#feline heist. in space.

[chayscribbles]

what kind of cats are they? :)

*starts vibrating*

so Zeya would be a feral little black cat who hides behind crates and WILL hiss at you if you get too close. actually hold up imma google some visual references

Gabi would be a chumby little calico who is nervous at first but will warm up to you eventually and is very sweet

Leo is a long-haired brown tabby who is Definitely Judging You. she will protest if you try to cuddle her (secretly she likes it)

the twins Illiana and Kalen would be majestic ragdolls who are also Definitely Judging You and are spoiled rotten

and Euna is a bengal with wayyyy too much energy

[cheollipop]

heists and celebrations

navi | taglist

pairing: jung wooyoung x fem!reader x choi san

w.c.: 3.9k

tags: smut, they're all criminals/partners in crime, criminal behaviour (theft), mentioned boxer!san and his manager!wooyoung, some reckless driving

with the stolen necklace secured around your neck, wooyoung slumped back in his seat, fingers gripping the steering wheel while his eyes remained focused on the overhead mirror, watching his two partners celebrate another successful heist in the back of his van.

warnings: semi-public sex, van sex, really fucking filthy sex (genuinely disgusting), dom!woosan, sub!reader, some jealousy, reader is wearing red lipstick and it gets everywhere, unprotected sex (👎), creampie, oral (m receiving), deepthroating, cum swallowing, cum sharing, spit kink, praise, degradation (reader is called a slut once), a cute little breeding kink, a sprinkle of breath play (barely any), some begging, overstimulation, nicknames (sannie; youngie; baby, darling, sweetheart, love, good girl, pretty girl), wooyoung watches them fuck the whole time, and teases san because he's cute when riled up

A/N: I've had this fic idea in my notes since the very first woosan teaser dropped so I'm really glad I was finally able to write it out! ( ´∀ `) though challenging fsr, I really enjoyed writing the smut for this one. happy reading! ^^

nsfw under the cut—minors dni!! 🔞

Walking past the metal detectors, you raised your phone to peek at your reflection, making sure the glitter on your eyelids and the red painting your lips were intact, smacking them together once before walking further into exhibit.

Your footsteps slowed as you passed the broad, arched doorway and entered a wider gallery with accessories from numerous eras lining the walls, people crowding in front of the displays. Your eyes trailed over the diamonds and gold encased within the glass boxes, the overhead lights reflecting the luxury accessories. In any other heist, your eyes would remain forward, playing the role of a mere passerby minding their own business. But today, you were just another visitor in this exhibit, ogling at the jewellery on display. A quick, discrete scan of the room was enough to find you your target – standing near the wall to your left, the blonde head of hair displacing him in the monochrome room.

Just as you were about to move towards the tall figure, your gaze unintentionally flitted to the right, colliding with feline eyes staring right back at you from the other side of the room – the man standing idly in a uniform too big for him, bruises from last night’s match tainting his angular features. You twisted your body in the other direction, heeled boots clacking over the polished tile with confident strides, your eyes meeting the blonde man’s and dragging his attention off the rowdy school kids in the far corner. You waited until his gaze fell on you to dig the tip of your tongue into the corner of your mouth, blinking innocently as you approached him, your eyes moving down to read the ID card hanging off his neck.

Security Guard Song Mingi

Stepping into his personal space, your hand flew to his shoulder and you drew your eyebrows together in feigned distress. “Oh, thank God! Sir, could you please help me?”

Mingi’s head lowered to eye the hand resting delicately over his chest, looking back up to meet your anxious eyes. “S-sure, yes, of course," he stuttered when your fingers tightened around his lapel. "What can I help you with?"

You twisted your body and walked backwards until you hit the wall behind him, slumping against it and exhaling deeply. “My friend,” you paused, looking up at him now that he’d turned his back to the rest of the room. You blinked faux tears into your eyes, quivering your bottom lip ever so slightly while you spoke, “I’ve been looking for her for hours. Could you please help me find her, Sir?”

You watched Mingi’s ears shift hues, his head turning to the side as he coughed awkwardly. The bright red blurred in your peripheral as you stared ahead, nodding discretely at the idle figure across the room and watching it slip past the restricted ribbon closing off a section of the exhibit, looking back at Mingi when broad shoulders disappeared behind the corner.

“She said she’d meet me at the Tiffany and Co. section, but she never showed up. She won’t even answer her phone,” you leaned forward to wrap your fingers around his forearm, looking up at him with wide eyes, glassy with simulated concern. “I’m really worried about her, Sir. Please help me?”

--

Nimble fingers worked over the display case’s lock, occasionally looking back at the doorless entrance to confirm he was still in the clear. Moving his attention back to the small keyhole, he worked the pick and wrench inside with steady hands, the flashlight held between his lips reflecting off the glass. A whispered curse vibrated around the flashlight when his jacket sleeve slid down his arm, covering the hand holding the pick – along with the bloody scrapes and bruises colouring his knuckles – but he was too far in to back out now, working the lock with the fabric draped over it. After a few more tries, a muted click sounded and the glass door swung open.

Cat-like eyes raised off the picked lock to examine the diamond necklace hanging off the jewellery stand, studying the angle at which the light bounced off the large stones. Reaching forward, he carefully lifted the necklace with his index and thumb around the clasp, securing it in the felt bag he’d pulled out of his blazer before tucking it back inside. Digging his hand into his back pocket, he pulled out an identical replica – cheap moissanite bedazzling the silver – and intricately placed it inside the case, adjusting it over the stand before closing the glass door and listening for the soft click of its automatic lock.

Pulling the flashlight out of his mouth, he switched it off and patted his breast pocket once before walking back towards the entryway. A quick peek into the short hallway outside to ensure it was empty followed by quick steps past the red ribbon sealing off the section he had been in, San squinted at the bright overhead lights as he made it back into the main gallery, rooting himself in his previous position just in time for five suited men to make their way into the big room. Their conversation continued as they walked past San, nodding in acknowledgement before making their way over the restriction ribbon and through the short hallway, grease from the sandwiches they’d had for lunch coating their moving lips.

The familiar sonance of your laugh drew his attention to the wide entrance, his eyes finding yours over the blonde security guard’s shoulder before trailing down to study the arm draped over your waist. The plan was for you to guide him away from this gallery and into another, but there you were, barely an inch separating you and the tall man. San’s eyebrow twitched at the proximity, but more so at the dumb smile splitting his face in half while his other arm points towards where your ‘friend’ was supposedly waiting for you. Meeting your gaze once again, he gave you a firm nod before solemnly staring ahead.

With a flirty smile and a few bats of your eyelashes, you slipped a fake number into Mingi’s phone and walked away, the guard barely noticing you walking in the opposite direction of which he pointed you in.

San’s eyes flitted to the antique clock hung up on the wall across from him, turning around just in time to watch a man with a sharp nose and jet-black hair approach him. Quickly glancing at his ID card, San bowed slightly and began walking away as his ‘shift’ came to an end.

“Wait,” the deep baritone halted San’s movements, twisting his torso to look back at the guard. “Let me see your ID,” he reached a hand out, palm up and expecting.

San blinked once, twice, before pulling the lanyard off his neck and handing it to the man in front of him, turning his body to face him fully. The grim man examined the card, flipping it over a few times before sliding it back into San’s hand.

“Good work today, Yunho,” he gave him a tight smile which San reciprocated with a small bow before he moved away to stand where San had been all evening.

Stepping out of the stuffy exhibit and into the chilly night, San inhaled deeply, walking down the small steps and reaching into his blazer for the felt bag, swiftly stuffing it into his slacks before shrugging off the loose uniform and slinging it over his shoulder. He strutted down the block, his lips pursed as he whistled mindlessly, his soiled tank top sticking to his body with the night breeze blowing over his skin.

A few minutes of walking led him to a familiar convenience store, the lights flickering weakly and the table set out the front swaying with the light wind. Casually peeking over his shoulder, he made sure no one was following him before turning a corner, your familiar figure – resting against the graffitied wall – waiting for him in the damp alleyway. You pushed yourself off the grimy concrete, a smile stretching your lips when your eyes zeroed in on the felt bag pinched between two of his fingers.

Grabbing onto the thin material of his tank top, you pushed San backwards until his body crashed into the wall, the red on your lips transferring to his when you pressed your mouths together, the metallic taste of blood seeping into your taste buds as you licked over the corner of his lip. San’s fingers wrapped around your nape, inhaling deeply before parting his lips and running his tongue over your bottom teeth. Cold fingers tickled the sides of your neck, a heavy weight falling over your collarbones while San’s tongue pressed against yours. One of your hands untangled from the material of his top, running over your decolletage until your fingers made contact with the cool silver and curved over the slope of the large diamonds. The felt bag – now empty and worthless – fell into the puddle by your feet, the malodor of sewage masked by the hunger in San’s eyes, his hands wandering over your body while he devoured you.

A loud honk from the van parked down the alley cut your fit of passion short. You giggled at San’s irritated griping as you made your way to the vehicle, the metal surface littered with dents of various sizes and the colourful lettering chipping off the white paint. You walked past San as he pulled at the back handles, skipping your way to the front and watching the door fly open, sliding into the passenger seat as Wooyoung retreated back into his.

“Welcome back,” he flicked the tip of your nose, his eyes fixed on the glimmering stones hanging off your neck. “I’m guessing we can skip the debrief?” A lopsided smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

Looping two fingers around the silver band, he tugged you towards him, the clasp digging into the back of your neck as some of the lipstick still painting your lips smeared over Wooyoung’s, his tongue gliding over yours to flatten over the roof of your mouth.

The curtain behind you slid open, San’s deep grumble obscured by your heavy breathing. “Ya! I worked my ass off to get that. If you wanna pull that hard, just buy her a leash,” he propped his forearm on the back of the seat, resting his chin over it to study the red smudged over Wooyoung’s lips.

“Worked our asses off,” you complained.

“No, I worked my ass off while you were busy flirting with that prick.”

You could see Wooyoung’s eyebrow quirk, his questioning gaze lasting only a second before he parted from you with a final kiss, letting go of the necklace and slumping back in his seat to turn the engine on. “Leave her alone, Sannie. If you wanted to be praised for doing your job right, you should’ve just said so,” he pressed his foot down on the pedal, reversing out of the alleyway before digging his palm into the steering wheel and turning it twice to move onto the empty road.

The pout on your lips faded when your eyes met San’s, angling his chin to point at Wooyoung, the silent communication bringing a shared smile to your lips.

“Youngie,” you tugged on his sleeve, leaning over the console to get closer to him.

“Yeah, baby?” his eyes remained trained on the road, a few cars driving alongside him on the dark highway.

San chuckled breathily, “I think our pretty girl wants to thank you for the ride. We couldn’t have pulled this off without you. Right, sweetheart?”

You nodded eagerly, gliding your palm up his thigh and inwards to tease at his clothed crotch. He glanced over at you, his teeth peeking through his parting lips, the corners curled upwards.

“Oh really? Is there anything else you want to thank me for?”

“Thank you for getting rid of that Yunho guy, we would’ve been in trouble if he had been there,” your fingers trailed over the zipper, circling his button before popping it open.

“Mm, that’s right. Come on now, sweet girl, thank me properly,” Wooyoung slumped further down in his seat, widening his legs and dropping one hand off the steering wheel to give you space.

Just as you freed his half-hard length from the confines of his boxers, San’s hand cupped the back of your head and pushed you down. Your torso bent over the console, the gear stick digging into your waist by the time San let go of you.

You pulled away slightly, fingers wrapped around his base and tongue rolled out to place kitten licks over his cockhead. Wooyoung peeked down at you to follow the line of drool dripping off your tongue to lubricate his cock, snapping his eyes back up to the road with a guttural groan squeezed your fist around him. You pressed your lips to his tip, placing your hands over his upper thighs and moving back to admire the painted outline of your lips – the last of your lipstick colouring it red.

When you deemed him hard enough, your lips closed around his leaking head, giving him a gentle suck to feel his thighs contract before taking him further into your mouth. You nuzzled your nose into the hair around his base and relaxed your throat, flattening your tongue over the underside of his cock and reveling in the tight grunts it elicited from above.

A loud horn blared from the lane beside yours, Wooyoung’s vision unblurring and his palm hurriedly gliding over the steering wheel to adjust the swerving van. San snickered behind him, partly at your muffled coughs around the younger man’s cock as the rough steering jerked your body around. You pull away to breathe once the vehicle settled, inhaling deeply and clearing your throat, the bitter taste of precum on your tongue.

“I don’t think she’s thanking you hard enough, Youngie,” San tsked behind you, palming over his clothed cock as he took in your red eyes and sniffling nose.

“Mm, I think you’re right,” the arm resting idly over the console raised, fingers tangling in the hair at your nape and pushing your head downwards until the warmth of your mouth engulfed him once again, soft groans escaping through gritted teeth as your throat constricted around his tip. With the hand in your hair, he began moving you over his cock, bobbing your head and noting the weight of the necklace adoring your neck falling over his thigh every time his tip brushed against your uvula. “Fuuuuck, that’s my good girl.”

The outline of his vein slid over your tongue, pulsing as you took him down your throat. You could hear the slick movement of San’s hand over his cock, his eyes moving between your stretched lips and Wooyoung’s parted ones, soft, breathy moans muffled under the wind rushing through the open window. You felt him twitch inside your mouth, the familiar clench of his abdomen egging you on, taking him all the way and hollowing your cheeks. The van veered to the left again, Wooyoung’s eyes barely open as pleasure rushed through his veins with every squeeze around his cockhead. You swallowed around him once, twice, before gagging around the hot ribbons of white shooting down your throat. The limp fingers in your hair regained their strength, pushing your head down while he rolled his hips into your mouth, your jaw going slack as he used you to milk out the last of his cum.

San’s eyes fluttered shut to take in the melodies playing through Wooyoung’s parted lips – rough grunts paired with airy moans while he fucked the last of his load into your mouth, pulling you off him to wipe the tip of his cock over your face, a line of cum smeared over your cheek. A few seconds of muted shuffling passed before saltiness consumed San’s tastebuds, your mouth roughly pressing against his, tongue breaching his lips to share some of Wooyoung’s release. His Adam’s apple bobbed, eagerly swallowing down the tangy liquid before diving in for more, pushing you further into him with a hand to the back of your head. A throaty moan vibrated against your lips, San’s cock lurching in his limp fist as he sucked the last of Wooyoung’s load off your tongue. Pulling away, you grabbed San’s jaw firmly and moved your head closer to spit into his open mouth, a mixture of your spit and his marbled with milky white reflecting the passing streetlights before disappearing down his throat.

“Wooyoung, fuck,” he spoke, words slurred from the tight grip you have on his jaw, rolling his wrist around his leaking cockhead. “Pull over. I need her right fucking now.”

--

The van jumped over a speedbump, the driver too distracted to slow down, eyes trained on the overhead mirror instead of the road as two bodies moved steadily in the reflection. Two fingers twisted the volume knob to the left, silencing the music to revel in the harmony of moans surging from the back of the van.

The worn-down mattress was anything but comfortable, your dripping pussy adding to the stains decorating it. Looking over to the side, your eyes settled on the discarded boxing gloves from the night before, splotches of maroon flaking off the faux leather. One of San’s hands cupped the back of your head, pushing your face down while he pounded into you from the back, his other pulling at the necklace around your neck, the diamonds pressing into your skin to form thin crescents.

Wooyoung scoffed at the sight – red spreading from the soiled collar of San’s tank top and up to his neck, beads of sweat rolling down his skin and sinking into the cheap cotton. “What happened to all your hard work, hm?” his eyes rolled down to San’s white knuckles, wrapped tightly around the accessory restricting your airflow.

“Shut up,” he spat, his hips slamming into the backs of your thighs as he pumped his cock between your fluttering walls. The hand covering the back of your head slid down your spine to squeeze at your waist, his blunt nails stabbing into your heated flesh while husky grunts vibrated through his throat.

Wooyoung’s eyes shifted to your face, concealed as you looked over to the side, your lips parted with drool pooling under your head. “Aw, I think Sannie got a little jealous earlier. Right, sweetheart?”

The words reduced to mere sounds in your head, the syllables meshing as San’s cockhead pistoned into your g-spot, barely registering the rough fingers tangling into the hair at your crown before sharp pain seared through your scalp, your chest lifting off the tattered mattress and neck craning as San angled your face upwards. You sucked in deep breaths now that the silver band wasn't digging into your neck, choking around broken cries of pleasure. Hooded eyes studied your face in the small mirror – pupils dilated, tears and glitter eyeshow staining your heated cheeks with saliva trickling down your chin, body jerking forward every time San’s hips slammed into yours, his cock stretching you open around his girth.

“'Don’t think she can answer,” San rasped, his eyes dropping to watch the flesh of your ass ripple every time he drove into your clenching cunt. “Ah- So fucking tight for me.”

Wooyoung’s fingers squeezed around the steering wheel, “is he fucking you good, baby?” The corners of his lips twitched with a concealed smirk, “or is my pretty slut still thinking about that man’s cock?”

Your brain short-circuited, shots of burning pleasure soaring through your veins and forcing your eyes shut. “it’s good, s-so good,” your speech was barely coherent, moans spilling out of you as San continued to fuck you through Wooyoung’s interrogation.

“What about my second question?” San’s eyes flew towards the mirror to meet Wooyoung’s, clenching his jaw so tight it bordered on painful, the younger man smiling to himself over how easy it was to rile San up.

San rammed his cock inside you, holding it deep within your cunt while he bent at the waist to whisper in your ear, the deep baritone of his voice nearly masked under your pathetic moaning, “be a good girl and answer Youngie’s question, or have I already fucked you dumb?"

“I-I’m not! ‘Love Sannie’s cock so much- hnngh!” your upper body flopped onto the mattress, your scalp burning under the palm San had flattened over your head, fingers rubbing soothing lines over your roots while he ground his cock into your heat.

“That’s right,” he pressed his lips to your slick shoulder and gave you a harsh thrust, rolling his hips once, twice before pulling off you. His hands slid down your body to grab at your hips, dragging you back over his length with a grip tight enough to promise bruises. One of his knees nudged against your inner thigh to spread your legs even further, giving you a few seconds to breathe before he began hammering his cock into you. “Love my cock so much you’ll let me breed this tight pussy, won’t you, darling?

“Nghh- fuck! Sannie, please-”

“Give it to me, love, ‘wanna feel you cream all over my cock,” the tautness of his voice, strained as he chased his orgasm with sloppy thrusts, was enough to send you over the edge.

Your vision went black as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, thighs shaking while you your orgasm rushed through you. A succession of curses and San’s name rolled off your tongue, followed by desperate pleas for him to come as he frantically humped your overstimulated cunt. Your body jolted as pain mixed with pleasure, your vision blurring with tears while San used you like a cocksleeve, leaning over you to whisper in your ear, whimpered praise falling off his tongue – a melody of ‘just a little more’ and ‘you can take it’ sending shivers down your spine.

You felt him split you open thrice before a familiar warmth spread through your lower belly, his cock twitching between your fluttering walls as he unloaded his seed inside you. His arms wrapped around your middle, holding your body flush against his shuddering chest while he grinded into your used cunt, draining himself of every last drop. Delicate hands smoothed over your sides at the pained whimper you released into the dungy mattress, San’s softening cock slipping out of you and making way for a stream of his cum to trickle out of your gaping hole. He took a few seconds to moon over the mess he'd created before pursing his lips and adding to it, dropping a wad of spit onto your drenched pussy, your hips jolting when a calloused thumb ran through the fluids painting your folds.

You barely noticed the van making a sharp turn, the engine going silent half a minute later and drawing your attention to the front, a rest stop sign shining through the windshield. Wooyoung’s head poked through the gap between the seats, his eyes glazed over as he took in the sweaty bodies sprawled out in their own mess. He lifted his arm to hurl a roll of cash at San, his eyes remaining fixed on your twitching form as he imagined the steady stream of cum making its way down your thighs.

“Sannie, go grab some food and water. I think I need to be thanked a little more.”

reblogs/feedback are greatly appreciated!! ^^ apply for my tag list here (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

[gloryofroses19]

The Heist

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x mate!reader

T/W: Making out and allusions to sex

“This must be what my father was referring to when he said you were going to be my downfall.” Spoke a playful voice intending to steal the attention of the figure at the desk. Eris Vanserra did not often joke about his father, especially the biting and caustic words thrown his way. However, when in a good mood, such as today thanks to his mate, sometimes he would. 

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.” She replied evenly, continuing to gaze at the court document before her. 

But of course she did. And he did as well. Even the maids knew, no doubt setting the Forest House alight with new gossip to disperse. 

Chuckling, Eris began to move from the study doorway to the desk. A desk that had been his until their mating and marriage. Tugging at the bond thrumming between them, he noted how perfectly she fit into the space he had occupied alone for many centuries. “Oh surely you do, my little thief. Though I admit your technique is sloppy considering I know you pulled it out of my closet.” 

“Excuse me, I did a wonderful job at stealing your heart.” Rising from her seat, offered her a mischievous smile as she tugged back at the bond between them. She had once, many years ago, told Rhysland that she had no intention of becoming a bride to a High Lord. The Cauldron must have taken that as a challenge. For all her naivety was shattered by the depths of her devotion to help her husband, her mate, run their court

 “First, you steal my heart and then my clothes?” Warm amber eyes and a feline smile watched raptly as she brushed up against his body. “Will I be resigned to walking around nude?” 

“The horror,” she intoned as she wrapped her arms around his waist. Making herself at home in his arms, she didn’t think twice of how the movement exposed a sliver of her shoulder due to the collar’s ill fit. Nor how the movements of his hands down her back, caused the shirt to fully reveal her left shoulder. 

However, her ever observant mate did, who in turn took it as an open invitation to begin to press his pert lips against the skin. It was only right he mused, it was his shirt after all.

Breathlessly, she grounded  herself against Eris. With the Autumn Equinox approaching, they had been inundated with things to complete leaving them with limited time for each other.  

Limited time that created a yearning so strong that she would be embarrassed to admit that the heist occurred two days prior. That two days prior, she took his abandoned shirt and hid it in the depths of her closet. Hid it with the knowledge that she would be free from court appearances and able to spend the day working in their private study surrounded by his smell. 

Refusing the temptation to take her there, ever the fox, Eris hooked a finger under her chin. “What will you take next?” he said in his soft, rich way, “My firstborn child?” 

Although not born in the Autumn court, she matched the fire in his eyes. “And every child afterwards.” 

“I am wondering what I gain from this bargain.” He murmured gently, as his thumb brushed over her petal soft lips. 

She pulled him to her, his lips eager and  warm. They parted slightly, allowing her tongue to slip inside. Allowing  her intentions to flow down their bond, she gently pushed him back.

Allowing himself to be led, Eris kissed her back fervently as his hands effortlessly undid the buttons of her skirt. 

With the final brush of the silken material down her body, she pushed Eris a final time. Seated on the couch, Eris lounged wantonly taking her in. Swathed in only his shirt, she looked equal parts ethereal and dangerous. No doubt his downfall indeed, he reflected as she moved to straddle him.  

“Nothing,” she began as she pressed a light kiss to his lips, watching fondly as his lips followed her. “This isn’t a bargain but rather a robbery, remember, High Lord?” 

“How could I forget, my High Lady?” he murmured against her lips, sucking at the lower one.

A/N: All feedback is appreciated!

[uroborosymphony]

⠀⠀Quinn&Taiyang

Traditions always tasted foreign to Ara. In a world where yesterdays were only made of sorrows and tomorrows of uncertainty, her mind remained closed to the joy of celebrations, out of protection of her own soul that could only feed on hope. Hope. One that was lacking in this side of the city where dawns came with poverty and sunsets, with crime. Yet, a gift that was given to her every year since she met him, which gave colors, love and warmth to holidays they shared. Their first christmas together, she remembered. A little too chaotic and overly emotional, it was only a few months after they started dating in their early twenties, in a time where her mother was forced back into psych on christmas eve. Disturbed - she was - and despite her iron strength of mind and the composure of ice Ara always was displaying, she collapsed in Tai's arms. It was the first time ever, her, who had to fight for her life every breathed second, that she allowed herself to rest her head on someone's else shoulder : his. Since that day she knew she was not alone and would never be alone in these colder times of the year but together, with him.

Five years later, here she was, in their small apartment downtown, working on dinner for the both of them. A big meal for a small table of two, one they would make by themselves every year : a little mix of korean dishes and taiwanese ones. At first it was out of lack of money and then, it became a tradition. In her red dress, barefoot in the kitchen, she was moving and humming to the music played on the radio while starting on the dishes, waiting for him to come back home as he was on a last minute groceries duty. The past year have been of many adventures for them : light ones, darker ones - they knew the upcoming months would change everything for the two. Now under his father's gang protection, they could take a break from the prices on their head after their heist fiasco from a few weeks ago - one that shaken the entire underground scene. With the money of their previous successful robberies however, they would be able to move out soon, to something bigger, perhaps a place in these high buildings with a view that Ara always dreamed of. As she heard keys in the door opening, a wide smile spread on her lips. Hurrying - she made her way to the door like a cat. "Finallyyyy!" She exclaimed, her tone full of sun and shine as he returned, wrapping her arms around his neck, dragging her furthur inside as she was walking backwards, her body pressed against his. "You've left for a little too long my prince, all that time for a couple groceries, were you causing havoc on christmas night without me?" Ara teased, her pouty lips linking with his into a kiss. Her kisses to welcome him back always were filled with this hunger, passion and pull that said : Don't leave like that. Even for 40 minutes, I like you here better. She was teasing, of course, knowing he would never go anywhere without her, especially if it was for some fun in the shadows - she just wanted to hear him to say it. "I already got started on dinner, I'm starving though, I might eat you first," She then added, her finger catching him by the colar to drag him along with her, her playful felineness still on, for him to follow her there. On the counter : a knife, ingredients, a dish ready to get heaten on the stove, a little bit of a mess, there was barely space for more. "How's the city like tonight? Lee said the Spiders would strike again, wreck the neighborhood, that these little shits get high on clowning on celebrations. Mm. Might get messy." She questions resting her lower back against the counter. The Spiders - another fresh gang in town, like a dozen popping every week, none that would survive however, the biggest ones were always quick to kill these in the womb : and now that the duo started being affiliated, more and more names were spoken to them - theirs were also spoken about to. "That is if they have the balls or want the attention, everyone is watching," She carries on, her hand catching her knife again, playing with the tip at edge of her finger. "Or maybe we will get a night with no fire? It might be our last christmas here after all," She adds with a smile on her face, head full with the thought of their new place again.

[eternalsunrise]

….at first fight.

wolverine (logan howlett) x f!reader

wc: 1.6k

summary! (request here!!) you (an ex widow turned merc) are on a mission for a client. the x-men send wolverine to intervene. the fight goes in a direction neither of you expected.

tags! tons of flirting, sexual tension, violence

notes! this was so fun, reader is so cunty but that’s logan’s type (looks at wade)

it’s never just in and out. almost every client you’ve had since leaving the red room has made the same empty promise, “it’ll be easy. just in and out.” a few of your more eccentric clientele simple that down to “it’ll be easy peasy, trust me.” and guess what? they’re all full of shit. body guards, hidden cameras, lasers, quicksand; the list goes on for miles. after all, if it was truly just in and out they wouldn’t need you.

so maybe it was your own fault. maybe you jinxed yourself, because you really did think you got lucky this time. but c’mon, you should’ve known better.

“you’ve got to be joking.”

you recognized him immediately. from the top of his feline like quips of hair, to the bottom of his boots. but the biggest calling card is the x branded in the center of an all black suit that you assumed was leather. if someone walked in, they would assume you both came together.

“the x-men sent their guard dog? no offense but aren’t petty heists a little below your pay grade?”

you slide the vials that you were sent in here for into one of the pockets on your belt. you knew there was bound to be a scuffle, and the last thing you wanted was to walk out of here with damaged goods.

logan tilts his head at you, eyeing you up and down just as you had done to him a few seconds ago. he thinks about mentioning how funny it is that you think he gets paid. but he doesn’t really want to make the time for small talk. instead he takes only three of his long strides before he’s directly in front of you, staring down at you.

“listen. i really don’t wanna hurt you. and i’m sure this is all just a misunderstanding, blah fucking blah. but can you just hand that over so i can get outta here?” gruff voice rumbling out of his chest.

you can’t help but scoff at his condescending tone. you’re used to it sure, as a woman in the mercenary industry, you get talked down to constantly. it’s a good thing you pride yourself on proving people wrong. plus you weren’t about to let a guy with a dorky x-men belt buckle shit talk you.

you clench a gloved fist, a right hook taking him by surprise. his entire form stumbles a bit, it’s obvious his guard was down. you see your opening, bracing your hands on the counter space behind you. you bring both of your legs up, putting all of your weight behind a kick to his torso.

all logan can do is crash to the ground, stunned as he tried to process what the fuck that was.

you saunter over and press your boot into his crotch, staring down at him with an “are you sure you wanna do this?” look on your face.

unfortunately it’s his job to do this, and for a lack of better judgement, logan thinks he wants to do this with you. bad. he brings a hand to his jaw, cringing as it popped back into place with a loud click.

“who–who the fuck sent you?” it’s a question that came from confusion, but there’s also a brewing curiosity now. he finds himself craving to know who this woman was standing over him.

a laugh that’s dripped in sarcasm tumbles from your lips, “oh i’m sorry honey, don’t you know a true lady doesn’t kiss and tell?”

you press your heel in a little more, for your own enjoyment as a groan emits from the wolverine. then you spin around, deciding it was time for you to go. you charge extra for after parties, and you already have what you came for.

“well this play date has been fun, but i need to get going now. give the professor my love, i’m sure that’s how you found me.”

you’re walking away, but a dark part of you wants him to follow. life gets a little boring, and it’s been a while since you’ve had a good challenge. as if on cue, two strong arms come underneath your shoulders. forcing your arms back in a way that makes you hiss, but you smile nonetheless. now we’re talking.

“who do you work for then?” lips against your ear, deep voice causing a shiver that starts in your head and trails down your spine. you try to ignore it, instead laughing at his ridiculous question. “whoever wants to pay my rent.” your answer is honest, you didn’t even know the names of your clientele most of the time.

you ram the back of your head into his, causing his hold on you to unravel.

you turn to face the wolverine, watching as his trademark metal claws finally make an appearance. now it’s a party!

“what do the x-men want with this shit anyway?” you ask, pulling two knives from your belt, flipping them around in your hands. okay maybe you just wanted to show off a little.

the two of you start clashing blades, and logan is starting to get a little frustrated. partly at how calm you were as you held you own, and also at how for some reason, he didn’t want to hurt you.

“it’s not what we want, it’s who we don’t want to have it. you’re a damn good example—FUCK.” he lost track of your movements, and now there’s two knives deep in both sides of his waist. who the fuck were you?

your hands are resting on the handles still, and he uses his momentum to push the both of you into a nearby wall, pressing your back against it. his metal claws digging into the wall on either side of your head and caging you in.

this was a new closeness you haven’t experienced fighting before. hell, you usually don’t let fights last this long.

“oh don’t be so mean, you don’t even know my name.” you say, laying your voice on sweet and thick. his body is a solid wall that takes up the whole room, you have to crane your neck upwards to get any space, and it puts you even closer.

logan pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, staring down at you. this close he can count every mark and detail on your face. watch your chest go up and down due to your heavy breathing. this was trouble.

“what makes you think i give a shit, huh kid?” his words spit like venom, and you eat them up. you twist the knives in your hands, the sound of flesh and bone reverberating from his body. he groans, a deep sound that rattles his throat. you’re ashamed at what it does to you. but you crave the feeling all the same.

you bring your head off of the wall, your noses are basically touching now. chests together, hearts pounding against one another. it’s all intoxicating.

“i think you got a little crush on me, wolverine.” your voice is cocky and steady. and if he sees through the front you’re putting on he doesn’t show it.

logan gulps, his throat feels dry. his adam’s apple bobs up and down, and you lick your lips at the sight. he yanks one hand out of the wall and retracts his claws. you gasp in surprise when his rough hand drags over your waist, finding home on your hip.

“what makes ya think that?” trouble. trouble. trouble.

your lips are almost brushing against one another, his facial hair tickling your cheeks. “well. i foolishly tried to kill you…” you grip the handles and yank the knives out of his sides, red pooling onto the porcelain floor. the sensation causes him to lose his breath for a second. so much for not being messy. “and you haven’t even tried to draw blood.”

logan chuckles as if he’s been caught, and he yanks his other hand out of the wall, sheathing his claws. his lips brush against yours again momentarily, and you think you’ll finally get some relief from the suffocating tension. but then he moves his head to whisper into your ear, “i don’t have to play dirty to get what i want, sweetheart.” his voice drops another octave, if that was even possible.

suddenly his body pulls away from yours entirely, and the bubble around the two of you is popped. you look at him confused, your lips involuntarily forming a pout. he holds his hand in front of your face, smirking as your eyes finally spot the reason for his new found smugness. there, barely visible due to the size of his hand, was the fucking vial.

easy fucking peasy my ass.

you gasp as if you’ve been betrayed, because truly you have. he shows you a smile then, all teeth and you want to knock them all loose and take him home after. he’s so infuriating. you check the time on your watch, sighing as you realize you have no more playtime. you’re supposed to meet your client in 10 minutes.

“well, this has been fun.” you sigh and pat logan’s shoulder, and you swear you see a glint of what looks like disappointment flicker through his dark eyes. you turn around and walk away, lifting your hands up to fix your hair in the process.

logan wants to follow you, but he resists. instead he clears his throat and asks what he’s wanted to know all night, “aren’t you gonna tell me your name?” he calls after you, unsure of what the fuck just happened, and why he didn’t want it to end.

you smile to yourself, turning around momentarily to throw your reply back at him, “maybe i’ll tell you the next time i see you, logan.” you send a wink his way, and leave him standing there stunned.

you walk out of the building with dollar signs in your eyes, practically skipping your way to the meetup.

although you liked playing ring-a-round the rosie with logan, you’d never risk a job over it. you unzip your jacket, pulling a small vial from the inner pocket. after all, you only needed one.

you call this one a draw. you’re looking forward to a rematch.

[starshipsofstarlord]

All This Hassle, and What For?

Pairing | Loki Laufeyson x reader

Summary | getting taken hostage, along with Loki, is far more amusing than ever intended to be, despite it leaving your captors anything but impressed.

Warnings | kidnapping, mentions of depression, swearing, implied smut, innuendos

Based off this tiktok. All original rights to the plot go back to the creator.

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Opening your aching eyes, you found yourself to be in a large room, there were plenty of feet stood at your eye level, and such a sight made you frown. You certainly didn’t remember being knocked out, but who would, the exposure to unconsciousness was most likely sudden.

But nevertheless, you raised your head, glaring up at those whom had captured you. As your eyes scoured the room, your eyes landed promptly on the god of mischief, who had his hands bound and shackled in chains, and by Odin, did he look good.

However, your attraction the man who once reigned terror down upon New York wasn’t the focus now, and so you licked your lips, and kicked the nearest guard in the leg. He stumbled, the noise loud enough to draw the attention of all others, and you were pleased to stifle a laugh. Loki frowned at your behaviour, knowing that this was not the way that you were trained to be an avenger, but it was clear that you were no longer on earth, so human pleasantries did not apply here.

“And by the gods, who in the galactic council’s name do you think you are?” The closest asked, wrapping his large hand through your hair, and tugging your face up to stare up at him, wanting you to be treated as the lesser being he thought you as.

“Actually, he’s the god.” Tilting your head, you diverted it towards Loki, who squinted feebly at your answer. “But I think you already knew that, since you have him rattled in metal. Just a word of advice, rumour has it that he likes to be restrained in such ways; really, you’re doing him a favour, and you may just earn yourself a big tip.”

You sent a wink up at the commander, watching with inward joy as he grimaced at your development within your speech. “Quite a nice sight, to see him so vulnerable and at someone’s mercy, so thank you general.”

Sending him a smile, he huffed, whilst Loki tried his darnedest to contain an amused grin. It wouldn’t be the first occasion that you had made suggestions regarding the new troop of the avengers; even when he was around causing mischief, (which he still tended to do), there were always words said that gained the god’s intrigue.

Tony at the time, and to this day, despite him being a part of the heroic team, which Thor was ‘inclined’ to drag him into, thought nothing more than disgust at your meaningful jokes. In his words, ‘you two may as well screw so we don’t have to listen to anymore of this dirty banter, you in regards to reindeer games’.

How you wished right now, preached silently even, that Tony could bare to listen again, so that he could send in the team whom could deal with these aliens that were keeping your imprisoned. But all communications were cut, and that just left you and Loki.

By no means did you doubt if Loki got the chance to escape, he would leave you. It was in his nature to do so, but if you could pose a lack of threat, they may loosen up on their efficiency in guarding you. After all, Loki was the one they wanted, not you. And then, both of you could get away from this galactic nonsense.

“Humans.” The general huffed, causing you to grimace as the stench of his breath wafted through the air, and hit your nose. “You all think that you are so special, but when it comes down to it, those who are not from your planet do not care. Loki here, this god, does not care about you little one. And he never will.”

“That’s okay with me, because I don’t care about him either. It’d called self preservation.” You informed your captor, noticing Loki staring across at you with an icy gaze. Who were you kidding? Of course you cared about the god, but right now, you would do anything to get out of this predicament.

“Aw would you look at that.” The feet moved back towards the main reward of their capture, staring down at the green eyed trickster with mocking eyes. “This woman has attitude just like yours, if either of you cared, I’d call it a match made in Asgard.” A laugh bellowed from the wide chest of the being, finding his own comedy quite humorous.

“Excuse me, I’m way out of his league!” You pretended to be offended, bringing your hands that were free of restraint to your chest. They thought not to tie you down as they did to him, after all, you were nothing but a midguardian. That was their mistake. “What’d you want with old horse shagger over there anyways? Don’t be alarmed, but he actually does some kind of good now, even if it be out of his own self interest.”

A heavy sigh fell on deaf ears, as the protector of space glanced unsurely between the pair of you. “He has the tesseract, and I wish to take it from his slippery hands, he cannot be trusted with such a powerful source of energy.” His words bellowed a laugh of absolute surprise from your mouth, earning a frown from those keeping you hear, and a cock of the head from the god of mischief.

It was clear that not only was he confused by your supple, yet somewhat pleasant burst of amusement, but he was also in the dark about what in the Hela this predominant being was speaking of. Yes, he had had the tesseract at one point , however, no longer was it in his untrustworthy grasp.

Thanos had taken ownership over it, after killing many of the people that he had saved from the events of Ragnarok. It was not just some energy source, it had been an infinity stone all along, tricking the eyes of elders and the young to believe that it was nothing more than a harbouring of power. But it had indeed been the space stone, and it was taken from him, in exchange for saving Thor’s life.

The Guardians of the Galaxy had found the pair of them upon the aftermath of the wreckage, taking them in, amongst plans of taking Thanos down. It had been a failure, up until the avengers went back in time, going to their past that would not affect their future, so that they could reverse the affects the Titan had brought upon earth and everywhere else.

During that time, Loki had nurtured his brother, watching as he fell apart with the responsibility of their people, and collapsed into a spiral of depression. You had also been there for Thor, doing your best to take the drink away from the bulky god, but to no avail did you manage to succeed. And so, during those tormenting five years, you and Loki would sit side by side, both basking silently in your failures.

“I thought you guys’d know everything, but I guess that you and your highness are stuck in one time line; all of them. But for us humans and every lesser being, there are multiple, and that Loki that stole the tesseract, yet I say again, is one much different. And we are on the search for him, to stop his disruption and crossing over of the times!” An exonerated, and audible exhale of air left you after your little speech.

Loki smirked, at the premise of you protecting him with the admission of the truth. But he couldn’t help but feel a feeling of warmth flutter within his immortal insides, it was rather a nice feeling he realised. “He is quite difficult to catch, we have been tracking him since the time heist went sideways.”

“That’s because he’s you!” You pointedly exclaimed, unable to pin some of the blame upon the god himself. Sure, in recent times he had changed, and was much different from back when he wanted all mortals to kneel before him (which you’d willingly do if it ever came to that, though you’d never tell him under which circumstances that would be), but at the end of the day, that had been him once!

The tricks and the lies still remained, but he had found a reason to thrive, and a long and enduring career that he was well at tackling. Often, he made out being an avenger, despite the government’s rouse of concern, to be a bore, and that he had far better things to do. But he stayed, with a light in his eyes, and continued following along with the heroic traditions, breaking a few rules here and there.

“Dear, why do you always have to put the blame upon me? I was not the one who decided to put that green dye within your shampoo, but I’ll have to admit, did you look so enrapturing.” He was running a ploy, dragging out the time that you spent bantering in hopes of something happening.

Unlike Heimdall, he did not have foresight, but it was a requirement whilst the pair of you were on your expediting mission, that you check in with the base, via the comms that had cracked under brutal feet. And so, he spoke, with the promise that you’d return the conversation and leave all others in the room confused with your meaningless discussion.

“I did, didn’t I?” You asked, to which he hummed in reply, lightly nodding his head, as his feline eyes ran up your body, paying ample attention to how your limbs were free, unlike his own. “But I’d say fine sir, that the blame is down to Clint, and if I’m correct, may we kick his ass as soon as we get back home?”

“Of course we can my beloved-“ you froze at his choice of words, and it appears that he did too, suddenly realising his mistake. Gulping for a second he went to speak again, but the commander felt much inclined to but in, and stop the headache that was bubbling in his large head.

“Shut up; the pair of you!” His scolding made you feel as though you were in school over again, it was impossible not to drop your head down and try to contain your laughter. Loki too found such enjoyment in this predicament, sporting a cheshire grin to emit his emotions.

“I’m sorry, can you say that again? Maybe a just a tad louder?” You pinched your thumb and forefinger together to show how much, and it was clear that you were pissing this primal being off. He began towards you, and you were prepared to fight him, you were never one to back down, which was one feature upon the various reasons that Fury had initially recruited you.

Awaiting the first strike, you stood despite the others around you, your eyes wide open as you bravely stared up at your opponent. But before the fight could begin, a distant crash assumed preference in your ears, causing you to turn your head in the direction it had came from. And then, all of a sudden, a ship crashed through the dock, guns blazing from its side.

“What are you waiting for?” The distinct voice of Rocket asked, and obediently you ran through the terror, finding Loki already upon the ship, but then, he appeared behind you also. “Quill, get ready to go!”

Taking glances, you stared between the two practically identical copies, a light frown on your face. Both were restrained, yet the one that was seated beside Groot, whom was playing a game on some nineties device, was glaring up at the pair of you.

“An avenger, really?” The seated one laughed, mocking his once future self, as you felt the ship steer clear away from the scene. Your Loki quirked his brow, smirking at his self that had avoided the wars that he had chosen to fight upon earth.

“Yes, an avenger.” He responded, causing his other to languidly scoff. An ‘I am groot’ came from the tree, and it was uncertain in your spoken languages of what he had said, but either way, you were more intrigued by the conversation that was happening between the Loki’s. “And I’ll have you know, that she is infinitely more brave than you, you cower-some fool.”

“Oh, so we’re going there?” You asked, causing the pair to snap out of their mutual rivalry, and stare haphazardly at you. “No, don’t mind me, feel free to continue.”

“We’re not going to be unable to unbind your until we reach earth.” Gamora cut in, speaking to the Loki that you knew to be the original.

“That’s fine.” He nodded humbly, before casting his attention back at his alternate reflection. “And this woman, is not only an avenger. She was there for your brother when you were not.”

“Aw.” The other Loki smirked, almost cruelly. “So she’s your beloved?” He remarked rudely, and it seemed to break something within Loki, him wishing not to listen to the other version of himself. He decided he did not like him, and understand how you must have felt upon your initial meeting.

“Yes.” You went to speak, but instead, Loki stood before you, powerlessly pulling your face to his own, and colliding his lips upon yours. On impulse, you ravenously replied with much affection, clasping his jaw and allowing him entrance into your mouth. It earned a disgusted groan out of the Loki that had caused all this hassle.

“I hate to interrupt...” Rocket returned, after putting his gun down and having gone to the front of the ship with Quill, so that he could contact Stark. “But these may get those off.” He held a pair of golden pliers, that were far larger than his body. At the sight , you pulled away from Loki’s face for a moment, raising a brow.

“It’s fine, I think I want to keep them on.” You smirked, earning another sound of disapproval from Loki’s identical rival, pulling him back to your face. Wildly, he hummed into the cavern of your mouth, as the pair of you stumbled around on the spaceship.

“Bedrooms are down the hall to the right.” Nebula informed you, her voice monotone, and in turn, you dragged the god towards said direction, finally releasing all the tension that had been pent up through the years.

Tags

@nickkie1129

[phis-corner]

wild

Another prompt for @jasonette-july-2k20​, also cross-posted on Ao3 under the name m3owww. The other prompt fills are also on there.

“We’re going to the zoo!” Dick announces. “Everybody is mandated to come. Otherwise, Oracle’s locking you out of all your devices for a month. And by everybody, I mean everyone who dons a costume at night to beat people up.”

Marinette groans. This is not going to go well.

Scene I: The Giraffes

“Hey, it’s the giraffes!” Steph exclaims. “Woah, those are really tall.”

“We would have to stack three Damians to reach the height of one female giraffe.” Tim remarks, clutching a large thermos of coffee.

Damian snarls. “Do you wish to die, Drake?” Bruce snatches Damian’s backpack from him before he can pull out his knives.

Jason pokes Marinette in the side. “Male giraffes are eleven feet. If you stood on my shoulders, we’d be around that height.”

“Yes, yes, I know. Call me short, Jay. But I could easily punch you in the groin if I wanted.” Marinette grumbles. She pointedly ignores the commotion next to her. 

Damian has tackled Tim, Dick is trying to pull him off, Steph is cheering him on, and Cass is happily watching the giraffes. Bruce is rummaging through Damian’s backpack and grimacing at the amount of weapons the child packed.

Go figure.

Scene II: Elephants

“Well, this kind of stinks.” Jason remarks, as the baby elephant in front of them decides to take a poo. They all collectively gag as the smell wafts their way.

“Let’s just move on.” Bruce decides, and the group starts walking, except for Damian.

“Five more minutes, Father.” The boy commands. “It is too adorable to leave.”

Marinette has never been more glad that she always brings face masks around. She hands one to Jason and puts the other on. At least this muffles most of the scent.

Bruce sighs. “Damian-”

“Five minutes, Father.” He hisses dangerously.

“Guess we’re stuck here.” Tim says sadly. “It’s going to be a long five minutes.”

Scene III: Reptile House

“Mari! Look here! It’s a Burmese Python!” Jason calls, pointing to a massive snake coiled in one of the terrariums.

Marinette shudders. “Eugh, these creep me out. Guess I use the mouse miraculous too much. I just hope we can move on soon.”

“This snake is beautiful.” Damian declares, gesturing at a King Cobra. “I wish to keep it as a pet.”

“Little D, this is a zoo!” Dick chastises. “Not an animal shelter with pets up for adoption!”

“Are you crazy? That’s the longest venomous snake in the world!” Tim shrieks.

Damian sniffs. “Precisely, Drake. I wish to train it to attack you, just as I have with all my other pets.”

“You- what?” Tim splutters. “That’s why none of the animals like me? I’m changing your Wifi password.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

Steph walks up to Marinette and Jason, holding out a tub of popcorn. “Want some?”

“Thanks.” Marinette reaches for the popcorn, then freezes. “Wait. Where’d you get this?”

The blonde grins. “I have Cass on my side. Anything is possible.”

“Speaking of which,” Jason frowns. “Where is she?”

Scene IV: Butterfly House

Dick shrieks as another butterfly flaps past his head. “I swear, these things are trying to kill me!”

“Tt, don’t be stupid, Grayson. They are harmless creatures.” Damian scoffs.

Marinette hums thoughtfully. “I mean, most butterflies are, but if they’re actually the demonic purple butterflies sent by a crazy fashion designer with a magical brooch to prey on negative emotions and turn people into colorful monsters with ridiculous powers that I spent three years fighting, then we’re in trouble.”

Jason blinks. “Sometimes, I forget how crazy your life was.”

“Yeah, I wish I could do that.” Marinette sighs. “Gabriel was a dick.”

Tim raises his camera and snaps a picture of Steph giggling as a butterfly makes itself at home in her hair.

Bruce almost-smiles. “At least no one’s trying to kill each other here. Everyone is- wait.” He scans the house, frowning.

“Guys, have any of you seen Cass?”

Scene V: Penguins

As it turns out, Cass went off to buy a slushy. She joins them at the penguin exhibit and watches gleefully as Bruce tries to interrogate the poor birds. Tim is filming the entire thing on his camera.

“Have you ever had any association with the Gotham villain known as Penguin in the past?”

“Squawk.”

“What, exactly, is your connection to the criminal otherwise known as Oswald Cobblepot?”

“Squawk?”

“Answer my question!” Bruce growls at the birds.

Jason’s shoulders are shaking with silent laughter, and Marinette stifles a giggle.

“Father, these are-”

“Silence, Damian! I am interrogating the moles that Penguin planted at the zoo.”

One especially brave penguin waddles right up to Bruce, leaving only a few inches of space in between their faces.

They engage in a silent staring contest.

Then…

“SQUAWK!” The penguin screeches in Bruce’s face. Being the Batman, he doesn’t startle (very much) and simply growls as the penguin dives into the water, chirping happily.

“Get back here! I wasn’t done yet!”

Scene VI: Tigers

The orange and black-striped feline elegantly prowls towards the group, heading straight for Cass, who beams and reaches her hand out to press up against the glass. The tiger nuzzles into the wall between them, and Cass frowns.

Captive. She signs. Free?

“This tiger was born in captivity.” Bruce says. “She wouldn’t survive in the wild. And for future reference, none of you are allowed to free the zoo animals.”

Dick sighs. “Aw, come on B, Dami and I had our heist already halfway planned!”

“This tiger is beautiful.” Damian states. “She is graceful in a way that humans cannot master.”

“What about Cass?” Jason points out. “She’s just as graceful as the tiger.”

Cass smiles, pleased. Thank you, little brother.

“Marinette and Dick are really graceful when they’re in the air too!” Steph adds.

Marinette winces. “Key word being air. I’ve already tripped over my own feet six times, and another three times on Jason.”

Right on cue, as she moves to read another plaque, she trips over Jason’s foot and flails. He catches her in a dip like the good boyfriend he is and promptly kisses her- passionately.

Damian makes a disgusted noise, Dick sighs, Tim snaps a picture, and Cass smacks them both on the backs of their heads.

Children. She signs, and they both smile sheepishly. Two toddlers are staring, openmouthed, and Marinette counts five parents covering their children’s eyes.

“Oops.”

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. “You two can contribute to Alfred’s PDA jar when we get back.” 

“Aww, Bruce!” Jason complains.

“He has strict rules and you didn’t follow them.” Steph chirps. “You brought this on yourself.”

“Timbo, help me out here?”

Tim looks up from where he’s fiddling with his camera. “Uh, no thank you? You two have scarred multiple children for life. It’s only five dollars. You’ll survive.”

“No! Betrayed! By my own family!” Jason wails, and Marinette huffs.

“Mon oiseau, you are the son of a billionaire. Not to mention, all the money you make from your… extracurriculars. You can pay the five dollar fine.”

“It’s the principle of the thing!”

At the end of the day, all of them are tired and sweaty. They agree that maybe the zoo isn’t the greatest place for a family outing, except for Damian, who wants to return to kidnap (Animalnap? Zoonap?) the animals and set them free.

As they get out of the minivan one by one, Marinette, who is right behind Damian, spots something in his shirt move.

“Damian, what’s in your shirt?”

The boy snarls. “Nothing!”

“Damian…” Bruce sighs, and Damian reluctantly pulls out a green grass snake.

“It is non-venomous. Nobody will miss it.” He says defensively, and there is a chorus of groans.

“It’s a snake.” Tim points out. “That you stole. From the zoo.”

Damian sniffs. “I prefer the term liberated.”

Jason groans, and rests his chin on the top of Marinette’s head. She staggers underneath the extra weight. “I hate this fucking family.”

Marinette reaches up to poke him in the chest. “You know you love us. Why else would you wear a bat on your chest?”

“To piss Bruce off.”

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

[justasimplesinner]

Catwoman with a criminal S/O with a dog motif?

how ironic iconic

Catwoman with a criminal s/o with dog motif hcs:

she absolutely will ask you why. cats are right there, in all their glory and grace, and you choose... dogs? she’s joking of course, just to tease you a little bit. but it's up to you to show her dogs aren't as stupid as they might seem and that they're great trackers/hunters despite the fact that they're not as stealthy and graceful as cats

she will always playfight with you, yknow - like cats and dogs do

if she was to ever trust you enough to share a living space with you, your dogs (if you have any) better not be too loud or messy, because she will not tolerate them bullying her cats. you two will have to work out a way to stop them from fighting all the time, unless your dogs are really well trained and calm

she will joke about putting a collar on you (she might actually do that honestly) and playfully boss you around, because dogs are meant to follow orders, while cats lounge freely

if you two ever pull a heist together, you're always the distraction and she's the one sneaking in to get the goods. you're all bark and bite, and she'll gladly take advantage of that when it comes to dealing with security/police or even Batman. you're strong and will guard her with your life, she will get the job done and make sure to find you both a nice, clean getaway

you two always donate a part of your money to shelters and feed stray cats/dogs whenever you can. more often than not, the strays already know how to find you and hang around your home/s, hoping to be on the recieving end of your kindness once more. and they never fight, too - all of them are just patiently waiting, the cats don't provoke the dogs, the hounds don't pounce/chase the felines

you two are surprisingly good and compatible together. but opposites attract after all

[goldensimisage]

She knew she wasn’t just being allowed to roam free. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. Ever since Nia split off to go talk to the boss, Duchess could hear the sound of metal feet clacking against old, creaky wood in an unnaturally perfect, unsettling rhythm. She wasn’t entirely sure why, but it felt like that Golett from the doorway had been following her...  At least until she turned a corner into a narrower hall, almost bumping right into a tall ground type pokemon in the process.

“What are you doing prowling around in the dark?” Of course. Leave it to what was essentially a thieves’ guild to be suspicious of each other just for forgetting to flip a light switch.

“Fuck off, I’m sleepy.” She hisses back to the Krokorok without any hesitation. Not a complete lie! But still a statement that drew curiosity from the other, who decided to poke and prod some more.

“Which is why you’re headed toward the kitchen.”

“You ever tried to sleep in one of those shitty beds upstairs? A towel in front of the old oven is infinitely better.”

The other’s jaws opened up, a claw raised as if he was about to say something to that, but... Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t debate that. Especially not with a cat about warm napping spots. Even if he did want to argue though, any chance of that was cut off with the Golett that had been trailing behind Duchess finally caught up to her and rounded the corner, only coming to a stop now upon registering that a second pokemon was standing in front of it. It completely disregarded Duchess, looking straight over the Delcatty at the pokemon she’d just been talking with to issue a command in that same droning voice it had used when she and Nia got here.

“Sobek. Your presence is required in the meeting hall.” A sigh escaped the upright ground type in response, something that the droid didn’t even dignify with a response while Sobek glanced down once more at Duchess for a moment. But nothing else was said, and he simply pushed past the two, filling the hall with the slowly fading sound of his tail dragging across the floorboards on his way back to where Duchess had come from. And lucky her, the creepy automaton followed right behind him! Now she was alone to do what she’d come to do. And she’d waste no time getting to work.

Long after the sound of footsteps had faded, Duchess waited outside a door midway through the darkened hall. Waiting, listening, checking to make sure she really was alone for this. Silence. Good. And so it began, the Delcatty standing up on her hind legs and working the doorknob as silently as she could. Finally, she pulled the handle down far enough, and could feel the door start to give under her leaning weight!

Sloooowly it opens, just enough for Duchess to slip on on silent feline pads and close it just as gently behind herself, promptly dropping the travel bag she’d been stuck with for so long and rolling her shoulders at the sudden loss of weight, as she finds herself in that old office once again. Well... Office was a stretch. In reality, this was little more than a broom closet with just enough space to fit a few filing cabinets and a shelf with a lamp inside. Just as cramped as she remembered..

So long as she could do this right though, it’d be the last time she’d ever have to be stuffed in here. Taking full advantage of her privacy, Duchess bit down on the handle of the bottom drawer and pulled, opening up the dusty cabinet with ease and instantly starting to flip through documents and files with her dexterous tail.

Records of heists long passed, reports snatched up from corrupt explorers and Magnemite officers, witness accounts and photos, you name it. If it involved or incriminated a Delcatty or alolan Meowth, she snatched it up, stuffing it all into her bag and moving on to the next shelf. Considering she’d been the one who’d filed all this away, she knew exactly where to look, greatly expediting the process of her record scrubbing until finally, the top drawer was shut just like the rest. Now for the disposal, and one she’d carefully planned out before they’d even arrived!

Once again, she slips her head through the strap of her bag, ears folded back to ease it through and hoist the whole thing back over her shoulders. And just as silently as she’d entered, Duchess slipped back out of the office, being sure to leave it as seemingly undisturbed as it had been prior to her arrival. Now off to the kitchen!

She was far more relaxed now, or rather more unassuming. Her perpetual state of tired grumpiness when she was here was hardly what one would call relaxed! But no matter, it wouldn’t look suspicious if anybody saw her pass by and slip into the kitchen where her planned method of evidence destruction awaited: the oven.

It sat, cold and untouched, but still perfectly usable with the pile of firewood ready to go beside it. With one more glance around the room to ensure her privacy, Duchess got to work: first loose papers, then logs, then the couple of thick files she’d procured. And finally, a match to get rid of it all. The kitchen lit up in an orange flash as she slammed the oven shut and watched through the vent: first the papers reduced to ash almost instantly, followed more slowly by the files on top as the logs sandwiched between them caught flame. But just to be sure...

With a flick of her tail, the chimney was opened, and the fire glowed even brighter and hotter against her face as old hot air shot up through the chimney, heating the entire room while the things she’d come to steal were finally completely incinerated. Mission accomplished.

Now so long as Nia didn’t crack, they were clear. But for the time being... It was awfully warm in here, and she hadn’t been lying to Sobek... A quick little nap couldn’t hurt, right? With nothing else to do but wait a while, Duchess leaned against the wall opposite the stove, curled into a cream colored ball on the floor, and promptly went out like a light.

[vampiricsheep]

1, 13

ty!! I'll answer this for uhhh the AU (though these days it's more of his primary!) Matias

1. Who are they closest to? How did they meet and what do they like to do together?

His husband lynnel <3 They met a bit after lyn moved to the US. Matias thought he looked interesting but was too shy to approach at first, so most of the time he'd visit him in a feline form to say hello instead of assuming his human one.

Matias isn't a very sociable person and doesn't like being in crowded public spaces, so their date nights usually look like a day in on the couch with some delivery and a movie or show.

13. What special abilities or talents do they possess? Did they develop through training or were they born with them?

Depending on your perspective, you could say his ability is to turn into a cat, or to turn into a human. He's not quite either really, but those are the forms he has access to. "Cat" is kind of vague, but it varies! Usually he becomes a grey bobcat or lynx, but he's appeared as a bobbed maine coon too (usually during one of his heists that involve using a cat door as point of entry. Mind you, his prizes are junk and not valuables).

He's always been able to do that; it's tied to who and what he is. Usually we just say "fey" as a vague catch-all rather than some specific taxonomic grouping.

[tonystarkbingo]

3 Prompt Summaries

computer, friends to lovers, animal - prompts by @rebelmeg

@somesortofitalianroast -  Tony wasn’t sure why he agreed to let Bucky live in the Tower. He hated the man. He really did. But he owed Steve a favor and he wasn’t one to let his friends down. So he let Bucky and his cat move into the Tower. He let Bucky and his cat roam freely around the Tower. It didn’t take long before he was seeking out opportunities to talk to Bucky, or spend time with Bucky. Maybe he didn’t hate Bucky as much as he thought he did?

@alwaysabrighterdarkness - It started with silly cat videos shared here and there. Which, somehow, turned into marathons that left everyone--yes, Natasha, even you--in tears with laughter.  Not so much because of the videos but one would end up laughing--usually Thor, sometimes Clint--which inevitably set someone else off and so on. Tony had to admit, he might not care too much about felines in general, but the cat-video marathons might even outrank movie nights for that alone.

@lbibliophile-mcu - People always laugh when they say that their relationship was built on sharing increasingly sappy cat pictures. But when one of you is a superhero archer, and the other is an AI, that's maybe the most normal thing about them

@rebelmeg - pick your pairing.... tony stark was unfairly, stupidly, ridiculously hot.  and not just that, but he was adorable, with his messy, fluffy hair and his big bambi eyes and the way his nose scrunched up when he laughed.  and to top it all off, this hot, adorable, shamelessly attractive man also happened to have animal guests with him on his thursday youtube videos.  which made it all so much worse.  tony stark doing nose boops with a tiny, squeaky kitten was just too much.  no human could stand up to that and live.

@jamesbuckystark - Tony and Jan were best friends as children,  but when they were in high school, Jan's parents moved to LA. They would chat via Skype and email. Who knew the next time they would see each other was at a national pet show ten years later? Sparks fly

@darthbloodorange - It was hard and incredibly lonely to be a AI. Everyone assumed just because he was a computer, an mathematical logic based algorithm that he didn't think or feel. He'd experienced men of science try and argue that he could think or feel, that he had no humanity. That someone had to have programed these things into him in his creation and therefore it wasn't really him, it wasn't his thoughts and feelings but his creators. Tony knew he could think and feel. Knew that these feelings where his own. He was nothing like his creator, Howard. As the years past, as civilisations rose and fell, he kept to himself. Answering the questions men came to him with. He kept his thoughts and feelings to himself. That was until a strange creature walked into his lab. A large wolf with DNA of a Man [Capwolf]. This being didn't care if he was a computer, it responded to him as if he were alive. As if the ticking clock within his reactor was a heart and not just a interval system he set his data processing to. But could their ever be chance for them? For love between a robot and a wolf.

Keep reading to see the rest!

Coffee, Snow, Road Trip - suggested by @alwaysabrighterdarkness

@rebelmeg - tony wasn't gonna say it.  he wasn't.  no matter how much he wanted to say (or shout) "I TOLD YOU SO," he wasn't gonna do it.  he was going to sit, quietly, in this stupid broken down car, sip his cold coffee, and watch rhodey pace a hard icy track in the snow until he finally caved and let tony throw money at the problem until someone agreed to come tow them out of this snowbank.  next time, he was going to talk rhodey into at least renting a better car next time they went on a road trip....

@somesortofitalianroast - It wasn’t Steve’s idea to drive across the United States in winter. He’d had enough of the cold and ice to last him for the rest of his life. It wasn’t Tony’s idea to drive across the United States in winter, either, but somehow they found themselves in the front seat of one of Tony’s many roadsters, Pepper somehow squeezed in between them, on the way from LA to New York. Luckily it was a bench seat, not bucket seats. It wasn’t snowing, though there was snow on the side of the road, and the forecast called for more snow - up to two inches. Luckily, they were almost at the ski chalet they were staying at, near Vail. They were going to spend the week there, and Steve planned to spend the entire week next to the fire, drinking coffee and ignoring the snow.

@lbibliophile-mcu - Road tripping with Tony, their route can be tracked not by attractions visited or efficient navigation, but by the trail of coffee shops spaced at careful two hour intervals. It makes getting anywhere take twice as long, but sipping hot chocolate in a cozy cafe, looking between the sheeting snow through the window and Tony's warm smile across from him, he really can't bring himself to care.

@rebelmeg - i have a mental image of someone spilling coffee in their lap and being grumpy about it and the other one singing obnoxiously loud to cheer them up, but that’s it.  no coherent summary

@jamesbuckystark - "Why wouldn't you think there would be snow in the Rocky Mountains?" Tony grumbles as he rubs his forehead. He and Rhodey are driving cross country in an RV with Peter and Harley. "I do not have enough coffee for this."

@lbibliophile-mcu - Natasha doesn't know why she is friends with Clint. Case in point: Clint wants an iced coffee. Problem 1: it's currently the middle of winter, and something like 20 degrees outside. Problem 2: they're in the middle of nowhere, and lucky that the shitty little service station does anything resembling coffee at all. Clint's solution: Buy a dubiously-coffee, go outside, shove handfuls of snow into the cup and shake, pour the resulting brownish slush down his throat. ...how angry would Coulson be if she just drove off and abandoned him here?

@darthbloodorange - Steve Rogers is an idiot with no self-preservations skill to speak of. Who the hell thinks its a good idea to go on a road trip through the coldest parts of America in the middle of winter on a motorcycle? Someone who spent 70 years in ice, that's who. Not wanting the world to lose Captain America a second time, Tony decides to join Steve on his road trip, just to be safe. He was going to need a lot of coffee. 

give, stone, without - suggested by @somesortofitalianroast

@alwaysabrighterdarkness - Tony had never expected to get this.  Get to this point. Sure, he'd thought about it, imagined what it might be like. But he always just figured it was something not meant for him.  And yet, there he was.  Staring wide-eyed at a gleaming metal band inlaid with small stones circling circumference on his left hand.  And he had it, got it even without having to change everything about himself.

@jamesbuckystark - "If you can remove the sword without breaking the stone, you will be given the power of ruler" is the legend. The strong,  the brave, the wise,  the cunning have all tried and failed. Why should Tony even try? He's been told by everyone he knows that he's not enough.

@rebelmeg - the stones were each powerful on their own.  they could change galaxies, level worlds, alter destinies.  but together, they were unlimited potential with the right person to wield them.  without that person to give them purpose, powerful was all they would be.  with the heart of tony stark, backed by his generous soul and his unending strength... the stones could be more.  and they could give more, too.  give back the life they had needed.

@somesortofitalianroast - Steve never knew how much he loved Tony, until it was too late. Tony had done what Steve had once said he would never be able to do, to make the sacrifice play, using the Infinity Stones without thought of what the result would be. At least, that was what they’d all thought, until Steve had gone to give Tony a kiss on the forehead in benediction, and realized that wouldn’t have to live in a world without Tony - he was alive!

@lbibliophile-mcu - Tony never travels without his lucky pebble. It started the first time his family had to travel by plane. He was nervous, but he knew he couldn't show it; so Jarvis had given him the smooth round stone to cling on to. He had been fine as soon as they were in the air, but for some reason he kept the stone, and continued to carry it with him. Tony not superstitious, not really, but it still became some sort of good luck talisman. Tony never travels without his lucky pebble...except once. It was almost a whim really. Joking with Rhodey to distract him while he slipped the pebble into a pocket, before banishing his friend to the 'humdrumvee'. Tony is not superstitious, not really, but maybe he should be. Because when the helicopter finds him in the desert, it is Rhodey who comes running out to catch him.

@darthbloodorange - Many people would think Tony's most prized and valuable possession would be something rare, expensive, something exclusive. They were wrong. His most valued possession was a rock. Yes, a rock. He never goes anywhere without it. He wonders sometimes if it was bad that he had it, if it would mess up time and space. But it was the only meaningful thing he had left of Steve. (Cue fic full of time heist shenanigans to return the Infinity Stones, and meeting a young Steve Rogers, pining and regret.)

ankle, lazy, only one bed - suggested by @jamesbuckystark

@jamesbuckystark​ - Steve and Nat thought they were clever, booking a room for Tony and Bucky with only one bed. Little do they know that Tony and Bucky are already dating and now spending a lazy day in bed, ankles twined as they stakeout their mark

@rebelmeg - "your foot is on my head."  "is not." "is too." "is not.  my ankle is on your head." "you don't get it off, and you're not gonna have that ankle anymore." tony only hoped that clint wasn't gonna call his bluff (he was too sleepy and lazy to commit bodily harm right now), and that he would never have to share a bed with the guy ever again.

@alwaysabrighterdarkness - Okay, sure, it had been a slightly steep fall and, yes Tony's ankle was just slightly bruised and a tad swollen.  But, c'mon, that was no excuse to enable laziness.  That was absolutely no reason to put him on lock down and utterly trapped in his own bed, just that one spot, for days at a time. Even JARVIS was against him!  He had been dually informed that he was locked out of the workshop until that minor injury was fully healed.  And for company? Motherhenning Steve Rogers and Paperwork.  Yeah, thanks bunch Pep.

@somesortofitalianroast - Steve was lazing in front of the fire, a book in his hand and a cup of hot chocolate just in reach. There was a muffled thump, and Pepper was calling for him. He shot to his feet and up the stairs. Tony had stumbled, and they needed to get to the medical office at the chalet to see if it was just sprained or if he’d broken it. Steve helped Tony down the stairs and into the car, Pepper following behind. It turned out the ankle was broken, and they wanted to keep Tony under observation after they’d cast it. Steve offered to keep watch. It was only when they got back to their cabin that Steve remembered that they only had one bed. It would be quite a tight fit...

@darthbloodorange - When Tony had said he wanted a nice relaxing holiday where he could be lazy for once... this is not what he meant. He never thought he would be regretting this trip. But being stuck in a cabin with a single bed to share amongst all of the Avengers? With a broken ankle? He definitely regrets the trip. Why was Pepper always right.

@lbibliophile-mcu - Tony is on mandatory bedrest. C'mon, it's just a sprained ankle! They won't even let him use crutches or anything! Ok, so maybe the cracked-don't-turn-them-into-broken ribs have something to do with that. But this is not the first time this has happened -- or the second, but not yet the tenth... he thinks, oops -- so he hasn't spent the intervening period lazing around. Who needs a a wheelchair when you've created a remote-controlled wheel bed?

fealty, darkness, couch - suggested by @alwaysabrighterdarkness​

@alwaysabrighterdarkness​  - The lights had been dimmed as soon as the movie started.  It was dark enough in the lounge that Tony had to squint to see the rest of the team--it was the darkness not age or anything else--sprawled comfortably across the couches and chairs.  But he caught the smirks and eye rolls at the cheesy oaths of fealty showing on the screen.  It was a little overboard. But it was amusing and enjoyable at least. Tony was sure it would be discussed and joked about right up until the next movie showed in a few days.

@darthbloodorange​ - Long into the dark of the night, Sir Rogers would sneak into to the King's chambers. He would pledge his loyalty and devotion to his king as the man lounged on his couch, doing his best to bring Tony as much pleasure as he could humanly manage.

@rebelmeg​ - tony stark was as infamous a mob boss as had ever existed.  infamous for his wealth, his genius, his cruelty to his enemies and his protectiveness toward his family.  more than one person had stood before him on trembling knees, looking in awe and fear at the man sprawled across the throne-like couch across from them, sharp goatee and sharper eyes cataloging every weak point. only one person ever got to see the mob boss on his knees, the darkness in the bedroom surrounding him like a second skin, as he swore eternal love and fealty to the one that owned his heart.

Competition, Falling in Love, Gardening - @darthbloodorange​

@tehroserose - It was time for the annual gardening competition. In prior years, Tony had helped Jarvis and Anna with their garden. This year was his first year doing it on his own, and he was going to win with the flowers they had worked hard to develop together. But then there were the new competitors, Steve and Bucky, who apparently had just moved to town and specialized in revitalizing old, extinct, or otherwise forgotten varietals. Tony can't let them win.[11:57 PM]He has to win- for Jarvis and Anna

@alwaysabrighterdarkness - Tony'd been issued a challenge. There was no way that he was going to let this one go. How hard could it be? Granted, it had to do with living things rather than robotics, but he had this. He had it. There was no way he was going to let the Late Bloomer, Agent Super Spy, The Guy that Tripped over the Flat Floor, an Alien god that wore a cape or anyone else beat him out on this one. Except Bruce. Bruce could win. Maybe. Possibly...No way.  Tony would win this one.  He just had to ask the Late Bloomer really, really nicely for a tiny bit of help and he'd win this.

@rebelmeg - "my sunflowers are bigger than yoooours, ha ha ha ha ha haaaa," tony sing-songed as he added fertilizer to the watering can, grinning as he caught the roll of pepper's eyes as she dragged the hose over. 

"i could deliver a crushing retort about size not mattering, but i worry that would kick you between the legs a little too hard." pepper flicked a few droplets of water his way. 

 sniggering like a child that just heard a naughty word, tony got morgan out of her bouncy seat and twirled them both around. "don't listen to your mama, honey bunny, she doesn't know what she's saying." 

 pepper tugged him over for a kiss, not quite able to get the smile off her face.  "you're ridiculous and i fall in love with you a little more every day." tony had a wonderful response to go with his sudden blush, but then pepper smashed a handful of soil into his hair and he was too busy chasing her around the yard to say it.

@darthbloodorange - Steve and Tony's rivalry is legendary amongst the community, maybe even wider. Ever since the billionaire joined the Manhattan District Community Garden the men had been at odds with one another. Always trying to one up each other in variety and technique, in finding the Heirlooms plants with the most ridicules names. There was no end in sight for the feud and it had grown old fast amongst their shared circle of friends. 

One day a man who called himself 'Ebony Maw' joined the Garden with his friend 'Proxima Midnight'. They called themselves the "children of Thanos". The newcomers started disturbing the peace, spouting weird cultish sayings about balance and order. Steve and Tony found themselves joining forces against the newcomers, putting their differences aside to defend the community. But things are more dangerous than they seem, and Steve and Tony find themselves fighting something bigger than the imagined... and maybe fall in love in the process.

[lizzy-bennet]

Stars Keep Watch in the Night (and So Will I)

Fandom/Pairing: Gotham/Batcat

Length: 3,100 words

Also on Ao3

Summary: After ten long years, Wayne Manor is reopened, reoccupied, and refurbished, and the entire Gotham underworld laughs and thanks their lucky stars, because the manor holds as many riches as El Dorado, and it’s owner is nothing but a playboy. But what the thieves don’t know yet is that if they want to get to Bruce Wayne, they’ll have to go through Selina Kyle first.

Because this is what Selina does - what she’s always done since she was a kid - she protects Bruce. Even when he doesn’t know it.

So Selina keeps robbers at bay and stands guard over the manor, as watchful as one of the gargoyles Bruce has on his gate, and since he’s busy dealing with crimes that are actually being committed rather than with crimes that have already been stopped, she never expects Bruce to find out about what she’s doing.

But then he does.

- Set after the Gotham finale. -

Bruce Wayne, Gotham’s favorite son, is finally back home after being gone who-knows-where, doing who-knows-what for a decade, and Wayne Manor’s become the latest prime target for thieves.

Not that this fact surprises Selina, not with the rumors that have been swirling around the city. There’s whispers of a Van Gogh above Bruce’s bed (true), a Vermeer in his walk-in closet (false), and how selling a single one of Bruce’s suit jackets could fetch you a payday worth four figures (disgustingly true). And the entire Gotham underworld laughs, because Wayne Manor holds as many riches as El Dorado, and it’s owner is nothing but a playboy.

Rumor has it that a bold thief is planning on breaking in that very night.

Not that Selina has any reason to care. She has a mixed bag of feelings when it comes to Bruce Wayne, most of them angry, some of them sad, and a few she can’t quite explain. But, if she’s being honest, all her best childhood memories are linked to breaking into Wayne Manor, and there’s something that makes her feel unsettled and almost indignant at the thought of anyone else but her breaking in.

It doesn’t make any sense for her to be this protective, Selina tells herself. Bruce is more than capable of taking care of himself. She’s not thirteen anymore and sneaking in to watch him sleep like she’s some sort of self-declared protector of him. She’s no guardian of the manor, ever watchful like one of those gargoyles Bruce has on his gate. It’s not her problem if a thief wants to hit the place.

That’s what she tells herself, and yet she ends up searching for the thief anyways.

Because this is what she does - what she’s always done since she was a kid - she protects Bruce Wayne. Even when he doesn’t know it.

She finally tracks the thief down to an alleyway behind the hardware store. It’s a guy, a little older than her and a whole lot taller, and she can see he’s holding bright red bolt cutters.

“Hi,” Selina says, as she waves her fingers and the sharp silver tips of her claws glitter dangerously in the dim light. “Got a minute? I’d love to chat.”

The guy takes in the curl of her whip and the gleam of her claws, and she sees his guard go up, as if he’s readying himself for a fight.

“Catwoman?” the guy asks suspiciously, and Selina gets an odd sense of pleasure from the fact that he knows of her. “What do you want?”

“Heard you were planning on breaking into Wayne Manor tonight,” she says.

“Do you have a problem with that?”

The question on its own seems mostly harmless, but there’s pure danger in the way the guy purposefully steps toward her as he asks, and points the sharp tip of his bolt cutters right at her ribcage.

“Actually, I do have a problem with that,” Selina answers, voice tense, eyes on the bolt cutters. “Wayne Manor is mine.”

She’s the one speaking, and yet Selina’s still a little surprised at her own words, a little shocked that they came out of her mouth so readily, like her statement was already formed and right on the tip of her tongue, waiting to be said aloud. Wayne Manor’s not hers, she reminds herself. Bruce Wayne is not hers. Not anymore.

So why does it feel like he is?

She’ll dissect that thought later. Right now the guy is moving closer, bolt cutters out like a weapon, and she knows he’s not bluffing, knows he’d like to teach the girl who dared to tell him no a lesson, so she reaches for her whip. It takes nothing more than a practiced flick of Selina’s wrist for her whip to wind it’s way around the threatening bolt cutters, yank them from out of the guy’s hand, and send them clattering down to the wet pavement.

Eyes wide, the guy stares down in surprise at his hand that now holds nothing but air, and Selina twists her whip again, moving it back and forth like the twitching tail of an angry cat, ready to strike.

“Rule Number One: No one touches Wayne Manor but me. Got it?”

The guy swallows, watching as her whip licks the air and cuts through the space between them, and then he glances down at the bolt cutters lying on the ground, as if he’s trying to calculate their distance and how he can still run her through. But then Selina snaps the whip somewhere in the air beside his right ear, and though it never touches him, he jumps.

“Okay, I got it,” the guy says, and she can see him wince at her whip when she readjusts her grip. “The place is all yours, Catwoman.”

Selina smiles.

“Nice chatting with you,” she says, and then in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it pivot, she vanishes back into the night.

And so Selina hears the rumors start amongst the criminal underworld that Wayne Manor is Catwoman’s, and Catwoman’s only. It may look like an easy target, one thief will say to another, but Catwoman’s declared the place off-limits. They’re not scared of Bruce Wayne, but they’re scared of her. And the stories say that if you even set foot on the property, she will find out, and she will not be happy.

And so Wayne Manor remains untouched by all except Selina, and since Batman is busy dealing with crimes that are actually being committed rather than with crimes that aren’t, she thinks that Bruce is none the wiser.

And then that all changes.

#

It’s two in the morning, but Selina’s wide awake, her pulse singing with adrenaline in the quiet of the night as she plans her heist.

Bruce has a Degas hanging above his fireplace, a Fabergé egg in the entry, and so many other works of art that are as stunning as they are expensive. But they’re not the reason why Selina’s crouching just outside of Wayne Manor’s garden walls.

No, she’s here for something priceless.

She’s here because she knows Sunday nights are the nights when Alfred makes his famous lemon cake.

It’s stupid, but she misses it. Misses the subtle taste of tart lemon mixed with the drizzle of sweet sugar icing, and the way it all melts on her tongue. She also misses sitting in the warm glow of the manor’s kitchen, next to a boy she trusts, and having him smile softly at her while she laughs.

If Selina’s being honest, she misses that part more than the actual cake, but she can only work on the food part right now.

She doubts she’ll ever see Bruce Wayne smile at her again. She doesn’t even know if she’ll ever want to smile at him again.

But the lemon cake? She can definitely swipe some of that. Slipping in and out of Wayne Manor unnoticed with a few slices of it will be nothing for someone like her.

Decision made, Selina rises, and then leaps up onto the thick stone wall in one fluid motion. Slowly, she stands and then pivots, and her footwork is as graceful as any dancer’s, but her performance is meant for darkness and rooftops, not spotlights and stages.

She calculates the distance downward and readies herself to jump, but someone beats her to it. Out of the corner of her eye, against the dark shadows, Selina sees a silhouette move. She watches - somewhat in shock - as the intruder jumps from the wall, then dashes across the drive and up to one of the dark windows.

The thief must be a rookie, Selina thinks. They hadn’t even been aware of their surroundings enough to notice her, and their footsteps weren’t nearly as soundless as they should be, their movements not as agile. A rookie who’s new in town would also explain why they were stupid enough to try to rob a place that she’s so openly declared is hers.

She raises an eyebrow, curious, as she watches the thief fumble with the window. She waits for them to fail, but instead, much to her surprise, she sees the window actually open, and the thief inelegantly but successfully climb inside.

“Unbelievable,” Selina hisses under her breath.

Though she won’t ever say it out loud, she’s come to think of herself as the unofficial guardian of Wayne Manor, and just because she can rob the place, doesn’t mean anyone else can, so it’s with some ferocity that she leaps from where she stands on the wall and tears across the pavement and toward the open window. Expertly, Selina slips inside, landing on the floor as elegantly and quietly as her alter ego’s feline namesake. The hall is dark, shrouded in shadow, and the only thing to see by is the pale moonlight coming in through the window, but it doesn’t take very long for Selina to spot the thief: he’s against the hall wall, back to her, trying to remove a Monet from where it hangs.

The stupid rookie doesn’t even have gloves on, Selina notes with irritation, and she thinks that she’s never been so disgusted in her life. Not only by this amateur, but by the fact that this amateur actually got in. Seriously, Bruce? she thinks. If this moron got in, imagine how easy it would be for someone with actual skills to get in.

Maybe Bruce deserved to be robbed.

“Idiots,” Selina mutters, as she unfurls her whip and prepares to strike, “both of them.”

The thief looks like he’s just about to bring the Monet down on his head and damage it before he can even successfully steal it, so Selina sighs, twists her wrist outward, and curls her whip around him, yanking him backwards.

“You’re trespassing, Wayne Manor is my territory,” Selina hisses. “You have two options, a smart one and a stupid one: leave quietly by walking out on your own, or leave quietly because I’m dragging your body out.”

At her words, the thief twists, lurching around within the whip violently, reaching for something, and it’s not a second later that Selina sees the silver barrel of a gun pointed at her chest.

She doesn’t find the gun worrisome. She’s taken down men taller and heavier than this one, with bigger guns and smarter plans, but she is irritated. What is it with gun-carrying freaks wanting to shoot her in Wayne Manor?

“I see you’re going with the stupid option,” Selina says, and she rolls her eyes, as unimpressed as she is unsurprised. She jerks her whip hard and fast, and then watches as the inept thief falls, knocking himself unconscious against the hardwood floor. The gun flies from his now-limp hand and goes skittering across the hall, and Selina’s about to fetch it, when she feels a familiar presence and she stills, motionless as one of the expensive statues that line the hall she stands in.

He’s there. She knows. She’s not sure how. She’d been so distracted by the other intruder, she hadn’t even been consciously reminding herself to watch out for Bruce. But it seems that, as unconscious as it was, she’s still managed to sense him anyways.

Maybe it’s because the thought of him is always right there in the back of her mind, ever constant, like the cadence of her heartbeat.

Bracing herself, Selina turns, and finds herself face to face with Bruce. They stand there - her in the shadows, him in the pale half-light - staring at each other.

Neither moves, and it’s like the moment’s frozen, suspended in time, somewhere in that quiet space between heartbeats and spans of breath.

Since he’s been back, Selina’s seen him in his mask, seen him from a distance, but not up close, not like this. Bruce is so close, she could reach out and touch him with the tip of her claw, but the distance between them somehow feels farther, the chasm between them wider, and so she doesn’t move. There’s so much between them that’s been left unsaid, and she’s not exactly angry at him, but she still hasn’t quite forgiven him either. She doesn’t know what to say, so instead of speaking, Selina studies him.

He’s older now. Taller, broader. He’d always been serious, but somehow he looks even more so. It’s like the look on his face is halfway between solemn and sad, and Selina finds herself searching his eyes, looking for signs of the boy she once knew so long ago. But she doesn’t know what will hurt more: if she finds him, or if she doesn’t, so she stops looking.

“Bruce,” she finally says, finding her voice and breaking the silence. “Your security system’s as lame as always.”

“Selina,” Bruce replies, his voice calm and steady. He doesn’t look surprised to see her for some reason.

“This guy was trying to rob you,” Selina continues, for lack of anything better to say, as she motions vaguely toward the unconscious body on the floor. “Can you believe it?”

Bruce merely raises his eyebrows, “And what exactly were you doing here?”

“That’s different,” Selina says, somewhat defensively. It’s different because it’s her and it’s him and it’s here. That’s why she has to protect this place, because as sharp and cynical as she may be, she always protects what’s hers. Doesn’t he know that?

There’s another span of silence, and they keep staring at each other, keep standing in Wayne Manor’s hall, just like they did so many years ago, and it’s simultaneously like everything and nothing between them has changed.

“I’ll call Gordon to come get him,” Bruce finally says, nodding at the body on the floor, and Selina thinks that their stilted conversation has run its course and is coming to a close, but then Bruce looks up at her and says, “So, Wayne Manor is ‘your territory?’”

Selina blinks, her clawed fingers curling in the dark as she curses herself. She must not have hissed that territory sentence out as quietly as she had thought, and she can tell that Bruce is wearing that look she remembers from when she was young, where he presses his lips together and tries not to look smug and fails.

Idiot, Selina thinks. She’d forgotten how irritating he could be, how easy it was for him to try her patience and get under her skin. That’s one aspect of their relationship that remains unchanged, apparently. She cocks an eyebrow, rests her hand against her hip, and challenges him with, “You got a problem with that, Bruce?”

“No,” he says, slightly shaking his head. “You always were the unofficial lady of the manor anyways.”

He says it so calmly, so casually, as if she knows this, as if it’s a fact he thinks is as obvious as gravity, as if he has no idea that his words are taking her by surprise and making something in her chest ache for the years before.

And then Bruce turns away from her, and Selina thinks that he’s going to disappear again. He’ll go back to his study, and she’ll slip out into the night, and they’ll go back to being ghosts of each other’s past, just a bittersweet, broken mess of almosts and used to be’s. But then Bruce turns to look back over his shoulder at her.

”Come into the kitchen while you’re here,” he says, the invitation issued in that formal manner of his, as if it’s not two in the morning and she hasn’t just broken in uninvited. “It’s Sunday. Alfred made lemon cake.”

“I know,” Selina says, rolling her eyes. She’s somehow offended that he thinks she’s forgotten. “It’s Sunday. It’s tradition.”

And then something happens that Selina doesn’t expect: Bruce smiles.

Selina hasn’t seen Bruce Wayne smile in ten long years.

She never thought she’d see him smile at her again.

It’s not a big smile. It’s small and barely there, just the slightest upward turn at the corners of his mouth. It wouldn’t even be noticeable if you didn’t know him, but Selina does, and she knows it’s genuine.

It’s stupid that something so small can stop her in her tracks, can almost leave her breathless. But it does, and she can feel her pulse race just a little bit faster, can feel that pull he has toward her again. Bruce once stood there and told her that he felt tied together with her in a way he wouldn’t want to ever change, and she thought that maybe it had changed. But there’s something about the way he’s staring at her that tells Selina that it hasn’t.

“You remembered the schedule,” Bruce says.

He doesn’t need to fill in the blanks. Doesn’t need to say out loud that it’s been a decade and she still hasn’t forgotten. They’re both thinking it.

Selina rolls her eyes.

“Sure,” she says, shrugging her shoulders and trying to sound like she couldn’t care less, like the memories of Sunday’s at Wayne Manor aren’t ones that she replays in her head on lonely weekend nights as she falls asleep alone. It takes all of Selina’s self-control to keep her face an unreadable mask and pretend that the cake isn’t the very reason why she came and that them in the hall and her breaking in isn’t making her mind spin from déjà vu.

“I don’t forget good free food,” Selina tells him. The best liars always tell the truth, after all, even if it’s only part of it. “So, yeah, I remember. Besides, the lemon cake always was my favorite.”

“Yeah,” Bruce says, repeating her words, “I remember.”

Ten years. Ten years since she’s stood in his home, ten years since they’ve spoken this much. And yet he still remembers which one of Alfred’s desserts is her favorite.

She wonders if memories of Sunday’s at Wayne Manor when they were together ever run through his mind too.

“Whatever,” Selina says dismissively, making sure to sound as indifferent as possible. Admitting to having feelings is definitely not her thing, and just because she feels the fluttering melody of her heartbeat beating out a rhythm against her ribcage like it did when she was eighteen doesn’t mean that he needs to know that. She’s got a reputation to keep, after all. “Are we reminiscing or cutting cake?”

Bruce nods, looking satisfied with her reply, and then he opens the door that leads to the kitchen, letting a warm glow spill through the doorway and into the dark hall. And behind his back, where she knows he won’t see, Selina ducks her head and her mask falls, and she smiles.

Because for better or for worse, she’s the guardian of Wayne Manor.

And she’s finally home where she belongs.

[elisaphoenix13]

Pile Of Cubs

Tony came up to the family floor from the lab a little after noon and had his attention on the tablet in his hand as he stepped off the elevator. Pepper had called and harassed him about his filling email inbox and also to remind him about the meeting he had in a couple of hours that he totally forgot about. Not that he would admit that out loud, but it didn't matter since that was the sole reason Pepper called him. That was why she was his CEO. She said she had tried calling Stephen first, but when he didn't answer, assumed he was dimension hopping and tried her chances at calling Tony directly. Except, Stephen most definitely was not dimension hopping, so that was another reason Tony went back upstairs instead of staying in the lab until the last possible minute.

He needed to make sure everything was okay.

Neither Friday nor Victor alerted him to any problems, so it had the billionaire scratching his head. At least for the first ten seconds after stepping onto their floor.

"Honey? Pepper said she tried to call you. It was just to remind me about a meeting I--"

Tony stops when he enters the living room. All his questions about the sorcerer's whereabouts answered when he looked down on the floor. All of the kids were piled together, and it took a little bit of head tilting to find out that, yes, Stephen was buried under all of them. He was laying on his stomach snoozing away with seven kids laying on top, against, or across him, all sleeping as well with the menu of a movie replaying on the tv. Their three kids, the three Barton kids, and Cassie were all sprawled out, some part of them touching Mama Bear...and even Tibbs was a part of the pile. He likely just saw the cub pile and wanted to join the cuddling and wedged himself into whatever free space he could find.

It happened to be the back of Stephen's neck.

"Fri...tell the Barton's and the dumbass version of me and Stephen where their kids are and to get them at their own risk." Tony mumbles quietly as he exits the living room and walks into the kitchen instead.

FRIDAY responds quietly so not to disturb the living room occupants. "Scott and Quill have been notified. Clint and Laura already know."

"They must have..." Tony looks back up from his tablet and finds the Barton couple sitting at the kitchen table with some lunch. "...raided my fridge. Did you try to get your kids?"

Clint shudders. "I tried to grab Nate and your wife opened his eyes...and they were completely green. So I backed off and he closed his eyes again. Mama Bear kind of scares me."

Laura smiles. "We decided to enjoy the quiet instead."

"Good call. It won't last. You got an extra one of those?" Tony motions toward their sandwiches with his free hand and Laura points behind him to the island behind him.

A large plate stacked full of different types of sandwiches sat on the counter with some plastic wrap draped loosely over it to keep it somewhat fresh. There was plenty to feed Tony, Stephen, six normal appetites, and then his mutant teenager's appetite. It must have been Laura. She was one of the few that knew just how much Peter could eat since she helped make dinner whenever she, Clint, and the kids visited the tower. She knew how to feed the two super soldiers and the resident god as well. She and the rest of the cooking members.

A good thirty minutes passed in quiet as the three finish their lunch and Tony gets through a good chunk of his emails when Nate and Diana were the first to wake and join them. Laura got up and gave them each their preferred sandwich when they climbed onto a chair at the table and they eat sleepily, their lunch slowly giving them needed energy.

"Hey Little Miss." Tony leans over Diana and kisses the top of her head. "Have a nice nap with Mom?"

"Mmhmm..."

"Good. I gotta leave for a meeting soon so can you help keep your brothers out of trouble?"

Diana nods. "Cassie can help right?"

"Sure. She'll keep Underoos on his best behavior."

Clint chuckles. "Whipped."

"That's what I said but he denies it at every turn." Tony says as he turns off his tablet and places it on the counter.

A muffled low baritone voice reaches them in the kitchen and a few moments later, the rest of the kids shuffle in and grab some food, joining Nate and Diana at the table. Tibbs was next to trot in, and much to Tony's amusement, he hopped onto one of the bar stools at the island before hopping onto Tony's shoulders.

"Don't get comfortable furball."

"What are you doing up here? I thought you were down in the lab." Stephen says with a yawn as he steps over to Tony and grabs Tibbs off his shoulders.

"Was just telling the favorite child that I have a meeting soon." Tony says after kissing the sorcerer and handing him a sandwich. Peter and Harley stop midchew and glare up at the engineer who grins back. "How was the cub pile nap?"

"Rejuvenating." Stephen holds his sandwich away from Tibbs' questing paw. "When are you leaving?"

"Thought I might leave now. Give Pepper a heart attack for being early." Stephen snorts in response as Tony walks back to the elevator. "I love you demon children and princess. Be back in a few hours!"

"Rude." Peter and Harley mumble in unison and Diana waves.

"Bye Daddy! Guess what!"

"What?"

"I love you three thousand!"

Tony raises both eyebrows and looks at Stephen with a smirk.

"You hear that tesoro? Three thousand. Wow."

Stephen rolls his eyes. "How ever will I amount to that level?" He asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I think that puts you in the five hundred range--"

"Leave before I throw Tibbs at you." The sorcerer threatens.

Tony smiles and smooches at him with a wink before the elevator doors close and Stephen places Tibbs on the ground. The gray tabby meows at him and he sighs before tearing off a piece of his lunch meat and leaning over to offer it to the feline. Tibbs takes it with a loud purr and Stephen takes the empty seat next to Diana that Tony had occupied earlier.

The 'cub pile' that Tony and the other parents so fondly called it really was rejuvenating to Stephen. Especially magic wise. Having the kids around while he rested always helped lower his stress levels, but the pile? Instant calm. Stress levels lowered and his magic regulated itself...and really...it was the kids. In the past, the kids would have been the last thing to calm Stephen, but now they were a big part of it. All the kids loved him, he wasn't really sure how that happened with the other four kids but it did. Maybe it had to do with how he cared for them when they were sick or whenever Clint or Scott asked him to watch their kids.

To think this all started with Peter.

"...is Dia really the favorite?" Peter asks and Stephen shakes his head.

"He was just being Tony." Laura says for Stephen. "There's no such thing as a favorite child."

"That's not what Dad said." Lila says and Clint points at her.

"I told you that in confidence. Way to throw me under the bus."

Laura scoffs and smacks her husband's hand down, and the archer grins as he assures her and the kids that he was joking. After lunch, the Barton's went back down to their floor, and Cassie elected to stay with Stephen and the other three. Diana wanted to play with her, and FRIDAY said it was best that she stay upstairs anyway. Harley went back to the living room to watch another movie, Cassie and Diana went up to the little girl's room to play, and Peter stayed with Stephen in the kitchen. The teen lays his chin in his hand and pets Tibbs when the feline jumps onto the table, and Stephen cleans up the kitchen. When Peter stayed uncharacteristically quiet though, the sorcerer looked up from the plate he was washing and watches the teen stare out the window.

"Peter...Laura is right you know. There isn't-"

"Yeah. I know." He interrupts.

"Is something wrong?"

"...not really. I just..." Peter trails off and scratches behind Tibbs' ears. "Is it wrong to miss the days when it was just the three of us?"

Stephen dries the plate and puts it away. "No. You were used to being an only child, then suddenly you gained an older brother and then a sister almost at once. Not only that but then the snap happened. Diana was suddenly older in what seemed like ten seconds to us." Stephen joins Peter at the table by sitting in the seat opposite him. "A lot happened in a year for you."

"For all of us really." Peter says and Stephen had to agree.

Peter wasn't the only one who had to adjust. Harley lost and gained family, Dia was born...then the snap happened. Tony lost Stephen and the boys, raised Diana and Cassie by himself and that thought just led to Stephen's heartache. He didn't get to watch Diana grow up. Sure, he had the rest of her life, but he missed all her firsts. He barely had the memory of her first word and she had just started crawling. Now? She was walking, talking, full of sass, and already in kindergarten. At least he wasn't completely alone in the regards of missing out on five years of his child's life. Scott missed out with Cassie too.

Sometimes the few pictures and videos that FRIDAY took weren't enough. Those were the days that Stephen dropped everything to spend the day with his daughter. Things took time to flow after everyone returned. Diana had to adjust to actually having Stephen and the boys in her life.

"We all have bad days Peter. I'm sure Tibbs does too since he was snapped as well."

Peter snorts. "I don't think he really counts. He accepts pretty much anything."

"That's true." Stephen chuckles softly.

He would never mention the reality where Tony had died. How broken their family had been. How lost Stephen had been because Peter lost another parent, because Harley had been closest to Tony, and how Diana had been left with near strangers. The sorcerer tried so hard to keep it together for the kids, but the emotional pain was too much. They clung to Stephen, almost never leaving his side, until finally Steve and the others planned one last time heist. It was then that Stephen truly realized what Tony meant to them...to him.

"Are you sure Dad didn't mean it when he said Dia is the favorite?" Peter asks.

"I'm going to tell you a secret, but you can't tell your father I told you."

"Okay?"

"The whole time heist you heard about? It wouldn't have happened if Tony didn't want you and Harley back."

"And you."

Stephen smiles. "I was just a bonus."

"Please...it's a miracle he survived five years without you." Peter leans back in his seat when Tibbs jumps down into Stephen's lap.

"I believe we have Pepper and Rhodey to thank for that...as well as Cassie."

Peter nods in agreement and Stephen reaches over to run his fingers through the teen's somewhat tamed curls. Of course he knew Tony wanted Stephen back as well, but the boys were definitely what kicked his husband into doing something. He sacrificed himself to give his kids a better world, but they would never know that. Stephen and Scott were the only two who shared that secret. Tony had an idea, but he didn't remember the pain. It was better that way and the two that remembered didn't need to. They had their lives. Their distractions.

Their families. Whole ones.

"Hey Mom! I think I just found porn on tv!" Harley yells from the living room and Stephen instantly scrambles out of his seat, sending Tibbs to the floor. He races into the living room, prepared to snatch the remote to change the channel, but finds an approved movie playing instead. "Ha! I knew that would get your attention. Can we have pizza for dinner tonight?"

Stephen stares at Harley before narrowing his eyes. "Are you kidding me?!"

"I don't joke about pizza."

The sorcerer scoffs and grabs a nearby pillow to smother his oldest child with, only letting up when Harley shoves the pillow away. Stephen grabs the remote in retaliation, changes the channel to one of Diana's cartoons, and then walks away with the remote.

"NO! FRIDAY change it back!" Harley yells.

"Disregard that. Neither you or Victor are to change the channel until I say otherwise." Stephen says and both AI's respond with an affirmative as Peter laughs from the kitchen.

[ostentenacity]

Things Which Happened In The Space Of Two (In-Game) Minutes In Our D&D Game Today

While the party was sleeping, Hash the wizard (who was nominally on watch) attempted to steal Havilann the sorcerer’s bag of holding, getting two 1s in a row on a roll with advantage. Thus, it was determined that she had accidentally whacked the back of Havilann’s head with the bag.

Naturally, Havilann wakes up.

...To see Hash crouching over her, holding her bag, with a very guilty expression.

(Havilann is a dragon sorcerer.)

(Havilann likes lightning a lot.)

The ambient wild magic that has been plaguing the party ever since we got trapped in the volcanic ruins of Yellowstone National Park for two weeks (long story) is set off by Havilann’s Lightning Bolt. Havilann is transformed instantly into a furious housecat, and immediately tries to claw the shit out of Hash’s face. Hash attempts to defend herself by casting Otiluke’s Resilient Sphere (AKA Hamsterball), but Havilann crits the save and manages to land perfectly on the brim of Hash’s pointy hat.

Everyone wakes up to the sound of the lightning and also the sound of a cat whose tiny feline brain is still full of DRACONIC RAGE. Alma the artificer manages to pry Cat!Havilann off of Hash’s head, to Catvilann’s dismay.

Hash casts Hamsterball on herself. This sets off the wild magic again, displacing all of Hash’s gear ten feet straight up. (This includes Havilann’s bag of holding and Hash’s secret pancake stash, both of which were concealed inside of Hash’s majestic hat, which is the only piece of clothing that Hash retains.) A second surge of wild magic creates an Unseen Servant controlled by Alma. Alma tries to fob off Catvilann on the Unseen Servant, but Cat!vilann immediately murders it and tries futilely to claw her way through the Hamsterball to attack Hash again.

So now Hash is nude inside a glowing hamsterball of pure magical force, with a furious cat trying to break through, and everyone else is groggy from just having woken up to utter chaos.

MEANWHILE.

Prosper the extremely paranoid rogue wakes up to find her own bag of holding missing.

(It was stolen by Hash, Alma, and Aelif the druid earlier that night, who were after the Deck of Many Things, which is currently in possession of Juno the fighter. (Long story.))

Aelif, unwisely, in the same voice that some people say “parkour”: “Heist!!!”

Prosper, naturally, immediately knifes Aelif in the shoulder.

At this moment, the wild magic surges again, this time set off by Ffraid the bardcleric trying to calm Catvilann down. (Yes, our party is huge, we know.) We are all blinded by the SURGE OF BRILLIANT LIGHT.

Ffraid: “I AM THE DAWN!”

At this moment, Cat!vilann reverts to regular flavor!Havilann, who is still very furious, and immediately demands to know where her bag of holding is.

Hash: *gestures at still-naked self* “I have no idea!”

Meanwhile, Aelif to Prosper: (bleeding) “Are you good? Or are we going to escalate this?”

Tragically, things calmed down a bit after that (we are used to dealing with Absolutely Ridiculous Shenanigans at sadness o’clock at night due to wild magic by now), but Prosper did manage to sneak about a hundred ball bearings into Hash’s hat in revenge for the whole misadventure before dawn.

(Also, on a completely unrelated but hilarious note, Aelif’s player broke a chair just by sitting down on it for the second time in six months shortly after this all went down.)

[lady-charinette]

A Thief in Blue Marichat

Originally posted on FFnet: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12746973/45/A-Smitten-Kitten-A-Lovestruck-Princess

Prompt: He was a thief clad in black, she was a mystery shrouded by darkness. He left golden bells for the ones he stole from and she left blue roses for those with a burdened heart. Thievery was his profession, hers was comforting the troubled souls of the city. A mix of LadyNoirish, Marichatish

Rated: K+

Inspiration: Magic Kaito (Kaito Kid Series)

A Thief in Blue

The blue rose was her sign, a golden bell was his.

Leaping across rooftops and buildings unnoticed and melting into the shadows was his usual modus operandi, but her, she came and go as she pleased, she could perform the most spectacular show and vanish within the protection of the shadows in the next second.

But he wasn't worried about a rival, not in the least.

He had opted to sit back and watch her, and he knew she was aware of his guarded gaze on her at all times.

It seemed Chat Noir the Feline Thief would take a temporary break from his heists in order to watch the mysterious yet beautiful newcomer in action.

And oh did she offer him a show.

She rarely stole, when she did, it were mostly blue and red jewels, but interestingly enough she returned those she stole that held a great sentimental value to the owner, with a single blue rose and a letter attached to the returned stolen object, sometimes with the words, "Those kept close to the heart are safe from thieving fingers,"

Until today, he thought it was a nod to him, thieving was his profession after all, for her it was more of a hobby next to her own profession.

She wasn't a magician per se, nor was she any sort of performer in the traditional sense. The fact that, at several instances, she could even outsmart him, proved she was more versatile in areas nobody would expect from a person mostly gifting blue roses to people in need, particularly saddened, heartbroken individuals.

How she found those people, he had no idea, purrhaps she had a sixth sense for sad people as he had for cat-themed jewels and artifacts.

Word spread fast of the mysterious 'Phantom Lady' gifting saddened people a single blue rose, sometimes accompanied by comforting but equally mysterious words.

Chat Noir didn't quite know what to think of that, he was a thief, a professional one and a cat at that, having someone steal his thunder with questionable motives made him stand on guard.

And one night, after a particularly successful heist of retrieving a famed 'cat eye' golden jewel, he encountered her on a roof.

It looked like she had been waiting for him, if her relaxed stance and expectant gaze was anything to go by.

The moonlight illuminated her dark blue hair, and it gave her even more of a mysterious appearance.

She smiled and he grinned, "Waiting for meow, m'lady?" he bowed, it would be an atrocity not to in such ethereal presence.

She tilted her head in acknowledgement and adjusted the mask covering her real identity, red with black spots, "A little birdie told me the great Chat Noir's heart seems to be in turmoil," if he had suspected she had been a magician before, he was slightly more sure of it now, as she produced a blue rose from nowhere within her hand, a simple turn of her wrist.

She twirled it gracefully between two fingers, looking at it with a saddened gaze.

Chat Noir grew defensive, like a cat bowing its back, "Oh? Purrhaps your informant was wrong," Chat Noir smirked cockily, lazily swinging his belt tail in front of him, "I'm feeling pawsitively purrfect tonight, m'lady," he grinned, all sharp feline teeth.

Her eyes shot to him and his breath briefly caught in his throat from how blue they were, just like the rose in her hand, "Are you, chaton?" she slowly stood from her perch but made no move closer to him, sensing his guarded disposition, her gaze fell to the pouch strapped to his waist with his latest heist, "That jewel is a family heirloom, it belongs to a little girl, gifted from her mother who died shortly due to a murder from Hawkmoth's gang,"

Ahh, Hawkmoth, a famed name indeed, still, Chat Noir's gaze turned into slits, "You expect me to return it? Like you said, the girl is young, I doubt any piece of jewelry holds any semblance of meaning to her in her age," he touched the pouch with the tips of his claws, a warning, "Besides, finders keepers, right?" fangs caught the moonlight but that didn't deter the lady shrouded in mystery in front of him.

"And I thought the famous thief Chat Noir only steals jewels and artifacts and not broken pieces of a girl's heart," she started walking towards him, her gait slow and relaxed, obviously trying not to look like a threat.

He didn't think she had any concealed weapons, after all, in all her appearances she never operated with any weapons nor used violence.

Except… "And I thought Blue Rose only gifts roses to saddened people instead of punching them?" her lips curved into a small smile and she laughed, his ears pointed upwards, it was a lovely sound.

"I believe I had apawlagized for that, minou. I simply won't allow for violence, especially against those that are defenseless," she held the rose out toward him, her arm outstretched, a good armlengths away from him, granting him his space, "Now would you allow me to glance at your heart?"

Her blue eyes stared into his, soothing, calming, comforting and he allowed a low chuckle to escape him before he expertly and swiftly materialized right behind her, taking the single blue rose from her grasp.

His voice close to her ear seemed to surprise her, if only slightly, "Only if you allow meow to yours, m'lady," with the wind, he was gone and in place of her signature blue rose was a deep red one, from where, she didn't know, but it was real and when she brought it close to her nose to sniff it, it smelled…comforting.

The little bell attached to its stem produced a short, melodious bell sound when she jiggled it and she had to smile.

She glanced up at the moon, shaking her head, "What a troublesome kitty…"

It was the next night after the return of one of his heists that he spotted the letter hanging off a roof he frequently vaulted over with his staff. The letter was red with black spots, one he remembered the Blue Rose, in rare instances leaving.

He retracted his baton and broke the string from which the letter was tied to. When he opened the piece of paper, a single blue rose fell from it's confines and he picked it up mid-fall before it could hit the ground.

He had to snicker at the letter's contents.

Dearest chaton,

You looked a bit distracted during your heist today, was it because of our meeting last night?

You appear confident and cocky, but your eyes hold a deep sadness. The Blue Rose may be the one to offer solace and comfort in times of sadness, but I'm sure lady luck could prove more successful in healing the sadness in your heart.

A lucky charm for your future escapades.

And a blue rose for your thoughts kitty.

Yours truly,

Ladybug.

His eyebrow rose, so she had a different name other than Blue Rose? He had to confess, if she wasn't lying, he had never met her 'Ladybug' persona before.

He was confused about what lucky charm she was talking about, until for the first time since he picked up the letter it seemed, he felt a bulky kind of object strapped to its backside.

Turning the piece of paper, Chat Noir's eyes widened slightly.

It was a bracelet of some sorts. It looked creative, blue, green, red and yellow cubes and round shapes attached with a string.

He smirked when he spotted a small ladybug figurine made of stone attached at the end, ladybugs were usually known for their good luck.

Shaking his head, Chat Noir pocketed the 'good luck charm' and twirled the blue rose in between his fingers, taking in its beauty.

A blue rose symbolizes mystery, just like the origin of its mysterious color, it signifies the enigmatic, a mystery that cannot be fully unraveled.

It also symbolizes unattainability.

A person gifted with a blue rose usually is considered the subject of speculation, shrouded in mystery, an enigma, an unsolvable puzzle.

He smirked, taking a whiff of the flower.

It smelled like her.

His next heist was a close call.

A ridiculously brave, or stupid, civilian got tangled into it and, since he was no murderer he had a duty as a gentleman thief to save her.

How she got into the security system, he didn't know, why she punched one of the guards who tried to shoot him? He didn't know that either, all he knew was he wasn't about to allow a beautiful young lady who risked her life for him to be buried beneath a pile of falling rubble.

Many of the awe-stricken citizens below them gazed upon the familiar black figure of Chat Noir, carrying a civilian woman in his arms.

The thief was known to be a charmer certainly, but never had he gotten too close to any of the female populace before, keeping his banter playful and superficial.

But when the woman in his arms, covered slightly by scratches, gazed up at him with a knowing little smile, his breath got caught in his throat. The same reaction he had with the Blue Rose, or Ladybug.

Her eyes were blue too, he even thought it was the same shade.

"Thank you for saving me, chaton," his ears moved at the sound of the distantly familiar nickname.

"You're purrfectly welcome, purrincess," he landed safely in a secluded area of a park nearby, away from prying eyes as he carefully set her down.

He only moved a respectable distance away once he was sure she could stand on her own, his frown directed at the visible scratches she sustained during the short scuffle with the guards, "A civilian shouldn't attempt to protect a thief you know,"

Her gaze was calm, soothing, as if she hadn't participated in a life-threatening situation, but there was a certain fire behind that veil of calmness that…intrigued him, "I'm sorry Chat Noir, but I couldn't just let Paris' most respected thief get hurt in a unfair matchup,"

He smirked and twirled his belt tail around, "Oh? Most respected? Aren't you affuraid, princess?" he stepped a step closer, fangs sharp.

She didn't seem intimidated in the least, she met his gaze with a challenging one of her own, "With your half-backed puns? Not one bit, kitty," she giggled at the caught off guard expression on his face.

He crossed his arms, a newfound interest in his green eyes, "What's your name princess?"

She smiled at him, "Will you stop calling me princess if I tell you my name?"

He cocked his head to the side and pretended to think, a small smirk growing on his lips, "Purrhaps."

She crossed her arms as well, "Then my name is of no importance since you won't use it."

He rose an eyebrow, a feisty one, "Mysterious, are we?"

She winked, "Purrhaps," she giggled at his slightly peeved expression, "Come stop by the Dupain-Cheng bakery if you want to know my name, kitty."

He grinned, all teeth, "I thought I smelled cinnamon on you princess," he bowed at the waist, an excited grin gracing his handsome features, "Very well purrincess, until our paths croissant again,"

He gave her a two fingered salute and a Cheshire grin before disappearing into the night.

She smiled to herself, holding the little bell he had deftly attached to the loose thread of her jacket in her hand, shaking it to produce the same melodious sound she had heard before from their meeting at the rooftop.

Her voice was soft when she spoke, "Looks like Marinette the civilian took a whisk Ladybug never would…" she closed her hand around the bell, before turning and heading toward home, "Until we meet again, chaton," she smiled as she expertly disappeared within the protection of the shadows.

The next day, there was a card and a golden bell on the little girl's window sill, the same girl from which the cat-eyed jewel was stolen from, a memento from her deceased mother.

The card read, in neat cursive handwriting,

"I may be a thief, but I don't steal impurrtant things held dear to the heart. Keep this safe from any prying paws, little lady.

From your friendly feline thief,

Chat Noir."

The bottom of the letter had a cutely drawn paw print and the little girl smiled and giggled, happily nuzzling the returned jewel, holding it close to her chest, while she gently jiggled the little golden bell.

The sound it made caused the girl to laugh.

It sounded like a cat's bell-collar.

Thank you kindly for reading. :3

[blackguard]

Homecoming

     “Are you sure you want to head in there like this?  You don’t have to face this head on.”  Makoto’s the first to voice her concerns, as per usual, biting her lower lip as I turn to face her.  It’s the same proactive caution of hers that’s saved us so many times before.

     “Ooh, a heist! Now you’re talking, Queen.” Mona chimes in, appearing behind my shoulder.  “I can recon the place before you head in and map out an optimal route.  I’m sure Skull can make some kind of obnoxious distraction for us,” he says, turning to aim a feline grin at my blond teammate.

     Ryuji’s furrows his brow in a glare at the cat before turning his attention to me.  “Normally I’d tell the furball to can it, but he’s on to something there.  Makoto and I can keep ‘em busy while you do your thing.  We can fake some kinda argument, make it loud enough to get their attention.  Practically be doing the hard work for you.”

     Makoto flips her hair with a devious smile as she steps forward to me.  “My thoughts exactly.  So, what do you say, Leader?  One more for the road?”

     Without so much as a suggestion from me, my Thieves leap into action for my sake, already concocting an elaborate plan.  It’s a wonderful reminder of just how much we’ve come to trust and care for each other.

     I shake my head at them with a wry smile.  “Take it easy, team.  This is a one man job and I’m the one man for it.”

     Right now though, this isn’t a job for the Phantom Thieves.  This is something I’ve got to do myself, so I can close this chapter of my life for good.

     “Please, just head back to the hotel with the others for now.  If I need a hand, I’ll text you right away. Okay?”

     Makoto closes her eyes and sighs.  She knows just how stubborn I can be, especially about stuff like this.

     “Fine,” she says grabbing my hand and squeezing it in hers.  “But you better have the message ready to send before you go inside.  Got it?”

     I pull out my phone and show her it’s screen, displaying our group text, the word, “Jenga,” typed into the entry box.

    She rolls her eyes at me, muttering, “Clever,” before giving me a peck on the lips.  “I’ll see you back at the hotel.  Be safe.”  Letting go of my hand, she begins walking back.

     “Well, I’m not kissing ya, but good luck in there, man.  You say when and we’ll come running.”  Ryuji claps me on the back before following after Makoto.

     Morgana leaps off my shoulder before doing the same.  “Watch your back, Joker.  There’s no telling what they might try to pull.  …Oh and we’ll pick up dinner on the way back!”

    With a chuckle, I wave my friends off as they fade in to the summer evening.  As soon as they turn the corner down the street, my reassuring smile vanishes as a grim frown takes its place.  Withdrawing my glasses, I flick the arms open before sliding them on.  After straightening my spectacles with a push to the bridge, I breathe deeply and head up the road to the house I’m looking for.

     My knuckles rap against the door five times.  Several seconds pass before the lock clicks into place and the door swings open.  Standing in the doorway, still clutching the door, is woman in her early forties with a head of flowing, but frazzled black hair.  She stares at me with her jaw agape and her eyes bulging.  Her hands move over her chest before she finally speaks up.

     “Akira!?  What are you doing here?!  ...And why are you wearing glasses?”

     I keep my hands in my pockets as I shift my stance slightly to the right, hoping my lowered brow and frown properly illustrate my incredulity.  “…Good to see you too, Ma.  Can I come in or…?”

     She looks around in a panic before she backs away and opens the door further.  “O-Of course…!”

    Adjusting the straps of the bag hanging on my shoulder, I exhale deeply from my nose as I head inside.  Past the front door, I kick off my shoes and look around the living space.  To no surprise, everything looks the same as it did a year ago.  I walk further in as my mother flusters at a distance from me, attempting to start up a conversation on something other than my sudden arrival.  Ignoring her, I walk upstairs and into my old room.

     Inside, it’s looks like it’s been frozen in time.  If I took a picture of the place the day I left, not a thing would look different than it does now.  The same blue wallpaper, the same hanging open closet door, the same smashed action figure on my desk…  I don’t even need to see the dust to know this place hasn’t been touched.  Easier to pretend I was never here that way, I guess.

    Letting my bag fall off my shoulder, I open my mental map and begin checking off items.  Books, toys with sentimental value, old Karate belts, what consoles and games I can fit in my bag and the folded up box inside it; all stuff I couldn’t take with me when I had to leave.  The box is pretty weighty by the time I’m done, but it’s nothing I can’t manage.  After one last look over the room I grew up in, I leave it for the last time.

    Heading back downstairs, I see beside my mother a similarly middle-aged man with a head of close trimmed black hair and a dusting of stubble across his jaw.  Whatever conversation they were having is cut off as they both stare up at me.  The old man’s gaze is a bit sharper than ma’s worried grimace, but I’ve been accustomed to this paradigm for far too long to be fazed by it.

    “Akira, why didn’t you tell us you were coming back today?”  My father’s quick to address the tension, attempting to establish control of the situation while he has the chance.

     I continue descending the stairs as I respond to him.  “Hello there, father.  I just came by to pick up my stuff.  Didn’t think there was any need to make an event of it.”

    My mother stammers, struck dumb by my blunt approach to this catastrophe.  My father is taken aback, but recovers more quickly.  “What are you talking about?  Son, you owe us an explanation for what’s going on here!”

    “Actually, I don’t.” Reaching into my bag, I pull out a folded up legal document and present it to the both of them.  “As you can read here, I’m just an independent minor reclaiming his property.  Nothing worth talking about.”

     With a flick of my wrist, I fold the paper back up and return it to my bag.  Dad lets his jaw hang open for a solid few seconds before forcing himself back into a cold glare.  Ma is wracked without outright horror, staring at me as though I’ve driven a knife into her heart. Her eyes well up with tears before she runs to my side.  Her filed nails claw at my skin as she grasps at my forearm, sobbing through her words.  “Akira, we’re so sorry!  We didn’t want to send you away!  When you were arrested we-“

     “Stop.”  As gently as I can manage, I pry her hands off me while interrupting her.  “We don’t need to have this conversation.”

     Dad steps in, breaking his terse silence. “I beg to differ, young man.  We sent you to Tokyo for your own good.  Holding that against us just isn’t-“

     “Not one call.”  I cut him off.  “Not one letter.  Not one visit.  I was in Tokyo for a year without so much as a word from you two.  I went to prison and I never even heard from either of you once!”  Feeling myself losing my cool, I stop before I can get any more worked up.  Ice in my veins, I continue.  “I’m done here.  For any further inquiries, you’ll have to talk to my lawyer.”  Slipping Sae’s business card into my mother’s hands, I walk back into my shoes and out the front door.

    Making it a few blocks away from the house, I collapse, my back against the barrier wall of the suburb.  Sinking down until I reach the concrete, the emotion pours out of me.  Setting down the box, tears run down my face as I grit my teeth and slam my fist against the concrete beneath me.

     My first day at school.  Birthday parties.  Family vacations.  I spent so much time with the both of them.  I thought they loved me.  I thought I was their son.  All those years together and all it took was one crooked politician for them to abandon me entirely.  It’s nothing short of heartwrenching.

     I lose track of time as I vent the awful feelings stored up inside me.  Stopping only occurs to me when I feel something wet on my right hand, the one not pressed against my eyes.  It’s not a proud moment when I realize the wetness is my own blood.

     Sweeping away the gravel from the scrapes, I reach around myself to retrieve my phone without bloodying my pants.  Tapping through to my recent calls, I raise the device to my ear as the dial tone rings.  To no surprise, it’s quickly cut off by Makoto’s voice.

     “Hey, are you okay?”  Worry is evident in her tone.  In the background can hear Futaba arguing with Yusuke, something about who got what pieces of the sushi selection.

     I chuckle quietly into the receiver as I answer her.  “I’m fine, I’m fine.  Job’s done.  How’re things over there?”

    “Inari, I swear I will reach down your throat and scoop that roll out if you don’t-“  Futaba’s threats echo through the room over what sounds like Ryuji attempting to restrain her.  It’s faint, but I think I can hear Haru giggling too.

    Makoto spares them a snicker herself before answering.  “It’s a normal night for us.  Or, it would be if you were here.”  She pauses for a moment and I can hear the smile in her voice.  I can’t help but smile myself.  “Come back soon, okay?”

    “Is that Akira?  Makoto, tell him to hurry up!  It’s a free for all back here!”  Ann yells directly to Makoto through the chaos of the room.

    With a half-joking time limit set, I push myself off the wall and back onto my feet. “Well, you heard her.  I better get moving.  See you in a few.”

     “And be quick about it.  See you soon,” Makoto says before she hangs up.

     Finding my motivation renewed, I slide my phone back into my pocket and pick my things back up.  The way I handled things, some people might say I lost my family tonight.  I don’t see it that way myself.  After readjusting my bag, I head off into the night, back to the family I’ve made for myself.