#but before his identity is known to her I thought it would be funny

[sergeantbuckybarnes]

i know love // joaquin torres

Summary: Having been raised in the Red Room, people would expect you to be ruthless and cold. Your vulnerability surfaces when a conversation topic is brought up during dinner, and you need to have a difficult conversation with Joaquín.  

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Ex-Widow!Reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: mentions of brainwashing and killing, mentions of reader having an involuntary hysterectomy in the red room, mentions of dreykov, reader doesn't know how to deal with her emotions, mentions of adoption, angst, hurt/comfort, but a happy ending!!

A/N: As always, remember English is not my first language. Also, thanks to @heybaynoot for proofreading this!

This is my first time writing for Joaquín, I probably got him OOC a bit, but hope you guys like this one! Oh, and I have more in store for Joaquín & BlackWidow!Reader so stay tuned!

marvel masterlist | main masterlist

It was an offhand comment.

This wasn’t something you should be overthinking.

Any other woman in your situation would have been thrilled. And that was the problem—you weren't like other women. And no, this wasn't meant to be a compliment.

Your childhood and adolescence hadn’t been the most conventional. You knew it hadn’t been your fault; you never had a say in anything, yet it didn’t undo the knot in your stomach nor make the nightmares go away.

It had only been a few years since you'd begun to get your life back on track. Or, well, to build your own. One that actually felt like yours, where you were more than just the prisoner of a rich sadist.

When Yelena found you and freed your mind from their control, you were lost. Waking up was difficult. Facing the reality around you was puzzling, and you struggled with understanding your true identity. 

But that was ages ago. 

You have got your life on track since then.

And everything was going well. You could say you were happy for the first time in a long time. A fundamental pillar of that happiness was thanks to Joaquin.

When Sam introduced you, you never thought he would become such an important part of your life. Falling in love with him wasn't in your plans, but it had happened. And it was quite simple. That was one of the long list of special things about Joaquín—loving him was so easy.

From the first moment, you noticed the brightness he radiated. He was funny, kind, sweet, and smart. He had a charming personality, and it was literally impossible not to smile when he was around—and you weren't someone who was used to smiling, not before him at least.

He knew who you were and what you had done, and it had never been an issue for him. To be honest, his reaction when he met you was something you hadn't expected. He was thrilled and excited to officially meet an ex-widow. And, despite his obvious curiosity, he never asked anything about the Red Room. You assumed it was out of respect; perhaps he did not want you to remember Dreykov, the training, and the brainwashing.

And the killing.

And you had to admit you were delighted that the subject was never brought up.

He still complimented your fighting skills. Like, all the time. Looking like a proud boyfriend every time you kicked someone's ass. 

There was a moment, early in your relationship, when you realized it was him. You had never known love before—not that kind. And Joaquin's was the best first experience you could have asked for. You had been certain that he was going to be your first and last. You didn't want anyone else. Because no one would ever make you feel the way he did.

But now everything has crumbled.

Because of a single comment.

“We're going to have the cutest babies.”

The words had rolled off his tongue so easily.

And they had stabbed your heart in the same way.

Sarah had smiled at his words, Sam had rolled his eyes and made a witty remark, while you pressed your lips into a thin smile, and the conversation at the table just continued on.

But you couldn't shake off the feeling.

In all the time you had been dating Joaquín, the topic of having children had never been brought up. You thought it was because he knew. And he was being the considerate, thoughtful gentleman he was.

But now you were thinking that maybe Joaquín didn't know everything you went through in the Red Room.

You had the image of his happy face burned into your brain when he made the baby comment, and it only intensified the knotting in your stomach.

This happened two weeks ago, and since then, your mind has not stopped spinning in a whirlpool of thoughts and feelings. You didn't know how to deal with the situation. Well, technically, you did; you knew you had to talk to Joaquín. If the future he had planned for himself was to have a family, it was clear he was not going to have that with you.

You rubbed your eyes as you let out a grunt of resignation. You'd tried your best to leave the past behind you, just for it to come back, knocking on your door and hitting you with a harsh reminder that happiness was a luxury you couldn’t yet afford.

Something was going on.

And Joaquin had noticed this. 

You'd been acting odd, distant even, and he couldn't figure out why.

Had he done something that irked you?

Despite living together, over the past two weeks, you’ve been coming up with excuses to avoid spending time together, skipping your regular morning coffee dates, and missing movie nights. Even during your training sessions, your conversations felt minimal and strained.

But what hurt him the most was that whenever he attempted to reach out for you, you recoiled from his touch—something you never did before. 

You had always loved his clinginess. He felt the need to have a hand on you constantly. While other people had considered it annoying in the past, it never seemed to bother you. On the contrary, it seemed like you yearned for his touch just almost as he longed for yours.

When he mentioned the situation to Sam, the reaction he got was that he was reading too much into it and that maybe you just needed to have some space.

���Have you talked to her about it?”

No. He hadn’t. Because he was afraid he would get the answer his brain was already conjuring up. 

And he wasn’t ready for it.

Not that it mattered, because you started the conversation yourself that afternoon.                               

A sense of relief washed over him as he noticed you standing in the living room of your shared apartment.

Everything may be okay after all. 

Perhaps Sam was right, and you just needed space. 

However, the happiness was wiped from his face when he noticed the expression on your face, followed by the dreadful words, “We need to talk.”

Joaquín felt the air escape from his lungs. A lump formed in his throat as your words echoed in his head.  

‘We need to talk’. 

Those words almost always came before terrible news.

He searched your face for clues, any hint that this time might be different, but the seriousness in your eyes revealed everything he feared. 

“Can we sit down, please?” 

Joaquín nodded, swallowing hard as he followed you to the couch. You sat across from him, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, a subtle sign of your own unease. The cushions felt too soft, and indulgent as if mocking the tension between the two of you.

“I’ve been thinking a lot these past few weeks…” You began, your voice quivering slightly, and he felt a surge of fear grip his heart. “I know you had noticed that I had pushed you away, and I—”

The words sent a shiver down his spine. A flicker of emotion crossed your eyes—a mix of determination and sadness—that sent a twist through his stomach.

You'd rehearsed this conversation in your head, every word, but now that you had your boyfriend in front of you, your mind had gone completely blank. Your eyes drank in how worried he was; you hated yourself for doing this to him.

You took a deep breath, the kind that tried to draw in all the courage you could muster. “Remember two weeks ago when we had dinner with Sam and Sarah?” 

He furrowed his brow in confusion. Of all the things his mind had conjured up, you mentioning the dinner at Sarah's was not among them. However, he nodded and gestured for you to go on. 

“Sarah said something about AJ and Cass and then you mentioned that we were gonna have the cutest babies, and I—” 

God, this hurt so much.

Each word you spoke felt like a dagger piercing his chest, and made his heart sink further. The lump in his throat seemed to grow even bigger. “Is that what this is about? You don’t want to build a family with me?”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks—of course, Joaquín would assume he was the problem. You swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words. “No, it's not that I don't want to.” You exhaled, forcing the words out, your heart racing. “It's just…”

Joaquin leaned forward, squinting in a fervent plea for clarity. The concern on his face was palpable.

“I thought you knew about this, and that’s why you never brought the subject up…” You took a deep breath and finally uttered the words weighing heavily inside you. “I can’t have kids, Joaquin.”

“In the Red Room, they had this graduation ceremony…They sterilized us. One less thing to worry about, I guess.” You grimaced, your hands fidgeting instinctively—a nervous habit you couldn't recall developing. “For Dreykov, that was what mattered even more than a mission. It made everything easier. Even the killing.”

He struggled with the truth of what you said, and the world around him dimmed for a minute. 

“I've fought to put that part of my life behind me, and I don't want to be the burden that holds you back from having the life you want.”

“You're not a burden to me.” He moved closer and took one of your hands in his own, his thumb softly stroking patterns on the back of your hand. “What I want is you—just as you are. A future without you holds no interest for me.”

Emotions you had suppressed for so long started to overwhelm you, and tears filled your eyes. “I don't want to put you in that position. I want you to be happy.”

“But I am happy with you,” he replied, with a resolute tone.

“What if one day you change your mind?”

Joaquín leaned in, his eyes blazing with a sharp intensity that sliced through the fog of doubt that shrouded you. “I swear to you, my mind is made up. And it starts and ends with you.”

He cupped your face gently, wiping away a tear. You closed your eyes in contentment, leaning into his touch. 

You had missed it so much.

You had missed him. 

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you murmured, gazing into his chocolate-brown eyes. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

For the first time in two weeks, Joaquín found himself smiling—truly smiling. 

He pulled you closer, draping his arms around your shoulders. You buried your face in his chest, inhaling in his familiar scent, while he tightened his embrace around you, afraid that you would slip away.

He had missed you.

“Please, don’t push me away again,” he pleaded softly, his voice muffled as his face rested against your head. “Those were the worst two weeks of my life.”

“I’m sorry.” You pulled back slightly. “I don’t know how to deal with my emotions well, but I’m trying, I promise.”

“I know you are. And I’m here for you if you need me. We’ll work through it together. We’re a team, remember?”

As you listened to him, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. The fear that had gripped you for weeks started to fade.

“And we can always consider adoption,” he suggested, his eyes lighting up at the idea. “There are so many kids out there in need of a caring home. We can give them a shot at a better life.”

“I like that idea,” you said quietly, a timid smile emerging through the lingering traces of your tears.

“Good.” His hand found yours again, his fingers easily interlacing with yours. A wave of tranquility enveloped you, and for the first time in weeks, it felt as though you could breathe. You rested your head against his shoulder, settling into him and finding comfort in the calming thud of his heartbeat.

“Thank you for being so understanding. I don't deserve you.”

“Don't say that,” he said, lifting your chin, making you meet his eyes. “You deserve all the love and happiness in the world. And I'm not going anywhere.”

With that, he leaned into you, his lips softly brushing against yours, and in that instant, everything felt right again. The outside world faded, enveloping you in your warm little cocoon of comfort and understanding.

[cozymoko]

TO TEACH A DOG TO SIT. —

⠀⠀MINATO CITY - TOKYO, EARLY 2000s

word count 𖹭.ᐟ approx 2,738

tw, tags 𖹭.ᐟ emotional abuse, bullying, physical injury, toxic relationships, self-loathing, angst, bullying, emotional abuse, toxic relationships, romantic tension.

Hey! so, I decided to post this, if you guys want to see more of him, maybe he'll become an OC, haha.

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀NEW GAME?

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𖹭⠀LOAD GAME?⠀ 𖹭

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀O̷̳̻͓͉̐̄͂͑̅̆̄̆͠ͅV̵̨̟͙͎͎͙̫̹̟̟̰̯̀̊̉̂̃Ȩ̴̲͎̰̝̞̻̳̘͒̀R̶̢̡̥͓͚͈̫̹͐̀͛̀̐͐̉̈̑͋̚R̸̢̖̺͖̟͖̝̤͉̥̀̀ͅͅİ̷̩̥̯̕D̴̢̡̢̲͚̖̱̼̹̝̠̔͗̈́͝Ȩ̶͔̲̫̥͚̘̜̩̹͉̓̅̏̅̒̆̂?̷͖̆͂̎̾!̵̨̫̮̲͖͇̲͉̪̟̣̀̈́̓̋͌̂̈́͛͊̚͠?̴͈͑!̴̬̣̰͚̞͕̯̭̲̳̒͋́͋͊!̵̛̤̥̳͆̿̇̏̀̏̀̊̚ ̵͇̹̜̻̹͙̙̄̌̇̋̀̔͝;

⠀⠀

⠀⠀LOAD GAME, SELECTED .ᐟ

⠀⠀LOADING, PLEASE WAIT...

⠀⠀

new info unlocked 𖹭.ᐟ MINATO CITY (also known as the Minato ward) is home to the wealthiest families in Japan. Happy hunting. (≧∇≦)/

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⠀⠀

𖹭

CHAPTER XXXX, 13:30PM

My, my, what a pretty girl you are. Birthed and bathed in wealth that the lower class would kill for. Soft, glass-like skin that could make all the girls kick and scream with envy. Talented, as though you were gifted by the heavens themselves, a divine being amongst all others. Your mom, for she was a woman of faith, proclaimed you as God's favorite creation as well we her own. And at some point, you began to believe her words.

God's Creation. God's Favorite. Everyone's favorite, she said.

So, what the actual fuck was happening right now?

The faceless, shadowy figures in the background were slowly gaining distinct features, their expressions becoming eerily human. The game world, once surreal and empty, was shifting, revealing a more tangible reality. What had been mere background noise now had identity, as if the boundaries between the game and reality were beginning to blur.

“C'mon, [Name],” He chuckles halfheartedly. “A little dirt never hurt anyone.”

A little? Was he fucking with you right now?

A little wasn't the clumps of mud hugging your scalp. Nor was it the dirt that absolutely ruined your neatly pampered skin. It wasn't the muck that stained and streaked the beautiful plaid of your uniform skirt. Not even, the crud and filth that soiled your stockings — seeping all the way to your Mary Jane's. A little didn't hurt your pride the way this did.

Your eye twitched. So what was so damn funny? "How could you say—"

A sickly-sweet giggle cut through your thoughts, high-pitched, cutting through your seething anger like nails on a chalkboard. You could almost hear the background music shifting into a jarring, high-pitched tune, like some in-game character had triggered an event that was beyond your control. When was anything ever in your control?

"Kyaa~! Nanase-kun, you're so bad!" The girl giggled, covering her mouth with perfectly manicured fingers, eyes sparkling like he’d just told the joke of the century. "I swear, you always make everything so fun! Poor [Name]-chan, though~" she added, not sounding the least bit sympathetic as she threw you a fleeting glance before turning her attention right back to Aohei, as if you were nothing more than background noise.

But the real target of your rage wasn’t her. It wasn’t even the filthy rich asshole standing next to her. No, it was Aohei. The boy you had grown up with, the one who, for as long as you could remember, had been there by your side.

Who was he? Glad you asked, honestly!

Aohei, the golden boy of Nanase Global—a name that made everyone in Tokyo bend the knee. A family that practically owned everything. Hotels. Fashion lines. Tech companies. Entertainment empires. If it had a name, it had money flowing into its coffers from the Nanase family. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if even the designer of your ruined Mary Janes answered to his father’s empire.

And yet, despite all of that, despite all that privilege, Aohei was standing there laughing. Laughing with them. The same obnoxious, clueless, no-name delinquents who thought it was hilarious to drag you down into the mud, as though you were some sort of joke. You didn’t think Aohei had the ability to be this cruel—this thoughtless. And yet, here he was, barely looking concerned. Barely. Fucking. Concerned.

Maybe he didn’t realize the severity of the situation. Maybe he thought this was all just some lighthearted fun. Maybe his stupid fucking trust fund brain had short-circuited for a moment. Maybe you let his leash run a little looser than you should've.

Dumb, stupid dog. Dumb, Dumb dog!

"Aohei, take me home right fucking now!"

Your voice came out slow, each syllable dripping with barely contained rage. Your hands clenched into fists so tight your nails dug into your palms, a sharp sting against your already frayed patience. And if you looked at this fool for one more second, you swore you’d pop a blood vessel.

His laughter stopped almost immediately. You could hear the shift in the air. "Eh? What’s the matter?" he asked, sounding...confused.

His voice triggered an odd sensation in your chest—almost like a glitch in a game when something doesn’t quite align.

You stare at him, incredulous—was he seriously asking that? With a sharp breath, you fish your phone out of your purse, fingers already dancing over the screen, ready to call someone—anyone—who could save you from this nightmare. You bite your tongue, swallowing every ''unladylike" — foul-mouthed profanity ready to spill from your glossed lips.

Before you could press send, Aohei’s voice rang out in a panicked shout, his hand reaching for you. "Hey, [nickname], don’t call anyone," he begged, visibly nervous. "I’ll take you home, okay?"

You could feel the tension in the air. Aohei's voice, now slightly higher-pitched, almost like a character breaking from his usual persona. You swore you could see the “affection meter” rising in the corner of your vision. This was an event you hadn't expected, but you were now forced to deal with the aftermath.

His hand wrapped around your wrist. Not to restrain you, but to pull you closer—just enough so he can see your face. His grip is warm, hesitant, as if afraid you'll slip away entirely, and when he shifts, dirt smudges against his pristine slacks, but he doesn’t seem to care. His golden eyes search yours, wide and desperate, drinking you in like he needs to memorize every detail.

For just a second, the warmth of his touch had soothed you, or rather her, whoever she was. But you barely registered the sensation before you jerked your arm away with a force that could’ve snapped a lesser person’s wrist. You glared at him.

Your voice came out ragged. "Don’t touch me." It was almost a breathless plea, as if there was too much going on inside of you. Too much to even vocalize. You stumbled to your feet, biting back a yelp when a sharp, shooting pain stung your knee—only to realize there was now a nasty purple-ish hue creeping up the top of your knee. Perfect.

You slowly pulled down your ruined stockings, each tug making you feel more and more like you were living in some twisted, never-ending nightmare. "Fuck," you hissed at the pain in your knee, glaring at the growing bruise, then straightened your shoulders. "I’ll be at the car. Don’t make me wait."

A system alert blinked before your eyes—

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀WARNING ⚠:

‘Frustration levels are high.ᐟ’

‘Negative affection points accumulating.’

"Bite me," you scoff, closing your phone shut.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the group whispering, their eyes flickering between you and Aohei. There were the girls, squealing for his attention, the guys hyping him up, throwing out plans for the night—drinks, basketball, whatever the hell they did to get their kicks. It was all so... predictable. You knew how they’d react. Aohei had always been the life of the party, the golden boy, always so easy to be around. They’d gladly throw your name in the mud if it meant keeping him around just a little longer.

It felt like the game was taunting you now—like your actions didn’t matter, like you were just a piece to be manipulated by the other characters.

You phone pinged softly. Quiet yet unbearably shrill, a sound you've grown used to, regrettably so.

REMINDER.ᐟ REMINDER.ᐟ PLEASE CHECK.ᐟ

⠀⠀“A dog will always come running to his owner”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀CLOSE TAB: yes or no

You blinked at the words, almost like a coded message in a game. It sent a chill down your spine, the words feeling like a directive—an eerie reminder that you couldn’t escape what was happening. Your avatar might have been stuck in the game, but could Aohei have been a part of that too?

You didn’t even acknowledge it. Instead, you turned on your heel, making your way toward the car with all the anger in your chest, each step a stab of fury. The weight of the mud squelching against your shoes seemed to deepen your frustration. You didn’t wait for Aohei to catch up—of course he would.

“Wait, wait, [Name]—!" His breathless voice caught behind you, laced with guilt and panic, but you were too far gone. "I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t laughing at you, okay? Just... stupid jokes. I can make it up to—!"

The wind carried his words to you, distorted, like the sound had been slowed down in some game cutscene. His voice shook the air, making you feel the weight of each word, but you didn’t care.

You put yourhand up, silencing his pointless chatter. You slide into the passenger seat, slamming the door harder than necessary, right in his stupid, pretty face. The satisfying thud is the only thing that feels remotely in your control right now.

Aohei quickly followed, slipping into the driver’s seat. His usual sunny smile was now nowhere to be seen. Instead, his face was full of something darker, something that almost seemed like self-loathing.

"I’ll take you home. You’ll be cleaned up in no time, I swear," he muttered, his voice barely audible.

You could see his stats now—

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀AFFECTION: 90%.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀HOSTILE INFLUENCE: 10%.

The numbers flashing in your mind, like a hidden system you didn’t sign up for.

You crossed your arms, glaring out of the window as your heart thudded erratically in your chest. "You think a shower’s going to fix this? You let them humiliate me, Aohei."

Aohei’s hands tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. His jaw ticked in that rare show of tension. You couldn’t even bear to look at him. You knew that look. It was always the same, ever since you were kids—the look of a lovesick puppy. He was just trying to fix things with that stupid grin of his, his soft, golden eyes sparkling with the same desperate affection.

“I didn’t let them. I just... I didn’t realize how bad it was until—" He trailed off, guilt thick in his tone. His eyes were pleading now, searching for some kind of forgiveness, though it wasn’t clear if he was even aware of what he had truly done.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his attempt at explanation. There it was again, that look. His golden-brown eyes, wide and desperate, flickered toward you every few seconds, even as his hand tightened around the gearshift. Was he... waiting for your permission? For some kind of sign that you wouldn’t push him away for good?

The silence in the car felt suffocating, heavy with a tension you couldn’t shake. With every passing second, Aohei's presence seemed to grow more overwhelming, his devotion more unbearable. His dimples were still there, barely visible when he bit his lip nervously, his shoulder-length hair falling just perfectly around his face like some advertisement for a shampoo commercial. The piercings on his ear glinted in the dim light, drawing attention to how meticulously he had crafted his image.

When you pulled up to the gates of your mansion, the weight of the tension in the car was almost unbearable. He didn't speak, not right away. Instead, his voice came out in a low, strained whisper. "I’ll wait here. In case you need anything."

The ‘AFFECTION INCREASED.ᐟ’; banner blinked across your vision. You rolled your eyes. What a mess this all was.

You unbuckled your seatbelt without looking at him. "I don’t."

You could feel his gaze on your back, a weight that burned through your skin. But this time, there was something more to it—something darker. More desperate. A humorless laugh slipped past your lips as you stepped out of the car. You glanced at him one more time, barely a flicker of emotion behind your eyes.

"Macarons," you muttered under your breath. "Bring me my favorite, and I might forgive you."

As you turned away, the door slammed behind you, and Aohei didn’t say a word. You didn’t need to look back to know that he was watching you with those same soft, broken eyes.

Ha, what kind of stupid game did they have you playing this time?

A dog would always come running to his owner.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀CHAPTER COMPLETE.ᐟ

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀SAVING...

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀DO YOU WISH TO CONTINUE?

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Yes or No?

final farewell 𖹭.ᐟ Oh, my, we've got quite the interesting predicament. Oh, do tell, what will you do? Trust me, darling, keeping secrets around here never ends well.

[lupically]

#150036 | SAKURA. SUO. NIREI.

genre | meet-cute, (minor) humor

word count | 2885

warning | mention of blood / apologies for potential ooc / reader centric

note | i am an anime watcher (also have not finished haha) i thought a lucky person syndrome would be funny

a lonesome bandaid must have fallen from the medicine cabinet into your bag, or you had used up all but one bandaid from your previous first aid pouch, and it decided to linger in your bag for months.

either way, what a fortunate coincidence that on your first tour into makochi, you found the little girl who was reported missing only a few minutes ago with a wound on her knee.

"she scraped her knee, so i gave her a bandaid," you said, lowering your tone to appear dismissive so the boy would overlook your initial bafflement upon seeing his heterochromia and split hair.

"i found her behind a tree at the playground about four blocks down. a squirrel happened to run by and startled her, or else i would have never known she was there."

the boy regarded you with suspicion, or discomfort. he didn't look hostile, and his outstanding eyes were suppressed from fidgeting by constantly darting off to the side as you spoke.

a chest grumble barely sounded from him, almost as if he wanted to say something, but he couldn't, and his inability was a product of unwillingness rather than a congenital emotional condition.

standing behind him was a boy wearing an eye patch and an identical jacket. one of his eyes was covered, but his gaze held more subtle pressure than anyone staring at you with both eyes.

noticing sakura's reluctance to provide gratitude, he stepped up politely and smiled. "thank you so much! you're a lifesaver!"

"actually, i don't think i've seen you around town before?"

you raised a brow at the sudden appearance of a shorter boy, and then they furrowed when you couldn't tell if he had freckles. trailing your eyes up, you found it surprising that you didn't catch sight of him first when his hair was of such a bright blond color.

"they must be new, nirei," suo mused. he pointed down at your hand. "they have luggage with them, after all."

nirei looked down. as suo mentioned, sitting next to you was a brand new carry-on that, unbeknownst to him, had been used for years. somehow, your luggage never stains, scratches, or breaks; it's nothing short of a miracle!

he panicked and fumbled about before resorting to closing his hands together before his chin and apologizing for questioning you before making an observed decision.

"don't worry about it. you didn't get it wrong anyway. you haven't seen me around town before." you scratched your head awkwardly. the range of emotions shown (or not shown) by the three of them threw you off. "i was just heading home, so if there's nothing else, i will take my leave."

"a–ah! yes! of course!" nirei bowed. "welcome to makochi!"

"thanks," you said. "take care."

you departed without hearing a single word from one of their mouths. not that you minded, though. you understand some people do not take well to strangers.

continuing with your excursion through makochi as you made your way to your new apartment, where you managed to haggle the rent prices down just enough for it to suit your liking, you realized a few things.

one, compared to the city, the town shared a harmonious silence you did not anticipate enjoying so much. there were more sounds of bikes ringing than engines humming, and the atmosphere was less crowded and intrusive because fewer people were taking up the streets.

however, even in a town, you can't escape narrow alleyways and trash flying around corners.

two, most townsfolk were friendly! it wasn't to a point where strangers would greet you on the street, but most were helpful with directions and food recommendations. some even welcomed your return after hearing you were moving in.

it was likely a business tactic, but something was better than nothing!

three, the green and black jackets. the previous group of three was not the first group you saw wearing that jacket. when you entered the town, the first person you sought directions from wore an identical jacket. later, you noticed a group of them being gifted free food from a restaurant. you assumed it must be a school uniform, but somehow, it was the only uniform you've seen so far.

it was almost as if no other schools existed around the area.

every student you see wearing the uniform is a boy, too. all the reasonable possibilities (which was only one) pointed towards it being an all-boys school, which wasn't too much of an issue. you just weren't too keen on attending a school like that at the moment, even though with your lucky streak, some rules would have been bent for that to be allowed.

you could always take up the college offers (which was only one).

"at least the neighborhood is friendly," you whispered.

"hey, you!"

you stopped and widened your eyes after you turned around to find a group of men blocking the wrong way of your path. you hummed, wondering if you'd spoken too soon about the condition of the neighborhood.

"hey, me?" you questioned.

"yeah, you!" he asked, his voice a constant holler. "who else could it be?"

you pretended to look around, then scanned the men standing around him before gesturing towards them with a brief sweep of your arm. "four men are standing around you."

"oi!" another one—he has a beanie, and his hands shoved in his pockets—stepped up. "someone is being a smart ass!"

"okay...?" you scrunched your nose with displeasure. their rudeness blew straight past your head when all it occurred to you was that they made little to no sense.

"we saw you talking to bofurin just now!" the leader, you assumed, regained his spotlight by snapping the accusation. "what's your business with them?"

you pursed your lips. the town was putting your brain to work, that's for sure!

you talked to more than three people since you arrived, but you barely learned anything about them, so it wasn't possible to place 'bofurin' to a face.

you tried the method of elimination. it couldn't have been the little girl. you couldn't imagine why anyone would have issues with school boys, so you counted the three out. you learned the coffee shop owner's name to be kotoha, so it wasn't her.

"i don't know who bofurin is."

"you don't know what bofurin is?"

"oh, it's a 'what'?" you snapped your fingers as if that was helpful information. if anything, it was more confusing.

"what was the name again? sakura?"

"ah, sakura!" you slammed a fist to your palm.

it was the little girl, after all. this was a real breakthrough; these people gave you an actual name! they should have mentioned that earlier, talking about some 'bofurin' or whatever as if you were local enough to understand.

"are you her father?" you asked.

"huh?" his voice was boisterous and impatient. stepping forward to be closer to you, possibly as an intimidation tactic, but you couldn't tell; he said, "What are you mumbling about?"

you grimaced with a faint pout hanging on your lips. your next sentence was a soft complaint, "i didn't... mumble."

either way, his reaction was not up to par for a father whose daughter went missing. you had your suspicions, considering how they showed up in a group. however, you wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt that they were just friends helping to look for a missing child.

she didn't appear to have an issue with the boys you just met either, so if anything needs to be done further, these men should take it up with the police. you have decided to seal your altruism until you get home.

"look, sorry i can't help you, but i don't have all day, so i'm leaving," you said. "good luck with whatever you're trying to do."

you didn't give yourself a chance to see their response, or else you would be compelled to continue the conversation. despite the man yelling after you, you ignored him and continued walking.

clutching the handle of your luggage, you clicked your tongue when you felt a sudden lump of uneven weight, possibly caused by the uneven group and the handle being stuck in place.

you tried to fix it by barely shifting its weight. when it didn't work, you rolled your eyes and turned around while your arm swung to readjust the wheels.

"woah!"

you jumped back in shock when someone brushed past you in a stumble. when you looked closer, you recognized him as the man who yelled after you just now.

his fist was curled and facing forward, a clear indication that he was either trying to hit you or grab you, but your luggage happened to swing right when he neared and tripped him. he fell to the floor, a hoarse yell sounding from his scratched knuckles.

"hey! what did you do?"

the hollered accusation was unnoticed as you let go of the luggage and quickly neared the fallen man to check on him. you reached inside your bag, hoping to find another bandaid somewhere.

as you shifted around quickly, a piece of stray receipt from days ago fell out. you gasped, immediately bolting after it.

as you did, your body lowered to the ground with it, and you missed the arm swing from a man behind you. he yelled in surprise at the air punch, looked down to find that he was about to fall on both you and his friend, and changed the course to his body to find his face greeting a utility pole.

you grimaced in pain but didn't allow yourself to linger too long in sympathy. noticing blood sprouting from his nose, you inhaled sharply and reached for a pack of tissues inside your bag, which you knew you had.

"hold on! i have tissue–ah!" as you stood up from crouching, your head hit the chin of the third man who, unbeknownst to you, attempted to attack you after seeing his two failed predecessors. he must have been talking as he began to exclaim about biting his tongue and tasting blood in his mouth.

"i'm so sorry!" you fumbled, dropping the tissue back inside your bag as you tried to go after the screaming man so you could tell him to not squeeze any more blood out to avoid a worse injury.

a hand found its way to your ankle and caught your attention. you looked down to see the leader crawling slowly toward you, his forehead faintly scratched. you pouted; how could you forget about him?

"i'm sorry! i got you!" crouching, you grabbed his hand and pushed it off your ankle. you pulled at his arm, carelessly helping him to his feet before the sudden weight difference made you stumble backward. he lurched forward because you were still holding his arm, just in time for his face to collide with a fist.

you looked over. the fourth man in the group stood stunned. "why did you do that?"

"i… what?" he turned away from his leader to you. his brows were permanently sewn together after witnessing the altercation, and he took an accusing step toward you. "this wouldn't have happened if you had just given us an answer! this is all your fault!"

you clamped your mouth shut from explaining yourself, not because he was right but because you were frozen from seeing his fist fly towards your direction. your lack of reaction wasn't a product of fear, though. it was curiosity.

you've never been injured once in your life. ever since birth, you have been perpetually stuck in a lucky streak. it was almost like a disease.

you have never bitten your tongue, stubbed your toe, or gotten a paper cut; you have never gotten ill; balls fly past your face in p.e classes; you get every toy you want in claw machines; you blindly tested into college at fifteen because all your randomly filled multiple choice answers were correct.

you genuinely, without a morsal of doubt, wondered how it feels to be hit.

before his fist could collide with you, the man was sent flying to the wall. a boy landed on the ground gracefully. you recognized him to be the one you just met—the discomforted one.

you stared at him, watching his hair fall from the jump and his focused features relax once the threat was gone.

now that you saw him better, his look wasn't as outrageous as you initially thought.

"i would ask if you're okay, but it looks like you handled yourself pretty well," he said.

you brushed your hands together and lowered your shoulders into a sulk. he regarded you with less caution and more intrigue this time. you wondered why. "i didn't mean to do any of that."

"sakura!" nirei caught up from behind. he abruptly stopped and panted with his hands on his knees. "don't run off like that! I can't keep up–" his voice trailed off when he noticed his surroundings–"wow, you did all this already?"

sakura sniffed, his lip twitching up in unreasonable dismay. forget him bolting at the sound of hostile yelling; seeing that you managed to take down a group of men made him feel pesky.

he hadn't known anyone other than those in bofurin or other gangs with advanced fighting capabilities, so this discovery was refreshing.

refreshing, but not pleasant.

"no," sakura gestured toward you, "they did."

you waved sheepishly when nirei turned to you, and you shrunk into yourself even more when he gasped in pleasant surprise. he reached for his pocket and pulled out a small notebook.

he flipped through a surprising number of pages before closing it, and his eyes returned to you with a gleam so bright you had to look away.

"i didn't do it on purpose." you waved. "it just happened."

"either you fought them, or you didn't," sakura said.

"well, i didn't."

"that doesn't make any sense," sakura said. "how did they end up like that, then?"

"okay, sakura." your eyes squinted at his attitude. "you know, this wouldn't have happened if it weren't for you. those men were looking for you."

"not anymore," he mumbled slowly, "since you fought them."

"oh my god?" you threw your arms up and chuckled in disbelief. "i didn't do anything! i was just trying to help."

"you keep saying that, but it doesn't explain why three out of five were bleeding."

"actually four out of five," you retorted as you pointed leisurely at him. "you shoved a guy into a wall."

"uhm–ah! that's common!" nirei exclaimed over your glare, his arms held high as if to catch your attention. once you look, he pipes down and scratches the back of his head, sweat drenching his hair. "some people are weary of sakura because of what he can do."

you straightened your back and hummed. the pieces weren't all here yet, but there was enough for you to make a barely informed assumption about these two: lousy students who like to pick fights with the townsfolk.

suddenly, moving here didn't seem like a good idea! but you were torn between disappointment and feeling positively agitated that this was the first unfortunate thing that had happened to you!

well, this and being rounded by five men because they were looking for sakura.

"the only thing that should be weary of you is the test papers," you said. "try going to classes for a change!"

sakura scoffed. "we go to classes and take tests too!"

"i'm sure you do, sakura."

"why are you saying my name all weird like that?" he exclaimed, moving forward to banter closer to you. "i know what you're thinking! it's not exclusively a girl's name!"

"i wasn't thinking that!" you were thinking that.

"uh... you guys..." nirei darted between you two, his fingers wiggling hopelessly before his chest as he debated his course of action. he didn't know you well enough to tell you to stop, but sakura seemed weirdly agitated about the conversation, which he figured wasn't entirely about the grievance of his name.

he looked behind him when he felt a hand on his shoulder and immediately exhaled with relief to see suo smiling down at him. the taller boy approached with a much calmer demeanor than anyone in the scene and casually got between you both.

"alright, you both," suo said. he turned to you. "here. don't lose your luggage."

"thanks." you received it. "how's the girl?"

"we brought her back to her mom." suo nodded in acknowledgment before turning to sakura. "you know, sakura. if you're curious about them, you could have just asked them to hang out with us later."

a strangled noise blurred with the pinking of his cheeks. sakura curled his fists and waved them about, protesting suo's words without sprouting a coherent sentence, but suo only smiled at you as if waiting for a response.

"has anyone ever told you how stressful you are?" you muttered.

suo shrugged. "not verbally."

"of course not." you widened your eyes into a roll. "i'll pass, though. sorry."

"no hard feelings," suo said.

you smiled and bid them a brief farewell. as you left, you could hear whispers behind you and a faint grumble from sakura, letting you know there were absolutely some complicated feelings around.

[sergeant-angels-trashcan]

Bestie I NEED to hear your thoughts about Harley and Bruce possibly being secret twins 👀👀👀👀👀

Been thinking about this for WEEKS i fear!!!! This came right as 'rona dragged me down I'm sorry this took so long!!!

I don't know or care about how secret twins happens, what happens in the bedroom of Thomas and Martha and Alfred Pennywayne is NONE of my business unless they invite me which is fine btw

since they're fraternal twins they COULD TECHNICALLY have different dads. am I saying Alfred is Harley's bio dad perhaps and the clown is going to have empty space where his head used to be but I digress. This explains SO MUCH I feel but also we should in no way think that the parents know this. They don't know nor care because THAT IS THEIR BABIESSS. it would probably be Bruce and Harley finding out when they're forty or something because someone needs a kidney. They purposefully forget the information. They don't need it.

And as insufferable as Thomas is with Baby Brucie can you IMAGINE how AWFUL he would be as a Girl Dad tm. I am thinking of your "if you detain one you detain both I KNOW MY RIGHTS" post but with two children!!. Also Thomas would be THEEE cattiest mfer amongst the other dance moms. My god Alfred and Martha would never know peace. Also a million zillion pictures of each parent konked out while holding 2 sleeping toddlers, THINK on it I beseech thee it's so cute. (But then, Thomas accidentally saving/kidnapping Harley from the park and Bruce and Harley INSISTING they are identical twins. Everyone is like no you really aren't until Thomas gives them the most murderous look known to man over their tiny heads. VERY funny when Jason and Cass also do this)

Maybe Harley was very very sickly as a baby and they kept her a secret to keep the press away. I can see family not talking about Martha's pregnancy AT ALL particularly if it was high risk in any way like she would be visibly pregnant due any day and someone would ask her if she was excited about the baby and she would deadass say 'what baby'.

The ideal scenario the Pennywaynes have for their offspring is that they keep the bambini hidden. as far as the press knows one day 18 year olds pop up outside the Wayne Manor as fully formed scions to the empire. You've never heard of them before? GOOD. That was the point.

Also the DRAMA, the ANGST, I think this makes sense with Bruce's weird dynamic with the Joker (though this could work with just siblings ig)?

Bruce doesn't want to kill the person his twin loves because it would hurt his twin, who HE loves. And killing the Joker could result in Harley hating him! Bruce trying so hard to be supportive for Harley and just be there for her so when she finally decides to leave the Joker she knows Bruce has her back.

Bruce knowing all the stuff about what support systems do that helps and hurts victims of intimate partner violence so he's always playing this balancing act of what he feels like he can say/do about him before it affects Harley. And it being his self given job to stop the Joker from doing HIS self given job. If he helps Gotham he hurts Harley. If he tries to help Harley, he hurts Gotham (does very interesting things to the brainworms when thinking about Jason's murder! about why Bruce feels like he can't or shouldn't go after the Joker--because he's proven he will kill a child and use their mother to get them, that is not a man above using his partner to hurt his nemesis!!! and that would be a whole thing for Bruce, he doesn't act because he's genuinely terrified, worried that if he fails he'll lose harley too

idk if the Joker would know about Harley and Bruce being related or Bruce being Batman but I could see this being the turning point for how Harley views the Joker. Like, she'd been going over to the Manor to help Jason talk through his feelings every month for years. Would it have mattered if the Joker knew he was her nephew?)

Also makes the weird sexual tension Bats has with the Joker even weirder if he IS aware of their relationship. He'd be so gross about it. Yes the Joker wants the Wayne twins. He flirts with them in front of the other to piss them off, mostly Harley. Would highkey lie and say Bruce was flirting with him to drive a wedge between Bruce and Harley oh my god I went such a not fun direction with this

Identical twins could be very funny if they were separated at birth no i do not know why they would be separated just roll with me. the one that does not transition is like "why do you have a picture of me as a kid this is creepy what do you mean that's you' . Everyone at college is like ha ha you two look like you could be related! You do the same icky face when you eat pineapple. They dOn'T sEe iT

Maybe she was kidnapped (by like a very young deathstroke or something idk) and SOMEhow Oswald Cobblepot winds up with this feral toddler in his possession. A goon made a terrible life choice perhaps? And Ozzie is just an up and coming crime lord, still settling into the family business, how tf is he supposed to know the Waynes are missing THIS child? if he knew don't you think he'd be extorting people??? I think they could have some very fun and adorable Stacker Pentecost and Mako Mori vibes this man has NO idea how to raise a child but by god!! He will do it right!!! Literally nobody knows about her, he would have people killed for suspecting her existence.

But also take your daughter to work day??!? Harley yelling at incompetent goons in a sweet baby voice. Ozzie is SO PROUD of her, he wouldn't have minded her going into the family business but she's going to be a doctor!! He is just a proud papa!!! Fearsome crime lord The Penguin with sparkle pink nail polish and bows stuck to his head having a tea party with Lil Harley.

I think this is ALSO interesting with the Joker!! I would love if the only reason his dumb ass wasn't taken out the moment he stepped foot in Gotham was because he's Harley's Boyfriend. The only thing stopping the rogues from turning on him is that Harley likes him!! Is he the Gotham version of a crypto-finance bro?

What if it's an older Harley who is kidnapped? Like post Thomas and Martha shooting. It's part of what cements Bruce's notoriety as the Last Wayne. (Everyone asks if he can sense her through their Twin Bond and he gets sooooo mad that's not a real thing!!!! He feels so guilty because if that was a real thing, shouldn't he be able to find her? Shouldn't he know????)

Cut to Batman and Joker in a showdown and there is Harley and Bats CAN'T STOP STARING?!??? why does she seem so familiar? The Joker notices of course and starts saying some very crass things but the IMPORTANT part is that at some point Harley mentions not minding beating up on Batman because she once had a baby brother who was terrified of bats, so she's doing this for him!!! And Bruce is like wait I once had an older sister and I'M afraid of bats?!?!

Harley looks at him REALLY HARD and all of the sudden she's screaming "BABY B????" and roundhouse kicking the Joker into some metal oil drums. NOBODY beats up her baby brother!!!!

The rogues go fucking insane

(the age thing. Harley is technically a day older than Bruce. She was born at 11:50 PM and he was born at 12:05 AM. They make older sibling/younger sibling jokes all the time and think they are very funny. The Batkids would disagree)

[corroded-hellfire]

I just realized it's them. Eddie, the Reader, and my kids.

It would be funny if they were watching the movie and Eddie teases them that they look like kittens and some say it's actually them as a family.

I needed to write this. Was very compelled to write about Eliza making everyone watch this movie lol. I hope you like what my crazy brain came up with!

Previously talked about on this ask too 😻

Words: 1.4k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Family movie nights have become rarer as the boys have gotten older, but the tradition hasn’t been altogether lost. Once in a while you can wrangle the boys down for an evening of snacks and family bonding. 

Luke is laid out on the floor as per usual, on his stomach and pounding down Doritos and Mountain Dew like a man starved, not a 14-year-old boy who just had three large helpings of baked ziti not an hour ago. Ryan occupies the La-Z-Boy lounger that is effectively known as Wayne’s chair, it being the older man’s favorite spot in the household. The older Munson brother’s attention is currently half on the movie and half on the girl he likes at school. 

Eliza is sitting cozy on the couch between you and Eddie. At some point during the movie, she’ll end up snuggled against either you or her father, but right now she’s content enough to sit on her own, her pink unicorn blanket spread out over her lap and little legs. 

Eddie is slouched against an arm of the couch but has his arm draped along top, the tips of his fingers just barely able to brush over the back of your neck. So, of course, that’s what he’s been doing since the movie started. You sit hip to hip with your daughter, a bowl of popcorn balanced on your thigh that she and you keep taking kernels from.

As the song Everybody Wants to Be a Cat ends, Eddie smiles to himself. He sees his children in all three of the troublemaking kittens that were just singing and dancing around on screen. 

Ryan notices and raises an eyebrow at his father. “The singing cartoon cats making ya happy, Dad?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and flicks a pretzel in his eldest child’s direction.

“No, smartass. I was just thinking how they remind me of you guys.”

Luke rolls on his side so he can look at his dad over his shoulder.

“Did I grow a tail I wasn’t aware of? I’d like to think you’d keep me updated on that kind of thing, Dad.”

“You’re the little wiseass cat,” Eddie says, gesturing to the screen with his chin. “The orange one that tries to act all tough.”

“Toulouse,” Eliza says, as if her father should’ve known his name and it offends her that he didn’t.

“And he’s the one who’s most like the dad,” you point out with a shrug. It’s no secret that Luke is basically Eddie’s twin.

“He’s not their dad!” Eliza says with a small huff. Her parents are disappointing her with their Disney knowledge tonight. 

“My point still stands,” you say before pressing a kiss to the top of your daughter’s head.

Luke shoves another handful of Doritos in his mouth and goes back to looking at the screen.

“I’m not a ginger,” Luke says, though with his mouth being full it sounded more like, “M’not a jinjuh.”

“Who’s he?” Eliza asks as she points to the black and white cat on the screen.

“I thought you knew all the names,” Eddie says. Eliza rolls her eyes, looking identical to her father as she does it.

“No. Luke is Toulouse so who Berlioz?”

“Oh, okay,” Eddie says now that his daughter has cleared up his confusion. “Definitely Ryan. He’s the quietest one but he can still be mischievous.”

“Silent but deadly,” Ryan says.

“Like his farts,” Luke adds, making Eliza giggle.

“Who me?” Eliza asks, looking up at her father with the same big brown eyes that she inherited from him. 

“Marie, of course,” Eddie says as he musses her curls. That name he knows by now. “You’re the spoiled, pampered, sweet girl of the gang.”

The word “sweet” doesn’t seem to matter to Eliza, only focusing on the first two. Her little round face pinches up in a frown; her brows coming together over her dark eyes and her lips forming into a puckering pout. You try, and almost fail, to contain your laughter as your daughter stares at your husband with the cutest menacing look you’ve ever seen. 

“What?” Eddie asks when she doesn’t look away.

“Not a spoiled kitty,” she says. 

“You asked!” Eddie scrunches up his face and sticks his tongue out at her. She does the same in return, proving that your husband is as mature as a three-year-old. 

Luke finishes the Doritos in his mouth and wipes his cheesy hands off on his White Sox shirt.

“You know, I think our whole family is like theirs,” he muses.

“What?” Ryan asks. By the tone of his voice it sounds like he’s over everyone talking and just wants to watch the movie in silence again.

“Yeah,” Luke says and gestures to the screen in front of him. “Stray, scruffy alley cat gets the pretty, sophisticated girl that’s out of his league?”

As unsubtly as possible, Luke jerks his head back towards you and Eddie on the couch.

“Hey!” you pout. “That’s not true.”

“Pretty much is,” Eddie admits with a laugh. 

You move to scoot closer to your husband, little Eliza getting caught in the middle. The small girl hisses like a cat when she gets squished between her parents.

“Jesus,” Ryan groans as he rubs a hand over his eyes. Any form of overt affection between you and your husband has been annoying the teen boy lately. Eddie finds it amusing and whenever the two of you are alone your husband quietly surmises to you that your son is more annoyed by the fact that he can’t express the same sort of affections to the girl he likes. It makes sense since Ryan has always been one to express his love physically with hugs and such.

Now, Eddie presses a smacking kiss to the side of your head—almost to spite Ryan’s attitude— 

before looking down at your daughter squeezed between the two of you.

“I think you even look like a kitty!” he tells her.

Eliza pushes her way to her feet on the couch with a huff. Watching her trying to stand in the cramped space has you tucking in your lips to avoid laughing. Once up, Eliza shoves at her dad’s shoulder as she’s seen her brothers do to one another many times.

“My little kitty!” Eddie teases, finding her reaction comical. He snatches Eliza and holds her in his lap as he tries to press kisses all over her face. Stubble scratches and rubs against Eliza’s soft skin, making her squeal and wiggle around in Eddie’s grip.

“If we’re all cats, do you think another family will adopt me?” Ryan asks in a sullen adolescent tone.

“No,” Luke answers simply. Thank God he hasn’t become a brooding, moody teenager—yet, anyway.

Eliza manages to slip free from her father’s grip and runs over to jump on Ryan’s lap.

“Save me!” she wails.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got ya,” Ryan says as she snuggles into his lap, tucking her head beneath her eldest brother’s chin.

Eddie takes advantage of the newly empty space between you, and he pulls you flush up against his side. You give Eddie a soft kiss before laying your head on his shoulder.

“Ick,” Eliza complains, looking over at you on the couch.

“Yeah, ick,” Ryan echoes.

“Wasn’t he the one who wanted us to have a baby practically as soon as we got together? Now he thinks it’s gross that I kiss you,” Eddie says softly to you, but not soft enough that Luke didn’t hear.

“Yeah, but now we got what we wanted,” Luke says with a shrug. 

“Maybe now you guys can get fixed,” Ryan says with a smirk. 

Eddie opens his mouth to retort but Eliza holds her arms in the air, an immediate call for silence.

“Shhhh! This good part!”

She snuggles back against her big brother, who sticks his tongue out at his dad.

Casually, Eddie wraps his arm around your back so he can flip his oldest son the bird without Eliza seeing. Ryan just laughs and goes back to watching the movie, curious to see what’s so special about this part. The sixteen-year-old’s laughter brings a smile to your face. You haven’t heard it as often as you’d like to lately.

After Eddie situates his arm around your shoulders, you snuggle up to him and drape Eliza’s unicorn blanket over your lap. The Disney movie is not as enticing to you as your husband is, so you press a kiss just below Eddie’s ear before whispering to him.

“I love our kittens. No matter how ferocious they like to pretend they are.”

Eddie chuckles his agreement.

“The cutest little feral monsters around.”

[redroomreflections]

Paint It Black Chapter 3

Teen Natasha Romanoff x Teen Reader

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Summary: Natasha Romanoff has never known love—or at least, that’s what she tells herself. During her time in the Red Room, she encountered a girl whose memory was forcibly erased from her mind. Now, as an Avenger, she faces a new enemy who turns out to be more than just a threat; they share a tangled history that challenges everything Natasha thought she knew about herself and love.

Chapter Summary: Natasha learns who to trust in the Red Room

W/c: 5.2k

Warnings: This is a dark story, so read at your own risk. Mentions/hints of SA, violence, guns, and abuse. We're exploring the Red Room and Natasha's origins, kind of.

Someone I once loved gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift - Mary Oliver

You'd learned a lot of party tricks since you became Dreykov's best girl. You'd been trained by some of the world's deadliest martial artists and snipers. You knew how to make an arrow pierce through the toughest skin. You could crush your enemies' windpipe without your bow's help. You could use a man's tie against him and bring him to his knees in seconds.

You had learned early on that survival in the Red Room wasn’t just about strength or precision—it was about illusion. It was about shaping yourself into whatever they needed you to be, bending and twisting your identity until you could barely recognize your reflection.

When you were twelve, one of the older Widows taught you makeup—not just how to wear it, but how to weaponize it. Lipstick wasn’t just a shade; it was a story. A bold red screamed confidence and control. A soft pink whispered innocence. The faintest hint of gloss could disarm even the sharpest of men.

The etiquette classes were the worst. Hour after hour of balancing books on your head, learning the perfect angle for a smile, the exact tilt of your chin that would make you appear approachable but not too eager. You were drilled in dining etiquette, how to sip champagne without smudging your lipstick, laugh at jokes you didn’t find funny, and dance just close enough to your target to keep their guard down.

They taught you how to pretend to be smart—not too smart, but just enough to stroke a man’s ego without intimidating him. You mastered the art of asking questions you already knew the answers to, of feigning curiosity to keep the conversation flowing.

Every lesson was a reminder that you weren’t being prepared to live. You were being prepared to infiltrate, to seduce, to kill.

You still remembered the first time you saw yourself in the mirror after they finished with you—a little girl’s body dressed up like a woman. The makeup made your face look older, the heels forced your back straight, and the dress clung to you like a second skin. You didn’t recognize the person staring back.

"You’ll grow into it," the instructor had said, adjusting a curl in your hair. "By the time we’re done with you, you’ll be perfect."

Perfect. That’s what they wanted. A perfect soldier. A perfect spy. A perfect party trick.

And they had almost succeeded. Almost.

You had become everything they wanted you to be, yet somewhere deep inside, you had kept a piece of yourself hidden—a touch of defiance, a spark of who you were before they took you.

You didn’t need a party.

You didn’t need their approval.

You needed freedom.

And one day, you were going to take it.

****

After the meeting with Dreykov, you felt a wave of exhaustion wash over you. You tried not to scratch at the skin of your arms. You tried not to focus on the places he’d touched. You walked briskly through the cold, sterile hallways.

As you reached the nearest bathroom, you pushed the door open and slipped inside, grateful for the reprieve from everyone. The bathroom was small, with harsh lighting and chipped tiles, but it felt like a sanctuary compared to the outside world. You leaned against the cool metal sink, slowly closing your eyes to collect yourself. Opening them, you felt heavier than before. The mascara smudged as you rubbed at your eyes.

Your reflection in the mirror looked exhausted, pale, and drawn, as though someone had taken a paintbrush and erased all the color. With one hand, you gripped the sink, and with the other, you shoved it down your throat.

You gagged as bile rose into your mouth, hot and burning. Your stomach contracted and heaved.

This particular party trick only helped you.

********

She hadn’t seen you in a while. Four days, thirteen hours, and twelve minutes, to be exact. It wasn’t like she was counting. You weren’t friends or anything. Widows in training came and went all the time, whether for training, on missions, or worse.

Death.

Natasha had learned not to become attached. Your presence had annoyed her since the first time she spoke to you. You were like an unwelcome buzzing in her ear. You didn’t listen like the other girls. You talked back. You were defiant. You got into trouble. You had resilience and determination in ways the other girls didn’t. Something she wished she could be. Natasha had drive and determination. She was the best in her class. She moved up an age group since returning from Cuba. She was good with a gun, she was fast on her feet, and she could quickly pick up new skills. The one thing she hadn't mastered was her poker face.

Her eyes scanned the room as she ate alone. It was time for a day meal. An hour where the girls were able to let loose just a little. Everyone sat near their favorite colleagues. The word friend should never be in a Widow’s vocabulary. Natasha didn’t have many. None that she wanted any. It made things more painful when she had to pull the trigger.

As she ate, she looked for two people in the room and didn’t see either of them as expected. The first one is you. Your absence had caused quite a stir in the commons. The widow's gossip about you and what’s become of you. Some girls in your age group had mentioned dishonorable things that Natasha didn’t care to replay in her mind. Though she thought nothing of you, she refused to believe bad things. The other person was Yelena. It had been a few months, and her former mission mate would be seven now.

In the years before, Yelena’s birthday was spent in the comfort of their own home. Alexei would grill burgers. Melina would decorate the den with balloons, streamers, unicorns, and pony things that the little girl liked. Natasha was always in charge of keeping her sister occupied. They would run around the backyard until the parents, Melina and Alexei, would come out with a cake and candles for her to blow out.

It was a good memory that Natasha allowed herself to hold onto. It was stupid. None of it was real. Yet everything about it warmed her heart. Memories like that kept her sane. One day, she would be free, and she could make memories like that again if she got the chance.

Natasha looked down at her tray. Lunch consisted of Pirozhki, a stuffed roll with minced beef and rice. There were also a ton of vegetables that Natasha wasn’t fond of. While the Red Room was another hell on earth, the girls were fed well. Their bodies needed it to remain healthy and strong enough to fight.

Natasha took her time biting into her food. Despite the lump in her throat, she chewed her food while keeping her eyes up. She only ate half before she decided it was not for her. She stood, walking over to the trash bin, before clearing her plate. She wiped her hands against the leg of her black sweatpants. She eyed the two guards at the entrance of the cafeteria. Demetri and Igor. They’d worked there for as long as she could remember. She approached the door with an excuse already at the tip of her tongue.

“Kuda ty idesh? (Where are you going?)” Igor’s hand pressed against Natasha’s shoulder, his voice sharp.

Natasha paused but didn’t look at him. “I am going to the infirmary,” she said in English, her tone clipped. Since returning to the Red Room, she had refused to speak Russian unless necessary. It wasn’t defiance—not entirely—but a quiet rebellion against a country that allowed men like Dreykov to exist unchecked.

Igor’s brows furrowed, and he exchanged a glance with Demetri. “Zachem? (Why?)”

“I have my period.” Natasha’s voice was steady, and she met their gazes without a hint of embarrassment.

Both men immediately looked uncomfortable. Demetri muttered something under his breath and opened the door. Natasha didn’t wait for a formal dismissal. She slipped through before they could change their minds, her steps quiet on the worn linoleum floor.

The hallways were dimly lit, and the air smelled faintly of antiseptic. Natasha passed several doors before she reached the infirmary. Her hand hesitated on the knob. She shouldn’t care about you—not here, not now. But she did.

Turning the knob, she opened the door just enough to peek inside. Voices drifted through the crack, low and tense.

“You need a break,” Nora’s voice was firm, though tinged with concern. “She’s been pushed too far, Madam B. Her body can’t keep up at this rate.”

“She’s fine.” Madam B.’s tone was clipped, her frustration evident.

“Widows are made of marble, is that it?” Nora countered, sarcasm dripping from her words. “She’s not marble. She’s flesh and blood, just like the rest of us.”

“Enough!” Madam B. snapped, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “We do not coddle here, Doctor.”

“She’s still a child,” Nora shot back, her voice firm and determined. “A growing girl who needs her rest if you want her to carry out any of her duties.”

Madam B. stilled, her lips pressing into a thin line. The word child hung in the air like a taboo, an unwelcome reminder of the humanity the Red Room sought to erase.

“She ceased being a child the moment she stepped into this place,” Madam B. said coldly, her eyes narrowing.

“And yet her body hasn’t caught up to your expectations, has it?” Nora’s voice softened slightly, though it didn’t lose its edge. “You can push, break, and mold them—but they are still human. Y/N needs time to heal, or she’ll collapse in the middle of your next mission.”

“She wouldn’t dare,” Madam B. said sharply, her gaze flickering to you where you sat on the infirmary bed, silent but seething.

“I wouldn’t,” you said defiantly, your voice cutting through the tense exchange. “I don’t need a break. I’m fine.”

Nora turned to you, her expression softening. “Y/N, this isn’t a competition. It’s your health—”

“I said I’m fine,” you snapped, your hands balling into fists. “Widows don’t need rest. We don’t break.”

Madam B.’s gaze lingered on you long before she returned to Nora. “You see? She understands the stakes. Weakness is not an option.”

“Then you’re a fool,” Nora muttered under her breath, though not quietly enough.

Madam B.’s sharp glare returned to the doctor, but a quiet creak drew their attention before the tension could escalate further.

The infirmary door was slightly ajar. Natasha stood frozen in the opening, her green eyes darting between the women.

Madam B’s eyes narrowed as she glanced toward the door. “Watch her,” she commanded Nora before letting out a sharp huff and storming out of the room. The door slam echoed through the infirmary, leaving a tense silence.

Natasha pressed tightly against the wall outside and held her breath. Her heart pounded as she strained to listen for footsteps fading down the hallway. She waited—one second, two, three—until she was sure Madam B had left.

Carefully, she peeked around the corner to ensure the coast was clear. Satisfied, she stepped closer to the infirmary door. Her hand hovered over the knob, hesitating.

Inside, Nora sighed as she adjusted the cuff of the blood pressure monitor around your arm. “You really need to care more for yourself,” she muttered as she scribbled notes on a clipboard.

“You really need to stop worrying about me,” you replied, shaking your head.

“I’ve been worrying about you since you were four years old,” Nora said sharply, her eyes meeting yours.

You hesitated, unsure how to respond. Nora had been the closest thing you had to stability in this place. Her care had always been a confusing blend of warmth and frustration, a kindness wrapped in thorns. You could never understand why she cared so much. Why did she care at all?

Before you could think of something to say, you changed the subject. “How’s this love story with the scientist going?”

Nora froze, her brow furrowing as she shot you a pointed look. “Melina Vostokoff is a respected Widow who is incredibly smart,” she began curtly. “There is no love story. And you know it’s dangerous to talk like that.”

“You know Melina?” Natasha’s voice cut through the conversation as she stepped into the room.

Nora spun on her heel, her expression hardening as her eyes locked on Natasha. “What are you doing here?” she snapped, her tone sharp. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Natasha hesitated, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “I just—”

“You just nothing,” Nora interrupted coldly, stepping forward. “Do you think this is a game? That you can wander wherever you please? Do you even understand the danger you’re putting yourself in by being here?” She gestured toward you, her anger flaring.

“Nora,” you said softly, sitting up straighter.

Nora ignored you, her eyes still fixed on Natasha. “You have no idea what she’s been through—what we’ve all been through. And now you think you can just walk in here and—”

“Nora,” you said again, more firmly this time.

Nora finally looked at you, her jaw tight.

“It’s okay,” you said, your voice steady. “Let her stay.”

Nora’s shoulders sagged slightly, her anger dissipating into more like exasperation. She glanced back at Natasha, her eyes narrowing. “If anything happens, it’s on you,” she muttered before returning to work.

Natasha stepped closer to you, her movements careful, almost hesitant. Her eyes flickered to Nora, who was now busying herself with the clipboard, and then back to you.

"Hello," Natasha whispered.

"Dobro pozhalovat (welcome)," You said, not looking at her.

Natasha didn’t know why she came. Curiosity, maybe. Or something deeper she wasn’t ready to name. She stood stiffly in the doorway, one hand gripping the frame as she scanned the room.

You were sitting in bed, your posture slouched but tense, eyes staring ahead as if avoiding any attempt to connect—whether with the walls, the room, or anyone.

“Are you sick?” Natasha asked, her voice soft, though her eyes were sharp as they scanned your body for any signs of injury. There were no bruises, bandages, or anything that would explain your absence.

“I wish,” you muttered with a sigh, fingers tracing aimlessly over a loose thread in the blanket that covered your lap. “Just getting evaluated,” you excused yourself, trying to shrug it off.

“You’ve missed all your training sessions.” Natasha pressed, her gaze intense as she approached cautiously.

“Keeping up with my schedule?” You raised an eyebrow, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Are you my new handler?”

“No,” Natasha replied quietly, her throat tight momentarily. “I thought we were friends.”

You didn’t answer right away, your lips pressing into a thin line. But you didn’t deny her, either. The silence between you two stretched, uncomfortable in its weight.

Nora kept her eyes on your chart from the corner, deliberately avoiding any direct attention. She'd never seen you regard anyone with such softness. You weren’t open with anyone other than her.

“You’re not going to go and report this to the other widows, are you?” You finally broke the silence, eyes narrowing slightly.

“The other widows are not my friends,” Natasha said, calm but firm. She let her gaze flicker toward Nora momentarily before returning to you. “You know Melina?”

Nora's response was clipped, her words tight and minimal. “She’s gone,” she said when Natasha asked about Melina’s whereabouts. “Don’t know where, don’t need to.” She didn’t look up from your chart as she spoke, not offering any more information. Her gaze remained focused on the paper in front of her, the lines of your vitals there, as if pretending not to notice the growing tension in the air.

After a long pause, she finally sighed, rolling her shoulders back as she stood up. “I’ll leave you two alone,” she muttered, making it clear she wasn’t interested in offering anything more.

With a curt nod to Natasha, she stepped toward the door, leaving you and Natasha alone in the sterile quiet of the room.

Natasha stood there momentarily, unsure of what to do, her thoughts swirling around the brief, cryptic exchange. She glanced back at you, her expression softening just a little.

“Is that your mom?” Natasha asked, her voice low and tentative, though the curiosity in her tone couldn’t be hidden. She didn’t wait for an immediate answer; she just leaned against the wall, her eyes still on you, waiting for a response.

"You see the resemblance?" You said flatly. "Nora is not my mother. Though she likes to pretend she cares."

"She seemed soft with you," Natasha offered, watching your reaction closely. "Not like the other Widows. Not like the guards."

Natasha shifted uncomfortably, her arms crossing over her chest as she leaned against the wall. She looked at you, her gaze unwavering but uncertain, as if trying to piece together her own reasoning for being there.

You huffed, shaking your head. “Softness is just another strategy. You know that.”

Natasha didn’t respond immediately. Her eyes flicked toward the door where Nora had exited moments ago and then back to you. “Maybe. Or maybe she’s different.”

You scoffed, but there wasn’t much conviction behind it. “Why are you here, Natasha? You’ve never been one to check up on anyone.” You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes as if trying to read her. “So why me?”

Natasha hesitated. It wasn’t a question she’d asked herself before walking into the room, but now it hung between you, heavy and unavoidable. She shifted her weight, her fingers brushing over the edge of the wall she leaned on.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice almost too soft to hear. She looked down briefly, her lips pressed into a thin line, before meeting your eyes again. “Maybe I was curious. Or... maybe I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Why would you care?” you asked, your tone blunt but not unkind. “I’m just another Widow, right?”

Natasha shook her head, stepping closer to the bed. “No, you’re not. You’re... different.”

You raised a brow, leaning back slightly. “Different, how?”

Natasha didn’t answer right away. She stood there. Finally, she said, “You don’t let this place break you. I’ve seen it. You don’t let them win.”

Your gaze softened, but your walls didn’t crumble entirely. “And what about you?” you asked. “Are you letting them win?”

Natasha didn’t flinch at the question, but its weight settled in her chest. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “But I’m trying not to.”

"I am to train you,"

"You?" Natasha blinked, her surprise evident. "Aren't you too young?"

"They say I'm the best,"

"Then, why not use your talents on a mission?"

"Leaving this place is too much of a privilege," You shrugged. "I am meant to be here. I am meant to be his."

"Does he hurt you?" Natasha asked.

You paused, your expression unreadable. You didn't want to answer. It felt like admitting weakness, like giving in. "I'll live."

"That's not what I asked,"

Natasha frowned, her curiosity gnawing at her despite your apparent resistance. “You’re not like the others,” she said cautiously, watching for any shift in your expression. “He treats you differently.”

You let out a low, humorless laugh, shaking your head. “You ask too many questions. You’ll do best not to in the future.”

“I just want to understand,” Natasha pressed. “How did you become so close with him?”

“If I had a straight answer, you’d have it,” you muttered, your voice low and even, your fingers absently fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. “But if I were to guess, it’s probably because I’m a good fighter. Maybe the best. That’s all that matters to him.”

Natasha’s brow furrowed. “He doesn’t treat you like a child.”

“No, he doesn’t,” you replied, your tone sharp, almost cutting. “What is it that you really want to know? What happens when I meet with him? It’s private.”

“It’s not nothing,” Natasha said softly. “I can see it. It’s not.”

“No,” you agreed, your voice quieter now but no less firm. “It’s not. But it’s none of your business.”

“You’re too young to—” Natasha started, but you cut her off.

“I am young,” you said sharply, sitting up straighter, your gaze hard. “And I’m the best. That’s a gift and a curse. He gives me gifts, and I give him something of myself in return. I’ve gotten used to it.”

Natasha’s stomach turned at your words, but she didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t sure she wanted to push further, not when you were unwilling to share.

You sighed, your shoulders relaxing just slightly as you glanced at her. “I’ll train you,” you said, your voice softening, “but I won’t tell you things about my life. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

Natasha hesitated, her mind racing with unspoken questions and uneasy thoughts, but in the end, she nodded. “Okay,” she said quietly.

*******

The door to Dreykov’s office loomed taller than Natasha expected, its dark wood heavy and foreboding. She hesitated before knocking, her fist pausing mid-air. No one talked about what happened inside. Girls went in and came out changed—quieter, sharper, colder.

The door opened with a groan, and Natasha stepped inside. The warmth hit her first, different from the biting chill that filled the rest of the Red Room. A space heater purred softly under the desk, and the faint smell of tobacco lingered in the air. She didn’t know what she expected—something barren and clinical, maybe—but this wasn’t that. Shelves lined the walls, packed with books she doubted he read. A globe sat in the corner, and photographs she didn’t dare look at too closely caught the light from the desk lamp.

“Natasha,” He greeted, not looking up right away. He sat behind a wide desk of polished mahogany, his large hands resting flat on the surface. His tone wasn’t harsh but didn’t invite ease, either. He gestured to the chair opposite him. “Sit.”

Natasha did as told, tucking her hands into her lap.

He studied her for a long moment, his eyes roaming over her body before resting on her face. His gaze was unnerving. It reminded her of a hawk eyeing a mouse, calculating and cold.

“You’ve been doing well,” Dreykov began, lifting his gaze to meet hers. His eyes were sharp and calculating, making her feel like he could see through her skin. “Top marks in marksmanship. Hand-to-hand combat. Strategy. Impressive for someone so… young.”

“Thank you, sir,” Natasha replied carefully. Her voice was steady, even though her heart was pounding.

“Do you know why you’re here?” he asked, leaning back in his chair, his fingers tapping idly against the desk.

Natasha hesitated. She didn’t know. Not really. “No, sir.”

Dreykov smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’ve caught my attention, Natasha. That is not an easy thing to do.”

She didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing.

“But,” he continued, his voice softening in a way that somehow made it more dangerous, “attention can be fleeting. Do you know what keeps it?”

“No, sir.”

“Loyalty,” he said, leaning forward now, his elbows resting on the desk. “Obedience. Dedication. Do you have these things?”

“Yes, sir,” Natasha answered quickly.

Dreykov studied her for a long moment, the silence thick and uncomfortable. She wanted to look away but didn’t dare.

"You're familiar with y/n?" Dreykov asked.

She didn't know how to answer the question. She didn't know how much he knew. If he knew, she would be in trouble, too.

"She is a fighter and the best of the Red Room," Dreykov continued.

"Yes, sir," Natasha answered, swallowing hard.

"And do you respect her?" Dreykov's eyes bored into hers, unrelenting.

"Yes, sir," she said, forcing herself to maintain eye contact.

Dreykov was silent for a long moment as if contemplating her answer.

"She is to train you," He finally said, his gaze not wavering. "You will report everything back to me. Your training, your progress, her attitude and treatment of you."

"I don't understand," Natasha said, her brows furrowing. "Why?"

"Because you're special," Dreykov said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Because I have plans for you, and I need to ensure y/n does not interfere."

Dreykov’s gaze didn’t waver as Natasha processed his words, her thoughts running a mile a minute. How could you interfere? What could you possibly do to derail his plans? Natasha didn’t understand.

The confusion must have been written all over her face because Dreykov chuckled—a deep, humorless sound that sent a chill down her spine.

“Ah, you’re wondering, aren’t you?” he said, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on the desk. “How could she possibly get in the way?”

Natasha didn’t respond. She didn’t trust herself to speak, her jaw tightening as she forced herself to remain composed.

Dreykov smirked, the expression cold and sharp. “Y/N is… how shall I put this? A jealous little thing,” he said, his tone almost mocking. “She doesn’t like to share. Especially not with me. You trust her?"

"I do,"

"Don't. Don't trust anyone,"

"Not even you?"

Dreykov laughed. "Especially not me."

Natasha didn't answer. She didn't know what to say. Her mind raced, the warning ringing in her ears. She wanted to ask him what he meant, but the words stuck in her throat. A knock at the door broke the tension before she could muster the courage to speak.

“Come in,” He called smoothly, leaning back in his chair, his smirk firmly in place.

The door creaked open, and you stepped inside. Natasha barely recognized you. Gone was the confident fighter she’d seen earlier in the training halls. In your place stood a girl—more petite, somewhat more fragile, with your shoulders held high. Your dress was simple, patterned with tiny flowers, its soft colors highlighting your youth. You looked pretty. Beautiful if she dared to think it. For the first time, you looked your age: fourteen.

Natasha watched as you crossed the room without sparing her a glance. It struck her as deliberate. You kept your eyes forward, focused solely on Dreykov, and your expression was carefully blank.

His smile widened as his eyes roved over your appearance, a glint of satisfaction gleaming in them. “Perfect,” he said, gesturing toward you. “Doesn’t she look like a proper child, Natasha? A flower among thorns.”

Natasha’s stomach twisted at how he spoke and appraised you as though you were nothing more than a tool he’d shaped with his own hands.

“Someone will teach you how to blend in,” Dreykov continued, his gaze shifting to Natasha. “How to act like a child. Then, how to act like a woman. It’s a skill, you know. One you’ll need.”

Natasha’s brows furrowed. The idea felt foreign to her—learning to act like something she was supposed to be. “I don’t understand,” she said quietly, daring to speak despite the tension thickening in the room.

“Of course, you don’t,” Dreykov said, his tone condescending. “But you will. There’s a reason I’ve paired you with her.” He nodded toward you, and Natasha caught the faintest flicker of something—an emotion she couldn’t place—across your face before it disappeared. “She’ll show you. Watch her. Learn from her.”

You finally spoke, your voice softer than Natasha had ever heard it. “What do you need me to do, sir?”

Dreykov’s grin returned. “Everything you already do, my dear. And perhaps a little more. Natasha will shadow you for a time. Set an example for her. Show her how to be... convincing.”

You nodded stiffly, your movements almost mechanical. Natasha couldn’t tell if you were resigned or simply afraid.

She watched you with a growing sense of unease, unsure of what she was seeing. She couldn't pinpoint the shift in the air. Maybe it was the way you moved, the way you held yourself. You were afraid of him. Truly afraid of him. Every display of bravado she'd seen of you with others was thrown out of the window. You were small. Fragile. Vulnerable.

It scared her.

******

As the door shut behind you, the silence was almost unbearable. You walked ahead, your steps quiet and purposeful, refusing to meet Natasha’s gaze. She followed you down the hallway, barely able to keep up with the pace you set.

Finally, Natasha broke the silence. “Do you always wear dresses like that for him?” The words came out sharper than she intended, her voice laced with something between curiosity and accusation.

You stopped abruptly, turning on your heel to face her. You looked less fragile momentarily, the fire she’d seen in the training halls flickering behind your eyes. “What do you think?” you snapped, your tone cutting.

Natasha stared at you, searching for an answer, unsure of what she was looking for. “I don’t know. You won’t tell me anything.”

“And I don’t plan to,” you shot back. “You’re not here to know me, Romanova. You’re here to watch and learn. Do that.”

Natasha felt the sting of your words, but she refused to back down. “He thinks you’re jealous of me. That you don’t want me around.”

You flinched at that, just barely, but it was enough for Natasha to notice. “He doesn’t know anything,” you muttered, your voice quieter now, tinged with bitterness.

“Doesn’t he?” Natasha challenged, stepping closer. “He’s got you wrapped around his finger, hasn’t he? Playing dress-up, doing whatever he tells you to do.”

Your jaw tightened, and for a moment, Natasha thought you might lash out. Instead, you smirked, though there was no humor in it. “And you’re any different? Do you think he doesn’t have plans for you, too? You’re just another piece on his board, Romanoff. Don’t kid yourself.”

The words hit harder than Natasha expected, but she kept her expression neutral. “At least I’m not pretending I have control,” she said evenly, her eyes narrowing.

Your smirk faltered, and Natasha caught a flicker of something—hurt, maybe, or anger. “You don’t get it,” you said quietly, almost whispering. “You don’t know what it’s like to be... useful. To matter.”

Natasha opened her mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. She didn’t know what it was like—not really. But she could see the weight of it now, the burden you carried. And for the first time, she wondered if Dreykov’s warning wasn’t about jealousy but the cracks in your armor that he didn’t want her to see.

You turned away before she could say anything else, your steps brisk as you returned to the training hall. “You don’t need to understand,” you said over your shoulder, your voice cold again. “Just keep up.”

Natasha watched you go, a knot tightening in her chest. She didn’t know if she wanted to follow yr fight you, but she knew one thing for sure: Dreykov was right. You were dangerous—but not in the way he thought.

[stereopticons]

On This Day in Schitt's Creek: April 27

2019

Damsel in Distress [david/patrick, NR, 1,734] by deathbysandblk

Patrick's first time at a gay bar.

For Therein All Honor Lies [david/patrick, G, 1,299] by madcapkittycat

David's whole life has been an endless intermission careening towards the second act. His costume is beginning to unravel.

his favorite thing [david/patrick, NR, 595] by @startswithhope

David muses on one of his favorite things that Patrick does.

2020

[Podfic] He Sees You [david/patrick, E, podfic] by Amanita_Fierce

“Do you wear a lot of blue?” she asks. Cindy, her name tag says. She hands Patrick a pair of dark gray wire-frame glasses which he slides on until they hook behind his ears. And it’s not like—well everyone who knows him knows he likes blue. But he feels a little unsettled that this stranger picks up on it, like at she can see his whole life contained within the frames around his eyes. “Uh, yeah. I guess so,” Patrick says, taking them off again. This pair, like all the others she has given him, is exactly right and completely wrong. Or, Patrick gets glasses and thinks about identity. David helps. [Podfic of He Sees You, written by Distractivate]

Double Queer [david/patrick, E, 2,661] by AgentRusco

In this story we will explore Patrick being "Double Queer"-- that is, both trans and gay. I have chosen to write Patrick as a trans man -- female to male transgender. First up is just some sex, but I may flesh it out into an actual story that is mostly canon-compliant. Besides the trans!Patrick thing. Look for another story sometime down the road that has more plot.

I'll Be Home At Last [david/patrick, T, 8,679] by generally

“Okay. Let’s look at the art,” said Patrick, easygoing, like David hadn’t just threatened to kick him out of the building not ten seconds ago.Something tightly wound inside of David loosened its grip, just a little. “Okay.” (David runs an art gallery in New York. After he makes a humiliating discovery, he seeks the help of a certain financial analyst.)

Leather and Lace [david/patrick, E, 6,079] by @thedidipickles

Patrick cleared his throat, a classic sign of trying to feign nonchalance. If Patrick wasn’t driving, David was certain his arms would be crossed. “I said it’s funny because we actually have this at home, leather and lace.” “I mean, yeah, I probably have the album,” David replied, a bit unsure of the point. Patrick cleared his throat again. Poor thing, whatever he was trying to articulate was clearly not coming easily. “No,” he half-laughed. “I meant we have leather, and we have lace. You have a couple jackets, you know? And the, ah, lingerie.”

You Can Plan on Me [david/patrick, M, 8,545] by odofidi

For the first Christmas in their new home, David and Patrick navigate around having their families all together. And David learns that having Marcy Brewer around is pretty awesome.

2021

[art] concrete jungle where dreams are made of [gen, G, fanart] by budd

A branding mock-up for Alexis Rose Communications featuring a PNG logo as well as a front and back business card design.

[Podfic] By Any Other Name [david/patrick, G, podfic] by Amanita_Fierce

The practice of taking someone else’s name hadn’t even seemed odd until Twyla asked who was changing their name after the wedding, him or David, as she dropped his tea on the counter weeks ago. Patrick had blinked at her and realized he didn’t have an answer. No one had ever asked before. Everyone had always known Rachel was going to become Rachel Brewer. She’d doodled it on half a dozen notebooks in high school. But with David, well, Patrick hadn’t even thought about it. Now he couldn’t stop. [Podfic of "By Any Other Name" written by DoubleL27]

An Affordable, Everyday Ride [david/patrick, T, 1,900] by @thesleepyskipper

It was another wild and crazy Friday night at the Wobbly Elm. David is starting to get tired of the way Alexis and Ted are always on top of one another every time they go out, rubbing their relationship in his face. Alexis was dancing up on Ted all night long, calling him ‘babe’ about fifty times too many and making out with him where everyone could see. Gross. Stevie is supposed to be his single wing-woman. But no, Jake had arrived late into the evening and taken her attention away from participating in one of David’s favourite pastimes - judging the unfortunate fashion choices of the other patrons of the bar. At the end of the evening, David has to call an Uber to take them all home. “Patrick will be there in 7 minutes” comes up on the screen along with the little car icon on the map showing his location. Hopefully this stranger can put up with their drunken shenanigans.

For a Good Time, Call... [david/patrick, E, 45,183] by youmadeeverythingokay

*now complete* Patrick Brewer is still coming to terms with his newly discovered sexuality, and is trying to work up the courage to do something about it.He spots a beautiful man at the bar but can't quite bring himself to act on it just yet. So he calls a phone sex hotline to help build his courage, but when a smooth voiced man he finds so intriguing picks up the phone, how far will he go?And what about the man at the bar, will he ever be able to find the strength to talk to him? Or, The sex hotline AU that nobody asked for!

Like Doors Open Wide [david & johnny, G, 2,216] by @my-nameless-bliss

Johnny tugs on the cuff of his sleeve, telltale preening beneath the gossamer-thin cover of his false modesty. “It’s a bit of a tall order to get a place like this up to David Rose standards, you know. Hopefully it’s not too far off the mark.” He nudges David with his elbow, and David rolls his eyes to cover his laugh, because that is blatant fishing.But maybe David doesn’t mind, right now.Still, he can’t quite shove aside the hot, itchy embarrassment that crawls up the back of his neck as he steadies himself and says, with perfect honesty, “It’s beautiful.”He refuses to look at Johnny’s reaction, but he can hear him hum, quietly pleased. And it’s… nice. It’s a nice moment. Until Johnny makes an awkward noise in the back of his throat. “I know it’s not Bali, but it—it’s the best I could do.”

Lithuania [gen, M, 300] by Rosey_Peach

2022

[podfic] in search of all things beautiful [david/patrick, T, podfic] by Amanita_Fierce

Patrick spends most of his life living in the conditional tense. And then he meets David and he stops saying should so much and starts sleeping a lot more. Alternatively, a lot of words about Patrick, sleep, and finding peace. Podfic of in search of all things beautiful by goingmywaydoll.

drunk idiots in love [david/patrick, T, 975] by @aoubooming

A collection of drunk texts spanning David & Patrick's relationship from their first meeting to their wedding.

Face Me [david/patrick, G, 217] by @tyfinn

David wants to do something nice for his husband.

Fallout at the Fantasy [david/patrick, M, 30,223] by @trickiwooao3

Figuring out he was gay was one thing; actually being gay was another. Patrick attends a week-long Guys Meet Guys retreat with a strategy. When fate derails his careful plans, he is forced to depend upon the kindness of a generous, handsome stranger.

I can't believe you talked me into... wearing that [david/patrick, G, 203] by @lastchancecafe13

David should have known better than to leave Patrick in charge of their new staff uniforms.

It's Always Who You Least Eggspect [patrick & stevie, G, 297] by @weathereyehorizon

Stevie talks Patrick into some petty crime.

Just Add Glitter [david/patrick, T, 230] by @mostlyinthemorning

Jocelyn needs a favor. David can't believe Patrick has betrayed him like this.

ring around the Rose [david/patrick, G, 242] by @blackandwhiteandrose

There is literally no one else in the world David would consider doing this for. If that’s not love, he truly doesn’t know what is.

2024

Berry [david/patrick, G, 100] by @ramonaflow

Blue Steel [david/patrick, T, 600] by @tyfinn

Patrick continues to find new ways to troll his husband.

Stats:

No fanworks for 2017, 2018, or 2023 2019: 3 fics/3,628 words 2020: 5 fanworks (4 fics, 1 podfic)/25,982 words 2021: 6 fanworks (4 fics, 1 podfic, 1 fanart)/16,522 words 2022: 8 fanworks (7 fics, 1 podfic)/32,413 words 2024: 2 fics/700 words Total: 24 fanworks (20 fics, 3 podfics, 1 fanart)/112,340 words

[qedmirage]

Conclave (2024)

They don't make movies like this very often.

Conclave (dir. Edward Berger) is a 20 million $ drama film with strong political thriller and mystery elements. That's not a lot of money to make a film these days, solidly in the 'mid budget' area, but the "drama movie about several characters locked in a scenic locale" is an honorable and excellent tradition.

The basic setup is that, well, the pope has died and there's to be a conclave to elect his successor; Ralph Finnes as Cardinal Lawrence is the Dean of the College of Cardinals and must manage the overall proceedings. And a papal election conclave is never, I think, an event that goes smoothly or as expected; it happens rarely enough and the stakes are so high that there's always going to be something to give the Dean a headache.

Well Lawrence must have gotten dealt an awful hand because almost immediately there are two separate soap opera level twists; one cardinal (a known alcoholic) alleges Tremblay, one of the favorites in the election, was dismissed the night before the pope's death rendering him ineligible for the election. And another cardinal...shows up? He has been appointed in pectore, in secret as the Archbishop of Kabul (okay, fair, I can see why that guy would be secret). In the real world that disqualifies you from election if you haven't had your identity publicized (because soap opera twists are bad) ; in the film's world the relevant rules are different so they can have their twist. All in all this means Lawrence - now the most senior person on the scene - must figure out the truth of those allegations, while also participating in the election, without coming across as influencing it, and oh yes he's sequestered and forbidden to talk to the outside world. Have fun, detective!

Some things stand out about this film in particular. Firstly, the major characters are all Cardinals; they are men of letters, with knowledge of several languages, deep familiarity with scripture, etc. Basically, they're kind of nerds, all locked in a room to determine which among them gets to be the next boss.

And secondly and somewhat relatedly this is a film where the characters are quite sincere in their beliefs. It's good character writing! Okay, getting much further will require lots of spoilers, so if you click on the read more or go past the big image, you have been warned! Spoilers ahead!!

I really liked the various ways Lawrence and other characters play hardball with their vows in this film. The nuns who serve the cardinals food and clean up the hotel they use are not sequestered...but the cardinals are. At one point when Lawrence wants to get access to a report a nun does not give it to him, but she logs into her computer...and leaves the room. And wouldn't you know it, Lawrence ends up with the report just after that! A very funny thing is that while the allegations against Tremblay seem to be true, the report Lawrence publicizes is taken as a heavy-handed move and doesn't seem likely to derail his candidacy. What does take him down is that he arranged for a specific nun to be present, and she seemed to embarrass another cardinal. Tremblay says he did this on the pope's orders and he....might not be wrong? Like the past pope is described as a chess master and it would be really funny if he ordered candidate A to take a move against candidate B he knew would be exposed and sink both of them.

Okay, some faster thoughts. While the film's sympathies lie in the progressive direction (more on that in a moment) the progressive Cardinal Bellini doesn't come off so noble to me. He seems at times too focused on the hard-nosed politics required to keep Tedesco out vs. Lawrence's descriptions of faith. But hey, you do NOT want Tedesco to win, so it's not like he doesn't have a good reason!

And last but not least, the final twist.

So the winner of the election ends up being Benitez, that in pectore candidate from the start. And Benitez, it turns out, is intersex.

The film handles this with a level of care that's not so common in media. That's right! The "Catholic Church Movie" is one of the better LGBTQIA+ films of the year! Surprise, bozos!

This is a twist but it's one that makes you want to revisit and rethink earlier parts of the film. Why was Benitez, who seems so sure of his beliefs in confrontations with Lawrence, such a fan of Lawrence's prayer about embracing doubt and uncertainty?

Benitez during the film is someone who's already figured out who they are and how to handle their "situation", ultimately deciding against surgical alteration to remove his female organs. "I am as god made me."

There's a tendency in mass media to over-emphasize surgical and biological aspects of gender presentation, but Benitez is someone who's very clear that having ovaries doesn't define who he is.

[hello-spidey14]

In your Ninjago movie au, I’m really curious about Jaya if Jay and Blue are like different people.

♡JAYA♡

OK so with jaya- yeah jay is 2 different people in a sense. Movie jay is very shy and seems pretty nervous in most scenes we see of him in the movie. I thought this was a really interesting divergence to his character that i wanted to explore a little more and as I was thinking about it I realized I could give him his show counterparts personality as well.

I established that the reason he is so shy was because he used to be bullied when he was younger which led to him having self esteem issues as well as social anxiety.

The reason he got bullied was because of his identity - his family and homelife being something he was both known and teased for in his old school. I realized that if he was a ninja, he had a mask, nobody knew who he was and he could just show himself off without that worry of getting bullied for it then he would be a lot more confident.

He already seems to hide himself a lot- bangs that cover the top half of his face (something that they added in his new design that's very different then his og hair) and a scarf that covers the bottom of his face which reminded me of that episode where him and nya went on a date but he was slowly turning into a snake so he used a scarf to cover up cause he wanted to look his best infront of her. So having a full on mask would make that constant effort to hide himself less of a stressor.

Now with nya! Interestingly enough it seems like they were gonna go a different route with her character-

She was gonna be well accomplished at school but unlike show nya she would be uncomfortable with the attention that was drawn to her achievements instead of prideful Of it. I wanted to keep that bit about her being a top star student cause that's very nya like.

When it came to jaya i wanted to have roles flipped a little. Movie jay keeps to himself and is in his own bubble (kinda anti social) so he doesn't notice nya in class.

Jay likes cyan however. He thinks she's the coolest person in the group and she motivates him to do better whenever she starts getting pumped up and ready to train.

Her enthusiasm is contagious to him and while she teaches him stuff about weaponry that she learned from her parents and from her own research he teaches her more about gadgets since nyas a bit of a beginner in my verse (she's in the robotics club but mini robots is all she's ever built, so jay teaches her some more advanced stuff and helps her with her projects.)

Jay falls for nyas personality without knowing what she looks like or who she is. He just likes "cyan".

Nya x Jay x Cole (love triangle)? ❌️

Nya x Jay x Blue (love triangle)? ✅️

So in my au nya gets a crush on both blue and Jay. She likes blue because she doesnt have to try and be over the top, riding motorcycles through the school halls to be seen as cool. She doesn't have to be student of the month to be seen as smart and respected. She just is all of those things naturally to him. She likes Jay because he's kind, he's dedicated and smart. He's so different from the chaos that she surrounds herself with and it feels like she's just a teen girl with a crush on the cute, quiet boy in the back of the class. It makes her feel normal.

I wanted to show that Jay likes nya outside of just her looks. He really respects her and her achievements, he sees her as a strong ninja and as someone he can be himself around cause his more extroverted side meshes we'll with hers.

Here's movie jaya concept art!

Nya likes both sides of Jay, she loves the loud extroverted side of him that's funny and hypes her up and will be just as over the top as she is at times. Someone who's a lot like her. Someone who risks his life next to hers as they go on missions to save the city before heading back to go eat dinner side by side. She loves blue. She loves the insecure and shy pretty boy in her class who matches her intellect. Who comes from the middle of nowhere and has kooky parents that immediately hug her the second they see her walking to their home to pick up their son. She loves Jay walker.

Thank you so much for the ask!! It really means a lot <3 have a great day/night/evening o(^o^)o

(Sorry if this wasn't worded that well btw)

[primeofprimes115]

A Flight with Supergirl - Supergirl x Male Raeder

Note: Fluff

"I got you"

Y/N hadn't thought he'd be asking out the girl who had been keeping the city safe since she made the world known about her presence in the form of the blonde girl with the red cape and the identical S on her suit that only Superman proudly wore.

To say he was over the Moon was kind of true in a way, he hadn't thought much of it but when Kara Danvers revealed there was more to her than meets the eye? He was ecstatic, had many questions, wondered if Kara was real and that only made her ever more interested in him, she found him cute, funny, and at times, vulnerable but she vowed to protect him, no matter what happens.

This was before the first date, the two had only met prior to bumping into each other in public, Y/N was nothing but an entertainer on social media, while Kara Danvers worked as an intern for Cat.Co Worldwide Media from time to time...

On the other half? Her real job was nothing short of being a superhero, she worked closely with her adopted parents, Eliza and Jeremiah Danvers who both loved her as their daughter, working closely with the D.E.O. from time to time. And on the other half? She'd work closely with heroes like Batgirl/Oracle, Spoiler, etc.

Kara Danvers was Supergirl, the cousin of Superman and sole defender of National City.

A lot had changed since Kara revealed the suit and cape to the unsuspecting Y/N, his life had changed since then, for the better in a way, but he had to keep the secret off social media for his safety alone, none of his fans could know that he was in touch with the Girl of Steel, not even his family... For now that is.

He found Kara Danvers to be this cute, nerdy girl who seemed to be a lost puppy at times, just someone outgoing and super friendly, she looked gorgeous in his eyes, but after she revealed she was Supergirl? It only unlocked a new perspective.

He didn't ask out Kara because she was this strong and mighty superhero who was more powerful than a locomotive, could fly anywhere; even in space, could shoot lasers out of her eyes and all sorts of other things... He asked Kara out because he was generally interested in her.

And she accepted, though she gave warnings to him about dating her, he didn't let it bother him much, he loved for who she is and would love to go on a date with her.

"I... *nervous giggle* I haven't exactly been on a date in a while" Kara eyed him, not planning to keep her eyes off him anytime soon.

Y/N took a glance at her, she could've mentioned it earlier rather than later but... He wasn't bothered much. He had other shocking news. "Let me tell you" he leaned in. "This is my first time".

"Wait, really?!?" she tried not to shout it out so everyone could hear her, pushing up her glasses to keep herself disguised. "You've never been on a date before? I've known you for two months now and you now tell me this??" she asked him curiously as she slurped some of her milkshake from the straw.

"Nope, and for someone like me? That sounds bad, doesn't it?" he asked her, resulting in a giggle from her.

"If you asked someone else? They'd be lying to you and saying it is" she cooed. "But it's not, I can understand the tension, but you don't seem to be tense around me and that's good" she told him with a big smile. "I'm happy that I'm your first date" she gave him a smile in his direction. That cute, warm smile she'd been giving him since the day they met randomly.

"Y-Yeah..." he began to lean in. "But I had no idea I'd be asking Supergirl out on a date though" he whispered after looking over his shoulder. "Like it's crazy to still think about it".

Kara giggled at his observation, she looked down to what she wore, knowing she had her Supergirl suit underneath, she smiled while sipping up the tasty strawberry milkshake from her straw.

"That reminds me" she finished taking a sip. "I gotta show you something after this, it's something I want to share with you" she gave him a little wink, her words enough made him curious to what it was she wanted to share.

"Oh? What is it?" he asked with a little smirk at the corner of his lips.

"Haha, you'll see" she smirked back. "But damn, I forgot how delicious these milkshakes are" she continued to sip on her milkshake, before Y/N done the same.

"Yeah, they are pretty delicious" he agreed.

What followed after was the pair leaving the diner they went to on their date, their hands brushed off of each other which added to the whole romantic tension.

Kara noticed Y/N blushing after their hands brushed off each other a few times, which only made her grab his hand softly and gently at a moments notice.

"I got you" she told him sweetly, he didn't understand the meaning behind her words, but he'd soon find out from where she was leading him to.

An audible look of confusion spreaded across his face when she led him to his apartment building of where he stayed for now, he didn't remember telling her where he stayed but she teased that Supergirl had been 'keeping' an eye on him, with a wink at the end.

He laughed at the hint she gave, saying how it was sweet of her to keep an eye on him the entire time, if only he knew what was coming next...

She took him to the roof of the apartment building from the stairs, using her super speed to make the journey more quicker which was a woozy experience for him but he recovered soon after...

This was when she began to take off her glasses and cardigan, revealing the suit underneath, before she took off her disguise completely, transforming into the Girl of Steel, her alter ego. He began to realize something was a little off with Kara's plan, knowing they were far up from the ground...

Like her? He had a secret of his own...

He hated heights...

Heights made him quiver, he always feared heights as a kid, he hated them.

It didn't sound as drastic as someone being a superhero, but this was something he always had a fear of, and he had a feeling Kara was going to show him something he feared.

The sun shined through the view ahead of Kara, she floated up a little, her cape being picked up by the gentle wind, rustling behind her softly. Her hair flowed like a golden cape as she closed her eyes, letting the sun soak into her face.

She inhaled and exhaled through her nose and out her mouth, letting out a satisfied sigh, her red skirt soon picking up from the tender wind, the warmth of the sun on her face soaked into her skin.

She reopened her eyes, smiling.

"Um..." Y/N soon brought her attention after he'd been staring at the golden S on her cape the whole time. "Why did you bring me up here?" a tone of nervousness came out of Y/N, as Kara turned herself around in midair.

"I never get to show much people what I see, to show them what it looks like to be up there" she looked up at the sky. "Even if its just casually, sure I've shown some friends of mine but... I never got to show someone like you what I see" she revealed, her words were rather sweet and tender, just like the milkshakes they had on their date.

Kara... Supergirl, looked down toward her date once more, before offering her hand to him while floating closer to him.

"I wanna show you what I see, I want to share this view with you, and it's a perfect time too" she smiled at him, her hand still out for him to grab. "Let me show you".

He looked at her hand hesitantly, before he found himself staring at her hand before shaking his head.

Supergirl took notice of his behavior, knowing something was up. "Is something wrong?" she asked him sweetly, putting her hand to the side before floating down in front of him, she showed a concerned look on her face.

A pure, sweet, generally concerned look...

"I... This may not be the best time to tell you..." he twiddled with his thumbs, looking down at the ground away from Kara's eyes for a moment...

"You're afraid of heights???" she asked him, despite leaving him shocked at her guessing correctly.

"Wha? How did you know that??" he chuckled nervously, his face heated up as he looked at her.

"It was a pretty wild guess" she shrugged. "But hey! That's okay! I can... Help with that" she told him next, smiling at him nicely.

"H-How?" he asked, feeling more nervous by the minute. "I-I-I hated heights as a kid, how can you help me?" he stuttered, beginning to stammer his words before Kara shut him up by placing a finger on his lips.

"I got you" she cooed, repeating her phrase from earlier after she held his hand gently, her hand was warm and soft, the soft wording made him a little bit less uneasy about her plan to show him the view.

"O-Okay" he breathed in and out.

She smiled before swooping him from his feet, into her embrace, carrying him like a bride which was something he didn't expect for her to do.

"You're safe and secure, I'm gonna start levitating okay? The wind is gonna pick up soon once I start flying completely" she cooed, Y/N nodded silently as Supergirl began to take flight, slowly her feet lifted off the roof, stage one had began of taking flight.

A minute had gone by and Y/N began to cower into Supergirl's neck a little, closing his eyes as the wind picked up a little more.

"I-I don't know about this" he let his fears known to her. "Maybe this is a bad idea" he said to himself, digging his face into the crook of her neck, feeling the soft skin and the part of her cape attached and tucked into her suit. Her scent smelt like a comforting vanilla.

She felt his face burrow into her neck, the sounds of her cape rustling in the wind growing stronger as she continued flying up soon followed, she was only half way up now.

Maybe he shouldn't have agreed on this... Maybe something else would've been said instead if he thought about it more clearly.

"Keep your eyes on me Y/N" Supergirl cooed with a little giggle at the end. "It's gonna be okay, you're in my arms, my warm embrace" she continued, the wind began to pick up a little more intensely as she increased her flight speed. "I got you" her coos went forward into his ears. "You're safe and sound within my arms" she cooed one last time before the wind picked up even more.

He could feel the warmth of her words, as comforting as they were, he still felt hesitant... He felt sick to his stomach.

But she was right... He was in her embrace, he was safe and sound in her arms... She has him.

"D-Don't drop me, Supergirl" he pulled back a little to speak, his pupils landing on Kara's eyes as she then looked at him with a sweet smile.

"I'd never do that... Never" the Girl of Steel vowed, she found it a little adorable that he dug his face into her neck and hell, this was his first date and he was already doing this. She couldn't lie but make a mental note that this was cute, and she was supposed to be the cute one around here.

It was no wonder why she suddenly fell for him the moment she laid her eyes on him more, his laugh, his humor, his gentle kindness... He was someone perfect for someone like herself and she didn't really know about him till she bumped into him, even if he was this big social media entertainer on the internet, laughing and gaffing with his social media friends just like him.

"I suppose that makes me feel a lot more better then" he chuckled nervously before gaining the courage to look at her in the eyes, taking his face out of the crook of her neck.

The caped girl smiled more brightly, showing her perfect white teeth, her eyes laying upon his and she knew she had fallen in love... He seemed to...

Perfect, even if he had said before that he wasn't...

Even she wasn't perfect, countless times she's said that she always will make mistakes, but she gets over them and pushes on, everyone makes mistakes.

No one is perfect...

Y/N kept his eyes on her, watching her baby blues stare back into his eyes, before her eyes drifted to the sunny view ahead... And at that moment? She began to fly forward.

Y/N felt his stomach aching a little bit more from the sudden movement, but he ignored it... He did as she told him...

He kept his eyes on her, watching her blonde, golden hair beautifully billow in the now softer wind like a golden cape... Her cape and skirt rustled in the wind in the corner of his eyes also but he kept his eyes on her... Only her.

On the girl he asked out on a date... He asked Kara... Supergirl, in costume... To go on a date with him and she willingly accepted not long after he asked.

It was awkward... But it worked.

"You can look now if you want, you don't wanna miss it ~♡" she winked at him once again with a huge smile. "I brought you up here so I can share this special view with you".

Y/N took up her words carefully, before seeing the ecstatic view ahead of him... He began to make a mental note of where she took him, no longer where was he in the city...

He was high above the clouds, with just her... His date, the superheroine of National City, the Girl of Steel... Supergirl.

"W-Wow" he let out a shaky breath, the view made him breathless, it was a sight to behold. "This is... What you see?" he kept his eyes on the clouds, the sun... The sky... Beginning to think maybe this wasn't so bad after all. "When you fly and all that? This is..." he didn't exactly know what to say.

Was it beautiful? Amazing? Both??

"Yeah! It's amazing, isn't it?" Supergirl laughed softly, her tone all happy and joyful at Y/N's ecstatic view on what she sees. "Flying is definitely my favorite part about being... Well... Supergirl" she admitted to him, smiling all the way.

She kept on flying slowly through the clouds, watching the sun set with her date, setting up the perfect view for her to share with him, she couldn't stop taking some glances at him when he wasn't looking while he was hyper-fixated on the view.

She began to think this could be helping out get over his fear of heights, just a little, he still kept his arms around her tightly, in fear of course.

"Want me to fly a little faster over time to give you a taste of how fast I can go? At this point? I might as well show you around the entire United States" she joked, though she was serious about it still... However, he didn't answer.

He was too busy on feeling comfortable in the superheroine's arms, eyes fixated on the view ahead of them as she continued flying him through the sky, soaring like a slow silent missile, his smile began to grow as seconds went by.

"Y/N?" the girl called out his name, hoping he'd answer her question.

"Just kiss me already" he muttered under his breath, before giggling followed from her with a little blush across her cheeks, gaining his attention. "What?" he frowned. "Wh-What's so funny??".

"I heard you, I've got super hearing" she blankly told him, resulting in him being a blushing mess, his eyes widened at his mistake.

"Oh..." he muttered loudly. Soon after, Supergirl stopped flying forward and stayed stationary in the air, not keeping her eyes off him now. "I-I... Um... Sorry".

"It's okay" she began to lean in, her lips drawing closer to his to the point he could feel her warm breath on his lips. "I was waiting for you to say something" she put in her word before closing the gap, taking him by surprise.

His eyes widened as soon as Kara's lips touched his, her eyes fully closed before his slowly but surely, eventually closed... He hadn't felt this feeling before, not once had he kissed a girl on the lips.

Imagine how big his one post on Instagram would go of him kissing the one and only Supergirl? It would probably take headliners all across social media, hell it could make him more internet famous than he is with the crew he's apart of when it comes to making content for his Youtube channel.

But he was smart enough to not do that if it were the case... It'd be putting a target on his back from Supergirl's many enemies, and probably enemies that Supergirl doesn't face most of the time, especially those in Gotham.

He melted into the kiss, their lips slowly danced with the Girl of Steel taking the lead, she was going to give him a first kiss to surely remember.

Kara moaned into his lips, adding more to the first kiss to make it memorable for him, she has kissed guys before, she had experience, she wanted to make it memorable knowing his inexperience on dating, she smiled through it all.

Suddenly, Y/N had to pull back for air, unintentionally slowly, he was panting slowly as he pulled himself back a little, soon opening his eyes to meet Kara's, who only smiled brightly at him as he soon chuckled.

"So?" Supergirl left her question linger, her smirk soon being known to him as he chuckled lightly.

"I... I haven't kissed a girl before, I know it sounds bad but... Yeah" he nodded before bringing something else up. "I just got kissed my Supergirl? My first kiss too with Supergirl?? Man, imagine that hitting social media? I'd be making the internet blow up" he joked as the Maiden of Might herself soon laughed softly with him.

"You know you can't do that, but I can imagine how it'll go in a good note too" she could imagine it blowing up across social media, before she leaned in again. "But you know you gotta keep this a secret" she cooed, making an obvious remark to the suit she wore, the cape that billows behind her and the hope she brings for humanity.

"You know I will" he told her. "I need to ask, why did you agree to go on a date with me?" he suddenly asked her which in a way, backed her in a corner in a sense, she wasn't expecting such a question but she had a form of an answer, if something similar were said.

She giggled lightly after a moment, the wind casually blowing the bright red fabrics that donned on her sky blue suit, the gold belt that shined and illuminated off the sky and sun, bright colors all around.

"The reason I agreed is because... I thought you were interesting" she revealed, surprising him... He used to always think many girls didn't want to date him is because he was this Youtuber that played games for content with his crew, having funny moments and gaffing around in those games, perhaps she could make him see he was wrong. "And... You are cute, funny and honestly very kind, though you're such a fiend to your friends" she giggled.

"Oh? So you've watched my content?" he asked like a jumping bunny almost. "Damn, I didn't think you'd like my vids" he admitted.

"Oh no, I do, you're genuinely funny. You love pranking your friends in those videogames you all play, that's the type of fun I kinda need in my life to see, just someone who's themselves and isn't afraid to be so" she smiled with a wholehearted meaning behind it.

"I... I don't know what to say" he chuckled nervously, he'd scratch the back of his neck, but being high up in the air? He couldn't... He still held onto Kara for dear life, despite being calm. "That... That means a lot" he smiled brightly.

"I really like you, Y/N... I do. And I want us to be... A thing, I want this to work, us to work" she admitted, though she felt nervous about it all... Dating a human? She done it before but it didn't really last as long as she hoped it would.

"Kara, Supergirl. I do want this to work, I'd be happy for us to be..." he paused for a moment, letting his words linger as the caped girl caught onto it and her smile radiated.

"Good..." she leaned further into the gap between herself and him. "That's all I needed to hear" her smile grew as her lips then connected with his once more to leave a cheeky kiss, pulling back to speak once more soon after. "Like I asked earlier, want me to go a little faster with our flight? I can also fly you around the entire United States if you like?" she offered him nicely.

Y/N thought about it for a moment, he still felt a little sick being high up, but at the same time, he felt comfortable in her warm embrace while she soared through the sky, just noticing she was stationary since the long lasting kiss earlier. "When did you stop flying forward?".

"Just before we kissed" she answered nicely. "But..." she lingered, keeping her eyes on him like she'd give someone puppy dog eyes.

"Sure" he chuckled lightly. "And maybe... If you're fine with it, you could... Stay at my place for the night? I-I know it's early to ask but I-Mmph!" Kara quickly shut him up with a soft kiss, where he soon melted into it, her lips pressing against his like a pillow.

"Mwah! *giggle* of course! I'd love to! Doesn't matter if it's too early or not to ask" she agreed regardless, beginning to continue soaring through the sky as she began to fly forward. "Remember... I got you"

"Wouldn't have it any other way" he smiled, beginning to actually enjoy the flight, despite his fear of heights... 

Y/N thought to himself. 'Maybe this isn't so bad after all'...

'A Flight with Supergirl... How someone would be called lucky for that...'

* * *

Fin...

Word Count: 3888

Tags: @fandomnerd9602 @6rookie-writer0110 @multi-fandom-enjoyer @ma1egamer @ab1nsur @cole-el @jacenradio7 @jadenyukiyusakufujikiyutoduelist

[drewlyyours]

Okay, since we’re all playing MHM rn for the #cluecrewplaythru, I thought I would translate some of ~very~ cursive letters for anyone who may find them hard to read

The brown journal in the attic:

we dined with the Maupassants in a strange quarter of Shanghai known as the Enchanted Dragon. Mme. [short for Madame, the French equivalent of Mrs.] Maupassant showed me the lovely muslin [this fabric was quite fashionable in the 1800s and I believe rather expensive] that she has purchased earlier that week and we exchanged pleasantries about out travels in the Orient.

As the meal progressed, an elderly man approached me selling a curious puzzle box shaped like a pyramid.

There appears to be no hinges or any semblance if its mechanics from the outside and yet the solution to open the box was very intricate and involved. The artwork was magnificent and I became enchanted not only with the contraption but with the artistic genius of the kindly old man. My mind ran wild with the possibility of creating a hotel where rooms are puzzles full of traps and tricks, just like this pyramid box.

In my broken Mandarin, I asked about the old man’s employment situation and pressed him to return with me to engineer my next hotel. He became embarrassed, and my dining companions protested my forthcoming attitude.

Even in the far East where their traditions are so different from ours, a woman is still confined to remain passive and meek, regardless of her passion or intellect.

E. Valdez letter in the writing desk:

The Golden Gardenia

December 8th, 1902

Mr. George Williston[?], General Manager

The Victorian Hotel

Powell [?] and Clay Street

San Francisco

Dear Sir,

This letter shall serve as an introduction for my faithful employee, Wing Tang, who has been employed in my service as head chef for over ten years. It is with ^much regret that I must discharge him, and were it not for the retirement if my hotel establishment, I would still retain his services.

Sincerely,

E. Valdez

Proprietor, The Golden Gardenia

The letter in the staircase:

Diego,

I’ve waited so long for your return but have kept our treasure true. Here us the tool you’ll need to find it. May your rainbows never run out of luck.

The stars and moon will shine on you

As you begun your quest.

Move like a knight upon his horse

To quickly pass the test.

Take care to keep your path in check

Along the outside border,

So you may see the sun return

To claim its rightful order.

Rose’s letter to Hue:

Dear Hue,

I’m doing great! How are you? Yes, the rumors are true: I bought myself a Victorian mansion! it’s funny you should mention Abby; she’s actually the one who decided to go in on this venture with me. We’re still in the process of restoring the place. It’s a lot of fun, but also a lot of hard work. We’re beginning to get a little worried that we’ll fall behind schedule if we’re not careful. There’ve been several accidents lately that have interferred with our work.

when you visit, you can stay in the Chinese room! We’ve just bought some new furniture for the room. We’re just waiting for the wallpaper to dry before we move everything in. With all of the distractions and the schedule, by the time I finish writing this letter, I’m sure we will have completed the renovations altogether! I’ll try to get it into the mail before [she did not finish the letter]

Letters in the safe:

My dearest Elizabeth,

I could never sully that sweet name by calling you Lizzie. You shall evermore be Elizabeth, my Elizabeth: the sweet, dear woman who has honored me with her enchanting presence and grace.

Tonight, I ride on yet another perilous trip, but always to return to your beloved smile.

Until then, please accept this bouquet of gardenias, your favorites.

~ El Diablo

My dearest Elizabeth,

Only one soul on this great Earth knows the two secrets that circle my heart: my love for you and my secret identity. Know that my intentions are the purest in all respects. I am a modest man, and all of the wealth that I have acquired by devious means are put to the best uses – all given them to the poor, the misfortunate and the defenseless.

And so I am - a poor, misfortunate and defenseless man in the presence of your beauty. You have stolen my heart, dear Elizabeth, and all I ask is your hand in marriage to be mine.

Forever, Diego

[brighteststar707]

Parallels

You carry parts of past lives with you. You can't help it, you're made up of all the people you've loved before.

A reset theory idea I revived from a years-old draft about picking up traits from people you spend a lot of time around (as I'm quite prone to doing🤭).

There has always been this strange familiarity to you. Even back in the early days, it always felt like you were someone Saeyoung had known for years.

He likes to tease you about being easy to read, but it's more than that. The things he recognises in you are things he has grown to love so much in his closest friends.

He loves to tell silly jokes just to hear you laugh. When he promised you a life that would be happy and without worry, he meant it. Your laugh is infectious, addicting even. A laugh from you is an affirmation to someone as insecure as him.

It took him a while to catch on to the way your giggles resemble Yoosung's sometimes. It's not every time, but more than enough times to be a noticeable quirk of yours. The slight hiss of air escaping through your teeth, the precursor to a proper, real laugh.

That was the first parallel he drew. But it was not the last.

He thought he was imagining things at first, making connections where there weren't any to be made. But then you teasingly called him honey for the first time, truly affectionate and sugary-sweet and it was impossible to not think about how he had seen Zen do the same thing before to make fans of his blush. Of course, this trick worked just as well on him when you did it. When you were in these moods, you were magnetic, more so than even Zen could be.

There is something about how, during discussions, you pause to gather your thoughts right before you're about to conclude a point. You have told him you do it to try and collect your thoughts into a coherent sentence so you don't jumble everything up. He thinks it's smart (and cute). It's something he is trying to implement in his life now.

He also knows it's something Jumin practices and advises others to do too. On occasion, during RFA gatherings, Saeyoung watches you and Jumin have a conversation and fall into similar patterns of speech. It's mesmerising, like watching two mirror images.

It is only after a few years, after getting closer to Jaehee at all that realises there are similarities between the two of you too.

He sees a small echo of her in the way that you tackle challenges, not just the resilience he has always known you're capable of but the way you can dissect a problem down to its core and handle it piece by piece. In the tone and cadence you use when instructing others, kind but deliberate, with no room for doubt.

But she's also in your excitement, in the way your voice builds up and rises in pitch when you're talking about something you love. If it wasn't something he recognised from your first weeks together, he'd attribute it to your many musical movie nights.

It wouldn't be fair to say that these traits are identical to theirs. They're things that are so inherent to you, he couldn't imagine you without your funny hiss-laugh or the cadence of your voice when you're measuring out your words. He finds comfort all the same in the little overlap between you and his friends. It may puzzle him sometimes, but he wouldn't change it for the world.

The cherry on the cake was one day when you were chatting and you scrunched your nose before telling a joke, in the same way he knows he does sometimes. His heart swelled three sizes that day and he wouldn't stop teasing you about it.

[nilsavatar]

DAY 9 - ACCIDENTAL STIMULATION

Parings: Rotxo x Fem!human

Genre/Warnings: NSFW/MDNI +18, no use of Y/N, SMUT, accidental stimulation, rubbing, fingering, sexual tension, olfactophilia (Rotxo turns on by smelling arousal) praising (baby boy/pretty boy/good boy), Aubree (reader) is slightly older, cursing, edging, sub-Rotxo, size difference. All characters are AGED-UP.

Summary: the research for an octopus-like species turns into a totally different search.

@acts-of-pastel you mentioned you wished for a Rotxo x human. I hope I have met your expectations☺️

Word Count: 3k

Masterlist - Request a fic

The ilu were funny. Prankster, playful creatures, and very affectionate, even with the few humans in Metkayina territory. They reminded her of dolphins in the way they behaved. In fact, just like dolphins, they had established a bond of friendship with the people of the reef.

However, Aubree had overlooked one crucial detail: the sticky skin.

The Ph.D. student had stood on the back of a Pandora animal before, but they had always been land creatures. So, her small size was inconsequential as long as she could grip tightly. The problem with the ilu lay precisely in that. No matter how much strength she put into her legs, she promptly slipped off the back of the mount. Did she press a little with her right knee? That’s when the left would lose its grip and her weight would unbalance until she fell into the water. Ditto if she did the opposite. Squeezing simultaneously with both was out of the question; she didn’t have long enough legs.

The only solution was to ride with an expert, and fortunately for her, Rotxo had been generous enough to offer to carry her himself. She could not have taken Ao’nung’s constant shenanigans. The woman was here to work, not to be ridiculed.

So here they were, on the beach, the salty smell of the ocean filling the air. Rotxo, already astride his ilu, gently extended a hand to her, while Aubree stared skeptically at the animal, wondering which way to mount.

“I’ve got you,” he repeated to her for the millionth time, his kind lips not losing their friendly smile for a second.

That boy was far too good and patient. An angel. The exact opposite of his best friend, she thought and wondered how on earth those two got along. She, in his place, would have gladly pulled off that annoying smirk with which he strutted around.

Really unbearable.

However, her thoughts were not consumed by her bitterness towards the future olo'eyktan. She had a mission: to take a sample of sagittaria ink.

Skuka, the local name for these 1.2 m nautilus-like creatures, had traits similar to terrestrial mollusks, octopuses, squids, and grinders. An incredibly unique species among the aquatic creatures cataloged on Pandora, but one about which very little was yet known because of its shy nature and the ease with which it camouflaged itself among corals and reef bottoms. Despite its bright purple hue, the skilled cephalopod expertly altered its color.

The similarities between Earth and Pandora were nearly overwhelming, despite their existence in separate systems. The universe was not meant to host life. To find it in its vastness, to receive confirmation that we were not the only ones, was a rarity; an exception that confirmed the rule. Yet, encountering the identical elements duplicated, albeit in a chaotic manner and frequently in colossal proportions to meet the tastes of a feeble human within an alternate ecosystem? It was awe-inspiring, a virtual impossibility.

Pandora's name had become synonymous with achieving the unachievable.

Sagittaria proved incredibly elusive, resulting in a scarcity of publications about it; near to zero. All that was known was the extraordinary special ability to oxygenate not only seawater, but also freshwater. However, just recently, Aubree had set eyes on it for the first time, on an unfortunate specimen caught by reef fishermen, inevitably ending up on the communal dinner menu. While cleaning, the woman noticed a black pouch that they saved to use as a condiment.

The animal’s defensive ink. 

This gave her an idea. If she could analyze the fluid secreted by a live specimen, they could find the answers they were looking for about this curious creature. By chance, the fisherman who had caught the previous octopus was none other than Rotxo, leading her to approach the young diver.

“We gotta go skuka hunting if you're still up for it. We don't have forever,” he said with a slight insistence, dirtying his voice. Her hesitation was making him lose his patience. And the man’s patience was infinite.

Aubree checked one last time that her scuba gear was working and, with a heavy sigh, approached Rotxo, who wasted no further time in lifting her by weight, putting her in the saddle, and anchoring her to his chest with one hand so large that it practically covered her entire abdomen; his thumb pressing on her sternum, placing it right in the middle of her breasts.

Rotxo’s nose curled, tasting a strange note in the air. His mind drew a blank, yet the familiarity was indescribable. It had the sweetness of a ripe fruit, with a touch of spiciness that intoxicated him and caused him to search for the source. He probed carefully. In Aubree's perspective, he appeared to be investigating the absence of predators, unaware of the information her body was betraying.

The completely accidental and unexpected gesture sent a bolt of electricity coursing through her entire body. Like a lightning splitting a tree in two. A thunderbolt that had started where his index finger had pressed on her left nipple (right at the level of her heart, now threatening to explode in her chest) and had ended in the deepest part of her belly. Here an immense heat had sprung up, she was sure had reached her cheeks as well. She never believed that the day would come when she would give thanks for wearing the full mask of the eco-pack over her face. Suddenly, she no longer felt the visceral chill of the ocean penetrate her bones. How could she when all her senses were exclusively focused on the huge man behind her?

When a stronger breath of wind hit them, a whiff of that smell hit him again, along with a scent he knew well.

The scientist’s sugar shampoo.

He had been groping her boob until that moment and, like an idiot, had not even acknowledged it.

With a sudden realization, his orbits split apart, revealing the shock on his face. What he had perceived were her subtle pheromones, barely discernable to most, but not to him. Aubree was ... aroused? For him? Right now, out of all the times. Why? Wasn’t it abominable for human to feel attraction to an alien? Perhaps she was into big stuff.

Great Mother, Rotxo, what the hell are you thinking?

It was a misunderstanding. It had to be. It didn’t make sense. And finally he noticed. Recorded the soft roundness under his palm and that he had held the whole way.

It will surely be embarrassment. He judged the trail of pheromones, not finding the courage to believe there really was more to it.

Not to upset her further, Rotxo slid his hand further to her side and pushed back a little, but this only caused the woman to slip back by the force of gravity, landing precisely on his lower abdomen.

Holding back from moaning was impossible; the parting line in Aubree’s bottom fit his growing erection wonderfully.

The woman was about to apologise by pushing further forward on the ilu’s back when a tight, burning grip on her side silenced her.

“Do not move.” The depth of his voice made her head spin, as if she were about to faint, a soft ringing filling her ears. She wasn’t sure of her voice when shakily she called out to him. 

“Do not talk. Just—,” he exhaled a heavy breath, his voice equally uncertain, “Just do nothing.”

With both palms, he smeared the human on himself — the action already tremendous for his willpower, as all her weight pressed deliciously against his lower abdomen —, then lowered his face to her head, until he buried his nose in her hair. He sniffed her like a cat examines a salmon mousse. Ravenous.

But that wasn’t enough. He wanted more. He needed more.

With trembling fingers, the diver found the zip of her wetsuit and tugged it as far as he could. She shivered, her back suddenly exposed to the cold, but she did not have time to register it, for her body was already in the grip of another kind of shiver. More intense and visceral, which went hand in hand with the hot puffs that escaped from the Na’vi’s nostrils as he explored her bare epidermis. As he did so, he glued her even more tightly to himself and her beautiful ass hit him again, now irrefutably erect, and Aubree missed a beat. Her head grew lighter and lighter, her body more and more uncontrollable. Rotxo’s moans went hand in hand with the dance of her hips.

Rotxo made her feel the outline of his canines on one shoulder, while his hand slid along the outline of her intimacy until he found her swollen clit. Sensitive and erect. She let out a whine. She felt him smile as he rubbed the thick, tight fabric, giving her a pleasant but insufficient friction.

Unsatisfied, Aubree levered the animal’s back to give herself a harder push backwards that made him blow something incomprehensible. His hand crept inside her wetsuit, happily surprised to discover her completely unclothed underneath as he pinched at her nipple, glancing up to catch the moan leaving her plump lips. 

So that’s what she liked. Sweet, filthy little thing.

Satisfied, her back immediately arched and his hands planted themselves on the one remaining on her pelvis. He smiled around her, thrilled to be right. She pushed her ass against him and he groaned, his cock stiffening more than it already was. Fuck, at this rate, he would probably cum through the loincloth, untouched, but he restrained himself. 

“Rotxo,” you mewled. A shiver snaked down his spine at the sound and couldn’t hold back another groan that made the girl look up at him with a racing heart. “Feels good,” she bit into her lip, thighs pressed together.

After more lapses, tugging at her nipple and a playful bite at her shoulder, he approached her face. His gaze fell on her lips, a little reddened and covered with her own saliva. Swollen, eager. 

Fucking mask. 

The other hand quickly found its way to her womanhood, leaning into her as he let her guide him.

He passed her clitoris, teased her fleshy folds and insinuated a fingertip towards the deepest part of her pussy, finding it already magnificently wet and wide. He wore the sensitive ring that tightened around his finger, as if it eagerly sought to trap him, causing a sigh louder than the rest. An unequivocal invitation that he was damned if he was going to refuse it. He pushed the first phalanx lazily to stretch her walls, helping them adjust to a size she had never experienced before. Then he reached for the knuckle and finally found himself sucked in whole. Each millimetre covered corresponded to a higher-pitched cry until Aubree became a whimpering mess.

He couldn’t help wondering how she would act when it was his cock’s turn to sink into her. She would be unconsciously transfixed on him. A dark laugh echoed in his windpipe at the mere thought.

“Put another one in.”

It took him a couple of seconds to register that she had spoken. “What?”

“Put a-another finger.”

“Do it, baby boy.”

“Syulang (flower), I don’t want to hurt you.” He actually wanted to, to be honest. If he hadn’t risked dismembering her, he would have shed his tewng (loincloth) and her diving suit long ago, and slammed her on his cock. But he had to constrain himself, prepare her properly. She was just a little human. Beautiful and fragile, like a crystal.

Shit, that pet name was all he needed to make his knees go soft. He could do nothing but succumb. With no little effort, a second finger took its place next to the first. The burning that pervaded her was almost unbearable, intense, yet addicting. Her mouth was dry because of time she remained wide open in a scream of both pain and pleasure. Small tears formed at the corners of her eyes.

“Right there!” The sweetness of her voice stimulated his excitement even more because every time she made a sound, a fresh wave of her perfume blanketed him. It was exhilarating.

He couldn’t help but let himself get a little cocky, smirking to himself, running his tongue over his lower lip. The obscene sounds coming from her cunt should have mortified her, but nothing of the sort came to mind as she felt her release coming up and teasing the surface. 

She tried to hide her loud moans by biting her lip until it bled, but watching his hand disappeared into her scuba wetsuit, his fingers pumped into her and his thumb twirled over her sweet clit made her head spin. Doing it in the middle of the ocean made the action even more naughty, wild. He was driving her crazy. She couldn’t recall ever being touched so sublimely. 

Sooner than she had expected, Aubree’s thighs trembled from the aftershock, trying to come down from the climax. She lay back on his chest and gasped, trying to catch her breath.  She stared at the sunny sky for a moment, her mind baffled by what had just happened. 

When she finally composed herself, she rose again to stare at him. Her eyes flashed with mischief. She licked her lower lip with excruciating slowness before biting it, giggling. “My turn.” She was still smiling, little smile lines at the corners of her lips and eyes, when she anchored herself to the saddle for support and began to languidly rub her ass against his covered shaft.

His cock was so big and heavy, she could feel it even through the fabric. Hard and throbbing. He let out a broken moan, staring at her with hooded eyes. Even without a skin-to-skin touch, it was absolutely incredible; the material gave that extra friction that made him fall into a spiral, and for a moment he considered not taking off his tewng at all.

As she approached the point where Rotxo needed her most, she moved her hands to support her pelvis. She imagined having him inside her. Ripping into her spongy walls in a deliciously painful way, before fucking her stupid. He was so big that she would surely cum several times in a row.

“Please don't stop.” 

Who would’ve guessed he was the begging type? Aubree smiled devilishly, giving herself a more mighty momentum, only for him to throw his head back.

“Relax, pretty boy.” He was struggling to hold it together. Just having her ass on him was enough. He couldn’t even imagine what her mouth would feel like. Him hitting the back of her throat, filling it with so many streams of seed, making her swallow every single drop of it. Fuck, and your pussy. Just at the idea, pre-cum dripped to patch the cloth.

She stooped a little more to change the angle. His aquamarine eyes were fixed on hers and a hand rested on her back to steady her. Or perhaps to keep him grounded. He groaned. She gasped in surprise when Rotxo grabbed her butt, keeping her there.

His dick pulsated. The veins were more evident than before. He was close. “Be a good boy and cum for me.”

“N-no,” he said, eyebrows coming together and lips parting. He looked away from her only to kiss her back, nibbling at the soft skin. 

“I know you need to cum.”

“I’ll do anything you want, but please, not like this. I can’t...” his fingers dug into the flesh of her bottom, moaning louder now.

“Don’t worry, pretty boy. Just let it go.”

His hips stuttered as he stifled a moan, no longer knowing where to put his hands. She rubbed herself against him faster and he gasped, moaning hopelessly, almost choking on his own saliva.

His long, prolonged wailing was because he had shot his sperm entirely into his tewng, like an inexperienced kid. His cock throbbed and twitched as he continued to empty himself, his thighs quivering. He used an arm to cover part of his face as he emitted low whines.

“Don’t make that face. I’ll pull another one out of you.” Her playful smile made him hard again. She was so... so alluring. Charming and seductive. He hadn’t planned to fall into her hands, but there he was. Ensnared by her mesmerizing stare, he couldn't break free. He was left speechless, grappling for something to say. Every fiber of his being yearned for her, an insatiable hunger that could not be denied.

She moved up, leaning forward to stretch a hand between his legs to reach his aching erection, taking its heavy length in her frail hand. He let out a shuddering breath, blinking as he felt her tease the tip of his cock. 

“Strip.” Fuck, he was about to lose it again. 

Her name sounded heavenly coming from his beautiful lips, his eyes already begging her to keep doing what she was doing.

But suddenly Aubree’s gaze changed. Her head snapped to one side toward the seabed, too deep for her to really see it. Yet something had caught her attention.

A purple blur moved sinuously but funny against the current.

The woman’s eyes glittered as she trudged back into her wetsuit.“Rotxo, a sagittaria!”

“What?”

“A skuka!” she sat back down, her back to him, ready to chase after the cephalopod. "Come on, now," she said, her tone laced with impatience.

“But, but…” He was so stunned that he couldn't find his words.

She threw him a wink. We'll finish this up later on. You'll get a sweet reward if you fetch that skuka for me.”

He couldn’t believe that between him and an octopus, Aubree would choose the octopus. A fucking octopus!

But with the tantalizing prospect of being profusely thanked later, he swallowed his huff and commanded the ilu to set off in pursuit of the mollusc. Already anticipating his prize.

Special thanks to @pandoraslxna for the prompt!

[randomalistic]

Anyways here’s a rambling infodump thing about all the similarities between Spamton and Turbo and then some. (you should bully me for this)

My fixation on both of them… they feed into eachother.

3 foot tall FREAK !!!!!

THE INSANE SMILER…

Glitchy and pixelated

Full of envy, pent up hatred, DESPERATELY CRAVES REVENGE.

Kinda ugly </3

Or at least. Unconventional!

Used to drive a car when he was popular

I know there’s a difference between being a car spokesman and being a racer but it’s close enough <3 Spamton would not know how to drive a cungadero they just told him to pose in there and smile. Ok Headcanon OVER !!!!

Had it all in the 80s/90s before losing the spotlight

Turbo did his bullshit in 1987 (actual road blasters release year) and Spamton did his bullshit in 1997

Only really known as an unspeakable rumor and lives in infamy

It’s more like everyone “moved on” from Spamton and forgot about him (or at least tried to forget about him…) where with Turbo what he did was so bad that he’s only known for that ONE thing

Goes in hiding for decades

Spamton has his alleyway dumpster, and maybe other areas of cyber city with low traffic. Turbo’s hiding was implied to have been in the depths of game central station until Sugar Rush was plugged in. (Which I think was asked about in an AMA) Both are like. ~30 YEARS of hiding 💀

Would go any length for the same attention again

The interesting thing about this is Turbo DOES win. He does get that attention back by disguising as King Candy and being able to race again, and he keeps it for however long Sugar Rush was around for before the events of the movie. Spamton never gets it back…

But at least Spamton doesn’t get INCINERATED so I’d say he’s better off, even if the best outcome is him becoming an item

Dependent on some kid for his plan to work

Although Spamton’s relationship with Kris (dependent on them helping him) is pretty different than King Candy’s relationship with Vanellope (dependent on her not interfering) I still think it’s funny that they both have beef with children

Later attempted murder of said kid

Quality villains out here not even hesitating to kill kids to get what they want !!!

Imitated/fabricated identity

Spamton imitates Swatch, Turbo fabricates (?) King Candy

Stupid catchphrase

NOW’S YOUR CHANCE TO BE [TurboTastic!]

BOSS BATTLE FORM IS FUCKKKKED

They essentially have the same monologue of “THANKS TO YOU I'M MORE POWERFUL THAN EVER!! But it's not enough... so I'm going to kill you anyways"

I think King Candybug’s Face resembles SNEO in a weird way. Mostly just the big eyes and weird nose and THE SMILERRRRR. They have very similar vibes! I will stop myself now!

Virus/malware adiacent

Turbo literally claims he’s a virus by the end of the movie and Spamton is Spamton

Critically Acclaimed Tumblr Man (and hated)

From my RESEARCH. (Aka. Looking up art of him) Apparently a lot of people on tumblr liked Turbo in 2013. And those people have since become spamton people (perhaps ……) I guess that is me now too. Really unfortunate

Lore ties into a real life video game (Petz & Road Blasters)

In the sweepstakes spamton was kinda confirmed to come from a Petz game. I also didn’t know road blasters was Real until I started looking into it . (TurboTime is fake tho) But there’s a very specific similarity for you. Fucked up characters blurring the lines into real life my beloved

Rivalry/broken friendship with Those similar looking fellas (I’m running out of brain power here)

Spamton had the Addisons, which were like his friends? Fellow advertisers. Looked a bit like him, just taller with different colors. Spamton left them after becoming a big shot because he thought he didn’t need them anymore…

Turbo had the “turbo twins” (the 2 other blue racers in his game) idk if that’s their official name cuz they kinda barely exist in canon.. I think it’s popular fanon that Turbo is shorter than both of them, but that’s actually not true. But I’m still gonna count it. Anyways he KILLED them when he got turbotime unplugged. THEYRE DEAD.

Extreme temperature related death (is this a stretch)

Less of a similarity and more of an interesting contrast

Turbo burns to death when he’s INCINERATED in diet cola mountain. I could ramble about this a lot but. That’s for my second account

And Spamton NEO (in snowgrave at least) is FROZEN SOLID by noelle. He shouldn’t have asked for that ice cream man

Anyways I get similar vibes from those guys..

I hope they explode.

Also thinking more about this is making me realize how similar in concept deltarune and Wreck it Ralph are. As in, those apps and computer programs in the computer lab ? Yeah they’re alive and theres a whole ass cyber city and mansion and theres a ton of little guys living in there! (And same goes for the card kingdom in chapter 1)

Like if there was a dark world created in an arcade, it would probably look something like the WIR world. In a way, lightners would be the “players” because everything the game characters (darkners) do is to serve the players. I’m just saying !!!! These pieces of media are both Really Good!!!

[thelouspicystash]

Papa Immortal [Trade Commission]

A silly lil short piece I did for @plutocratics about her and her relationship with that funny old man from Invincible. Except the old man is pregnant, ain't that crazy. I've actually been writing a lotta mpreg lately...and there's gonna be more, just you wait lol.

Commissions do be open.

Word Count: 1106

This story contains: Pregnancy, male pregnancy

“Hey, Imms. I’m back!” Pluto called, as she pushed the door open to their home. It was a nice little place, all things considered: spacious, but not massive, and nicely tucked away. For a pair of immortals, it was nice, and for the Immortal, it served as a nice alternative home when not holed up in Guardians HQ. Of course, these days with Pluto, he mostly sticks around here rather than there, and especially so in these particular days.

“Mmph,” he grumbled, currently fully reclined in the reclining chair. “How was work?”

“The standard. Least, the truncated standard,” she remarked, as she slipped off her shoes and hung up her jacket. “If anything, gives me more of a chance to optimize my work. I get so much stuff done then I had before.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “I thought the point of reduced hours was so you didn’t have to work that much.”

“No, the point is so that I can come home sooner and take care of your pregnant bum,” she replied teasingly, walking over to him and kissing his cheek. “Hey, baby,” he said down to his belly, and kissed that.

Immortal groaned, glancing away. The two certainly did want to have a baby, no doubt there—a few kids, even—but the idea was that Pluto, naturally, would be the one carrying. They weren’t expecting through some weird alien happenstance for Immortal to end up pregnant, yet here he was. While he did remain active for as long as he could, he eventually had to take leave, and has been more or less rotting in their home for the past few months. Pluto, of course, didn’t mind, as it was nice to have him at home more consistently.

“Must you always greet the baby at the same time?” He bemoaned, turning his attention back to her.

“Yeah, why?” She asked, sounding practically genuine. “You’re far enough along that they’d start recognizing our voices. What, you don’t talk with them while I’m gone?”

He glanced away again, a slight bit of blush coming to his face. “I, well…the act of moving between the bed and here is…all I really do these days.”

“You know you don’t have to stay here, right? You can go out and do things?”

“That wouldn’t work,” he countered with a scoff. “I don’t have a secret identity! Someone could easily recognize this,” he gestured at his face, “and they’d know who I am!”

“Right…and then what? Try and kill the two beings who famously cannot die? Have you not thought that through?”

Immortal jerked back a bit, a wide eyed expression on his face as he blinked.

“...ohmygosh, seriously?” Pluto laughed.

“What would I even do anyways?” He asked as his partner continued to laugh. “Go to the market? See a picture show? Walk in the park? I’m…not exactly in my best shape here.” He glanced down at his swell, placing a hand on it.

“Heh, cute you still call them picture shows,” she mumbled under her breath as she calmed down, before speaking back up. “Hey, like I said, if ya didn’t want to have to carry this, you could—”

Before she could even finish, he already held a hand up, prompting her to stop. “Pluto. Do not make me repeat myself,” he began, his voice now very solemn and serious. “I said I was going to carry this baby. I do not want to hear another word to the contrary. I have made my decision here.” Pluto puffed out some air. “Yeah, yeah, but would you have still made that decision had you known where you’d end up? That you’d be like this?” She gestured at his set up.

“I admit it’s been an adjustment being taken care of, but—”

“Not that! All the laying around and rotting and shit,” she clarified. “Give it to me straight: would you?”

Immortal seemed to think for a moment, before glancing away. “I refuse to answer.”

“I know what that means,” she remarked, crossing her arms. She sighed. “Hey, come on. You’re doing this to yourself, ya know? For the past month, you could have gotten up and gone out. Hell, if you were so worried about being ‘discovered’, just go out in your suit. Or don’t. The amount of times I see people like Mark or Eve flying around without their suits on…sheesh. Free fly zone, or something.”

“Those young ones have no idea what they’re risking.” “And you have something to risk?”

“...the baby.”

Suddenly, realization came over Pluto. “Oh…oh, right, yeah. But I mean…you’re still the Immortal, right? No one would wanna fuck with you, especially when pregnant, yeah?”

“Perhaps…this neighborhood is rather calm too, at that.”

“Exactly! See, now ya get it!” She beamed, patting his shoulder. “There’d be no harm if you wanted to go out a bit and be casual. And if anyone gets snooty, just say um…say you just look like Immortal! Yeah! I bet there’s a ton of bears out there that try to emulate your style. Cause of how sexy it is.”

Immortal stared at her blankly. “Why would animals try to—oh! You meant as in larger, hairier men, right?”

“Yeah, that,” she chuckled dryly in reaction. “So, how about it? I do have a day off I can take tomorrow, so maybe you and I could hit the town? Shop around? Get some dinner? My treat.”

He thought for a moment, and slowly a hint of a smile came across his face. “That…would be a nice change of pace. Maybe I could try a nice suit, or—”

“Oh, no, no. Nothing formal, you’re keeping it casual. Shorts and a polo. Nothing else.”

“Suits can be casual.”

“Yeah, maybe back in your day, but not now. Plus it’s like seventy these days, so you’d overheart, especially with this.” She patted his belly.

“Alright, fine,” he sighed, but then gave a genuine smile. “A date with you sounds lovely. I look forward to tomorrow.”

“Awesome,” she smiled back. “Anything I can getcha now, though?”

“Well…” he shifted in his seat a bit. “I think there’s a bit of open space up here…if you’d want to sit down for a bit, seeing as you were on your feet all day.”

Pluto grinned. “I think I’d love nothing more.�� Grabbing a hold of the arm, she popped herself right up next to the Immortal, sliding in right next to him, not without being slightly pinned by his bump. The two smiled at each other, came together for a brief yet loving kiss, and snuggled up close, both gently setting a hand on his swell.

[nolanfa-fanart]

Gen (non-romantic) fics recs: DC, Humour

last rec list was not exactly happy fics, so to offset it, have funny ones:

Fandom: DC, batfam. Theme: Humour (most some also tear your heart out or engage in subtle character building, but you'll laugh while you cry) Humour is very widespread in fic (…in some fandoms at least), ranging from humour woven in the writing style itself, to situational absurd (crack), to making the reader laugh about absolutely horrifying shit (while still acknowledging how awful it is; which is rarer, I think, in non-fic), to absolutely unhinged character reactions (to more I don't have in mind right now), so here, a small homage to that.

The Lone Ranger Never Had to Deal with Bruce Wayne, by @theskeptileptic (https://archiveofourown.org/works/51476074) Chapters 6/6, 25.522 words G, No Archive Warnings Apply

Main Characters: Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne

Official summary: Tim is an independent, clever, and super mature eleven-year-old. Unfortunately, his dopey neighbor, Bruce, can’t seem to understand that. When he decides to disappear on a “solo camping trip” and run away to Canada, he figures it’s the perfect plan that will make everybody happy. He didn’t expect the Waynes would tag along with him and ruin everything. A six-chaptered tale filled with identity shenanigans, s’mores, soon-to-be-brothers, and a kid who is in desperate need of a new family.

Why I love it: This is. Hilarious. The perfect mix of very competent Tim and him still very much being an 11-years-old. Himbo Bruce Wayne who just so happens to totally accidentally run into Tim several times to innocently inquire about his parents' whereabouts. The horrifying fact of what Tim is actually doing and how he thinks, in his very logical way (and the horrifying fact that his parents agree with him).

Excerpts: from: thenanny8725@aol.com to: bwayne@we.com Mr. Wayne, Timothy told me you stopped by earlier today. I am sorry I didn’t get to talk with you. My thyroid was acting up and I was sleeping. Timothy is a good kid. I can make sure he’s safe skateboarding so there is no need to worry. Have a good day! Sincerely, The Nanny

from: bwayne@we.com to: thenanny8725@aol.com The Nanny, Thank you for your email last week. Timothy is most definitely a good kid. One of the best. I saw him at the Army Supply Store this afternoon and he mentioned you would be taking him to Cheesequake State Park to meet a friend this weekend? My boys and I are heading that way, so why don’t we save you a trip. We’ll make sure Timothy is taken care of. If you need anything at all, for any reason, please call me at this number: 9088780078. This is my cell phone and I answer it at all hours, no matter what. Nothing is too small or too much of a bother to pick up for. Anything that you need, Timothy’s Nanny, please call. Sincerely, Bruce Wayne - “Anyway, I was on my way to the course, and I realized your father and I haven’t gotten a chance to really ‘hang’, as you kids say, and I had a late tee time, so I thought I’d invite him along.” Mr. Wayne’s teeth were bright and Tim wondered if he used some sort of diamond paste on them. He looked around Tim’s shoulder, as if he wanted to see inside the mansion better. Tim hadn’t turned on any of the lights on account of his shitty night, so the early fall haze that Bristol was so well known for didn’t do much for his visibility. “I’m sorry, sir, you just missed him.” A pause. “Well, that’s ok, son. Why don’t you get your mom and I’ll give her a message? I’m sure you’ve got things to do.” He looked at Tim vapidly, smile still firmly in place. “I’m afraid she’s not here right now either. Shopping.” Tim gritted his teeth and went to close the door. Mr. Wayne’s huge ham hands (why were they so large?) stopped it before it slammed. He chuckled and Tim winced. “Your nanny, then.” Tim wasn’t sure, but thought the question sounded more strained than Mr. Wayne’s usual flavor of airheadedness. “She’s sleeping.” “At eleven in the morning?” “She has a thyroid problem. I’ll let them all know you stopped by.” Tim pushed the door closed but Mr. Wayne had somehow entered his foyer while he was speaking. “I’ll write them a note. They can call me when they get back.” He inched closer towards Tim, who sidestepped him before he could ruffle his hair.

--

Ain't No Compass, Ain't No Map, by @ebjameston (https://archiveofourown.org/works/38048365) Chapters: 9/9, 51.863 words T, No Archive Warnings Apply

Main Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake

Official summary: CPS Agent, pointing at Tim Drake: We need to take him with us Red Hood: He's fine where he is CPS: He's a minor Hood: Timbo, you a minor? Tim: Can't prove it CPS: I mean, I can. There are records – Tim, who has just finishing hacking CPS to remove his own file: Oh really, tell me more about these records +++ A CPS agent gets sent to investigate a tip that Tim Drake has been abandoned by his parents and is living with the Red Hood. The CPS agent leaves with no Tim Drake, a date with Red Hood's lieutenant, and an intern who's promising to fix the IT systems at his office. It's a weird day for Theo.

Why I love it: This is probably the first (non-crossover) DC fic I read, and to date still one of my favorites. It's. Listen. It's from the point of view of a Child Protective Services agent. Who, given his whole deal is to Protect Children, has Opinions about the Robins. And interacts - unknowingly - with them when they're grown (identity porn! Banter!). And he likes them! And they like him! But they have… differing opinions. And I absolutely love it. So. Many. Feels. And humour. It's 80% jokes and 70% feels and 50% social commentary about the canon and 20% plot and 40% fluff and 30% angst and some parts are all of that at once.

Excerpt: “Nightwing, wait, serious question,” Theo says. “About when you were baby Robin.” Max’s fingers tense up a bit on Theo’s elbow, and some of the earlier tension creeps back into Nightwing’s frame. “Yes?” “Did the Batmobile have a car seat?” “Did the what have a what ,” Nightwing says. “I’ve seen your stats from when you were just getting started,” Theo says. “You weren’t anywhere close to 4-foot-9. You would’ve needed a booster seat for at least the first two years you were Robin, so.” “So, did the Batmobile have a carseat,” Nightwing repeats faintly. Theo gets out his phone to take notes. “Yes. That is what I am asking.” “Buddy,” Hood says. “Most of the Batmobiles don’t even have seatbelts.” “How would you even know that?” Bernard asks.

--

IRIS Log #1548, by @deadchannelradio (https://archiveofourown.org/works/51647209) Chapters: 1/1, 8531 Words T, No Archive Warnings Apply

Main Characters: whole batfam

Official summary: A Disclaimer From Your Friendly Neighborhood Oracle: The following is a transcript of Patrol Communications Audio written by state of the art transcription technology, IRIS (Interpretation of Recorded Intelligence Software). IRIS was created to provide easily searchable records, automatically, and eliminate the need to transcribe each patrol audio log manually. That being said, IRIS is still experimental, and may not always be entirely accurate. - (01:25) Red Hood: (Mild static) (Out of breath, slurred) You motherfuckers. Put some fuckin- (01:25) Batman: (Shaking) Red Hood- (01:25) Red Hood: Shut up. Put some fucking respect. On my name. Start fucking copying me. I just got thrown fucking. Um. 40 feet. Into a fucking uh. What's it. Ditch. I'm still fucking conscious. (01:25) Batman: Red Hood, do not move, we're en route- (01:25) Red Hood: What'll I win if I stand up. (01:25) Batman: (Loud) Do not stand up.

Why I love it: The format (transcription of comms) is fun. Also it's. Just. Really funny? The… energy of it? I mean just read the excerpts honestly.

Excerpt: (01:34) Nightwing: Don’t get mad, Red. He’s got a concussion. (01:34) Red Hood: (Agreeably) I am all bonked up. (Laughter: Nightwing) Hey. Cass. Cassie. Is my leg fucked. The right one. (01:34) Blackbat: It. (Pause, 3 seconds) (Reading) I am not your medical provider and can’t diagnose injuries or illness. Please ask your doctor when you are under their care. (01:34) Red Hood: Oh. Um, okay. Can you tell me as buddies? Not as my doctor. (Laughter: Spoiler, Red Robin) Just as buddies. (01:35) Blackbat: …Super busted. Bad. As buddies. (01:35) Batman: Blackbat. We are not medical- (01:35) Red Hood: She said as buddies. It’s fine. (01:35) Spoiler: (Laughing) The as buddies legal loophole.

--

Bang, bang, by Ididloveyou_once (@ididloveyou) (https://archiveofourown.org/works/30246978) Chapters: 1/1, 5.563 words T, Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings (an accidental gunshot wound played for laughs)

Main Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd

Official summary: ‘You shot me!’ Jason gasped, stunned, ‘Holy shit, you actually shot me.’ Tim’s eyes widened and he froze. They stared at each other for a second, dumbstruck and then- ‘Don’t tell Bruce.’Or: The family enjoy a normal movie night. Except Jason has a gunshot wound and Tim’s the only one who knows and oh- that’s because Tim’s the one who shot him and they really, really need to find a way to leave before anyone finds out.

Why I love it: Hmmm okay so maybe I really like a good Jason & Tim relationship. But objectively. This is great. Peak siblings relationships. The threat of Getting In Trouble forcing an emergency alliance between two mutually annoyed siblings who scramble to hide something? Peak comedy.

Excerpt: ‘Okay, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that either,’ he pinched the bridge of his nose, ‘I just mean. Don’t worry about me being in pain. I’m fine. And don’t worry about looking like an asshole. You shot me, you already look like an asshole. But that’s fine because now we’re even.’ Jason sighed at the kid’s sour expression. So his words of reassurance needed some work, sue him.

--

Into the Brighter Night, by @shoalsea (https://archiveofourown.org/works/20935463) Chapters: 12/12, 162,894 words G, No Archive Warnings Apply

Main Characters: Tim Drake, whole batfam, Young Justice team

Official summary: When an unknown enemy threatens Robin, Gotham's vigilantes come together to keep him safe. Unfortunately, they're protecting the wrong Robin. Or: Tim Drake plans his own rescue. Things get complicated.

Why I love it: Oooooh not just batfam this time. Tim is way too competent, and the Young Justice have his back (and a lot of resentment towards the batfam). Hyperactive Young Justice energy, Very Good Characterization, miscommunication (as in Bruce -the whole batfam really- is trying but they're super bad at clearly expressing feelings). And the tone of it? The writing? Hilarious and rips your heart out. This is super interesting interconnected character dynamics (with the batfam and Tim's team that's so many more different relationships than usual) and a deep look at canon events, all of it wrapped in hilarious dialogue. One of my fave Tim-centric fics, and I've read some very good ones.

Excerpt: [Impulse on a long distance call with the batfam - minus Tim] Jay makes a disbelieving sound. “You’re telling me that Red Robin—Mr. Responsibility himself—helped you hide and maintain a secret spaceship for years? Seriously?” “Uh, yeah? Duh?” “No offense,” Duke says, “but that doesn’t really sound like the guy we know.” Bruce sighs. Stephanie huffs out a laugh. Impulse just looks unimpressed. “Are we talking about the same person? Robin numero tres, currently Red? The same guy who once hid an extra Batmobile in the batarang budget and shipped it to California in secret? The same guy who founded Young Justice, an unauthorized vigilante group of teens that started out with no adult supervision? And lied to the Justice League and the government to keep Secret safe?” “Secret?” Duke says at the same time Jay sputters out, “He stole a whole Batmobile?” “More like embezzled,” Impulse says. “But yeah, dude, it’s Rob. I know he gives off the straight-and-narrow vibe, like, 90% of the time he’s interacting with the public or authority figures, but that’s mostly because it’s way, waaaay easier to get away with stuff if you don't ‘openly project an air of defiance.’” “Oh my god,” Stephanie says. “He’s given you that speech too?” “He’s given us multiple versions of that speech,” Impulse says. Stephanie’s turned away from the screen now and is explaining to Duke, “Red Robin is kind of the definition of ‘I do what I want,’ but most of the time what he wants to do is at least nominally reasonable or responsible, so no one cares.” “And when somebody does care,” Impulse says, “you just gotta be sneaky and smart. Comply until their backs are turned, you know? I mean, even with the Titans we—what?” he pauses, spinning his chair, clearly distracted by something off-screen. “No, I’m just talking to the Bats. I think there’s a whole flock of them.” Conner Kent wanders into view, towelling off his hair and wearing what looks like some kind of maintenance jumper. “‘Sup,” he says to the camera, leaning in. “Superman’s not there, is he?” “Nope,” Impulse says. “Thank god. Where’s Rob?” “Batnap.” Conner puts his hands on his hips. “Dude. Weren’t you supposed to wake him up?” Impulse spins in his chair again. “Wonder Girl said not to.” “What, and he agreed?” “No. He might have been unconscious at the time. Which, technically, means Wonder Girl is in charge.” Conner groans. “He’s gonna kill you.” Turning to the camera, he adds, “Look, sorry about this, I’ll go get him.” “Heynowaitaminute,” Impulse says. “Listen. I’m the captain, you gotta at least hear me out!” Conner rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t move. “Everything is still going according to plan, okay? Rob did in fact say that we should one hundred percent wake him up as soon as we could get a call through. True. But Wonder Girl said to let him sleep. And he definitely needs it.” “Yeah, but, again, he’s gonna be pissed if—” “Listen. I have thought this through.” When Conner just looks skeptical, he adds, “I have! I worked it out logically. See, if we wake up Rob, Wondy’s gonna be pissed off. At us. Right now. If we don’t wake him up, he’s gonna be pissed off later and he’s gonna be mad at her, not us. Therefore, we should do what Wonder Girl says.”

--

Beef Consommé, by @vamillepudding (https://archiveofourown.org/works/42348438) Chapters: 2/2; 14.230 words T, Chose Not To Use Warnings

Main Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson

Official summary: Parenting is Bruce's thing, and Jason isn't planning on messing with that. But when Bruce fails to spot the countless red flags about Tim's home life, it falls to Jason to step up. Of course it does. Because he's literally the only one in his family who knows how to be responsible, and if Dick disagrees, he can suck it.

Why I love it: I have a weakness for the "Dick and Jason team up and adopt Tim" trope. Also, I love Jason's voice in it. (and this fic is very funny but I feel like I'm repeating myself)

Excerpts: “Pizza?” Tim repeats, sounding hopeful. Jason is on the verge of telling him to go screw himself, but then he starts wondering how long Tim has been in his apartment and whether he ate dinner before he came here. Probably not. Did he eat lunch? Should Jason ask? What would Dick do? “Fine,” he says eventually. “But I’m picking the toppings, and you can’t have dessert.” There’s a beat. “I didn’t want dessert,” Tim says, voice taking on a bewildered edge. “What are you talking about?” - It’s Wednesday evening and Jason is getting pizza. Dick’s waiting back in Jason’s apartment, because growing up with Bruce has him used to getting waited on hand and foot, and apparently he thinks Jason is his own personal servant or something. It’s oppression, is what it is. “It’s not oppression,” Dick yells after him just before Jason closes the door, “it’s called losing a coin toss, asshole!”

--

Birds on Jaybird Street, by @cynassa (https://archiveofourown.org/works/39115587) Chapters: 4/4, 14.717 words T, No Archive Warnings Apply

Main Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake

Official summary: Jason is both annoyed and weirdly flattered when the replacement turns up to ask him for help. He mentally rearranges his calendar so he can be free Wednesday evening and says, “No, fuck off, I have very important business going on.” Tim eyes his 72” TV playing Japanese wrestling more judgmentally than it really deserves. “Important crime things,” Jason emphasizes. “Make Wingdick do it.” Jason doesn't think much of it when Tim needs his help, or Damian moves in, or even when Dick turns up looking beat all to hell. But at some point he realizes that he might be the best option his brothers have to recover from the cycle of violence that Batman has set up, and all he can think is that things were much easier when he was the villain.

Why I love it: In which Dick and Jason decide to adopt Tim and Damian (Jason's kind of an asshole, but a caring one). Kind of the same reason as the previous one: love that trope, love the tone, very funny.

Excerpt: Jason lies, "Sure, I'll take it up with Bruce " "Sure you will, " Tim scoffs. Jason changes his mind, and decides he will take it up with Bruce. "I don't have the time to keep being your nanny," he announces and then says, disapprovingly, "you skateboard, why don't you have knee and elbow pads?" "I'm Robin," Tim snaps, like he didn't put pants on the costume like a little wuss.