go through this but in case they do, may this help you recognize the red flags MUCH earlier than I did. (if anyone knows of the post I'm talking about please let me know! It went into a lot of good detail of what to watch out for)

I'll try to summarize how it went down first. I was called by someone claiming to be from the FTC. They gave me a badge number and a case number. They said a package being shipped to me from Mexico was intercepted, and contained illegal drugs and huge amounts of money, that my name was used to open accounts at multiple banks, and that my name was also used to try and claim some property in some random city/state I'd never been to. Of course this was immediately alarming to me and I start freaking out, but they then reassured me that after a background check they determined this is most likely a case of identity theft.

The convincing part was how much effort they seemed to put into asking if I could remember any instance where my identity might've been compromised; like they were legit trying to investigate the case in order to catch the actual culprit. So of course I'm trying to be as helpful as I can. They haven't asked me anything specific like bank accounts or SSN, so no obvious red flags.

Then they go into the steps I needed to take in order to establish I'm not the actual criminal who tried to ship drugs across the border, that it really is a case of identity theft. They describe to me ADR (alternate dispute resolution), which I quickly looked up and seems like is an actual legal thing. Basically they were saying that if I chose this option I don't have to hire my own lawyer/show up in court/etc, that the US Marshal will on my behalf establish to the court this was a case of identity theft.

They transfer me to someone supposedly at the Department of Justice, who also gives me a badge number. This person goes into more detail about the steps I need to take, that because my identity has been used to open up all these bank accounts and shipping drugs to multiple countries, etc - that I would need to be assigned a new SSN. And to do that, they needed to know which accounts were actually mine; so they asked me to verify exact amounts in my bank accounts, and anything else that was directly tied to my SSN such as credit cards.

They kept reiterating that I needed this new SSN so that they can monitor my old one and be able to catch whoever is using it for all these illegal activities. They emphasized I should stay on the line, and to also not tell anyone about this ongoing investigation because the identity thief could be anyone I know. I'm still not getting suspicious at this point because they keep emphasizing they don't want to know any specific bank account #s or my actual SSN, because that would be illegal to ask for.

I then get transferred to the supposed US Marshal, again gives me a badge number. Again going into more detail on how to secure my actual accounts so they can close out/track the fake accounts. He starts getting more into detail about securing my bank account and how I needed to go to the bank in person. He emphasized that I shouldn't tell the bank teller what was going on because they could be involved in the crime, or something about money laundering, I don't remember exactly what the explanation was.

This is the point I started getting suspicious; I remembered specifically from that tumblr post that the scammers will want to keep you from revealing anything to bank employees because they are trained to recognize scams like this. I continue the conversation though, and the 'US Marshal' goes on to say, in order for me to secure/establish this account as truly mine, that I need to withdraw 50% of my funds from it in cash, and not a cashier's check. THIS is the point I realize what's going on, and I stammer out something about wanting to verify the badge numbers they gave me, and quickly hang up.

Things they did that made it believable: - Giving me badge numbers and a case number - Reassuring me they don't want to know sensitive information like SSN, bank account numbers, etc. - Seeming genuine in investigating how my identity might've been compromised - Citing actual legal pathways like ADR - The way they slowly ramped up the urgency so as not to come off as suspicious too suddenly. They worked up my fear from a more believable scenario (that my identity was stolen and being used for criminal activities including opening a bunch of bank accounts) and used that to justify the steps I needed to take to secure my own actual accounts.

Things that should have been red flags: - I was too panicked in the moment to notice right away but I'm fairly certain all 3 people I talked with had the same accent. What are the chances of that for 3 different employees at supposedly 3 different government organizations? (these were things that thank god I remembered reading from that previous tumblr post) - they kept me isolated by claiming anyone I know could be the actual culprit who stole my identity. - They urged me to stay on the line as they continued to transfer me to the next person, keeping me from calling anyone else. - they said not to let the bank teller find out what was going on

Things I did not know but learned, either from looking up myself or from the FTC when I called to report the incident: - Different departments don't actually communicate very closely. So they'd never transfer me from department to department the way the scammers did. The FTC for example wouldn't be able to ask the Social security department to issue me a new number. - Nobody from the FTC will give you a badge number or ask you how much money you have in your accounts.

Steps I took afterwards, because I'm fairly certain I never gave actual sensitive information, but in my ramblings to try and be helpful with their 'investigation' I might've said something compromising. - Called the US Marshal office just to triple check; they almost immediately said it was a scam as soon as I mentioned 'badge number.' - Called the FTC to file a fraud report - Called one of the credit bureaus (Experian I think) and placed a fraud alert on my credit activity. This automatically applies to all 3 bureaus, and lasts for a year - Changed my bank acct passwords

I feel pretty stupid in retrospect at how panicked I got, but I do feel like they were very good at manipulating my emotions to believe them for as long as I did. So as embarrassed as I am to admit I almost fell for this, again hopefully this might help even 1 other person spot the red flags early enough.

#psa #this applies to the US in that they impersonated US gov agencies #but I imagine this similar strategy can be used in other countries #mypost #scams

[i984]

Finally Hers

|Pairing|: Wednesday Addams x gender neutral reader.

|Genre|: Fluff 💞

|Warnings|: Stalking, mentions of gore, Wednesday being mean, mouth-on-mouth kissing, ooc Wednesday Addams.

|Summary|: You're caught in the act (in a library no less), now what?

|Word count|: 1.2k words

|A/n|: This was kinda rushed but I hope you enjoy!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Masterlist

Shit.

How could this happen?

The following two weeks since your last encounter with Wednesday Addams had been peaceful--or suspiciously uneventful--you thought to yourself. You had feared for your life, half-expecting for the raven-haired girl to confront you after the last time she caught you approaching her with a creepy stare in your eyes.

But nope, the weeks passed, and you continued with your unusual schedule, mostly consisting of you stalking the girl of your nightmares from afar. At least, that was the case until today--you've settled yourself in one of the hexagonal tables in the school's library with stacks of books around the table to hide your figure--when Wednesday took a seat across the table. Your table.

Wednesday always seats at the same table--the one in the dark corner of the room, every week at the same hour; a piece of information you've successfully gathered after extensive "research" on the girl. And you use this information to admire her every week at this very hour from a safe distance, only to find her seating at your table directly across from you today.

You had observed her movement when she entered the room--with a book in hand, her stride full of confidence, no trace of hesitation to be found.

...and then she walked straight in your direction, and you swear to god you've never ducked your head so fast in your entire life.

When you dared to peer through the gaps of your heavily stacked books, the girl in front of you already had her nose stuck in her book, her lips pursed in concentration. With Wednesday sitting closer than ever to you--suddenly blessed with the breathtaking sight of her figure--you can't help but notice her features; the ones you never get to see because you've always been watching her from afar.

Strays of light hit her face, sharpening her features in all the right places. Her eyes dart over the pages, and you can't help but admire the brown in them. Her lashes are full, eyebags adorning her face giving her a deliciously daunting look. Her lips are a dark color--a beguiling burgundy. She has freckles softly scattered across her nose and cheeks, and soft strains of her hair fall to the sides--framing her face perfectly. 

Your eyes trailed down to her sharp jaws, then to her slender arms, and to the fingers that are gripping the edges of her book firmly. Your heart skips a few beats at the sight--everything about her is so mesmerizing. And as you take a deep slow breath, you could smell a hint of sweet alyssum--the flower vaguely resembling the pattern on her coat.

As your line of sight trailed back up to her face and her eyes, you yelped back in your seat--her gaze piercing holes right into your own--your books falling off the table at the impact of your motion.

You quickly scrambled to your feet, ready to bolt at the entrance.

You've been caught, you thought to yourself.

And if you don't get out of the room right now, who knows what kind of torture Wednesday would inflict upon you? Though torment coming from her does seem like something you'd gladly take, for now, you are set on fleeing this place and never returning.

And as your legs move, ready to sprint, suddenly you feel a strong tug at the hem of your shirt--your body suddenly lurching her way, while Wednesday stepped back releasing her grip--and you find yourself stumbling forward, barely managing to catch yourself from face-planting to the ground.

"I know what you've been doing," Wednesday stated while stepping forward, "You've been following me. Why would you do that? Did somebody send you to spy on me? Monitor my schedules and activities?" 

Her voice was cold and harsh, and you feel yourself cowering before her, unable to answer her pointed questions. 

"You're quite good at your job, I'll give it to you. For a while now I've felt like someone was trailing me, watching my every move. And I couldn't figure out who until Christmas. But when I look at your face, I knew it was you."

You stepped back, and she took two steps forward, cornering you into one of the bookshelves. You look behind Wednesday and you see a couple of students have turned their heads at the commotion, and you can hear them murmuring.

"What was your intention, approaching me and my friends that day? Were you trying to hurt them?" At this, you blurted out a response from your short-circuiting brain.

"N-NO! Of course not! I would never do that to you- I mean to your friends and you. I was just..." you trailed off, your eyes not daring to meet her gaze.

"You were what? Answer me." Her stance seems to relax a bit, but her voice is still as stern as ever.

You stumbled on your words but quickly took a deep breath after seeing the look on her face.

"It's just that ...I have a crush on you," Wednesday pulls back a bit at your sudden confession, her brows raised in puzzle. 

Your heart drops at her reaction, but you willed yourself to continue. "And I know it doesn't excuse all the following and the stalking, and I know it's creepy, and now you probably hate me and feel disgusted, and I'm terribly sorry," you sobbed out, tears falling down your cheek.

"But I would never hurt you or any of your friends, I swear on my life," you continued. "The thing is, I would die for you Wednesday, kill for you if you ask me to. I will go to Tartarus and come back with Cronus' heart if you wish for it. You can rip my heart out and you'll find it beating for you," your breathing quickens as you speak, "All things impossible I can do for you, but I would never. Hurt. You."

Wednesday stared at you wide-eyed, her mouth gaping ever so slightly. Never in her life had she seen someone so blindly devoted to her, and the heartfelt speech you delivered has suddenly made you her one coveted dream. 

You watch as Wednesday straighten herself up, her feet taking a half-step closer to you. You can feel your heart pounding against your chest, your head spinning as breathing isn't your brain's priority. 

Her brows relaxed and her jaw opens as she speaks, 

"And if I carve your chest and break your ribs, pull your lungs out, and stick a straw in it, would you drink the red for me?" she muttered the last sentence underneath her breath, dark-brown eyes looking straight into your own--daring you to answer her question.

"Gladly, until the very last drop of it," you breathed out. 

And at that, Wednesday grabs the collar of your shirt, and you feel her soft lips press against yours. Your head bumps against the bookshelves behind you; her sweet-flowery smell invaded your scent--overwhelming you--and the surging tide of warmth washes over you, leaving you limp. 

And before you know it, you were kissing her back, and at that moment you realize;

You were finally hers.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday series #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams fanfic #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams

[carionto]

Just a little push

The conflict between Humanity and the United Federation was in it's early slow stages. After the rather unexpected attack on the symbolic Death Kebab there was a lot of buzz and light skirmishes in the nearby systems, but no noteworthy confrontation.

The placement of the Death Kebab was provocative by design, and with both sides so far away from one another, there could not be any mass fleet formation without plenty of advance notice. Special operations units, however, are everywhere.

Unlike Humanity, who currently only has Earth as a planet under their direct control and with a notable population, the Federation is vast - core worlds surrounded by buffer manufacturing and agriculture and all manner of other production focused systems, which themselves are further surrounded out by new colonies, annexed planets, "contract" aka slave worlds.

Getting close to Earth without being spotted by any number of civilian organizations is nigh impossible, and when you count the military intelligence and surveillance networks, there's hardly an atom that remains unregistered. Certain people with, let's say, less than honest intentions, still manage to find ways to keep their activities hidden. For a while at least.

These kinds of skills, when employed by a trained operative with the highest grade equipment, make them virtually invisible everywhere else. A poorly guarded third-rate mining colony? Why, with just a little preparation, you could float an entire Dreadnought up to their atmosphere before they noticed. Assuming they would even care after offering a slightly more lucrative deal than the Federation.

For this particular mission, however, they would care.

Vrontaria was a very productive system with nearly a dozen orbital shipyards and hundreds of mining, processing, and export operations that account for roughly 4% of the entire Federation military hardware supply, and nearly a fifth of all their capital ship production. Thus, it was quite heavily guarded, with every nearby system monitored for any suspicious activity.

What they didn't monitor all too well were the mostly useless planets and moons within the Vrontaria system itself. Of particularly little interest was the resident gas giant - Omk.

And why would anyone bother regularly scanning the interior of a gas giant for foreign matter, everyone knows entering the "atmosphere" of a gas giant will just crush everything. Right?

*glances sideways*

:D

It took the better part of a month, but the special unit managed to covertly install about five thousand gravitational pulse thrusters and all necessary power generators within the upper layer of Omk, but just far enough below the storms to make their activity not make any visible change. For comparison, one such thruster can accelerate an entire Dreadnought. Slowly, sure, which is why they have at least 6 to be able to maneuver, and Omk was not the largest gas giant in the Galaxy, about two thirds of Jupiter.

So, one day not long after, someone on Ja'Ulnika, the main planet of the Vrontaria system, noticed that Omk was a little bit further along its orbital path than it should be.

Concerning.

Then they took more precise measurements and realized it was going faster than before.

Very concerning.

Finally, they had someone go up to it and then they noticed all of the thrust force coming from one side of it, changing its orbit to get far too close to Ja'Ulnika for comfort.

Panic inducing to say the least.

By the time a full force of combat ships arrived to sort out this mess and start disabling all these planet-moving thrusters, scans showed they had self-destructed. Even if they had the ability to retrieve anything from the inside of a gas giant, at this point it would be worthless scraps.

The final orbit of Omk would put it on a course to capture Ja'Ulnika in its gravitational well in two years time and take it along for a joyride to orbits outside the habitable zone, rendering it inhospitable in around 5-6 years. Not to mention the carnage tides would cause on a world without its own moon. Or any other catastrophic events that might occur when a planet is essentially kidnapped into a becoming moon.

Wars are fought on many fronts. inevitable devastation and unavoidable future reduction in capacity force you to act in ways you would rather not. Sometimes creating a logistical nightmare that your enemy has to deal with no matter what can be the greatest killing blow that a swift and spectacular showdown space battle could never be.

#humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #humans are space australians #humans are deathworlders #humanity fuck yeah #carionto

[blakeswritingimagines]

Dating Yandere Ragnar Lothbrok Would Include:

Dating him, as a yandere? It can be a real challenge. He is protective of the one he loves. He will do anything to keep you safe, even if that means he has to remove any rivals and threats. But he is a loyal and devoted lover, and the love he shows is unlike anything you have ever experienced.

He is possessive, obsessive, and often violent, so dating him would be a roller coaster of emotions. He would be very protective of his significant other. However, he would also be prone to fits of jealousy and rage if he had any suspicions of disloyalty or betrayal. He would demand your undivided attention and love and would not tolerate any other rivals or suitors in the picture. He would not hesitate to use physical violence to ensure his partner's loyalty, but he would also go to great lengths to show devotion and affection.

He is a very obsessive lover. He would do anything for the person he's with. He will show up unexpectedly and make you feel loved and appreciated. He would be constantly keeping track of you, monitoring your time and activities, and he may even go as far as trying to keep you isolated from others. He would be highly irritable and jealous if he saw you interacting with other lovers, which would make him lash out in anger or act in a mean/cruel manner.

He can be very manipulative and abusive. He might try to guilt-trip you into staying with him or trying to control you by manipulating your emotions. If you're seeing someone else, he might try and harm them. If you're away for too long, he might become more overly obsessive and make you feel guilty or scared when you finally see him. In order to keep you away from other lovers, he'll stalk, spy, and follow you.

He would feel a strong sense of attachment and obsession towards you, and if you don't reciprocate his feelings, then he'll start feeling anxious and stressed. He would always try to control and isolate you, and he would show his love in very unconventional ways, like giving you unwanted gifts or keeping tabs on you. If you do reciprocate his feelings, then he will be overly clingy and needy, needing to be with you 24/7.

He would constantly worry about you leaving him, and he would try to manipulate or pressure you into spending more time with him. As a yandere, he would be prone to violent and obsessive behavior, like harming anyone who dared to get too close to you. He would get very jealous and possessive, and he would be very insecure and needy. At the same time, he would feel an intense adoration and attachment towards you, and he would do absolutely anything to make sure you are his and only his.

His extreme obsessiveness and possessiveness can be destructive and even dangerous. If you were to betray him by cheating or interacting with other lovers, he would become extremely jealous and aggressive. He would go to extreme lengths to keep you under his control, and he would show a lack of empathy or remorse in his behavior. He may even resort to violence, manipulation, and harassment to gain your attention or prevent you from socializing with others. In this sense, his possessiveness and obsessive behavior can be extremely toxic and unhealthy.

He would show an extreme dislike towards your other friends and family, constantly making passive-aggressive and snide remarks about them, and he would be suspicious of them as well and would accuse them of stealing you away from him. He would also be extremely possessive, always wanting to be with you and preventing you from leaving the house or living your normal life. He would also be emotionally unstable and volatile, quickly alternating between anger and depression.

He can be very sweet and loving towards his partner when you reciprocate his feelings. He is a very caring and attentive lover, and he would do anything to make you happy. He would be constantly spoiling you and showering you with affection and attention. He would be very attentive to your needs, and he would be a very supportive, helpful, and devoted partner.

He would love to take you on dates, where he could demonstrate more of his sweet and affectionate side. He would plan thoughtful and romantic dates for his loved one, whether it be going out for dinner, seeing a movie, or simply taking a walk in the park. He would be eager to please and keep you happy, showing his love through gifts and words of affirmation. However, if his obsession overrides his sweet side, he may expect you to cancel any other plans that you might have and spend the entire day with him.

He is very prone to jealousy. He obviously has an unhealthy obsession with you, which causes him to feel extreme anxiety and stress. Whenever he sees you interact with others, especially other potential love interests, he becomes extremely jealous and paranoid. He may start to compare himself with other potential love interests and become even more increasingly possessive and controlling of you, which can often lead to very toxic actions.

When alone with you, he shows a softer side. He is often far more affectionate, attentive, and caring. He would be constantly showering you with attention and gestures of affection and he would be eager to please and satisfy you. He would be playful and fun-loving, and he would often make you laugh. He would be more relaxed and himself around his partner, showing no signs of aggression or possessiveness. However, if he had any worries or doubts, he would be quick to become possessive and demanding again.

He would be prone to sudden bursts of extreme emotions, such as intense jealousy, sadness, or rage. If you don't reciprocate his feelings he would feel paranoid and constantly questioning your motives. He would also be controlling and possessive, wanting to dictate how you live your life. You would also be a target of his extreme anger and violence, whether he physically or verbally abuses you. If you do reciprocate his feelings, then he will be obsessively clingy and possessive, wanting to spend every waking moment with you and always monitor your activities.

If you weren't a Viking, then he would still behave in very much the same way. His obsessive personality and possessive nature would be directed towards you instead. He would still become irrationally possessive, and controlling. He would still feel intense bouts of anger, rage, and paranoia. And would still behave in a very unhinged manner.

Yes, his obsessive and controlling nature would most likely lead him to try to force you into following his way of life. His obsession would override any sort of moral or ethical concerns. And he would not think twice about using manipulation and intimidation to control you. If you refused, then he would escalate his abuse in order to fully dominate and control you. In the end, he would want you to do everything he said and for you to live according to his will.

He would view marriage as a way of establishing complete control and ownership over his partner. It would be a way of ensuring that you would be his and his alone and that you would always be with him and could never leave. It would be a way of ensuring that you could never escape from him, and would be forced to submit to his will for the rest of your life.

He would view children as the ultimate form of control and ownership over you. It would be a way of solidifying his bond with you and ensuring that you could never leave him. It would also be a way of making you forever dependent on him and ensuring that he would always have a degree of control over your lives as well. He would see children as the perfect way of ensuring your undying devotion and submission to him.

He would view you through a very twisted and obsessive lens. His every thought and action would be driven by a deep-seated need to possess and control you. You would not be seen as an individual person with your own thoughts and emotions, rather you would be seen as a means to satisfy his own needs, desires, and delusions. He would see you as an object of his obsession and desire, nothing more, and nothing less.

It is hard to say whether or not he actually genuinely loves you in the conventional sense. I believe that in the twisted world of a yandere, his definition of love could be seen as something more akin to obsession or domination. From his own perspective, he might truly love you in the sense that you are something that he needs and desires beyond any sort of self-control or reason. However, a yandere's twisted mind would not be able to distinguish the difference between love and obsession. In the end, it's all about power and control.

He would want you to know that his obsessive and twisted behavior is a form of affection and love and that he only means to protect and care for you. That ultimately, he would do anything to keep you happy and safe, and that he would never intentionally hurt you. He would also want you to know that his possessive and obsessive nature stems from a deep-seated need to protect and keep you all to himself and that it is a reflection of his inner insecurities and fears.

Some of his favorite kinks include power exchange, dominance/submission, possession, and ownership.

He also enjoys exploring his darker and twisted side, such as fear play, humiliation, and degradation. He finds that these kinks give him a sense of control and mastery over you and that he can exert his dominance over you.

He is also a fan of passionate and romantic intimacy, he enjoys making a connection with you and sharing a deep bond.

He enjoys exploring your body and discovering new sensations, he is also a fan of foreplay, and he likes to take his time, build up anticipation, and build up tension before the main event.

Another one of his favorite kinks is outdoor play. He enjoys the nature and fresh air and he likes to take advantage of it by exploring new areas and engaging in intimate encounters.

He also has a thing for water and enjoys exploring its elements during intimate moments. He likes to take showers and baths together, and he will also get physical with you in pools or beaches.

#ragnar lothbrok x reader #ragnar lothbrok #vikings #vikings fic #vikings ragnar lothbrok #yandere ragnar lothbrok #tw yandere #yandere #history channels vikings #dating would include