Marcus Driver

“When there is crime in society, there is no justice.” ~ Plato Marcus Driver || Gotham Detective⁠⁠ ⁠|| #DCRP Descriptive || Detailed || 5yrs RP Looking for SLs || DM for Plotting FC - Toby Leonard Moore|| Penned by #AnansiBoyz ||

were no sirens. No radios. Just Helena’s heartbeat against his chest and the quiet promise that tonight, they got to keep each other.

Marcus shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. “Figured Gotham takes enough from us. Didn’t want it stealing this too.” When she stepped into him, arms wrapping tight around his middle, he felt the day, the week—hell, the whole city—fade into the background hum. For once, there +

@DevoutVendetta Marcus almost missed the date until the florist on the corner shoved it in his face with red paper hearts taped to the window. Gotham didn’t slow down for holidays; it just found new ways to make them complicated. Still, he’d stopped on the way home and bought +

@DevoutVendetta “C’mon,” he murmured. “Before Gotham changes her mind.”

@DevoutVendetta hand came up, thumb brushing the edge of her jaw. “I’m okay. I promise.” It wasn’t bravado, just the kind of promise meant for this small, quiet space. He stepped past her into the bathroom, steam curling around his shoulders as he reached for her hand again, tugging gently. +

@DevoutVendetta Driver’s boots hit the threshold before his keys even made it out of his pocket. The apartment smelled like stale coffee and cigarette smoke—his, 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑙𝑦, but there was something else underneath, faint but familiar. Helena. He kicked off his shoes, the +

@DevoutVendetta he looked at her, that faint humor flickering behind the weariness. “So… if you want to keep me company, I won’t complain.”

@DevoutVendetta part exhaustion, part acknowledgment it was nothing new. “As Cornwell likes to remind us,” he continued, shaking his head slightly, “detective only means we’ve survived long enough to feel it.” He let that true hang for a moment, not bitter, not complaining— just fact. Then +

@DevoutVendetta breath, “I need a shower.”

@DevoutVendetta he murmured. “Together.” His hand slipped up to cradle the side of her head, fingers threading carefully through the damp strands of her hair. He rested his forehead against hers, eyes closing for a beat. No sirens. No radios. No blood on the pavement. Just this. He took a +