#assassinverse
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Rest // D. Grayson x gn!reader
Requested? Yes!
Warnings: illness, mentions of child assassins, not Titans!verse I just think Brenton is pretty
Summary: You’re feeling sick but refuse to admit you are. Damian intervenes and makes sure Dick is aware of the problem.
This is apart of Assassin!verse that you can read here
You had been shot, stabbed, poisoned, thrown through windows, and broken numerous bones, but for some reason, this sore throat was going to be the end of you. When you woke up that morning, it started as a simple scratchy throat that had bloomed into some demonic rash of pain that coated your throat and made every swallow feel like knives scraping against your skin.
“You are unwell,” Damian observed. You ignored him in favor of jabbing the small needle through the taut fabric and tugging it down. Cass had recommended embroidery as a hobby you should try out and you found that it was soothing, fun, and an outlet for you. After spending years surrounded by silence and met with anger if you spoke out of turn, sometimes you needed to retreat from the constant noise of the Wayne Manor.
While you had your apartment in Bludhaven, some problems in Gotham required the both of you, and Haley of course, to stay at the Manor for a few days.
Where two of the family members attended school and the others interacted with the public every single day.
So, of course, you got sick.
You stabbed the point into the fabric once more and pulled it taut. You hoped that Tim would like the screaming possum design you were making for him. He loved sending you those memes and delighted in the fact that he gets to teach you about memes and pop culture.
“I’m fine.” You internally winced at how rough your voice sounded. Nothing screamed “picture of health” more than sounding like you were choking on gravel. Your head pounded, the ache radiating at your temples and along the sides, and your nose felt like cotton was shoved up there. All in all, you felt miserable. All you wanted to do was go back to the queen sized mattress shoved in Dick’s old bedroom and sleep for a thousand years.
But Dick, Bruce, and Tim were all making appearances at a gala to collect intel and you needed to stay awake so you could assist if something happened. What if the gala was under attack? Or what if they needed a quick getaway? Or what if-
The couch dipped as Damian crawled onto the cushion next to you. He settled in comfortably, Alfred the cat resting comfortably in his arms, and blinked up at you with those wide eyes of his. You set your embroidery down and gave him your full attention.
While Dick was your closest friend, companion, and lover, Damian understood you better than anyone aside from Cass. Damian knew what it was like to be trained from a young age. When Dick first brought you to Wayne Manor, bloodied and weak and still as fiercely on guard, Damian was the first person to gain your trust aside from Dick. And if this kid was your boyfriend’s brother, then dammit, he was your little brother too.
“When I first came to live with Father, he sat me down one day and told me that it is one thing to know when to be on guard and ready. But it’s another thing to live your life always on edge waiting for the next attack. Father helped me realize that I was living my life feeling like I was never safe made me sure that I would never be safe. He assured me that he and the family would never let anything happen to me.”
Your mind was cloudy with fatigue and fever, but you nodded slowly as you tried to grasp what he meant. “Okay…?”
Damian turned to face you fully, the little tuxedo cat in his lap snuggling in closer to his owner’s arms. “We would never let anything happen to you or to one another. You can rest.”
You swallowed painfully against your aching throat and offered him a tight smile. “Thank you, Dami. I’m fine.”
He huffed and climbed off the couch. “You’re not fine. I am telling Pennyworth.”
“Don’t!” The exclamation left you so quickly that he looked at you with more concern than before. “He’s busy right now. He doesn’t need to be bothered with a little sniffle. Please don’t tell him. I swear I’m fine.”
He stared at you, doubt written all over his face, and then sighed. “You are more stubborn than Richard. It’s a miracle the two of you get anything done.”
With that, Damian and Alfred the cat exited the room. Silence fell over the leather furniture and aging books once more. You inhaled deeply, fighting against the stabbing pain of your sinuses, and focused on your embroidery once more.
It wasn’t a half hour before the door to the library flew open. Dick strode in, impeccably dressed in a perfectly tailored tuxedo. Damian. That little rat.
“I’m fine!” you insisted. Damian peeked out from around the doorframe and you, the adult, stuck your tongue out at him. He merely smirked and disappeared, probably to go find his next victim.
“Richard, I am fine,” you snapped. He ignored your protests and laid the back of his hand against your cheek before doing the same to your forehead. You shuddered at the cool touch of his skin against yours and he immediately stepped back.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dick demanded.
“Because I knew you would blow it out of proportion and make a big deal out of nothing,” you retorted.
“You’re burning up. And Damian said your lungs rattled a bit when you took a breath.”
“Damian’s a trained liar.”
“Stop with the bullshit!” His outburst caused you to pause. It really wasn’t that big of a deal. You had been in much worse condition than a little cold.
“I don’t understand what I did wrong,” you said quietly. Therapy with Dinah was helping you express your emotions, as she said. It helped in times like this. Dick’s face crumpled and then he pulled on the mask of assuredness that you were used to seeing. He crouched down so you were face to face rather than him towering over you.
“You don’t have to act like everything is fine, Buttercup. You’re allowed to let your guard down. You’re allowed to get sick.”
“But I can’t,” you blurted out. “If I’m sick and you or one of the others needs me-”
“We have legions of people that can help us,” he interrupted. Dick reached up to gently cup your cheek in the palm of his hand. “You are allowed to rest.”
“My head hurts,” you admitted.
He smiled that crooked grin of his and you shut your eyes, inhaling deeply. He stroked gentle lines across your face and of course he was still there once you opened your eyes once more.
“I’m tired.”
He stood, his hand falling from your cheek and entangling itself with your free hand. You set the embroidery down on the coffee table and stood. Before you could take one step, Dick swept you into his arms and started down the hall towards the bedrooms.
“You realize that I’m going to coddle you until you’re back to normal?”
You tightened your grip on his neck and grinned. “Can we watch Riverdale?”
“I’m going to throw Timmy off of a fucking roof for introducing you to that show.”
Tag List: @someoneimsure @perpetual-fangirl900 @visagebrise @cursedandromedablack @alexxavicry @the-wayward-daughter @raging-trash-of-mind @bunny-kawa @khaylin27
#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson imagine#dick grayson#nightwing x reader#nightwing imagine#assassinverse
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Shandi’s Whumptober!
I had no ideas for this prompt, but then pictures of hot rock stars helped me so enjoy!! This’ll be another one for the Assassinverse!
~Shandi
Day 25: Silence Is Golden
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Paul cursed himself for his stupidity. He had gone for so long without getting caught. Tonight that lucky streak ended. Now he was being tied to a chair. The ropes tightened painfully around his torso. “Oww!! I need to breathe you know, assholes!!”
“Relax. The Boss’ll be with you soon. He’ll know what to do with ya.”
Paul rolled his eyes as they laughed and slammed the door behind them. Pricks. When he got out they’d be the first ones to die. He waited and waited for what seemed like hours until the door finally opened again.
“Well well..what do we have here?” A tall figure walked past him and sat down in the opposite chair. A hat and shades concealed most of his face, but the open shirt showed off a good portion of his impressive looking chest~ “My boys tell me you’re an assassin.” When Paul didn’t answer he took a tube of lipstick out of his coat pocket. “I know this is yours. I know you were plannin’ to kill me. I think you better start talkin’.”
Paul still refused to reply. He just turned away. Damn, that guy’s chest was distracting! Of course he wouldn’t be allowed to ignore questioning that easy. His head was grabbed and forced back around.
“Not talkin’s not gonna get you outta here any faster, beautiful. Tell me who sent you.”
“S-someone who hates your guts..”
“That’s a long list. They’d have to wait in line.”
“Why do you think I was hired?”
“Gettin’ impatient, I guess. I’ll have to send ‘em back your pretty head to get ‘em to fall back in line.”
Paul turned pale. Was he really going to die tonight?
“Unless..”
“Unless..?”
“You’ve got somethin’ else to offer me. And maybe I’ll forget this whole thing.”
“What could I possibly offer someone like you?”
“I’m a fair guy, contrary to popular belief. Somebody wants me gone? I can just go to a different country. No fuss, no muss. I’m not interested in dying. I’m not interested in constantly having to keep assassins off my back. But you gotta keep ‘em off me.”
“You want me to tell the client you’re dead?”
“Yep. Easy right?”
“You sure your ego can take such a hit? A small time assassin like me taking down the big Joe Perry?”
“What I don’t know won’t kill me.”
“I didn’t expect you to be so reasonable. I bet the client doesn’t know how suave you can be~”
“I got my moments.”
“Why don’t you untie me..and we can see how much further your suavity can take you~?”
“Maybe..that’s a deal I’d be willin’ to take a chance on~” Joe picked up a knife from his desk and cut Paul’s ropes. “How ‘bout we start with a drink?”
“I’m in if you have wine~”
~END~
#Whumptober 2022#the StarChild Assassin#Paul gets himself out of some serious touble~#courtesy of Liv: Mansplain Manipulate Manwhore Paul#🤣🤣🤣
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This is one of my OCs Knives! They're a professional assassin who exclusively uses knives to fight. They never talk and always wear a gas mask so no-one really knows what they look like. They're the no. 2 ranked assassin in my OC universe called Assassinverse!
#art#artists on tumblr#my art#fruits of the vessel#oc art#my oc#oc#knives#assassin#hand drawn#pen#this was super fun to draw#i should draw more stuff for this universe#or at least write about it a little more#i might draw some of the other assassins since there's a lot of them#and i need a place to info dump about them#anyways#hope people enjoy this#also i loved drawing so many different knives#and the fancy version of knives' cloak thing#that cloak is bulletproof also
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chiaki voice: i killed a man with this thumb
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Unfortunate Reunion: Closed
[Closed Thread with @blondie-brawler]
Post Vol.3-Vol.4, altered Timeline
-----------------
She missed her....She really did...Not a day went by that she didn’t think about her...but it always did hurt...And she hated it....Blake Belladonna...A freelance Assassin, doing whatever she can to survive and avoid any trouble.
Things...weren’t always like this..She met her back at Beacon Academy....Her...being Yang Xiao Long. The beautiful, blonde brawler who took on pretty much any challenge that dared confront her. That was one of the things she admired most about her....Something she lacked....Something she thirsted for...Strength....Confidence...That’s some of the things that made her special to Blake...and it killed a part of her...for leaving her like that...She didn’t have much of a choice..not while she was in that condition. No...She wouldn’t endanger them any longer because of her...Because of her betrayal to the White Fang..
She disappeared after the Fall, not leaving a single trace. Some presumed she was dead, and she kept it just like that. Every person that needed someone put down, she would give them her fake name. She would put the target or the client down, and she would move on. She didn’t kill just for the hell of it, or just for the money. She specifically aimed it towards any potential threats, and members of the White Fang. Those that were too far gone into Adam’s ambitious and blood-covered ideals. Every kill....Every assassination...it would slowly bring her closer to him.
Now, she was to target one of the higher-ups. A lieutenant of sort. Watching him closely, carefully, studying every single movement and behavior. She waited, and waited, and waited through the night. It was almost 3 A.M. when he made his move. Completely drunk and vulnerable, he decided to follow a blonde out, keeping his distance. She remembered a movie, oddly enough, with an almost identical scenario. She found it funny that she could even think about that right now. Following him from above, staying hidden as he followed the blonde, then eventually leading into an alley. Perfect. Though, the blonde didn’t look like she was going to have it....It was as if deja vu was there...a familiar feeling..She shook it off, drawing her blade from behind. She would wait before he was wide open, then she’d strike, blade going through his shoulder. Now, she went down to quickly finish the job before said blonde did anything to interfere. Despite his injury, he wasn’t going down without a fight.
Several painful minutes later, the lieutenant lied there on the cold ground, dead..Blake stood there for a moment, making sure he wasn’t going to get up again, but she completely forgot about the blonde just a close distance away.
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{{ shipping info // answer the following for your muse(s) so people know how shipping works on your blog. }}
repost don’t reblog
WHAT’S YOUR OTP FOR YOUR MUSE?:
Oh man… so, my OTPs vary, depending. Gonna go with my main OTPs: Cherik, Shwatsonlock, Hartmon, Bartley, FrostIron, Arthur/Eames, Bane/Blake, Bane/Barsad, Bane/Blake/Barsad(my main OT3), Cyber Husbands, Fiskley, Feyriel/Viorlath(Moon’s DA OC) and a few others.
WHAT ARE YOU WILLING TO RP WHEN IT COMES TO SHIPPING?:
Pretty much anything, if the chemistry is right. Certain muses have specific requirements, while others are way more open. Any muse on my muse page under the “Demisexual” category (which is also for ace/other muses) are a lot more picky about shipping, and require more of a build-up than most other muses. Though a few homo/bi/pan characters also have other requirements/guidelines. Like… Loki? SUPER easy to sleep with him, but he is primarily aromantic, so romance is a tough one. Or Barsad, who is bisexual/demiromantic; he is widowed and has a hard time imagining himself being with anyone ever again, so romantic shipping would be HELLA slowburn with him. Types of ships I dig: domestic, fluffy, purely sexual, dark/toxic(as long as it’s not romanticized), angst, hurt/comfort(Hartley’s Mutantverse js), platonic and healthy polyships as well! Slowburn is my shiiiit
HOW LARGE DOES THE AGE GAP HAVE TO BE TO MAKE IT UNCOMFORTABLE?:
Mmm… this depends? Loki is old AF, but I will ship him with adult human muses regardless, so it’s hard to put a number on that. I also have muses that prefer older partners? Like Hartley, John Blake, or Warren. There is also JARVIS, who’s android form is generally set at the age of a couple years, max. But he’s an android that has had sentience for a long while, so?? Idk. My only thing is;
NO UNDERAGE SHIPPING AT ALL. Childhood crushes that aren’t acted on until adulthood are fine, but don’t get explicit with children… I don’t care if a muse is 17, they are still a child in the eyes of the law, the Mun, and the muses.
ARE YOU SELECTIVE WHEN SHIPPING?:
Mmmmm… a bit? I am selective in general due to anxiety and my own limitations, but shipping with me takes discussion. Like…. you wanna ship with me? AWESOME, send an IM or an ask. The only pre-established relationship I am generally okay with without discussion or build-up first is either Sherlock Holmes with John Watson, or Charles Xavier with Erik Lehnsherr. And even then, chemistry is a must and if I don’t feel it, I won’t do it.
Some muses are shiplocked (Feyriel with Viorlarth) some are highly selective just based on who they are (Arthur, Wesley, and Barsad, for instance) and some are only open for specific kinds of ships. It’s all very dependent and I am more than happy to discuss a ship regardless, so feel free to hmu!!
HOW FAR DO STEAMY MOMENTS HAVE TO GO BEFORE THEY’RE CONSIDERED NS.FW?
Mmmm… depends. Essentially it’s more mentions of specific physical reactions to arousal or anatomy mentions, usually. Though like with Assassinverse Charles, sometimes NSFW// tag will need to be added simply because hatefucking that starts with beating the shit out of someone can be a bit… much LOL (looking at you @histcrian)
WHO ARE OTHER MUSES YOU SHIP YOUR MUSE WITH?:
I ship so much there is no way I can answer this omfg. I ship with canon, crossover, and OCs, depending on chemistry with muses AND with muns.
DOES ONE HAVE TO ASK TO SHIP WITH YOU?:
Sometimes things just develop naturally, which is fine, but I do prefer to be spoken to about a ship or shippy things before they are tossed at me/my muses. I have two OTPs which are exceptions, but otherwise I feel way more comfortable talking about it? Also cause I have a few NOTPs that are actually pretty popular pairings, so it’s best not to assume. *gestures vaguely*
Basically… please talk to me. I love talking to Muns and getting to know them. Friends are great, and I am way more comfortable shipping with someone’s muses that I can talk to OOC and geek with, y’know?
HOW OFTEN DO YOU LIKE TO SHIP?:
I am weak for shipping, I won’t even lie. I love all sorts of ships, and trying out new, unexpected ships(fuckin’ Vicabod, man) is always super exciting for me. even if the ship goes badly, isn’t it still fun to explore? ♥
ARE YOU SHIP OBSESSED OR SHIP MORE-OR-LESS?:
Lol I am a fucking NERD when it comes to my ships. I literally dream about my OTPs, and will reread RP logs from half a decade ago and sigh wistfully.
ARE YOU MULTISHIP?:
YES. The only muse that is shiplocked/exclusively shipping atm is Feyriel with Viorlath(who will remain so, damnit).
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SHIP IN YOUR CURRENT FANDOM?:
Oh fuck me, there is no way I can answer this for all my goddamn fandoms, but right now? I am really feeling Vicabod, Matt/Tony, HartBurn, Hartmon, Warren/Moon, Alerion/Dorian, and Feyriel/Viorlath
FINALLY, HOW DOES ONE SHIP WITH YOU?:
Message me!! Talk to me!! Send me asks!! Geek out with Mun OOC and shipping will go so much more smoothly, I promise you.
tagged by: I stole it tbh
tagging: uhhh idk... everyone?? hey. hey you. do the thing. and tag me, cause I wanna know what other people say about this haha
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@histcrian asked for a cheesy movie poster with their OC and @theirvoices assassinverse Charles Xavier... well, here ya go! (posted earlier on my RP blog RIP me I forgot to post it here)
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divinerxeclipsed:
This was unbearable. Intolerable. Isa could not take it anymore. Xemnas had taken everything from him, and Isa had nothing left. Nothing but Lea, and he wouldn’t allow Xemnas to take him too.
If anything, Isa was only shocked it had taken Xemnas two years to move against him like this. Xemnas hadn’t hesitated to poison Isa’s family. It was only luck Isa’d survived, luck that Lea hadn’t tasted the pheasant. If he’d woken up to know that Lea was gone, too, with his parents, Isa didn’t know what he would have done. And now to blame Lea for the poisoning, to take Isa’s last human support away and blame him for Isa’s parents’ deaths, after everything else… No.
He wouldn’t allow it.
At least Isa had the support of the servants, if not the guard anymore. Xemnas had replaced most of them with Xigbar’s hand-picked mercenaries, but the servants Isa had grown up with. The kitchen staff pointedly didn’t see him pass through, armored in plate and sword in hand and great wolfhound at his heels. The stablemaster and grooms went about their business as if he weren’t saddling his destrier in the middle of the night and leading him out. Even what remained of the old guard looked away and pretended they didn’t see Isa.
Xigbar’s guards were another story.
Isa didn’t give any of them time to call for help. He was beyond caring. He’d never killed another person before tonight, but they stood between him and Lea. Isa vented his rage and his grief in the heat of battle, untouchable in his plate. By the time he reached Lea’s cell, keys in hand, Isa’s armor and sword were splattered with blood.
“Come on,” Isa said, barely even out of breath as he turned the keys in the lock. “There’s not much time.”
Shouts and screams echoing down the dungeon halls made Lea stiffen, but not back away from the bars. What was all that? King Viper, he thought with a flash of desperate hope. But if Isa’s grandfather meant to send aid, he would have by now. Lea was bitterly glad he hadn’t risked leaving Isa’s side to ask for it.
So, if not that...
He knew, in a way. Before Isa even reached him, Lea knew. Maybe because this must have snapped the same string in Isa that it did in him. Lea could only hope it didn’t doom them both, but there’d be time to worry about that later.
You shouldn’t have come for me.
Not that Lea bothered saying so. It’d waste time they didn’t have right now, but Isa probably saw it in his eyes--along with the same gratitude that had been in them when Isa bought Lea’s loyalty forever with a pastry and a caring ear. He was pushing the door free almost before Isa got finished opening it, and if it weren’t for Isa’s plate Lea would have wasted seconds on a kiss anyway. Instead, he cupped Isa’s armored face very briefly and spoke in a voice that didn’t shake in spite of the tears in his eyes. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Always.
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It’s White and Gold // D. Grayson x f!reader
Requested: yes!
Warnings: insecurity
Summary: You would be stepping out in public as Dick Grayson’s girlfriend for the very first time and you needed something formal to wear. Well, fuck.
Part of assassin!verse but can be read alone
“Well, I think the only reasonable solution here is that I go ask Ivy if she can concoct something that will keep me housebound for a week and we have to cancel the date,” you announced from the other side of the curtain. Stephanie booed as Cassandra tossed a shoe at your feet. You emerged from the thick rayon fabric and sent a half-hearted glare at the three women seated in front of you. You spun in a slow circle, your arms extended at your side to show off the dress Cass had picked out. Barbara glanced up from her phone and scrunched her nose up.
“Nah. Too much sequins. That would be so uncomfortable to eat in,” she declared. You dropped your arms to your sides and grimaced. She was right. The little plastic circles dug into your skin and it would be a bitch and a half to move around in.
“Fuck it. I’m staying home,” you declared.
“Who taught her that word?” Damian sighed as he emerged from the racks. “Right. Todd. I don’t know why I even bothered to ask. May I just say, those sequins are awful.”
“Thank you, tiny Tan France,” Stephanie said. “We get it. It’s a bad dress.”
“Sorry, Steph.” You knew she wasn’t taking the criticism to heart even if she had picked the dress. It was just the first time you would be going on a real date with Dick to some high-end Bludhaven restaurant as both a PR opportunity and as a mission. Rumor had it that a certain politician would be present with one of the largest cartel leaders and Dick needed a chance to bug their dinner and gather intel.
Which meant that you would be stepping out in public as Dick Grayson’s girlfriend.
Dick Grayson, the son of the Prince of Gotham. The Heartthrob of Bludhaven.
The man who fell asleep into his oatmeal this morning.
“Is it too late for me to fake my death, change my name, and fall off the face of the earth?”
“Been there, done that,” Damian hummed. “Father can’t possibly do even more of that paperwork. It nearly took him out the first time.”
Cass nodded. “No, no. This could work. He ate the last oreos. Go ahead. Fake your death.”
“No one is faking anyone’s death,” Barbara cut in. “Let’s just try a different store.”
You groaned. “This is the fourth store we’ve tried and we have three hours until reservations. I might as well just go in sweats and call it a night.”
Stepping back into the dressing room, you ignored the bickering outside from your entourage and instead focused on stripping off the dress and putting it back on the hanger. It wasn’t your fault you didn’t have any formal wear. You were never assigned jobs where you needed to get dressed up. Your role was always to hide in the shadows, not to be seen. This was the exact opposite of what your training required and it was starting to grate on your nerves. How could you do this?
As if he could sense your frustration, your phone rang from the pile of your belongings tucked on the bench in the dressing room. You picked it up and glanced at the caller ID, a small smile crossing your lips as you swiped your thumb across the screen and answered.
“Hi, Buttercup,” Dick greeted. Warmth suffused through your veins at his soft greeting and you ducked your head as heat rose to your face. Fucking hell, you had at least seventeen confirmed kills under your belt and Richard Grayson made you feel like a schoolgirl with a crush.
“Hey,” you replied. “Are you cool with me wearing a bathrobe and slippers to dinner tonight?”
He laughed and you wished desperately that he was here in this tiny dressing room with you. You wanted to feel his hands enclose around your waist, stroke along your skin, and kiss your temple. You wanted to feel the safety he offered. You had four Batlings sitting on the other side of the flimsy curtain and you had years of training, but you never felt as safe as you did when Dick was near.
“Babe, you could wear one of my old shirts and those cute little shorts you wear and I wouldn’t care. I take it shopping isn’t going well?”
“I didn’t realize Damian religiously watches Queer Eye and Drag Race because you would think I’ve committed the most egregious fashion sins with the options I picked.”
He laughed again and then sighed. “I figured it wasn’t going well since you weren’t home yet. Stop stressing yourself out, baby, I can hear you thinking over the phone. Anything you wear is going to look amazing, okay? Just wear whatever makes you comfortable.”
“But the media…”
“Fuck the paparazzi. Fuck them all. Your comfort is more important than a stupid magazine cover.”
You gave up fighting the grin that spread across your face and shook your head. Holding the phone with one hand, you tugged your pants on with the other. “Okay. We’ll try one more store and if I can’t find anything, I’ll come home and figure it out.”
“Good. I miss you, Buttercup.”
“Miss you too, Westley.”
You hung up so you could pull your shirt over your head (it was actually Dick’s shirt that you had stolen but he wasn’t going to argue) and gathered up your wallet and keys. You emerged from the dressing room to join the others and your little gaggle of Batlings led you to another shop at the mall.
“Wait,” you called once your eyes caught on a mannequin in the window of some store. Steph nearly collided with you when you stopped in the middle of walking. The blonde examined the outfit and a crooked grin spread across her face.
“Oh, that’s perfect,” she cooed. “Let’s go try it on.”
Dick kept himself entertained as he waited for you by playing fetch with Haley. Cass and Steph had practically shoved you into the apartment with a bag clutched in your hand, waved at Dick, and disappeared as you darted towards the bedroom before he could say anything. He was glad he already changed into his tux because the clock was inching closer to your reservation time.
The bedroom door creaked with its aged hinges but it was enough to catch his attention. Dick raised his head and promptly lost all ability to breathe, think, and speak. You offered him a shy smile and ran your hands over the soft fabric that clung to your body. A thick strap rested over one shoulder, leaving your neck and arms exposed, and pulled taut across your chest. You had forgone a dress, but the jumpsuit was still formal enough for the restaurant you were attending.
And it was Nightwing blue.
“How does it look?” you asked, your voice quiet with apprehension. Dick sucked in a big gulp of air and he dropped the ball in his hand, sending Haley scrabbling across the wood in pursuit. He rose and crossed the room to stand before you. His hands rose to hover over your hips as his eyes raked over every inch of your body.
“Beautiful,” he whispered. His hands finally came down to settle on your waist and then drifted down to cup the back of your thighs, pulling you into his chest. You laughed at his desperation and eagerness.
“Is that a knife strapped to your thigh?” he murmured against your lips. You fixed the lapels of his suit and smoothed them down, a mischievous smile taking hold of your face.
“Ready to go to work, Mr. Grayson?” you teased.
“I owe Steph my life,” he groaned.
Tag List: @someoneimsure @perpetual-fangirl900 @visagebrise @cursedandromedablack @alexxavicry @the-wayward-daughter @raging-trash-of-mind @bunny-kawa @khaylin27
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\m/
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Learning the Art: starter for hardworkingjafar
Al Thamen Academy for the Specially Gifted.
To the normal, boring people of the world, this school was merely a place for the elite to polish off average skills. A place for the average to become slightly above average.
This was not the case.
Take Judar. A technological genius, the praise he had received from the people around him was just so tedious…so he’d begun taking on…hobbies….hobbies which included spilling blood.
That was exciting. That was a challenge. And it was these “hobbies” that caught the attention of the “prestigious” school.
And now the Raven haired Hacker was sitting in the back of a classroom, typing away on his computer. His hood was up, hiding his face completely, and he made no eye contact with anyone at all…
A social outcast really…
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oh my god assassin chiaki absolutely sends people she’s been assigned to kill a little red flag before she kills them
not only does it make the game more interesting if they know they’re being targeted but
it’s a literal goddamn death flag
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Leo was sat on a table out front. The table was in the front garden just for the purpose of him being able to sit on it, and he was, a cigarette in one hand, and his head tilted slightly to the side so that he knew when to run away if the neighbours decided to approach. It was a hot day, and he could already smell the telltale scent of someone starting a barbecue.
Footsteps distracted his attention, and he tilted his head the other way, looking over to see one of the obnoxious neighbours who had already seen him. It was a bit shit that Leo couldn't just blend in with the table. That would be really helpful right now. Although he could just leave, but he was trying to smoke his fucking cigarette.
"Hey, uh, Leo! How you doing, pal?" Neighbour #1 chirped at him, having jogged over to his table.
Leo stared straight ahead of him, taking a drag from his cigarette. Neighbour #1 had just been for a run...or a walk...a jog? Powerwalk...? Leo didn't know. One time Neighbour #1 had tried to run with Leo, but it'd been far too easy to outrun him.
"I'm not dead yet," Leo answered, flicking the ash from his cigarette.
Neighbour #1 was unfortunately not affected by the answer. "That's great! You, uh, you do anymore, uh, running lately?"
This was tragic. "Yeah."
"That's great!" The repetition made Leo want to slam someone's head into something solid as he inhaled from the cigarette again. "You know, you shouldn't smoke. It's, uh, it's real bad for you."
"So's gettin' shot," Leo said casually, putting it out as he exhaled smoke through his nose. He stood up, stepping off of the table, and barely looked back at Neighbour #1 as he walked past into the house to avoid social contact for the rest of the day.
Also, ice cream and Hyun.
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{{ shipping info // answer the following for your muse(s) so people know how shipping works on your blog. }}
repost don’t reblog
WHAT’S YOUR OTP FOR YOUR MUSE?:
Oh man... so, my OTPs vary, depending. Gonna go with my main OTPs: Cherik, Shwatsonlock, Hartmon, Bartley, Quinvy, FrostIron, Arthur/Eames, Bane/Blake, Bane/Barsad, Bane/Blake/Barsad(my main OT3), JARVIS/Tony, Fisk/Wesley, Feyriel/Viorlath(Moon’s DA OC) and a few others.
WHAT ARE YOU WILLING TO RP WHEN IT COMES TO SHIPPING?:
Pretty much anything, if the chemistry is right. Certain muses have specific requirements, while others are way more open. Any muse on my muse page under the “Demisexual” category (which is also for sapio/ace muses) are a lot more picky about shipping, and require more of a build-up than most other muses. Though a few homo/bi/pan characters also have other requirements/guidelines. Like... Loki? SUPER easy to sleep with him, but he is primarily aromantic, so romance is a tough one. Or Barsad, who is bisexual/demiromantic; he is widowed and has a hard time imagining himself being with anyone ever again, so romantic shipping would be HELLA slowburn with him. Types of ships I dig: domestic, fluffy, purely sexual, dark/toxic(as long as it’s not romanticized), angst, hurt/comfort(Hartley’s Mutantverse js), platonic and healthy polyships as well!
HOW LARGE DOES THE AGE GAP HAVE TO BE TO MAKE IT UNCOMFORTABLE?:
Mmm... this depends? Loki is old AF, but I will ship him with adult human muses regardless, so it’s hard to put a number on that. I also have muses that prefer older partners? Like Hartley, John Blake, or Warren. There is also JARVIS, who’s android form is generally set at the age of a couple years, max. But he’s an android that has had sentience for a long while, so?? Idk. My only thing is;
NO UNDERAGE SHIPPING AT ALL. Childhood crushes that aren’t acted on until adulthood are fine, but don’t get explicit with children... I don’t care if a muse is 17, they are still a child in the eyes of the law, the Mun, and the muses.
ARE YOU SELECTIVE WHEN SHIPPING?:
Mmmmm... a bit? I am selective in general due to anxiety and my own limitations, but shipping with takes discussion. Like.... you wanna ship with me? AWESOME, send me an IM or and ask. The only pre-established relationship I am generally okay with without discussion or build-up first is either Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, or Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr. And even then, chemistry is a must and if I don’t feel it, I won’t do it.
Some muses are shiplocked (Feyriel with Viorlarth) some are highly selective just based on who they are (Arthur, Wesley, and Barsad, for instance) and some are only open for specific kinds of ships. It’s all very dependent and I am more than happy to discuss a ship regardless, so feel free to hmu!!
HOW FAR DO STEAMY MOMENTS HAVE TO GO BEFORE THEY’RE CONSIDERED NS.FW?
Mmmm... depends. Essentially it’s more mentions of specific physical reactions to arousal or anatomy mentions, usually. Though like with Assassinverse Charles, sometimes NSFW// tag will need to be added simply because hatefucking that starts with beating the shit out of someone can be a bit... much LOL
WHO ARE OTHER MUSES YOU SHIP YOUR MUSE WITH?:
I ship so much there is no way I can answer this omfg. I ship with canon, crossover, and OCs, depending on chemistry with muses AND with muns.
DOES ONE HAVE TO ASK TO SHIP WITH YOU?:
Sometimes things just develop naturally, which is fine, but I do prefer to be spoken to about a ship or shippy things before they are tossed at me/my muses. I have two OTPs which are exceptions, but otherwise I feel way more comfortable talking about it? Also cause I have a few NOTPs that are actually pretty popular pairings, so it’s best not to assume. *gestures vaguely*
Basically... please talk to me. I love talking to Muns and getting to know them. Friends are great, and I am way more comfortable shipping with someone’s muses that I can talk to OOC and geek with, y’know?
HOW OFTEN DO YOU LIKE TO SHIP?:
I am weak for shipping, I won’t even lie. I love all sorts of ships, and trying out new, unexpected ships(fuckin’ Vicabod, man) is always super exciting for me. even if the ship goes badly, isn’t it still fun to explore? ♥
ARE YOU SHIP OBSESSED OR SHIP MORE-OR-LESS?:
Lol I am a fucking NERD when it comes to my ships. I literally dream about my OTPs, and will reread RP logs from half a decade ago and sigh wistfully.
ARE YOU MULTISHIP?:
YES. My only muse that is shiplocked atm is Feyriel(who will remain so, damnit) and also Sam.... but Sam is also a muse I will only play with against Jimmy(Moon’s OC). Also Ivy is in the same boat with Moon’s Harley.
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SHIP IN YOUR CURRENT FANDOM?:
Oh fuck me, there is no way I can answer this for all my goddamn fandoms, but right now? I am really feeling Cherik and JARVIS/Tony... also JARVIS/Walter, but idk if that is a platonic ship or something else, so yeah LOL basically JARVIS just adores Walter and wants to make him as happy as he can be
FINALLY, HOW DOES ONE SHIP WITH YOU?:
Message me!! Talk to me!! Send me asks!! Geek out with Mun OOC and shipping will go so much more smoothly, I promise you.
tagged by: I stole it tbh
tagging: @pawprintsonmoonbeams / @histcrian / @withoutxfear / @selflessdoctor
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Coexist // D. Grayson x assassin!reader
A/N: I'm alive. This is...a Lot. Maybe taking a break from writing was a mistake lol
Requested? yes but also no. I took an idea and decided to try and rival Usain Bolt with this sprint
Warnings (PLS READ FOR THIS ONE): a lotttt of introspective thoughts, existential crisis, grief, allusion to child loss, reader's past as an assassin, confusing language as a representation of the confusing and frustrating world we live in
the gif is really just bc i need something to break up the wall of text and his face is pretty
Assassin!Verse masterlist
You barely recall being awoken. On the precipice of sleep and wakefulness, you allowed yourself to reside in that quiet place. For so long you lived alert to the latent dangers of the world, but there was no prickle of anxiety on your skin this time. Not when Dick sat so closely next to you.
His hands rested, one on the steering wheel and the other on the gear shift. He had woken you when the sky was still dark, but the phantom calls of birds rang out amongst the stars as they searched for the coming sun. His touch was gentle, as it always was with you, and his words spoken gentler so he didn’t wake Damian who had declared himself your guardian.
The faux leather upholstery was cool against your cheek and you savored the way it soothed your burning cheeks. You don’t know when the salty tang of tears began to drip down your cheeks. Had you been crying for the whole drive? Or had the tears always been a part of you, but only now they were exposing themselves as your mask slowly chipped away?
He pulled the car into a small lot that was composed of a few concrete blocks that functioned as parking barriers and grass trampled by hundreds of feet. Dick wordlessly exited the car and took a moment to inhale before he rounded to your side and opened the door. You felt clumsy and shy, like a newborn foal trying to walk for the first time. What happened to the grace that was instilled in you? It wasn’t lost, you knew that, but today was not about who they had made you to be.
He pressed the stems of the bouquet into your hands and the presence of soft, bumpy earth bit into your skin with a mental sharpness that rivaled thorns. The sharp exhale and inhale of your breath mixed in a tentative dance with the cool air that nipped at your skin. It was bitterly cold. It was practically frozen.
It was a perfect reminder of your mortality. You loved it.
Dick walked in tandem with you. Up the lane, past the wrought iron gates that creaked in greeting, and past the weathered stones and marble blocks that showed so little of so lived a life. He faltered in his steps once you caught sight of the small stone and his hand fell from its careful place in the crook of your elbow. You surged forward and let your heart carry you with all its heaviness.
It wasn’t a conscious decision to fall to your knees and present the bundle of red and white spider lilies, but it happened and there you were. You were here and there. You were the lines of etchings engraved into stone and you were the finger touching the worn surface. Other flowers crowded you as you sank into the unfathomable realization.
Most people (you cannot bring yourself to say all because you are proof that it is not all, and you know others who struggle with this realization) only live one life. There is no guidebook that explains step by step how to proceed in this big, scary world around you. Every person from the barista at the corner coffee shop to your own mother are all experiencing the world for the first time. They are experiencing the profound joy of the simple things and the devastating loss of the greatest loves of their lives.
You are one of these people. You are not one of these people.
Before you sat an epithet to the person you were. There is no space in your mind to consider the life you might have lived if the things that happened to you hadn’t happened at all. But would that have been you? You have had these discussions with Alfred many times late at night, raving at a God who, if he exists, destined you to a life with stains of blood on your hands placed there by people who should have protected you.
The sun crests the hill and bathes the world in an unfelt warmth and it ignites the anger in your veins. How dare these people weep for a child they barely knew? You hate yourself for thinking it. How dare you grow angry at the love of a parent?
They knew you. They don’t know you.
You are two people; a ghost and a mirage kneel side by side on the frozen ground that covers an empty casket. Your name marks the stone, but it is not the name you call yourself. It does not ignite the warmth of familiarity that it does when it comes from the tongue of your found family.
You don’t know how long you stay there, grieving the loss of who you once were and coming to terms with the choice laid before you. The sun has decided to cling to you and despite the chill, you can feel the way it bites at your skin.
It is simple, the answer to your choice.
You were once a child. You are now an adult. These two things can coexist.
But you were once this child. You are now this adult.
The fabric of the small toy seated at the grave is rotten with weather and age. The plastic eyes are scratched, but they gaze up at you with a sincerity you know only in one other person’s eyes.
Dick had been here before you. He laid this small robin at the foot of your grave and you nearly weep at the sight.
Instead, you slowly pull yourself to your feet, draw yourself up high, and let who you once were lay protected and loved.
His hand enclosed around yours and you let yourself fall into the warmth of his embrace. The two of you turn your back to the past and, together, step into your choice.
To live, to love, to feel.
To exist as your own.
You were you. And now you are your own.
These two things can coexist.
Tag List:
@someoneimsure@perpetual-fangirl900@visagebrise@cursedandromedablack@alexxavicry@the-wayward-daughter@raging-trash-of-mind@khaylin27
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The Sun, Moon, and Stars // D. Grayson x gn! reader
Requested? Yes!
Warnings: mentions of a strip club, sliiiight panic attack
Summary: part of assassin!verse Jason needs help with a mission and enlists you to go undercover at a strip club, but it makes bad memories boil to the surface. Dick pulls you out and makes sure you know just how loved you are.
It was fine. You were fine.
You repeated the words over and over to yourself in some desperate prayer that it would come true and your breathing would go back to normal instead of the hitched, choking spurts of air that kept escaping you. It had been fine. Truly.
This was a fact finding mission that Jason enlisted your help in because he needed someone to go undercover as a server and the club was in Bludhaven. Dick hadn’t liked the idea of sending you into a strip club because, while you were trained, you weren’t trained for espionage or covert operations. You were trained to hide amongst buildings, not people. Your usual uniform was all black head to toe so you could blend in with the shadows, not the stringy and sparkly number Jason had procured.
Jason and Dick were both in your ears thanks to the comms that hid within your ear canal from view. Jason kept giving instructions, pointing out who you needed to talk to and who to avoid, while Dick kept quiet aside from the occasional remarks that kept you level headed.
But then you started to realize how many eyes were on you and you blanched. You were used to being invisible, damnit. Your skill set wasn’t dependent on how you looked but how you moved and apparently, the less than legal underground of Bludhaven found you both appealing to look at because of how you looked and how you moved.
It was like they were admiring a good steak or some other kind of meat instead of a body and for a moment, you were back in that cage as your handlers displayed you to some investors, discussing your worth in the value of monetary budgets and kill counts. You grit your teeth and shut your eyes, pushing back the memory and locking it into the vault of things to address later. You needed to focus. You couldn’t fuck this up. Not when Jason relied on you. Not when the people he was working to help needed you.
“Buttercup,” Dick’s low, smooth voice came over the comm line and you inhaled deeply at the sound of his voice and the affectionate nickname he had taken to calling you after you expressed your love for that damned movie he showed you. Opening your eyes, you took in the glaring lights and vibrating bass that shook the walls. It was fine.
“I’m okay,” you whispered. “Just had a moment.”
“Okay,” Dick announced. “I’m pulling it. Buttercup, get out of there. I’ll meet you in the alley on the left side of the building.”
“‘Wing-” Jason started to protest.
“No. Ask Artemis or Roy or fucking, I don’t know, Kyle. I knew this was a bad idea from the start.”
Jason huffed but relented, hearing the hard edge to Dick’s voice. The whole family understood that you were and always would be Dick’s main priority. If he put his foot down when it came to you, they knew to immediately back off.
You stumbled out of the club and into the icy night air, grateful for a reprieve from the constant onslaught of sensations. Spinning on your heels, you sped towards the alley Dick said he would be in and immediately deflated when you saw the familiar kevlar-spandex weave come into view.
Dick reached up and plucked your comms out of your ear before pocketing it. He studied your face for a brief moment and then he held his hand out for you to take. You knew what to expect and you shut your eyes as soon as your skin met his glove, because he swept you into a tight hold and then directed his grappling line towards your shared apartment. You didn’t open your eyes until your feet landed on solid ground and you found yourself on your fire escape.
Pushing open the window, you smiled softly at the sight of Haley curled on the couch awaiting your arrival. The little dog cracked one eye open and then yipped in excitement when she saw her favorite people. You slid into the apartment and scooped her up in your arms, both using her as a way to gain cuddles, but also as a defense mechanism.
Waiting until the window was closed, you turned to face Dick and sighed. You pressed your face against Haley’s soft fur and peeked out at him from over her wriggling body.
“I’m sorry,” you said. “I just…I messed up. I’m sorry for ruining the mission.”
“No, I’m sorry,” he immediately shot back. “I should have said no to Jason. I shouldn’t have put you in that position.”
You shook your head and finally let Haley down so she could run to her other favorite person in the world. Dick accepted her sweet kisses against his fingers and then he stood, stripping off his gloves and heading for the bedroom. He beckoned for you to follow and you nervously stood in the doorway as he began to remove the Nightwing suit.
“Dick, you can’t just hide me in this apartment forever. I…I want to help, but I just…” You trailed off, unable to verbalize your shame at your fuckup. Dick immediately stopped removing his armor and instead moved to stand in front of you. His hands came up to grasp your shoulders and you melted into his touch. Tilting forward, you pressed your forehead against his shoulder and let out a shuddering breath.
“I was just a thing to them. Just something to admire and pet. I was a tool again. I wasn’t…I wasn’t a person. I didn’t have worth outside of what they determined.”
His lips pressed against your temple and he enfolded you into a hug. “But you’re worth everything. They don’t see that and the bastards who took you never saw that. You’re worth fucking everything, Buttercup, don’t you ever forget that.”
“You won’t ever let me forget it,” you joked and he chuckled, soft breath wafting over your cheek. Standing there, in your room, in his arms, you felt wanted. You felt loved.
“C’mon, let’s get out of these clothes, take a shower, into pajamas and then…” He left the ending of his sentence up to you and you tilted your head up so you could beam up at him.
“And then we watch Love is Blind?”
“I’m going to kill Cass for introducing that show to you, but yeah.”
You fiddled with the collar of his under armor and he nudged his nose against your temple, encouraging you to talk. Dick was always patient when you struggled to express your wants. It wasn’t something that you were trained to do. The Wayne family always pressed you to say what you wanted to do or eat or listen to and they always tried to ensure those wants were carried out.
“We could bake some cookies?” You asked it so shyly that his heart ached. He wanted to give you the whole world along with the sun and the stars, if you so desired it. No one should feel timid about asking for some fucking cookies. In fact, his blood damn near boiled when he thought about how you didn’t even know what a cookie was when Alfred made some the first week you were at the Manor.
“As you wish,” he murmured against your hair. Maybe you didn’t want the sun and the stars, but he could certainly get you cookies if that’s what you wanted.
Tag List: @someoneimsure @perpetual-fangirl900 @visagebrise @cursedandromedablack @alexxavicry @the-wayward-daughter @raging-trash-of-mind @bunny-kawa @khaylin27
#assassinverse#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson#dick grayson imagine#nightwing x reader#nightwing imagine#nightwing
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