#if only they knew how alive these robots are

[sourtomatola]

(Wrote this a while ago finally decided to post with a little pic to go with it)

Vampiric equinox AU and vampire Eclipse by @miwachan2

less that 2,000 words.

You’re not sure how you slipped away again. Or even how you’ve been kept alive for this long. You’ve seen how he was with his prey. Heck, you’ve experienced it more than once.

You’ve seen the herds of people he ushered though his residence, never to be seen again. You’ve seen the other’s who have survived. Surviving once, twice, then usually being seen no more after the third time.

But you’ve survived. You’ve survived his feedings more than anyone else has, despite blacking out from blood loss every time. You knew better than to think he was going easy on you. Not him. There was no mercy in his endo. Not an ounce.

You were a survivor. But you knew it was only a matter of time before your luck ran out. So you ran first change you got.

Your simple dress fluttered as you ran through the estate. You yanked the enlarged sleaves back onto your shoulder’s fruitlessly, the wide neckline designed for exposed shoulders. He did always like the easy access.

The thought made you choke back a shudder as you rushed out every door you could find, trying to evict yourself from this nightmare.

You burst through a larger door and fell into the night, enveloping yourself in starlight. You looked straight up and gasped at the beauty of the night sky, the ever-expanding sight of space taking away your gasping breath.

It was your first time seeing the sky in weeks.

“Little Dove…where did you fly off to?”

You had hoped to time your escape with the sun, but it would seem you had no such luck on that end, having instead to have timed your sleep schedule with the Master’s.

That voice jolted you out of your trance as you cursed under your breath. Of course he was aware of your escape! It’s not like you were trying to be sneaky exactly, you had just hoped to have the sun on your side.

You took a deep determined breath and started to run again. You made another feeble attempt to protect your neck with the loose sleeves of your dress, trying to give yourself courage and feel less vulnerable, even if just from the cold night.

As you started to reach the end of his domain and the beginning of your hope, a large cold hand snatched your arm harshly. You shrieked in frustrated desperation as you tried to yank yourself from the grasp, only to hurt your arm in the process. His bruising grasp held you firmly where he wanted you.

“Oh come COME now, If you wanted a tour of the night, you simply could have asked. As your host, I would have obliged.” He chortled in amusement, as if to laugh at his own joke. “My tenacious little Dove~”

You flinched and faltered in your fight as he spoke. His voice…you’ve heard it enough during traumatic times that it was like Pavlov’s dog. You body now shook with fear and expectation of pain.

“H-host?! You are nothing but my j-jailer!” You spat bravely as you yanked against his hold again. The thought to knaw your own arm off crossed your mind, but you didn’t dare show your blood to this beast. He would no doubt get far too much pleasure from it.

His grip, to your utter shock, suddenly vanished from your bicep, making you stumble in confusion as to why you had been freed. Of course, the thought of true escape had been too good to be true.

He then snatched up your hand and yanked you back towards him. He pulled you into him, but let your feet stay on the ground as he suddenly began to guide you in rhythmic stepping. He pulled you along in nonsensical directions, seeming to have no clear path. It confused you until he started to hum to the stepping, making you realize through your fearful eyes, that he was dancing with you.

“You play with your victims too much.” You grumbled and tried again to pull away from him. That went about as well as you expected, considering being held in a frame by a very large, very strong robot.

“Think of it as food prep. One would not prefer an unseasoned steak.” He hummed, seeming unbothered by your struggle.

“Oh yes, of course. How could I ever forget what I am to you.” You glared as he spun you out in a flare of dancing showmanship. With one hand free, you quickly slapped your short skirt down to attempt to stay modest. He giggled at your actions if it was nothing more than watching a kitten playing.

With only one hand still in his grasp, you tried to yank it out and was almost successful, managing to get out of his palm. Like the expert trapper he was, he swiftly readjusted his grip and yanked you back, spinning you again, but this time trapping you between his arm and body.

Effortlessly, you were lifted up and pressed close to him in the dance frame again, but this time he carried you. He held you high off the ground, and tightly against his chest. You kicked slightly in the air as a protest but gave up with an exasperated huff.

In such an intimate position, he could no doubt feel your pounding heart and breathless lungs perfectly. Your face heated with blush, feeling like a book forcibly opened, unable to hide anything. At the same time, however, you could also feel his inner working. Clicking and whirling that you have no doubt heard before but have never noticed, nor felt the vibrations of. It somehow brought you comfort feeling as though he was just as exposed as you were in this sense.

He once again began to lead you in a dance, but this time taking away your choice of footwork and will to follow. Forcing you to join in his unhurried movements back into his property, and farther from your freedom.

“No begging this time? I rather miss the begging.” He smirked as he looked far down on you.

“You’ll get no such pleasure from me this time.” You spat and looked away from him. The ground was a long way down. You hated that you were starting to get used to being place so precariously in his arms. You slightly hiked up your legs awkwardly, trying to feel less exposed and precarious.

“Oh? But it puts me in such a good mood~ I think you will find it preferable if I’m in a good mood.” He smugly cooed.

Your rage burned, your current position making you far bolder than you should feel at the moment. “Oh please! As if that’d make a difference! You’ve never shown me mercy! You’ve always been shocked every time I wake up! I’m not surviving by your fake version of kindness, I’m surviving because of my own will to live!” You snarled back at him.

Suddenly your back hit a wall that seemed to come out of nowhere and knock the wind out of you. You coughed, now being caught between a rock wall and a hard metal chest, your lungs slowly being crushed. You looked up in shock at the mildly amused smile above you. The glowing yellow eyes however, were anything but amused.

“You’re taking for granted my generosity, and throwing about insults that I do not appreciate.” He said flatly.

Your heart admittivity dropped at his tone, adrenaline rushing as your body screamed at you to get away form his as soon as you could.

“I am not mad however, because I am a merciful host.” His tone softened as his free hand coming up to give your exposed neck a stroke. You flinched and began to struggle again, knowing what he was planning. No matter how many times you survived, you always feared not waking up the next time. Not knowing when your luck would run out and he would actually drink you dry.

He watched you fight his grip, his wicked grin growing and showing off his lethal yellow weapons. “Beg.” He demanded cruelly. “Beg, and I will be sure you wake up again.”

You hesitated. He didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve this. Yet you couldn’t help but trust his word. Or at least, you wanted to. He hasn’t tried to keep you alive so far, right? You knew the only thing special about you was your fighting spirit he seemed so fond of.

He pressed into your more, his knee hitting the wall behind you, and separating your legs, just barely touching the edge of your skirt. “Beg.” He commanded softly. Your desperation to survive spiked again, but it also seemed to have cut off your ability to speak as you began to sputter and gasp from breath, being unable to form his desires.

He pulled back just enough to let you breath before leaning his head into your exposed neck. “Beeeg~” He sang before giving your flesh and swift lick. Chills rushed over you and a word finally formed from your mouth.

“Puh…p-please!” You wheezed fearfully.

“Ah, there you are! Oh but I do believe you can do better than that…” He chided happily before letting the flat of his teeth brush across where your neck and shoulder met. His free hand slithered up your neck and gently clenched your chin, keeping your head in place.

“P-please don’t…don’t drink it all! I-I’m begging Eclipse! Let me wake up again, please!” Bitter tears fell from your eyes as you gave him what he wanted, craving that second chance to survive again.

“There it is~” He grinned and nuzzled his face under your chin, making your breath hitch. Your heart pounded faster, the thought of him not keeping his word tearing through you. “This has been so much fun~ How could I ever end our little game permanently? No dear Robin, I am far from done with you.”

A breathy chomp sound came from his voice box as he took your neck meat in between his teeth, making you flinch and tense up, awaiting the pain. When it was delayed, you relaxed to hear him giggle at his prank. His teeth bit your flesh far to gentle, nothing but a play bite.

Your face turned beat red and hot at the humiliation of his toying with you, making you beg and flinch at his words. You let out the breath you were holding and began panting, stunned when you feel you should expect his teasing’s by now.

“There.”

While flushed and relaxed, he sunk his teeth into you for real, biting deep and sucking on the wound hard. You gasped and cried out from the shock, feeling more embarrassed with how he toyed with you, and that you fell for it again.

Your hand came up and grabbed at his arm, clenching the fabric of his shirt sleeve in your fingers. ‘Don’t let go’ You told yourself. ‘Stay conscious, and don’t let go!’ Even with your wavering vision, you told yourself that holding on to his shirt meant holding onto your life. “Stay alive, don’t let go…” you muttered blearily.

Eclipse hummed questioningly, but kept enjoying his meal, working your flesh in his mouth to keep the blood flowing. He gave one last lick before looking at where your hand held firmly in your unconsciousness. “Well…fortunately for you and I, you seem to be quite good at that.” He smirked.

[st-hedge]

What was that really beautiful wording used to describe characters I like— ah that’s it, sad sacks of issues. That’s this guy right here

[urmum-lovesme]

Bunny (P7)

Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader

summary: Struggling to keep her and JJ’s home afloat, Y/N turns to the only option that guarantees fast cash- stripping at a club on the Cut. But when Rafe Cameron catches her in the act, he sees the perfect opportunity to tighten his grip around her life.

a/n: just when all you thought life couldn't get any worse for Bunny... well y'all were wrong. Also this hasn't got a lot of rafe in it ngl but I swear the next chapter will have A LOT of them together.

warnings: mentions of alcohol, mentions of drugs (smoking), throwing up, mentions of a strip club, mentions of harassment (implied assault), Bunny in distress :(, pretty angsty tbh, arguing

(P1) (P2) (P3) (P4) (P5) (P6) (P7) (P8) (P9) (P10) (P11) (P12) (P13)

The soft glow of daylight pressed against the edges of the blinds, but Y/N's room remained cloaked in a sleepy dimness. The air was thick, a mix of stale perfume and forgotten laundry, clothes lay draped over the chair in the corner, an empty glass sat on her nightstand, and a few crumpled receipts peeked out from under her bed; she hadn’t had the energy to clean up. Her phone buzzed against the mattress beside her, the vibrations rattling slightly against the sheets before settling into silence. Then, a few seconds later, another buzz. And another. She already knew who it was before even glancing at the screen.

Bambi  :  You gon be in tonight????

Bambi  :  Been dead without u girl

Bambi  :  ??? You good?

Bambi  :  At least let me know you’re alive tf

Y/N let out a slow breath, rolling onto her back and staring at the ceiling. The messages glowed on her screen, but she didn’t reach for them. Instead, she just lay there, her limbs heavy, it wasn’t that she didn’t want to answer- she just didn’t know how, she wasn't sure what to say. 

Another buzz.

Bambi  :  If you ignore me again I’m showing up at your house. 

Bambi  :  Ima ask tommy where you live i'm sure he’ll find out 

Bambi  :  Don’t play with me.

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips, but it faded just as quickly as she let out a small sigh, finally grabbing the phone with sluggish fingers, her thumb hovering over the keyboard.

She typed. 

Deleted. 

Typed again.

Bunny  :  I’m fine

Bunny  :  Just taking a little break omi 

She stared at the message for a second before pressing send. It was enough to get Naomi off her back. For now, at least. She let her phone fall back onto the bed beside her, rubbing her tired eyes with the heel of her palm.  A knock at the door made her heart jump. Her breath hitched, fingers curling slightly into the sheets as she pushed herself to sit up.

"Y/N?"

JJ's voice filtered through the wood, and her shoulders relaxed just a fraction, relieved it was his voice.

"Uh... can I come in?"

"Yeah."

She cleared her throat, sitting up a little. The door creaked open, and JJ stepped in, his eyes flickering around the messy room before landing on her. He hesitated, shifting awkwardly, and she could tell he wanted to say something about it, but he didn’t. "Uh..." He scratched at the back of his neck, flipping his cap backward before exhaling through his nose.

 "Can I borrow some money? Jus' for gas..."

Y/N just nodded, moving robotically toward her nightstand. Dragging the draw open she pulled out a fifty and handed it to him without a word, forcing a small smile. He took it, stuffing it into his pocket, still lingering like he had more to say. He hesitated before he asked, voice softer now.

"You okay?"

"Yeah- yeah, I'm good" 

She replied quickly. JJ nodded, rocking on his heels before glancing toward the door, "Me and the Pogues are doing a fire at the Chateau tonight... you wanna come?"

"Um... sure. I'll think about it."

Y/N hesitated, rubbing her fingers over the fabric of her bedsheets. A small grin tugged at his lips, and he gave her a nod. 

"Well... catch ya later sis?"

"Catch you later J"

She exhaled, forcing another smile. He lingered for a second longer before slipping out, shutting the door behind him. She listened, waiting patiently before hearing the sound of the front door closing. Y/N let out a small groan, rubbing her face before finally pulling herself together up off the bed, moving toward her dresser to pull out her uniform from the top drawer, pushing it shut with her hip.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time she'd stepped into the country club, she was already met with the sharp-eyed stare of her manager. He stood near the entrance, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently against the polished floor, "Maybank," he called the second he spotted her.

"You're twenty minutes late."

"I’m sorry, I— overslept."

Y/N exhaled through her nose, fighting the urge to roll her eyes as the scrawny man in front of her, Mark- was it? She wasn’t too sure he’d only joined last week but one thing she was sure of- he was a total dick. Mark scoffed, clearly unimpressed at her petty excuse as he looked her up and down. 

"Well, don’t let it happen again. We’re busy today, you’re needed in the restaurant. Get to it."

"Yeah, of course" 

She muttered under her breath, already walking past him. He was such a prick, thinking he was above everyone else just because he got to wear a different uniform. But at the end of the day, he was just as much of a pogue as the rest of them. The restaurant was a mess of voices and clinking cutlery, yummy mommies and uninterested fathers wrangling hyperactive kids, older couples sipping on overpriced wine. It was the busiest she’d seen it in a while. Y/N sighed, making her way near the bar where a few other servers were already scrambling around, piling margaritas and mojitos onto trays. She reached under the counter, pulling out her designated apron and securing it around her waist before grabbing her notepad and pen, just another day in paradise. As she tightened the knot on her apron, she felt a light touch on her arm and she turned to find Sofia standing beside her, brows pulled together in concern. The brunette girl greeted, her voice soft but laced with curiosity.

"Hey" 

"Hey" 

Y/N replied, offering a small smile and Sofia's frown deepened just slightly. 

"Are you okay… you’re late today."

Y/N hummed, already knowing where this was going. She was never late. Not to work, not to anything really, she always made sure she was on time- well except for today. She assured her friend, forcing her voice to sound as normal as possible.

"Yeah Sof, I’m fine- I just overslept" 

Sofia gave a slow nod, but she wasn’t convinced. Dropping her voice, she leaned in a little closer and she whispered.

"Is it your dad?"

Y/N blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the question. A warmth spread in her chest, the kind that only came from knowing someone truly cared. Sofia was sweet always like that—no one else in her life really looked out for her the way she did. A soft smile tugged at Y/N’s lips as she shook her head. "No," she murmured. 

"He’s being… okay."

Sofia studied her for a second before giving a nod. "Alright," she said, clearly not wanting to push. Then, as if sensing the need for a subject change, Y/N asked, "So, what section am I in today?" Sofia winced, dragging out the word, 

"Weeeelllll—"

Y/N groaned, "Nooo, Sof."

"I’m sorry, okay? I got the balconies, and because you were late, Bailey took the outside, so—"

"-so I got stuck with center" 

Y/N finished, already dreading it. Sofia gave her a look of sympathy, but it didn’t help much. The center section was the worst. It was where all the entitled families sat- the ones with spoiled kids who flung food without a care in the world, and mothers and fathers too glued to their phones or their own conversations to notice. Y/N groaned, slumping against the counter. 

"I swear you did this on purpose."

Sofia snorted, nudging the girl with her shoulder, "Yeah, totally. I plotted this entire thing just to ruin your morning."

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smirk that tugged at her lips. She let out one last exaggerated grunt before pushing off the counter, "Fine. But if I get mashed potatoes in my hair, you're cleaning it out for me."

"I guess it's the least I could do..." Sofia laughed.

After that she didn't see the girl once because the lunch rush was in full swing, and Y/N seemed to be drowning in it. The noise of the restaurant buzzed in her ears- cutlery clinking, bratty kids shrieking about not getting dessert, chairs scraping, and the constant hum of voices layering over each other. She barely had a second to breathe between tables, and it didn’t help that she had the worst kind of customers. She was in the middle of jotting down an order when a voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Hello? Are you even listening?”

Y/N blinked, looking up at the middle-aged woman with an unimpressed frown. She asked, forcing her best polite voice.

“Sorry, ma’am. What was that?”

The woman scoffed shaking her head, “Unbelievable. I said no onions on my salad- are you writing this down?”

“Of course, no onions.”

Y/N clenched her jaw, scribbling it onto the pad. She could feel the heat rising in her face, but she kept moving. There was no time to dwell- she had to drop off one table’s drinks, check on another’s meal, and now, grab a fresh batch of plates from the kitchen. She pushed through the kitchen doors and made a beeline for the counter, spotting the steaming plates waiting under the heat lamps. She reached out, grabbing one—

“No! Wait that's h—”

Yet Elijah’s warning came too late. The moment her fingers curled around the plate, a searing pain shot through her palm. She let out a sharp, instinctive whine, immediately jerking her hand back and waving it in the air.

“Shit!”

Elijah’s eyes widened, “Fuck, Y/N, I forgot that one just came out.”

“It’s fine. It’s okay. I should’ve checked.”

She exhaled through her teeth, shaking out her fingers and blowing on her palm. Elijah still looked guilty, but she didn't have time to listen to his apologies, so she quickly grabbed a rag to pick up the plates properly, her hand still stinging as she placed them down onto a tray and balanced it on her hand, pushing back through the doors. However, the second she stepped out, her manager was waiting, arms crossed.

“Maybank, pick up the pace. You’re falling behind.”

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek so hard she almost tasted blood. She wanted to snap, to tell him that maybe if they weren’t understaffed and she wasn’t stuck serving every entitled asshole in this place, she wouldn’t be behind. But she swallowed it down, nodding stiffly instead. She walked past him, her burned hand still throbbing, head pounding, and for the first time all day, she wasn’t sure if she’d make it through her shift without completely losing it. 

After leaving the, somewhat happy, family with their meals, she glanced around at her tables- which all seemed relatively contect. So with that sacred moment of peace she slipped behind the bar, reaching for a glass to pour herself some water, when a voice stopped her. “Maybank.” She turned to see Camilla, the head of house, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed. Her expression was neutral, but there was a knowing glint in her eye.

“Just sat two guys in your section. They look like they tip well...” 

Camilla said with a slight smirk. Y/N exhaled, setting the empty glass down. Guess I’ll get my water later she thought to herself as she nodded, smoothing her apron as she made her way toward the new table. As she approached, she took them in- two men, mid-forties, dressed in tailored suits with loosened ties. They had that rich look about them, one of them had slicked-back hair, his Rolex glinting in the sunlight streaming through the windows. The other had a sharp jawline and expensive prada sunglasses perched atop his head. Y/N pulled out her pad, forcing a polite smile. 

“Hi, I’m Y/N. I’ll be your server today—”

She glanced up, and the moment her eyes landed on the man with the sunglasses, her stomach dropped. His smirk was slow, spreading across his face like he was enjoying a private joke. His gaze dragged over her, lingering just a little too long. Y/N felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. “Well, well,” he murmured under his breath.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.”

She pretended not to hear, gripping her pen a little tighter as she asked, keeping her voice even.

“Can I start you off with something to drink?”

The man with the sunglasses let out a soft chuckle, leaning back in his chair. “Whiskey on the rocks” he said lazily. His friend ordered a beer, and Y/N quickly scribbled it down, ready to get away from the table. But just as she turned, the guy hummed. 

“You must really like serving people, huh?”

Her stomach twisted. She knew exactly what he was implying. She didn’t let herself pause, didn’t let him see her react. Instead, she simply nodded, keeping her face blank as her jaw ticked.

“That’s my job, sir” 

She said albeit sarcastically before walking away. Yet even as she put distance between them, she could still feel his eyes on her and suddenly, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she needed a shower. Y/N quickly typed the orders into the system, her fingers moving almost mechanically, but her mind was still focused on the two men at table 5. The words from the guy in sunglasses were still echoing in her mind, and it was hard to shake the feeling of discomfort creeping up her spine. As she was trying to center herself, she saw Sofia passing by with an empty tray in hand, Y/N practically reached out to grab her arm, making Sofia stop in her tracks.

“Hey, uh... can I ask you a favor?” 

Y/N’s voice was low, almost pleading, and Sofia immediately tilted her head, looking at her with concern. “What’s up?” Sofia asked, her eyes scanning Y/N’s face, sensing the tension. She hesitated for a second, her eyes darting over to table 5, where the two men were now deep in conversation. 

“I know I don’t usually ask, but- could you just take over table 5 for me?” 

She asked, her words a little rushed trying to keep her voice as steady as she could, trying to keep the nervousness from showing. Sofia’s eyes shifted over to the table, quickly taking in the two guys who were talking and she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Sure, what’s wrong?” 

“Oh, uh... one of them was just being a creep, and I don’t want to serve them anymore. They’re just freaking me out, you know?” She tried to make it sound casual, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her. Sofia nodded without missing a beat, her face hardening with understanding. 

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”

Y/N let out a small sigh of relief as Sofia gave her a reassuring smile. She slipped behind the bar, and reached for a glass of water, the coolness of it a welcome distraction from the heat of the day. But as her fingers brushed the glass, her mind wandered- unsurprisingly, to the two men she just served. She’d kept her two lives separate for so long and for months, she had succeeded. But now… now she could feel them bleeding into each other. It should’ve been obvious. She should’ve known that eventually, something would snap. But Y/N had buried her head in the sand, living like this dual existence was sustainable and now it was all crashing together. Her hand tightened around the glass, maybe she should’ve expected it sooner, maybe this was just karma catching up with her. But what did she do now? With a sharp exhale, Y/N jerked her head away from the counter, pulling herself back to reality. The sound of the kitchen buzzed back to life, and she set her glass of water down with a quiet sigh, abandoning the brief moment of peace. The kitchen doors swung open as she grabbed a tray of dishes,the smell of garlic and tomatoes hit her first- rich, hearty, the kind of smell that reminded her of family dinners at Sofia's house. But then, the overpowering scent of fish and anchovies mingled with it, and Y/N felt her stomach lurch in response.

Her body instinctively recoiled, but she continued to walk with the tray, forcing herself to ignore the growing nausea that started to pool in her chest. As she placed the plates down in front of her table, the scents lingered too long, curling around her senses and twisting like a knot in her gut. She barely heard the customers thank her as she turned quickly on her heel. Her stomach churned, the tight feeling in her chest growing. It wasn’t like this normally, she had always been able to deal with the smells, even if they weren’t her favorite, but today felt different.

Without another thought, she bolted for the back, pushing past the kitchen staff with a quick “excuse me” and “sorry” she didn’t really register. The bathroom was just a few steps away, and she barely made it to the toilet before her body reacted to the smells. Her knees buckled as she knelt, gripping the sides of the porcelain toilet, dry heaving into the bowl. Nothing came up at first, just the acidic taste of bile burning the back of her throat. It wasn’t long before the contents of her stomach caught up with her, and she threw up, the sensation heavy in her chest. She breathed through it, barely able to steady herself as her body trembled. She stayed there for a few minutes, resting her forehead against the cold edge of the toilet, willing the waves of nausea to pass. 

Finally, she stood, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and rinsing her face under the cool tap. Her reflection in the mirror didn’t look like her- not entirely. Her hair was disheveled, eyes a little more tired than usual. But she took a deep breath, splashing some more water on her face as she took a deep breath, making her way back into the kitchen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The soft buzz of the overhead lights hummed in the quiet gas station shop, the air thick with the scent of cheap coffee. Y/N walked down the narrow aisle, her eyes scanning the shelves in a daze, she needed to pick up some bread, eggs, and milk—simple things. Her hand brushed against the shelf, the cold bottles of milk sending a faint chill up her arm. She placed the bottle into her basket and moved through the next aisle but then, her gaze caught something- something tucked away on the edge of the shelf in a blue and white box. The name on it stared up at her and she couldn’t ignore it. She stood still for a moment, her fingers tightening around the handle of the basket, as if the weight of the box was too much for her to attempt to lift. She picked it up slowly, feeling the smooth cardboard beneath her fingers. Her thumb ran over the price tag, and she let out a small, exasperated huff as she read it: $13. Jesus, that was steep for something so small.

She stared at it for another moment, almost as if waiting for the price to drop but it didn’t and the shop remained empty, just the quiet hum of the fluorescent lights and the soft shuffle of her shoes against the linoleum floor. With a quick glance around the shop, ensuring no one was there to see, she shoved the box into her basket.

She needed it. 

Even if it didn’t make sense, even if it was a stupid purchase, she needed to feel some semblance of control. The cashier stood behind the counter, chewing gum slowly, her eyes uninterested as she scanned each item with a mechanical precision. The click of the scanner was the only sound in the otherwise silent shop. Y/N could feel her gaze on her, a heavy, almost judgmental stare as the woman worked through the items. The cashier's eyes flicked up as she reached the box. She scanned it, then raised her eyebrows slightly, her gaze flicking from the box to Y/N, as if silently questioning her. She didn’t say anything though, just let the moment hang in the air, her gum popping softly between her teeth. Y/N bit the inside of her cheek, a nervous habit she never seemed to break, and cleared her throat.

 “Can I get a bag?” 

Her voice came out quieter than she expected, the cashier nodded, not bothering to make a show of it, and began placing the items in the bag leisurely. The sound of the plastic crinkling felt like an eternity to Y/N, each second stretching into the next. It was torturous- like the woman was dragging it out on purpose. Finally, the woman looked up at her and said flatly, 

“$20.50.”

Y/N’s hand immediately went to her pocket, fingers fumbling slightly as she pulled out the cash. She placed it on the counter without a word, almost too quickly, and the cashier took the money, handed her back the change, and Y/N took it with a muttered "thanks," her voice barely audible. She grabbed the bag, turning quickly to head for the exit, relief bubbling up at the thought of being out of there. 

But as her hand reached the door, she paused.

Her gaze flicked to the small W/C sign on the wall, the letters simple and stark, and for some reason, her feet seemed to move of their own accord. Without thinking, Y/N walked towards the restroom doors and slipped through them. 

She now found herself sat on the toilet, her elbow resting on her knees, her head leaning into the palm of her hand. Her other hand absently fiddled with the plastic turning it over, looking at it every few seconds waiting for some sort of sign, some hint of change. But nothing. Nothing had changed. It was just plastic- empty, meaningless plastic. She rubbed her eyes, feeling the weight of exhaustion in her body. It had been a long day, and her mind was tired, her thoughts heavy and slow. She closed her eyes for just a moment, just to breathe, to try and center herself, to stop feeling so damn overwhelmed. She let out a soft sigh, as if to release all the tension she had been carrying. When she opened her eyes again, the restroom’s faint fluorescent light made everything look almost surreal. She blinked a few times, her eyes adjusting. 

But when her gaze dropped, something froze in her chest.

She was gripping the plastic now, harder than before. Her knuckles were pale from the pressure, but it didn’t matter. The small screen was glaring up at her and in that harsh, glaring light, the one thing she hadn’t wanted to see was right there. Her throat was tightening, and for a moment, it felt like the room was closing in on her. She stared at it, her mind running in circles, her breath shallow.

She hadn’t expected this. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N slammed the door behind her with more force than she intended- its harsh thud reverberating through the quiet space. She rushed into her room, her heart pounding in her chest, she didn’t even notice the noise; her mind was elsewhere, racing. Panicked. The weight of the little plastic screen clung to her like a heavy, suffocating blanket. It wasn’t real, it couldn’t be real. Her hands were a little shaky as she dropped to her knees beside her bed, reaching under it with frantic urgency. She pulled out the tattered brown shoe box that she had kept hidden, the one filled with money she’d saved. Her fingers fumbled with the box’s worn edges before opening it and pulling out the small pile of cash. She began counting quickly, 

Two hundred and fifty dollars.

Her stomach twisted at the sight of it. Two hundred and fifty dollars. That was it? Barely enough to make it through the month—food, bills, gas. She knew she hadn’t been at the club for almost three weeks but she never really noticed how much of a difference it made- without it her payout at the country club, well it was practically nothing. She cursed under her breath, shoving the cash back into the box. How was she supposed to make it work? This wasn’t enough. 

It wasn’t even close.

A sharp knock to her bedroom door pulled her out of the downward spiral she found herself tumbling through. “What?” she snapped irritably, blinking away the haze of frustration. She shoved the box back under the bed as the door opened. JJ walked in, a little lighter than usual. He had a joint behind his ear and a grin plastered across his face. 

“You ready to get lit sis?”

Y/N paused, still kneeling on the floor, her hands clenched into fists. “What?” she asked, her tone sharp and confused. JJ spoke out, walking deeper into her room like it was his own,

“C’mon, you ready to go to the fire?” 

Her mind flicked back to that morning when he had asked her if she wanted to go to the Chateau with him and the Pogues to spend the night, maybe smoke some weed, have a few beers. It felt like a lifetime ago now that they’d discussed it, and she couldn’t shake the weight in her chest. She pushed some hair out of her face, shaking her head slowly as she pushed herself off the floor. 

“Look JJ... I don’t know if I can do that tonight.”

JJ, oblivious to the undercurrent of panic in her voice, walked past her and pulled open the doors of her closet already rifling through her closet causing her brows to pull down into a frown. He spoke nonchalantly, grabbing a pair of shorts and a tank top looking at them before shrugging and tossing them onto the bed close to where she stood.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah- you just need to loosen up Y/N” 

 “I really don’t want to JJ” 

She said, her voice tight as she sat on the edge of the bed, her leg bouncing up and down nervously, but her brother had already made his way towards where she was , pulling at her shoulders shaking her lightly, trying to convince her. 

“Just loosen up, Y/N. You’ll come to the chate-”

“-I’ve got bigger fucking problems than spending a shitty night getting high by some fire!” 

She burst out, her chest tightening with the outburst. Something inside her snapped, and she stood up abruptly, pushing his hands off her. JJ stepped back, surprised by the force of her movement. The words hung heavy in the room and she immediately regretted saying them, feeling the lump in her throat, the guilt crawling up her neck. JJ stared at her, his expression frozen for a moment. He hadn’t expected that- neither did she. He stood still for a beat, and then, shaking his head, he mumbled, 

“Should’ve guessed you didn’t want to spend time with your brother and his shitty friends, right?”

Y/N’s face softened for a moment, but the words stung, and she felt that familiar ache in her chest. She started, her voice breaking just slightly,

 “JJ—”

He didn’t wait though, instead he turned on his heel, walking toward the door, his lips pursed in frustration. Before she could say anything else, he slammed the door behind him. Y/N stood there, alone, heart pounding in her ears. She tried to sit there on the edge of the bed for a few more minutes after he heard the front door slam shut to try and calm herself, but her mind was running too fast. The words she’d snapped at JJ kept echoing in her head, the way he’d walked out, the hurt in his voice when he made that comment about not wanting to spend time with him. She knew it wasn’t true. She did want to spend time with him more than anything, but everything was just... overwhelming. 

Her gaze flickered over to the duffle bag sticking out from the back of her closet. The zipper was slightly open, revealing the pink sparkle of the clothes inside. She hadn’t planned to go back there tonight, but the weight of the situation was too heavy- she needed the money now. She couldn’t just let it all sit on her shoulders while she waited for something to change. Y/N sighed, dragging herself off the bed with more effort than she cared to admit. 

She had no choice but to make it work. 

It always worked, somehow. 

The duffle bag felt heavier than it should as she pulled it out from the closet, her fingers brushing the rough fabric. She had almost forgotten what it felt like to hold it in her hands, but now, with everything else piling on top of her, she couldn’t ignore the fact that it might be her only option. She unzipped the bag slowly, pulling out the set she hadn’t touched in weeks. She stared at the two piece, at their tight fit, the heels in the bag she knew would be a bitch to walk in but would make the money flow. There was a strange sense of finality in the way she laid everything out on her bed. 

Y/N quickly pulled her polo top over her head, hand reaching to her back to unclasp the bra she was wearing; trying not to think too much about the decision she was making. She pulled on the panties, feeling the familiar fabric settle against her skin, dragging on the pair of shorts and t-shirt JJ had thrown out her closet over the set. As she grabbed the duffle bag again, her stomach twisted in knots, but she pushed the feeling down. She shoved everything into the bag, and as she walked out of her room, heading for the door, her hand lingered on the handle of the front door for a second longer than it should have.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The car hummed under her, tires rolling over the familiar streets, but her mind was a million miles away. She wasn’t driving fast; in fact, she was barely even looking at the road, her gaze flickering from the rearview mirror to the side window. The night stretched on like a thick fog in front of her, and all she could do was try to sort through the thoughts fighting for space in her head. She should have been heading straight to the club, her destination set, the routine of it all keeping her grounded. But she couldn’t shake the nagging pull, the thought she’d been running from for so long. 

The thought of what he had said to her.

She came to a slow stop at the red light, her eyes catching the turn-off for Figure 8. She bit her lip, her mind racing. She could do it- this one night would pay for it, for all the expenses. She wouldn't need to slave away for hours at the club every night for the next two weeks. But the longer she thought about it, she didn't think she could do it, the thought being clouded in guilt and in hesitation. The light flickered green, and Y/N’s foot hovered for a second.

Her car made a slow right turn, the headlights illuminating the driveway of the house she’d never imagined stepping foot in. The driveway was empty except for the black Range Rover, parked against the stillness of the night. The lights were off inside, except for the soft glow coming from a window upstairs. Y/N’s heart was thumping, the tension coiling in her chest.

She shouldn’t be here. 

She felt herself fidgeting with the steering wheel, her nails already bitten down to the skin, she was out of the car before she even had the chance to fully think the idea through. The driveway stretched in front of her, empty and lonely and her footsteps echoed in the quiet as she walked up to the door, her thoughts scattered and panicked. She raised her hand, and knocked.

Once.

Twice. 

The sound was sharp against the night, the quiet too loud in her ears. She crossed her arms, staring at the door, waiting, her breath shallow as the seconds stretched on. She wasn’t sure what she was doing, but she couldn’t stop herself now. The door creaked open, just a little, enough to see him, his silhouette framed in the darkness

Rafe stood in the doorway, a surprised expression crossing his face as his eyes slowly raked over her. His lips lifted into a smirk as his gaze lingered, reading her.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled, a hint of amusement in his tone. 

“Didn’t think I’d be seeing you anytime soon.” 

His gaze flickered over her, narrowing slightly, processing the change. The girl who had slapped him just weeks ago, who had shot down his offer without a second thought, was standing here now, looking... different. 

Vulnerable, maybe?

Her eyes never left his, the tension between them palpable in the night air. She stood there for a second, her lips pressed tight, and then, finally, she spoke.

“Does your offer still stand?” 

She asked, her voice steady but her posture tense, her arms crossing over her chest, as if bracing herself for whatever would come next. Rafe raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback. 

“What?”

“You said you wanted me to dance for you,” she clarified, her eyes now unwavering, “privately.”

Rafe blinked, his confusion momentarily replacing the usual smugness in his expression. He stared at her, trying to piece this together. The last time they’d spoken, she turned down the idea without a moment of hesitation and prior to that she’d slapped him across the face for suggesting something like this, practically hurling insults at him. And now, here she was, standing in front of him, asking for the very thing she had so firmly rejected. He scratched his bicep slightly as he moved to cross his arms, leaning slightly against the doorframe, his eyes flicking over her again, narrowing as he tried to make sense of her sudden shift in demeanor. 

“Why now?” 

He asked, the question slipping out before he could stop it. Y/N's jaw tightened- was he really expecting her to explain herself? To give him a reason? She just needed this—needed him to say yes, because she didn’t have time to waste. “That’s not important,” she replied, her voice a little firmer, a little colder now.

 “Does the offer still stand or not?”

Rafe’s eyes stayed locked on her, the gears turning in his head as he considered her. He couldn’t deny the pull he felt toward her. The attraction had always been there, but it had grown stronger in the past few months. Seeing her again, after all this time apart, made something inside him ignite.

He wanted her- and it wasn’t just about the power and control anymore. 

There was something more now.

He ran a hand across his jaw, his gaze flicking over her, up and down, assessing her in a way he hadn’t before. The silence stretched, his fingers still brushing over his stubbled jaw as he thought it through. But the thought of having her all to himself, the idea of pushing this thing between them to the next level, the idea of making her his- really his- he couldn’t shake it. Finally, he dropped his hand and gave her a look that told her what she needed to know before he even said it. 

“It still stands.”

Y/N’s lips parted, her eyes flickering in relief. She nodded once, a small, sharp motion, “So, can I come in?”

Rafe stepped back, the door creaking as he swung it wider to allow her through. His hand lingered on the doorframe, just for a moment, before he released it. Y/N hesitated. She was standing there, staring at the threshold, as if her feet had rooted to the floor. She had no idea what she was walking into- no idea what would happen when she crossed that line but she needed to. 

She had to.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside, the door shutting behind them with a soft click.

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[jinxs-gf]

Black Cat!Reader x The Team Headcanons

Black Cat!Reader x The Team

note: just because you’re in place of Black Cat doesn’t mean this is fem!reader! this is very gender neutral besides the mention of lipstick briefly…even then that’s not lady exclusive :)

content/warnings: this is seemingly set during s1 like my other yj fics but I imagine everyone being way older 😔🙏🏽 it’s weird but just roll with it pretty please. also…a bit suggestive??

word count: 3.6k

a/n: I wouldn’t have done this but this anon gave me the idea and I HAD to expand on it unfortunately

THE TEAM (platonic)

Lots and lots of flirting from reader, OBVIOUSLY. do y’all even KNOW Black Cat????? it would be relentless. and no matter how annoying and probably overwhelming it got, you wouldn’t back down

with even the toughest/hardest to crack team members

it’s not even like you’re attempting to lure them in…or get romantically involved (unless…), it’s just how you are. who can blame you! flirting is fun

you started off as just another “villain of the day.” Someone they could take on easily. They thought of you as a pity mission. An bad guy as small as a simple thief? What fun was that?! They’ve taken down Gods, magicians, robots…and Red Tornado assigned them a thief??? It was a joke.

until it wasn’t. until Batman saw potential in you (because of course he did. Robin was not happy about this.)

You earned the nickname Cat, which was a nickname in itself for Kitty Cat (Wally's idea, not yours, you gave him hell for it)

your first mission with them was definitely something. messy, to say the least

it was weird, the whole mind link thing. you made jokez and flirted through the link as a way of coping because…well you felt out of place

everyone was so close with each other, not to mention they didn’t come from a background of “bad guy shenanigans”

you felt like an outcast for the longest time, until everyone was revealing vulnerable secrets with each other before a mission. you finally spoke your insecurities with your place on the team

you and Artemis had the same worries (more or less) and bonded over that

you finally were able to let loose and just…be yourself around them

you became soft

the flirting and teasing was still there, however it was saved for missions

you preferred to keep Black Cat’s reputation

individual relationships

ROBIN (romantic)

He was very much against the idea of you being on the team. Sure you weren’t a crazy villain that hurt people (maybe not physically…but you were definitely a heartbreaker, Robin concludes)

You were still a thief at the end of the day. A bad person. And he didn’t like that.

It was Batman’s idea—and usually Batman had great ideas. This was a very bad one. He hated every bit of it.

…until he got to know you better

Taking you down was easy. “Easiest job I’ve ever had,” Robin boasts.

You pout, “that’s not very nice.”

Ha. He knocked you down a peg. Good. You needed a little humbling-

“-How come you’re lying to me, Robin? I thought we had something.”

Uh oh. He absolutely hated when you used that sickeningly sweet voice on him.

Of course you didn’t believe his lie. Of course you could tell how difficult that mission really was.

It’s not apart of his proudest moments. He hesitated to stop you on the mission, completely caught off guard by your flirtatious behavior. I mean, who wouldn’t be?!

In a moment of weakness, he let you go. Awestruck by the kiss you left imprinted on his cheek. Something he got teased relentlessly for.

The rest of the team finished the job for him after that.

In the back of his mind he knows the only reason he didn’t like the idea of you being on the team was because he…knew it wouldn’t end well for him. He was sure to be on your long list of broken hearts (a list that was never confirmed to even exist)

It made sense in his mind…he was Robin. A bird. And you were a cat. A right recipe for disaster. You’d trap him in your greedy little claws and eat him alive.

Over time that perspective changed.

Robin hates to admit it, but he’s softer now. Softer around you. For you.

“I know who you are,” he says with that arrogant smirk.

“So why can’t I know who you are?”

“Only…really important and trustworthy people know. The only person who knows besides Batman is Wally. He’s my best friend.”

“Why doesn’t that include me?” you’re practically purring, rubbing a finger down his face, “am I not important enough to you?” You pout for show

He looks dejected, like he was having an internal battle with himself. And you could tell which part of him was losing.

Your fingers inch slowly towards his mask, ready to lift-

“Robin.” And the stupid, stupid monotone voice that belonged to Batman interrupted you.

You’ll get him back for that.

Robin was now being scolded, but he was having none of it.

“It was a moment of weakness.”

“It will not happen again. No more moments of weakness. You’re growing, your body is going through a lot of different things. Keep it in your pants-”

“Whoa old man! Whoa! That’s going too far. And what about Selina?! You’ve had many moments of weakness because of her. You can’t scold me for this one time.”

“It’s because of my experience with Catwoman that I know better. I’m trying to stop you from…getting hurt.”

Robin calls bullshit on that. What could you possibly do to hurt him? (Thoughts that completely contradict his first impressions of you)

The next time he sees you he’ll spill everything. He’ll let you know that he does trust you and that you do matter. That you’re important to him.

Just to spite Bruce. And maybe because he really likes you and wants you to know it.

It was his idea to bring you onto the team anyways…he’s just giving Bruce exactly what he wanted. A warm welcome to a new teammate.

WALLY (romantic)

Wally was so happy someone FINALLY reciprocated his advances. And especially with a catch like you? Black Cat?! He was over the moon.

At first.

It quickly came to be too much. He's been waiting, praying for someone to match his energy, but now that he's got it? He's not exactly sure how to handle it. He's gotten so used to being blown off, teased, and scolded for his flirting that it was weird when you flirted back.

He was of course the first to tease you when you officially joined the team. He gave your your nickname, Kitty Cat. You despised the name and him for the longest time.

Wally was annoying. Taunting you at all times. Calling to you as if you were an actual cat.

He'd click his tongue, "here kitty kitty."

And for that, your flirting was meaner towards him (compared to how you treated everyone else). Which is the exact reason why he couldn't handle the teasing from you. It wasn't the normal way Robin would, "oh yeah, Wally can't phase the way Flash does. Otherwise he gets a nosebleed. Right, loser?" Or the way Artemis would, "ugh, you flirt like a divorced 40 year old who's desperate for a rebound. Loser."

No, your teasing was quite different. You laughed cruelly, throwing your head back for show, "Come get it before it's gone, loser."

So. He was still a loser to you, but it seemed you actually liked that about him. Maybe.

Wally didn't like it as much as he thought he would. It ruined his cool guy facade (one that didn't exist, Robin would say). It was humbling, the way he suddenly tumbled over his words, face flushed red and all.

More than humbling. It was embarrassing.

You bring him down to the mat with a loud THUD. Much like the time Black Canary beat him during their first time training. Except you used your weight, tumbling on him (and straddling him in the process. Great).

Embarrassing embarrassing embarrassing.

The only person that was able to truly catch him was his best friend, Robin. And that's with years of experience with the speedster. You'd know him all of a few months and you're able to do it?!

"It won't happen again,” referring to his teasing of your name, naming you Kitty Cat and clicking his tongue at you.

“Or I’ll have to teach you a lesson. Much different from this one.” And you casually walk away.

Wally desperately wanted to get up, to humble you back. But he couldn't. He felt physically incapable of doing so.

You had really done it. You slowed down the (second) fastest man alive.

Wow.

"Wow. That was extremely painful to watch," of course Robin had something to say about it.

"Shut up man."

KALDUR (romantic)

It was "unprofessional," he said.

Unprofessional your ass. It was perfectly professional. A lot of people on the teams had partners within those same teams. Black Canary and Green Arrow, Superman and Wonder Woman (exes—but that still counts for something), Conner and M’gann acted like a couple and no one said anything! So what was the problem?

Well apparently there wasn’t a problem…seeing as this “relationship” was more welcomed—as in, Kaldur didn’t tell the Black Cat off when they made advances towards him. Besides when he called their behavior “unprofessional.” That was once. He didn’t say a word of it after that.

In fact, he allowed—dare anyone say encouraged it.

On missions you were attached to his hip. Even if he assigned you to be by Artemis’ side or assist Robin, you wouldn’t listen. And he didn’t say anything about it, instead informing the team to continue on with the plan.

His professional act as the team leader never faltered, not even you could break it down. He merely tolerated your flirting (his words, though you knew better. He loved it).

The team was each in their individual positions scoping out the area, ready to attack at a moments notice. Kaldur was squatted down and you decided it was the perfect opportunity to pounce on him (as you usually did). You wrapped your arms around his neck, now on his back.

“Does the team leader have time for some sweet talk?”

“I, we have a job to do, Cat. Focus.”

You hum, “What are we doing here again?”

He starts relaying the plan to you, you taking note of the way he doesn’t scold you (he repeated the plan to the team multiple times on the way over, he surely would’ve berated one of the other guys for not listening). You never had any intentions of listening, only wanting a chance to annoy him.

“Blah blah blah, is this your version of sweet talk?” You squish his face between your fingers and plant a kiss on his cheek.

He only sighs, “Later. After the mission is complete.”

For once, your find yourself surprised. He’s promising to reciprocate your advances?

This should be fun.

CONNER (romantic)

M'gann was more subtle with her flirting (not really, especially with the way she blushes), more timid and on the nose about her feelings. You? You got straight to the point. Kind of like how open Artemis was when she first joined the team. She had no shame letting the team know telepathically how attractive she thought Superboy was. Seriously, what was it with new recruits and taking an immediate liking to Conner? Why not the other three boys? What did he have that they didn't!

Although Artemis gave up on that crush at first sight almost immediately

You? Not so much. it was very noticeable that the Black Cat was adamant on cracking the boy of steel. it seemed like an impossible mission, but with a little determination and a couple sultry words? it was pretty damn easy

This is very much an enemies to lovers type relationship (kinda):

At the beginning, when you first met, he was open to new relationships. Getting to know people he could count on within the team, though that openness completely died down. Your flirting was nonstop. Even on missions! How was he supposed to concentrate on the task at hand when you found time to graze his arm or speak soft words to him?

You annoyed him, sosososo much it wasn't even funny. Even more than M'gann did. Both of you were insistent, that's for sure. But one was more bold than the other. He tried telling himself it was because he didn't like you: at least with M'gann he wanted a relationship to come from it (not necessarily romantic)

But with you...he hated you. No. He hated the way he reacted to your advances...he hated admitting to himself that your words affected him. That he felt something not so platonic for you. Damn you and your stupid flirting. It was surely going to be the death of him. And that's saying something: the clone of the man of steel actually breaking down? unheard of.

But you managed to do it. Unfortunately.

Conner finds himself thinking about you, more than he'd like. Another reason to dislike you. You take up his mind. Every waking moment and every dream. It's infuriating.

And now he was starting to worry about you during missions. He saw you get knocked down, away from the rest of the team. The fall looked nasty, and with the way you seem to lie there with no intention of getting back up, he's sure you've been knocked out

Conner tries to ignore the way his heart clenches at the sight, kind of like the way it does when concerning you in different context

It gives him the courage to voice his worries, he calls out to you, and as expected: he gets no response

The enemy leans down to your level, ready to do more damage. Conner is quickly snapped out of his daze and starts running over to you

Until he abruptly stops. Because you open your eyes to wink at him, jump up, and take the enemy down with ease.

It's right then that he takes back every thought of admitting he doesn't hate you. Because the stupid smirk you're sending his way reminds him of every reason why he dislikes you.

Everyone is home or in their respective rooms already, leaving you and him. You're behind him, massaging his shoulders gently (your touch wouldn't have persisted if he showed any signs of discomfort, he leaned into it in fact, allowing you to continue)

You bring your head down, cheek to his,

"Oh come on. You can lie to everyone and yourself. But you can't lie to me. I know you were worried back there. Just admit it, Loverboy."

He can only roll his eyes. And blushed. You were never going to live this down.

"I wasn't. Now leave me alone." If only his actions were as convincing as his stern words. Words that would've scared off the likes of M'gann had she been in your position. But you knew better, knew that his shaking hands and quickly warming face meant that his words had no meaning.

Your hand dragged from his shoulder to his chest, right over his heart. Yeah, his words were meaningless with the way his heart was beating for you.

Conner was finally warming up to you and you had him right where you wanted him.

And so you let go. "Whatever you say, Loverboy," and with a kiss to his pink cheek, you leave him alone to ponder his complicated feelings.

Feelings that were in fact not complicated at all. Because Conner was finally, finally ready to admit to himself and to you that he wanted you. So badly.

If only you hadn't pulled away so quickly, he couldn't reciprocated the kiss or two...it would've been an easier, showing you how he feels instead of saying it out loud.

He'll kiss you next time.

M’GANN (romantic)

The Martian can't hide her liking towards you for the life of her. She could’ve even if she tried.

It was near painful, you pitied her. You almost felt bad and stopped teasing her. Almost.

It was fun though, how could you stop?

M’gann would actively seek out your approval and attention when you joined the team. It was only natural, she did it with the rest of the members, so you were no exception.

Besides, the only teammate she was kind of close with was Artemis. Was it sooo wrong of her to want to get close to you?!

Nope! Though she does wish you weren’t so…forward sometimes. Not that it’s unwelcomed, she’s just unsure of how to act because of it. Is she supposed to reciprocate? M’gann has never seen nor experienced such a dynamic on Mars, much less on Earth. So she awkwardly blushes and smiles.

Eventually she gets used to it. And gets very much into it. She won’t vocalize her feelings, instead she’ll mind link and talk that way. Often times it’s easier to communicate through touch. Which says a lot, M’gann would rather use touch?? Not the mind link?? Which was the main source of communication on Mars? Whoa.

It was mainly because…she didn’t want to reveal all her feelings to you. She’s usually able to control what goes through the mind link, having done it since childhood, but you’ve made her mind a complete mess. She all but short circuits when you’re around.

Can anyone blame her?

"You know what I'm thinking?"

"No."

"Well you can read me, can't you Martian girl?"

She giggles at herself, how could she forget? "Hello Megan!"

Her smile turns timid once she reads your mind.

"Oh."

ARTEMIS (romantic)

It was honestly unfair how fast the blonde caught your attention. Her voice. Her stupid raspy voice.

Unfortunately for you, Artemis wasn’t exactly buddy-buddy with you at first. Well, she wasn’t really with any of her teammates. But with time she’s learned to get along with everyone.

“I just wanna get to know you, Blondie. What’s wrong with that?” You asked in the sweetest voice you could muster up, one that usually made everyone fall.

Yet she rolls her eyes.

So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh? Fine.

It was right after a mission, everyone was surrounding Red Tornado, relaying the events to your mentor.

“You know we could’ve took that guy down way faster had you not been on Robin the whole time.”

“Jealous Blondie?

“Stop calling me Blondie!”

You had sleepovers, movie nights, and other hang out outside of missions. With or without the rest of the team. They were fun, the first time you were alone with her is what really got her to warm up to you.

“Ugh! Of course literally everyone else canceled but Cat.” She really seemed to hate you.

You were outside her window, watching as Artemis complained to no one but herself. She once offhandedly commented on how her place was off limits for hangouts (refusing to explain why, which was okay with the team).

You were definitely crossing a boundary doing this, but she seemed upset in the group chat. You couldn’t just leave her by herself.

And then…the Sportsmaster walks in her room. One of the team’s enigmas. A thorn in their side. What the hell?

He does nothing but berate her for not “joining them.” Joining who? Then proceeds to say he’d be happier if she ever thinks to change her mind

“I’m never going to be apart of your messed up team, dad.”

Oh.

And then he’s just…gone.

You’re stunned, and only then does she finally notice you. She ushers you into her room, now berating you for your actions and spying and breaking her boundaries and…

“Your secret is safe with me, babe.” It was meant to be a term of endearment to reassure her,

Friends called each other babe, right?

“Babe?”

“You’d rather be called Blondie?”

She rolls her eyes, “whatever.” And as annoyed as she wanted to seem, she smiled and hugged you gratefully.

It was the only time you allowed yourself to be any kind of vulnerable around her. Or any of the team for that matter.

Once she got over her high horse, it was a very reluctant friendship turned…something more? That’s to be determined. But with the way she now flirts back? You’d say that was a good sign.

“Hey Blondie.”

“You calling me Blondie is the equivalent of Wally calling you Kitty Cat. Maybe I’ll have to teach you a lesson this time around.”

“I like the way you think, babe.” (You say not so platonically this time)

ROY (romantic)

You were on him as soon as he rejoined the team. How could you not be? He was even grumpier than Conner was when he joined, making him extra fun to mess with.

You had no chill when flirting with him, he decided immediately that was annoyed with you. And did not want to be friends.

Because his actual friends brought him joy, they made him laugh and they listened to him when he had bad days. You? You made a bad first impression, therefore he refused give you the chance to do any of those things.

Often telling you to buzz off and if you didn’t he’d “choke you with a hair ball.” Kinky, you replied.

He hated it.

Until you found out about his girl, his other Cat. Cheshire. That’s when things changed. You were less…on him.

"Me and her were never a thing!"

"Getting defensive there. Afraid I'll get jealous?"

"I could care less about your feelings."

“Oh really? Is that right?”

His eye twitched. He couldn’t believe he was trying to…reassure you? Was that what he was doing?

He was trying to make sure you knew he wasn’t with Cheshire. That her feelings were one sided. It’s something he shouldn’t be doing, he tells himself. In fact, he should be doing the opposite. Tell you that she means something to him, or maybe stay quiet and insinuate that they had something going on.

To get you off his back.

You seemed to back off completely when you found out Cheshire flirted with him often on missions when the goal was to take her down. Much like how the team’s predicament when they first met you.

It made you…upset?

And for some reason that made him upset.

“So you’re my Roy Toy? Mine completely?” Wally and Robin had originally griped about the nickname until it eventually made them laugh. They came to appreciate it.

“I’m no one’s. Not yours, not Cheshire’s, not the Justice League’s nor the team’s.”

“You will be mine one day, Speedy. And you’ll love it.”

Roy doesn’t respond but he feels like…there is some truth to your playful statement.

Maybe one day.

bonus:

THE TEAM

They all slowly turn towards you.

"...you've kissed all of us?"

You only shrug, “wasn’t that obvious?”

you can tell I got lazy lmaooo

I hate how I formatted this omg

[mediocreanomaly]

Rookie.

Cecil Stedman x Reader (GN!Reader, Age Gap)

Authors Note: Yes I'm a Cecil stan. No I won't apologize. There's just something about that old man's dry humor and morally grey decision making that enraptures me.

Cecil had stared down literal demons with a steadier pulse than this.

No, seriously, he'd experienced just about everything during his time on earth, kaijus, dead gods, alive gods, magic, mad science, fish people who, ironically, were pescatarian. Yet somehow, this is what shocks him.

“You don't want this, kid,” he sighs, pressing his fingers to his temples like he has the mother of all headaches coming on.

“You think you do, but you don't.”

The cocky mother fucker across from him just grins.

It's hard to pinpoint when exactly this had gotten so out of hand. With Rae, Rex, Rudy, Monster Girl, and Bulletproof gone, to say they were short a few guardians had been an understatement, and unfortunately, it had been Cecil who'd had to run the new tryouts. In the end only one really stood out, some local hero with the ability to steal other people's powers through touch for half an hour at a time. It wasn't much but apparently it used to be five minutes which suggested it could be extended whether that ended up being through training or the GDAs tech was yet to be determined but Cecil was desperate for a Hail Mary after his plan b and c against Mark had done jack shit and a temporary Viltrumite was as good as ever in terms of plans.

Looking back on it Cecil should have seen it from the beginning, the way the rookie had sat up straight like a dog waiting to impress its man with a trick when he'd walked in, but several of the others who'd known who he was had put on faces as well so he'd written it off as an attempt to impress.

The actual tryout had gone similarly; the little sneak had managed to get their paws on a few powers before getting into the ring and had made sure everyone knew it when a few training robots had nearly gone through the walls. Admittedly, Cecil had enjoyed the cunning; powers only got you so far if you didn't have the brains to use them, so it had been an easy call to green-light them onto the team.

Then things had gotten weird.

It had started with the training. Cecil didn't make it a habit to oversee every regimen; that's what Immortal was for, but he tried to stop in at the beginning of the month to see how the new members were settling in. When the rookie had noticed this, they'd begun showing up thirty minutes early and lingering late, purposefully trying to flaunt whatever flashy power they'd managed to snag for the session or showing off their new record for weights. Again, Cecil had begun wondering if they were attempting to brown nose their way into some higher position because it had at least become clear they were showing off for him.

It hadn't really clicked per se until a few months in when the rookie realized their golden ticket to seeing him was running reports to his office, a chore even Black Samson attempted to avoid at all cost.

Cecil should have nipped it in the bud; they'd begun overstaying their welcome as of late. He didn't do conversation, but God damn, the kid didn't give it a rest; they'd chatter on about how the guardians were, how their day had gone, about how great the GDA was. When he'd responded with varying levels of noncommittal grunts and ‘Do I look like your diary, kid?’ They'd begun a new approach.

Food, for one. Dropping off food with their reports because ‘there was no way he ate with his schedule’ which was half true but it didn't make it any easier accepting meals. Then they'd somehow managed to pick Donald's brain about interest of his and sneaking it into conversation.

‘I was just listening to Miles Davis the other day’ (they hadn't) ‘Ugh I could really go for a scotch right about now’ (they hated it)

What was worse is it had begun to work. Cecil didn't know why he hadn't told them to give it up and get the hell out of his office, if it had been anyone else he certainly would have but he was still a man at the end of the day.

It's not like he hadn't appreciated the occasional man or woman passing by before, but he was well out of his prime, not to mention too damn busy to even humor a one-night stand, much less anything regular. Besides, it's not like anyone really glanced his way these days, or they hadn't until you.

You had thrown some colossal-sized wrench into his life that he'd been trying desperately to ignore, which wasn't typically his style. Cecil was a problem solver at heart and saying ‘no’ to some green newbie on the team should have been one of the easiest decisions he'd made in a long life of hard calls. So why were you still sitting across from him and why was he still playing this game?

You pick up a stress ball off his desk that Donald had gotten him years ago (Cecil highly doubted he even remembered) and toy with it in your hands.

“You do know I'm not actually a kid right?” You retort

“You're still a kid to me, you're a third my age, rookie.” he watches the way you roll the ball between your hands, back and forth, back and forth.

“Put that down,” Cecil snaps, and you put it back on his desk, hands raised in mock surrender.

“Okay, well, I can consent is all I'm saying. Besides, you've been watching me too” you huff nonchalantly lounging against the seat.

Cecil stiffens at the accusation and sets his jaw in irritation. Watching you? Of course he had, he was the director of the GDA it was his job to watch you.

“I've been watching you because it's my job to make sure our new Guardian of the Globe isn't a liability” he answers cooly “Especially the reckless ones.”

That gets a snort out of you.

“Come on, boss, I've been on good behavior,” you say with a grin that drips with young cockiness and naivety and makes Cecil understand why he's losing hair.

It's irritating, both because you're a smug little bastard and because you aren't wrong. Cecil didn't need to look through your files or check in on the cameras to make sure you were getting on. All the reports said the same thing, a little rough around the edges in terms of discipline and skill but a very promising investment to both the team and GDA with great potential and a knack for following orders (especially when they came from Cecil himself).

“Plus-” you continue before he can lay his next words of disapproval down upon you. “-the fact you're even entertaining the conversation makes me think you're not as opposed to this as you're trying to make it seem.”

Ceci keeps his composure but internally, as much as he hates to admit it, you had a point. Despite all his reservations here the two of you were.

“Don't mistake tolerance for interest, kid.” he says a warning in his tone. “just because I'm listening to you does not mean I'm not opposed to this”

Your smile falters for a fraction of a moment before a new set of determination falls over you as you cross your arms.

“You're lying.” You cross your arms and fix Cecil with your own hard look forgetting the playful facade in favor of your own equally serious shift in mood.

“You barely let Samson talk about the weather but I get half an hour about jazz? I call bullshit.”

Cecil's eyes narrow at the accusation.

“I'm not lying I'm… omitting certain details.” He says crossing his own arms mimicking your stance, silently daring you to challenge him again.

“you mean the ones where you're interested in me?” You ask raising an eyebrow refusing to lose this little verbal tennis match.

“Interested is a strong word.” He replies cooly, but damn it all. Why did it sound like he was trying to convince himself?

“It's more… tolerating your relentless advances.”

And there it was, acknowledgment of the subject he'd been dancing around.

“Oh, so you have noticed,” you reply pleased.

Cecil fixes you with an unimpressed look, as if he could miss the outrageous peacocking that had begun to take place in his presence. His only saving grace had been the fact that no one in their right mind would guess who you were showing off for.

“That's good, I was starting to think it was going to waste.” You continue unbothered.

Cecil grits his teeth, torn somewhere between annoyance and grudging respect. The rookie had persistence if nothing else.

"How can I not notice you constantly showing off for me," he retorts "You're like a damn puppy. All eager eyes and wagging tail."

“For some reason…” you drawl leaning your elbows on his desk. “I feel like that's your type”

“My type?” Cecil lets out a short laugh, caught off guard by the audacity of the statement.

“I'm not sure you want to know ‘my type’, kid. It's anything but fresh-faced overly eager do-gooders.”

You shrug.

“Maybe. Or maybe you don't mind what sort of outlook or attitude you get so long as you're listened to in the end.”

You trail your fingers over the nameplate on his desk, tracing out the engraved pattern of ‘Director Stedman’

“And I've never questioned your orders, sir.”

Cecil's gaze follows the movement of your fingertip, trying to ignore the stir in his chest.

“You don't question me because it's my job to keep your naive ass alive.”

“Why are you pretending you don't want me?” You fire back.

“is it such a big deal if you feel a little something for someone?”

Cecil feels his patience thin at how easy you make this sound, like he's some handsome stranger at a bar and not the director of the god damn GDA.

“It's not about feeling, and it's a little bit more than a ‘little something’ You're like a damn virus, always there infecting my thoughts.”

He pushes away from his desk, fist clenching at his side like a physical manifestation of the internal struggle he was feeling inside.

You frown and furrow your brows at the man at the firm reluctance on the other man's behalf.

“Why are you saying it like it's bad? I've been thinking about you too you know”

A sharp laugh escapes between his teeth, harsh and humorless.

“It is bad, kid. This… whatever this is, whatever feelings you think you have, it's dangerous.”

Cecil begins pacing the spot behind his desk, his steps quick and frustrated.

“This isn't some high school crush, you can't just move on when you realize how wrong it is.”

You huff slightly insulted by the implication.

“I've put a hell of a lot of effort into this for a ‘high school crush’” you reply unimpressed.

“I wouldn't be asking if I wasn't serious”

“How can you be serious? You're more than half my fucking age!”

Cecil runs a hand through his hair frustration etched into every line of his face. Despite his better judgment, he could feel his ability to keep up the argument waning.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales.

“What could I possibly offer you aside from a life time of trauma and a constant reminder I'll probably die before you hit your fourties?”

You wrinkle your nose at the distasteful words.

“you're sixty, not eighty, plus I have money on the fact that you'll manage to outlive Omni-Man on spite alone.” you muse before letting your expression fall into something more serious.

“but honestly? I don't care about that. I like you. I mean sure at first I just thought you were attractive but-” you continue before Cecil can make a smart comment. “-you're competent. Like overly competent. You're witty in conversation and I know you care more than you let on. Let the others say what they will but I've seen the things you do for people's families and for their safety, maybe the job limits what you can do with that good but that doesn't mean it's not there. I'd like to know that man.”

“You make me sound like a god damn saint” he mutters eyes flickering to yours.

Your words had hit more then a few nerves whether he liked it or not. Ones that deep down… he knew had already begun to fracture.

You sigh and meet his gaze, unwavering.

“I get it more then you think. I'm young, not stupid... I won't pretend it'll be an easy relationship but I'm in it to try.”

You pause before adding, “and if it makes you feel better I like that you're an asshole too.”

Despite everything, an amused smile plays at his lips and with it a small pang if affection.

“You like me because I'm a bastard? That's a new one I'll admit.” he retorts, dry humor in his voice.

“what can I say?” You shrug “your general irritation is charming.”

You watch him carefully knowing that this was the make it or break it moment.

“... Would it really be so bad? You've given your life to the GDA, you could use something nice behind closed doors.”

Something nice…

He could feel his feet on the metaphorical edge of whatever leap was ahead of him. He was being worn down with your persistence but what was scarier is that he didn't really want to fight it in the first place.

“You know how how this would look right? The director of a top secret defense agency dating some rookie hero?”

You can feel it. The way you've got him snagged.

“I won't let it affect my work performance, hell I'll sign an NDA if you want”

“an NDA, how romantic” he scoffs but there's an undercurrent of sarcastic amusement at the idea.

Despite his barbed words, he appreciates the practicality. It was, after all, one if the reasons he'd been drawn in in the first place.

He let's out an exasperated sigh.

“... You're too damn stubborn you know that?”

You grin, already knowing you've won.

“I'll grab my pen.”

[muletia]

[tfp] obsessed!optimus prime x human!reader

summary: optimus has a dream about you

cw: obsessed!optimus, angst, fluff (only at the beginning), implied robot-fucking/valveplug, mentioned pregnancy, optimus is depressed

word count: 810

The mission took longer than he expected. Retaking the energon mine from the Decepticons stretched on for what felt like an eternity, as the enemy kept calling in reinforcements. For every fallen Vehicon, two more would appear, alive and ready. The battle dragged on too long, completely draining the Autobots’ energy and morale. But they succeeded. For the first time in many months, they claimed victory, securing a steady supply of energon.

Optimus was the first to cross the ground bridge, praying to Primus that you were still in the base. Once inside, he transformed gracefully, though in haste, and headed toward the platform. The tension left him instantly when he saw you on the couch with a book in hand. He made a mental note to ask you about it later.

Despite his exhaustion, he managed a smile, mirroring your animated expression. Getting close enough to the platform, he leaned down and pressed the gentlest, most tender kiss on your head, pouring all his immense love for you into that single act. You giggled as his warm breath lightly tousled your hair, and Optimus listened to your laughter as if it were the most beautiful melody, composed just for him. Feeling playful, he blew gently once more so you’d grace him with your laughter again.

The other team members paid no mind to the sweet scene, fully accustomed to your little exchanges of affection.

"Hello, my dearest," he murmured, still close to you. He didn’t want to leave your side. Ever.

"Hello, love. Mission accomplished?"

"Yes, we managed to secure the mine. We have supplies for the next few months."

"That’s wonderful! I’m so proud of you."

Now it was your turn to shower him with affection. You planted kisses on his warm metal face, making sure not to miss a single spot, so Optimus knew just how much you loved him. Such a simple gesture was enough to make the leader of the Autobots weak in the knees, looking as though he’d ascended to heaven. But thankfully, he didn’t have to ascend anywhere — his heaven was right there, wherever you were. He had never been so happy, so blissfully content. After all those years of brutal war, spilled energon, and lost comrades, he had finally found his piece of heaven.

"Optimus?"

He blinked a few times. He was no longer in the base. Before him stretched a vast panorama of mountains, forests, valleys, and lakes, with no beginning or end. He’d passed similar landscapes many times on patrol, admiring the beauty of this planet. Each time, they left him speechless.

"Optimus?"

He looked down to where the voice was coming from, and a smile appeared automatically when he saw you. You looked concerned, likely because of his momentary distraction; to comfort him, you were gently stroking the metal on his shoulder… When had he managed to mass-displace? He had no idea, and it didn’t matter as long as you were so close, touching him, focusing all your attention on him.

He wanted to hold you and never let go so much.

"You were gone for a long time. I was worried."

Looking at you as if you were the eighth wonder of the world, Optimus gently stroked your cheek, handling you like fine porcelain. You smiled at his gesture, snuggling closer into his metal servo. He was always so tender with you, so gentle, a contrast to his true, raw strength. He took care to never harm you, to always make you feel safe.

Especially during the pregnancy.

His caring optics instinctively shifted to your slightly rounded belly, widening in surprise. He looked startled, and he was. Shocked that your biologies were compatible enough to create an offspring together.

But he had known about it for a few months now…

Slowly, he moved his trembling hand to your belly, caressing the curve. A smile appeared on his slightly parted lips. Could it be that his life had finally come together? No more war, no more being a Prime? Could he finally be free?

"This is a dream, isn’t it?" he whispered, looking into your eyes.

But you were no longer there.

Optimus woke up tense and anxious. Of course, it had only been a dream. His life couldn’t be so perfect, so flawless. He clutched his face as the scenes from the dream played over in his processor, now tormenting him in the real world. You haunted him even in his dreams, offering no respite even in his most private realm. But, unfortunately for him, there was only one antidote for this condition.

With a heavy spark, he got up from his berth and left his quarters. He automatically headed toward the main section of the base, clinging desperately to the faint, naive hope that he’d find you there and maybe, just maybe you would spare him a glance.

[afullsunbirthedme06]

The Quiet Ones hit harder

pairing: nerd!rude!jeno x player!fem!reader

synopsis: y/n teases Jeno, the quiet, always serious nerd, during a chemistry study session that she begged for to have with him cause she was failing. She starts getting bored and thought she could lead him on to have some fun together like she does with every boy. That should be easy right? Men stay men. They wouldn't say no if such an attractive, hot girl asked to play around a bit. But that isn't the case for Jeno though.

genre: suggestive, angst(?) , dark romance, smut (18+ mdni!!!!)

warning: cursing, insults, toxicness, sexual tension, manipulation, name-calling ( slut, whore..), harsh behaviour. jeno doesn't give a fuck about y/n he only feels pity for her, masturbation(f).

The soft buzz of light pouring in from the window fills the room — an otherwise calm and empty classroom that suddenly feels alive with tension. You were staring down at your chemistry textbook, and in front of you sat Lee Jeno, the infamous nerd of your class.

You might ask yourself: Why the hell are the quiet, reserved Lee Jeno and Y/N — the loud, popular, stunning player of the school — alone together in a classroom?

Well, let’s just say Y/N practically forced Jeno to help her with chemistry. After two weeks of nonstop begging, texting (only to be left on seen or delivered), calling and hearing nothing but voicemail — he finally gave in. Out of pity.

She’s been failing all semester. Repeating her year, even. That’s how she ended up in the same class as Jeno in the first place.

Again.

He was explaining something about covalent bonds, sharp and precise like always — but his lips moved in a way that made your stomach twist. And God, that too-tight uniform shirt, thank God it was hot today and he removed his jacket, the school uniform didn't have sleeves, ..to show his veins… You were losing focus fast.

Her leg brushed his under the table.

He ignored it.

Y/n leaned forward, chin resting in your hand, eyes dragging up and down his face. "You’re actually really cute, Jeno," you said, voice light, teasing. "Like, seriously... if you didn’t act like a robot, you could pull so many girls."

His pencil froze mid-sentence.

He slowly turned his head to look at her — and for a second, y/n swore something in his eyes shifted. Not surprised. Not flustered.

Irritated.

“You think that’s what I want?” he said bluntly. “Random girls? Like you?”

Y/n smirked. "Ouch."

And yet... he stood up. Walked around the desk, closer. Slowly. Like a storm about to hit.

Y/n looked up at him from your seat, heart ticking faster.

“I know what you’re doing,” he said quietly. “You act like you’re in control. But I’ve seen girls like you. You throw yourself at anyone who gives you two seconds. And when they don’t…” He paused. "You push harder."

Y/N stood too. Close now. Chest to chest.

“Maybe I just like a challenge,” she whispered.

He tilted his head slightly. Studying her.

And then — he kissed her.

Hard.

His hand fisted your hair, the other gripping your waist like he was punishing you for trying. His mouth crushed against yours with zero hesitation, all teeth and frustration. There was nothing gentle about it. Nothing sweet. Just pressure and heat and power.

You moaned into it.

Your knees buckled. His body caught yours. For a second, you thought maybe — maybe — he wanted this too.

And then — he pulled back.

You were dazed, lips swollen, breathless.

But Jeno?

Jeno didn’t even blink.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Looked at you like something dirty under his shoe.

“That’s all it takes, huh?” he said coldly. “A few words, and you’re begging to be touched.”

Your smile faded.

“You think I kissed you because I wanted to?” He let out a breath that was almost a laugh — but not the kind that warms her. It was cruel. “I kissed you because I knew you’d fall apart.”

Her chest tightened.

“You’re disgusting,” he muttered. “You’ll spread your legs like a whore for anything that looks your way, and then you pretend it means something.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Pathetic,” he spat. “You cling to people who don’t even know your name just to feel something like a slut. Get a life.”

Then he turned, without a second glance, and walked out.

The classroom door slammed behind him.

Silence.

She stood frozen, heart hammering in her throat. His voice still echoing in her ears.

Disgusting. Pathetic.

Her hands trembled.

And yet...

A slow laugh escaped your lips.

She wiped your mouth, lips still tingling.

“That asshole,” she whispered, smiling to herself. “I fucking need him.”

Later that night

The clinking of dishes, the hum of her mom talking about something mundane — Y/N barely heard any of it.

She sat at the dinner table, nodding occasionally, chewing like a robot. Her body was there. Her mind wasn’t.

Not since the classroom.

Not since him.

“Did you see your grades yet?” her mom asked.

“No,” she lied, pushing food around her plate. “I’ve been… busy.”

Her mom kept talking, but her voice faded into white noise.

Jeno’s voice was louder in her head.

Pathetic. You’ll fall apart for anyone who touches you. Get a life.

God.

Her breath caught.

She didn’t stay long at the table. She mumbled something about being tired and went straight to the bathroom. The second the warm water hit her skin, she shut her eyes tight — hoping to wash it off.

But it didn’t work.

She could still feel his hand in her hair. His lips on hers. The way his body pinned her like she was nothing. And everything.

She dried off quickly, barely aware of the towel in her hands. Threw on a tight shirt, short shorts, and climbed into bed — but sleep was the last thing on her mind.

The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of her phone screen. She scrolled, but every notification felt empty.

Why can’t I stop thinking about him?

She pulled the covers over her, legs curling up as if to contain the tension flooding her body. Her mind raced.

The kiss. The heat. His eyes. The way he didn’t care.

And it made her stomach twist. It made her breath hitch.

He didn’t even like her. He found her disgusting.

And yet... she wanted more.

She clenched her jaw, whispering his name under her breath like a curse.

“Fuck, Lee Jeno,” she hissed, covering her face with her arm.

Her body was still aching. Still burning. And it wasn’t going to stop.

Not until she saw him again.

Her sheets were too warm. Or maybe it was her.

Y/N rolled over for the third time, staring at the ceiling like it held some kind of answer. But her body wouldn’t calm down. Her legs refused to stay still. Her skin felt hypersensitive, every nerve wired and awake — all because of one person.

Jeno.

She groaned, dragging her fingers through her hair in frustration. The moment kept replaying — not just the kiss, but the coldness. The insult. The way he had looked at her like she wasn’t even worth his attention.

It should’ve hurt.

It did.

But it also left something inside her aching. Pulling tight. Throbbing in the pit of her stomach, low and relentless.

She clenched her thighs together.

Still not enough.

He hates me. He really, really hates me. And yet... he kissed her like he wanted to devour her.

That kiss. It wasn’t sweet or fake. It was raw. Angry. Possessive.

Y/N could still feel the grip of his hand on her waist. The taste of him.

She buried her face into the pillow, panting softly, heart racing with every image that flickered through her head.

The ache between her legs turned into something unbearable.

She whispered his name like it was the only thing keeping her tethered.

"Fuck..." she exhaled, breathless. "Lee Jeno."

She took her hand and placed it close to her core, soflty carresing the place first, and then slipping her hand in her like shorts meeting her clit and rubbing on it, with only one thing in mind. Lee fucking Jeno.

Her breathing picked up. Chest rising. Her eyes shut tight.

She kept rubbing and rubbing, feeling herself get super sensitive, with a soft sigh, she began—her finger finding it's way in. Pushing her fingers so deep inside. It's just went in sooo easily, that's how wet she was. Going from slow to very fast. Her entire body jolted. She was trembling.

Oh, how she wished that Jeno was the one having his fingers deeeppp into her and not herself. She needs him so bad.

She placed her other hand on her mouth so she wouldn't make noise for her mom, hips rolling up to meet her fingers more, to get more friction, even when it was too much — especially when it was too much.

She does this often though, but today she felt more sensitive then usual.

Just because she was thinking of him. Imagining that her fingers were his. While he was hurling every cruel name he could think of…

Her release snuck up on her this time — soft and overwhelming, like a wave crashing in slow motion.

Her body pulsed. Her mind unraveled.

No boy had ever made her feel this way. Not from a kiss. Not from a rejection. Not from a single word.

And now?

Now, she was ruined.

Hope you liked this!!! Again i'm not very good with smutty stuff, but i hope this is good for you guys!!! Let me know if u guys want a part 2 maybeee?????

[pluckyredhead]

What the heck is going on in Batman/Gotham War?

I know a lot of people in fandom are confused and/or upset about what's been going on in Gotham War - why is Bruce acting like this, what is Selina doing, why are the Batkids taking sides. So I figured I would fill you all in on what's been happening in Batman and Catwoman since Chip Zdarsky took over with Batman #125, because it has been BONKERS and I have been enjoying the hell out of it.

Below, the quickest summary I can manage while still being comprehensive:

[Content warning: mental illness, abuse, suicide (...ish), LOTS of violence.]

The first arc, "Failsafe," starts with Batman and Robin (Tim, in this case) in pursuit of the Penguin, who is on a killing spree. In the very first issue, Tim gets shot in the neck. Bruce has to take him to the hospital, but first he has to strip him out of his costume and put him in civilian clothes to preserve their secret identities, triggering memories of when he had to do the same to Jason's dead body. There is LITERALLY NO PURPOSE TO ANY OF THIS EXCEPT WHUMP (Tim is back in action with a fucking BAND-AID on his neck very quickly), which is how I knew this was going to be good. Beat Tim up! Make Bruce cry about Jason! I want these men to suffer! (There is also SO much to be said about Tim's own Poor Mental Health Decisions throughout the entirety of Zdarsky's run so far, but that's for a separate meta post.)

Anyway. Bruce leaves Tim in the hospital and goes to confront Penguin, who turns out to be dying of mercury poisoning. He kills himself and makes it look like Batman did it, forcing Bruce to flee. (Penguin actually faked his death and is alive elsewhere under an alias, but that's not important right now.)

In the Batcave, a massive robot called Failsafe emerges. Failsafe attacks Bruce, who usually eats killer robots for breakfast, but he can't seem to get the upper hand on this one. Duke, Cass, Steph, and Dick show up to help, but Failsafe beats them all too, while Tim gets an injured Bruce away and to the Batcave.

In the Batcave, Bruce puts on a weird purple and red Batman costume and a new personality takes over: the Batman of Zur-En-Arrh. Now, Zur has a very complicated history going back to 1958, but for the purposes of this story, all you need to know is that when he was younger, Bruce decided it would be good to hang out in a sensory deprivation chamber until his mind created a secondary personality, Zur, who is essentially Batman without Bruce. Zur is pure efficiency who does not care about anything but the mission. He created Failsafe, for one purpose: to kill Bruce if Bruce ever crossed the line and killed someone. And right now, Failsafe believes that Bruce killed Penguin.

Failsafe nearly kills Tim, which Zur is okay with writing off as an expendable soldier's death, but this causes Bruce to take control of the body back because "Tim isn't my soldier...HE'S MY SON!" (Tim Nation, why are you not ALL OVER this story? It's catnip.)

Babs calls in the JLA (SuperBat fans, you will also want to read Bruce's adoring description of Clark when he shows up), but of course Failsafe has kryptonite, which it stabs Clark with. The League dumps Clark and Bruce into the JLA jet and distracts Failsafe while Tim flies Clark and Bruce to the Fortress of Solitude. Bruce tells Tim he's a good boy and jumps out of the jet and into the ocean so that Tim and Clark will be safe from Failsafe. He's rescued by Arthur, who takes him to Atlantis to heal. THIS HAS ALL ONLY BEEN FOUR ISSUES SO FAR.

Two weeks later, Bruce wakes up to discover that Failsafe has taken over Gotham. He teleports up to the JLA Watchtower on the moon to lure Failsafe there, then blows the Watchtower up, hoping to catch a ride on one of the Javelins. But Failsafe has already destroyed them, so Bruce RIDES A BOOSTER ROCKET BACK TO EARTH, OXYGEN MASK CLAPPED OVER HIS FACE. The whole thing has some powerful Scooty-Puff Jr energy.

The only tricky part is reentry, when Bruce starts to burn up - his costume is fireproof, of course, but his chin is exposed. SO HE TAKES OFF HIS LITTLE BAT-PANTIES AND PUTS THEM OVER HIS HEAD. I swear to god this happened in a real comic book and the entire "Bruce falls off the moon and survives" sequence is utterly delectable goofy nonsense and I truly cannot recall a time I've had more fun reading a comic book.

Anyway, Bruce lands directly outside of the Fortress, BECAUSE OF COURSE HE DOES, and runs inside to find Clark and Tim. While Clark keeps Failsafe distracted, Bruce and Tim program nanobots to inject compassion into Failsafe. I SWEAR TO GOD. They zap him with the nanobots, but Failsafe pulls a high tech space gun out of the Fortress and shoots Bruce with it anyway, apparently disintegrating him. Tim falls to his knees in the snow, weeping. TIM NATION, WAKE UP, THIS RUN IS CANDY FOR YOU.

But of course Bruce isn't dead! That wasn't a killing gun, it was a "zap you into another dimension" gun!!! THAT was the compassion!

So Bruce finds himself in a dystopian alternate Gotham, and I'll be honest, I didn't love this arc ("The Bat-Man of Gotham") as much as I loved "Failsafe," but it has its moments. In this Gotham, Bruce Wayne is dead, so Regular Bruce is like "Oh boy, time to Batman this place up." Also he's plagued by hallucinations of a skeleton version of Jim Gordon who is still wearing a trench coat AND A MUSTACHE. Like I said, it has its moments.

This Gotham is controlled by Arkham, and anyone who is diagnosed as "crazy" is locked up. A new villain, Red Mask, is in charge, and Selina and a Venomed-up Harvey Dent work for him. Bruce teams up with an orphan kid (of course) named Jewel and goes after Red Mask, who turns out to be some guy named Darwin Halliday and ALSO...the Joker. Well, he's the Joker who hasn't been Jokerized yet. But one time he breathed in some chemicals that let him see into the main reality of the DCU (???) and glimpsed Regular Joker and now he wants to build an interdimensional machine to mentally connect with Regular Joker across universes which he assumes will make him insane, NATURALLY.

Bruce attacks Red Mask, who sics a Venomed-up Ghost Maker on him. Ghost Maker cuts off Bruce's right hand. Bruce cauterizes it with an electroshock machine and ties some spikes on it (SERIOUSLY) and goes after Red Mask again. Meanwhile Red Mask mentally connects with an alternate dimensional Joker...but instead of it driving Red Mask insane, he's what drives the Joker insane. Desperate to become the Joker somehow, anyhow, he jumps into the interdimensional portal, and Morally Dubious Alternate Universe Selina kicks Bruce in after him.

Meanwhile, Tim is in full "I KNOW I SAW HIM DIE BUT HE'S NOT DEAD" mode, which: bless. So he teams up with Jon Kent, which...gosh, what an astonishingly boring duo. I love Jon, I love Tim, they're perfectly nice and normal around each other, I'm falling asleep. Anyway Tim fights Toyman for a while and then makes a VERY stupid costume where the entire torso is a giant light-up R, because "I want him to see that Robin is coming to save him." GET A THERAPY, TIM.

Bruce finds himself first in the Michael Keaton Batman universe, then the Red Rain universe, BTAS, Batman Beyond (yes I know they're the same universe but I guess he goes there twice), Silver Age, Kingdom Come, Gotham by Gaslight, and more. Adam West gives him a utility belt. The Dark Knight Returns Bruce builds him a robot hand.

Finally Bruce and Red Mask reach the end of the multiverse, which is a Gotham asteroid floating in space, surrounded by giant Jokerized sharks. LUCKILY BRUCE HAS BAT-SHARK REPELLANT IN HIS ADAM WEST UTILITY BELT!!! Honestly this whole arc was worth it for that moment.

Bruce knocks Red Mask out, but now he's stuck. He has a device from Batman Beyond Bruce to get home, but it's only good for one person, and he can't leave Red Mask there to die. Of course, that's when Tim shows up in his stupid giant glowing R costume and they hug it out, thereby fulfilling but also compounding all of Tim's issues since 1989.

Anyway things are fine now, right? Sure, Bruce is hallucinating that his family is on fire, and the Zur personality is not going neatly back into the box where it's been all these years, and he still has a robot hand (Damian, hilariously, immediately announces that he wants one too), but he's FINE. He is a little bit mad at Selina, because she broke out of jail (she was in jail because she killed her fuckbuddy because he was trying to kill Bruce), and also because she didn't tell him Penguin was alive and that would have stopped Failsafe, and also because Other Selina kicked into another universe. Selina, very fairly, is like "Well I'm not responsible for Other Selinas and also maybe don't build robots to kill yourself with and not tell anyone about them???"

THEN we got Knight Terrors, the summer event in which a villain called Nightmare caused everyone to fall asleep and, uh, have nightmares. Bruce, specifically, had a nightmare that he met an eight-year-old version of himself that vomited up a man-sized bat with a gun for a head. I laughed SO HARD. Bruce also had his body borrowed by Deadman for the duration of the event, so while he endured the psychological toll of nightmares like everyone else, he also endured the physical toll of everything Deadman was doing PLUS the mental toll of being aware of what was happening in the waking world even though he couldn't control his body. As soon as the event was over, he lapsed into a coma so that his body could get some damn rest.

Okay. Now we're up to Gotham War.

(I know, I know. But for all of you who are like "How could Bruce do this???" about Gotham War...*points up* THAT'S HOW. HE IS NOT WELL.)

Bruce awakens from his coma and IMMEDIATELY decides to Fight A Crime even though Babs is like "Maybe don't?" But he can't find any crime, which is...weird. His kids confirm that Gotham's been super quiet since he's been out.

Selina hears that Bruce is awake and is like okay, time to pay the piper. She calls all of the Bats to a meeting and explains that she's the reason crime has been down. See, villains like Joker and Two-Face always have goons, right? But what if the goon supply dried up because the goons have better jobs? So Selina has trained All The Goons In Gotham to be...cat burglars. No violence, no stealing from anyone who can't afford it. More importantly, no helping Scarecrow or whoever commit mass murder.

All of the Batkids are like "Hmm...I feel uncertain about this, but it's working...I don't know what to think..." except for Jason, who thinks it's hilarious and is instantly Team Selina, and Damian, who is staunchly Team Bruce. Bruce, meanwhile, is like "No! NO! THIS IS CRIMES, AND CRIMES IS BAD!" and Selina's like "I mean, robbing from the rich is basically a victimless crime" and Bruce screams, I swear to god, "MY PARENTS WERE 'RICH'!" Inexplicable scare quotes and all. I laughed so hard.

Anyway this is the basis for Gotham War and it is endlessly hilarious to me because everyone in the Batfamily is supposed to be a genius and yet not one single character has pointed out that:

There are jobs the goons could be doing that AREN'T illegal. It's not just violent crime vs. nonviolent crime. There are in fact many other jobs! I am POSITIVE Gotham needs construction workers and hospital orderlies. (Yes, I know it's hard for people with records to get jobs. That isn't addressed.)

Being Batman is SUPER ILLEGAL.

They are all so stupid.

Selina's plan doesn't even work, because one of her thieves gets killed by a rich person defending their home, and Bruce is like "See? This is why crime is bad!" and like...pretty much snaps. He's particularly fixated on Jason, even (rhetorically) threatening to kill him, which is when the other kids jump into the fray on Jason's side, all except for Damian, who like I said is firmly Team Bruce. (This makes complete sense to me, Damian has been dealing with severe trauma and isolation pretty much nonstop since 2018 and he and Bruce have finally made a tenuous peace, so I can understand why he wouldn't want to lose that.)

Also, Vandal Savage buys Wayne Manor. It's so random and SO funny.

OKAY BATMAN #138. Bruce has kidnapped Jason and injected him with a variation on fear toxin which will be triggered whenever Jason's adrenaline spikes, the idea being that Jason is no longer capable of killing - but in practice, Jason is no longer capable of even getting up off the floor, he's so terrified. I want to be really, really clear here: Bruce is like 90% Zur here, and the only reason he goes this route and doesn't kill Jason is because the remaining 10% that's still Bruce loves Jason and is trying to help him. He's just incapable of good or humane help because Zur literally can't do feelings.

Dick knows something is up and is sneaking around Bruce's Secret Other House We've Never Heard Of to figure out what it is. Damian attacks him to protect Bruce. Tim attacks Damian so that Dick can do what he needs to do, and handcuffs Damian to a parking meter:

THERE IS SO MUCH TO UNPACK HERE!!! TIM GO TO THERAPY! DAMIAN GO TO THERAPY! EVERYONE GO TO THERAPY!!!!!

Dick figures out what Bruce did to Jason (it's on the computer, for...some reason?) and absolutely loses his shit on Bruce, beating the crap out of him, which tbh is the only thing that felt off to me in this run because frankly I don't think Dick likes Jason that much. BUT WHATEVER.

Tim pulls Dick off of Bruce. Bruce leaves them both tangled in a net and flees as the cops approach. Zur's like "Good, fuck 'em" in Bruce's head, because the cops will expose Dick, Tim, and Damian's secret identities and Bruce will be free of the dead weight of a family, but the little bit of Bruce still in there throws Dick a batarang so he can free them all in time.

Then Bruce leaves. Damian is devastated.

I WILL NEVER RECOVER FROM THIS PAGE. Damian really thought he could have Bruce's love and loyalty if he turned on everyone else! Tim is going to be a therapy dog to a Wayne even if he has to settle for the one he doesn't like! That unresisting, blank hug made me SCREAM when I turned the page. Incredible. (Also the art fucking S L A P S, god bless you Jorge Jimenez.)

ALSO it turns out that Selina's second in command has been Vandal Savage's daughter Scandal Savage the whole time and they are turning Selina's cat burglar army into their own personal army WHOOPS. (This also feels very OOC for Scandal but at this point I trust Zdarsky with my life so let's see where things go.)

SO THAT'S WHAT'S GOING ON IN GOTHAM WAR. TL;DR:

Bruce is unhinged because he nearly died like 19 times in a week and it unlocked the smaller, meaner purple Batman that lives inside him.

Selina is unaware that you can get money legally.

Tim is going to have a nervous breakdown if he can't fix someone, ANYONE.

Damian needs a hug but ideally from someone he actually likes this time.

Jason is so scared.

THE END.

[2ndkaiser]

could you do post crash reader relationship headcanons please. The reader is doing their best to keep him alive and is planning jimmys downfall and saving everyone in the tulpar crew and being ready to file a big lawsuit against pony express

𖦹 POST-CRASH CURLY X GN!READER ONESHOT

Of course I can. This prompt was fun to work with, hope this satisfies your request.

Word count: 990

Contains: Oneshot, angst with comfort, Curly x GN!reader

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, violence, Curly’s trauma

⟡ ݁₊ . Notes: Assumed that Curly is reader’s husband. Please message me if I left out any warnings.

BEYOND THE STARS, BENEATH THE LIES

The only sounds that seem to occupy the ship these days were the soft, robotic screeches coming from the doors. The Tulpar — where you once sat in the lounge with the crew, in front of the artificial sunset chatting away — now, devoid of that sense of familiarity.

Never would you expect this to happen. Never. Your husband, Captain Curly, crashed the ship? How could such a selfless man suddenly abandon everything he stood for and transform into the root of the threat to the whole crew? It didn’t add up a single bit.

Your feet carried you along the corridor, heels dragging across the cold floor beneath as you became lost in thought.

The same robotic sound of the door you started to feel sick of signaled the medbay’s door opening — opening to your sweet Curly. You weren’t even focused anymore, the only thing inhabiting your brain was Jimmy. It felt so off. He felt off.

A low cry escaped the teeth of the former captain in front of you, reminding what you initially came here for.

“Hey sweetheart,”

You knew he couldn’t respond, but that didn’t change anything. He was still Curly. The Curly you knew. The Curly who would never even think of committing such an act.

“How’re you holding up Curls?” You shot him a gentle smile, although you already knew it wasn’t near possible for him to ‘hold up well’.

It was evident his pain was heightened, judging by the wails he let out, it has been approximately 8 hours since he took painkillers, but in your presence his noises slowly died down into quiet whimpers.

“Let me take care of you, yeah? I’ll take care of you, don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

It was a time-consuming task — gently pressing the painkiller down his throat, using water to help it go down, carefully removing the blood-soaked bandages and disinfecting each part of his body, replacing the bandages with tender precision, and making sure his eyes didn’t dry out. The shortage of bandages weighed on your mind, adding to the growing worry in your chest. The process usually took over an hour, and every movement had to be precise, every action gentle. But none of that mattered. You’d do anything — anything at all — to keep Curly alive.

Following the now-silent whimpers, you noticed that Jimmy was still residing in your head. His presence felt so off-putting. But you knew that Curly wanted Jimmy on this ship. That was what he stated. But at this moment, you couldn’t help but sense that your husband wanted the opposite of that right now.

You could see it. After Jimmy started to feed Curly his pills instead of Anya, you couldn’t help but notice how suppressed his cries had become — not to mention — the first time Jimmy fed him his painkillers, it sounded like Curly’s cries turned into loud weeps, pleading for mercy.

Seeing your husband in pain was unbearable.

“Curly, my love,”

Curly’s azure gaze which now appeared to be fading in colour due to the lack of eyelids, studied your expression.

In a hushed tone, you hesitantly asked, “Does Jimmy hurt you?”

His sapphire eyes stuttered then flickered left, it was the only way for you two to communicate right now, you established this method after acknowledging his inability to voice his thoughts, and this way he could ‘speak’ by moving the only part of his body he could: his eyes. Left signaled yes, right for no.

Yes. Yes you’re beloved Curly was being tormented. Yes you have failed to recognize Jimmy’s abusive behavior. Yes you have failed to protect him.

You couldn’t even pinpoint what you were feeling at that moment. Fury, regret, shame, sorrow — and the strongest of them all: guilt. Each emotion is blurry and indistinguishable from the others.

It felt like your brain was in a completely static state, unoccupied with thoughts, replaced with heightened emotions. How could this be?

You weren’t that ignorant, were you?

“I’m so sorry… I’m so, so sorry, Curly… I—” Your voice cracked, the weight of the words too much to bear. “I didn’t see it—didn’t understand until it was too late. I failed you. I failed us. I’m such a terrible person. I—” You gasped for breath, hands shaking as you gripped the edge of the bed, regret swimming in your irises. “I never meant to hurt you. I never meant for any of this to happen…”

Your voice broke into a whisper, barely audible. “I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry. I wish I could undo everything. I wish everything was reversible.”

The cold metal edge of the bed rested against your forehead, as if it was attempting to cool your head. As your body was engulfed in a sickening feeling, the gentle touch of a brief graze caused you to jolt, lifting your face up to see your lover, aiming to nuzzle his face into your hair as a sign of forgiveness and longing. A tear streamed down his cheek which you could only imagine was stinging severely.

“Listen to me, honey, I swear I’ll get us to safety. I’ll figure this out, I promise. We’ll make it home—together. We’ll leave Jimmy behind, let the police deal with him. He won’t ever hurt you again. I won’t let him. I’ll make sure of it. You’re not alone in this. I’m not going anywhere. We’ll sue this goddamn company, get the money we need, and start fresh. A new life, far away from all of this. No one, not even that… that unhinged maniac, will be able to get to us. Not ever again. I swear on everything, Curls, I’ll protect you. We’ll make it through this, I promise, okay?”

Another whimper left his throat, only this time, the whimper was more of a hum. A hum of agreement and comfort — and with that, his eyes flickered left again.

Finally finished, hope this is up to standard for a one-shot. Genuinely, I don’t know if this was what you were looking for but I’m hoping it is. Apologies if it isn’t.

Sorry for inconsistent uploads, I’m most likely going to posting slowly for a few weeks since I’m not exactly the freest man. Farewell.

[goddessficlover]

Alice In Gotham Pt 3

“Oh, it's such a lovely party tonight, Alice,” Hatter was overjoyed, gently dancing with Alice. Only twirling Danny gently, not to hurt him, treating him like a fragile flower. They had a small tea party, Hatter and his 2 Alice's. Now they were dancing the evening away, “Did you eat enough?”

“No, this body required more sustenance than the average human,” Danny’s soulless voice responded.

“Oh dear, then you must stop this dance and eat until your stomach is satisfied,” Hatter stopped the dance and March Hare returned with a fresh tray of small sandwiches, cut fruits, pastries, and other tea party foods. Alice began to eat slowly. Hatter was determined to keep his Alice alive and healthy for as long as possible, “Very good. When you finish your meal, go to bed. You need rest to recover. I still have two more people for you to invite. They will be guests of honor to celebrating you joining me.”

  Alice nodded and continued to eat silently. Hatter had began sending out his goons distract the Bats from his base. Nothing specific other than drawing their attention. Hatter had a larger table to invite their next guests tomorrow night. He needed more than one decoy Alice, lest Batman steal his porcelain doll.

—

“Bad news,” Oracle spoke up as the plan was starting to move into action, “Girls are starting to be kidnapped for their blue eyes. Good news, we have a lead on Mad Hatter's hideout since it's his goons taking them instead of Scraps. Which means he wasn’t in the botanical gardens so that trap is likely still there.”

  The sound of Red Hood cracking his neck and knuckles echoed in the wind and he geared up in one of his safe houses where he brought Scraps stuff. The fact that Scraps was no longer being spotted was more than worrying now that they knew what the kid's vitals looked like.

“Send me the coordinates,” Red Hood pulled on his helmet and left the safe house on his motorcycle. He had a set of buck teeth to punch out of a perverted redhead.

“Sending them now,” Oracle was heard aggressively typing on her keyboard, “How does the facial scan keep failing? I can't get anything on the kid. It's like they don't exist outside of 2 and half months ago. I still can't track their path home, they just disappear with their abilities.”

“That's the problem I've been having with Scraps. When we free ‘em from Hatter Imma set them up somewhere safe. Other kids said they have an accent and are weirdly nice. My guess it, they aren't from Gotham. We might be able to get ‘em home if they were stuck here for some reason,” Hood answered.

“Sounds like Mad Hatter erased that accent for now. Poor kid talks like a robot from the recordings we have,” Nightwing responded.

“Coordinates have been sent. Looks like a standard rescue mission for now,” Oracle spoke up again, “Robin, Spoiler, and Nightwing are clear for distraction. Orphan, Red Hood, and Red Robin will focus on rescue. Get Scraps and the other girls out of there.”

“We will,” Hood rode off into the night, following the location Oracle had sent him with less than legal driving.

“Tsk,” Robin responded, moving towards the coordinates. Unsatisfied in his role as distraction but  following orders regardless.

“There's a disruption nearby. Mad Hatter's goons are going wild,” Oracle spoke up, “It only just started and there aren't many.”

“Signal and I will manage the disruption,” Batman quickly readjusted the plan, “Everyone else, stay with the original plan.”

  Men in white rabbit hats were running around causing chaos as the members came closer. Nothing specific, or uniform. Some broke windows for the sake of breaking them. Others chased people, some stole, others shot their guns at random. They were being mind controlled but given no clear instructions. Some were putting masks over random civilians to increase their numbers. Others forcing bows onto women who began walking towards the same building. A hotel on the smaller side, all of the windows had been covered up. Following as planned: Spoiler and Nightwing made their entrance into the hotel known.

“Hello~ any rooms available tonight? I need a place to dream off to wonderland,” Nightwing burst in and sure enough, the entire hotel was filled with employees who all had tophats.

“That was terrible,” Spoiler commented as she quickly started taking hats off employees, freeing them and directing them to a space in the lobby to wait for police and medical.

“Yeah, not my best,” Nightwing responded as Robin moved past the lobby. 

Orphan, Red Hood, and Red Robin snuck in through the rooms on the top floor. Girls were asleep in the beds, but it was an unnatural sleep. They quickly removed the clips from their hair, destroyed the clips, and moved on, checking room after room. Only 8 rooms with 1-3 girls in each and 3 floors. Almost 40 women and girls were hostages, excluding the staff which were also being freed.

Outside, Signal was using the shadows as tangible tendrils to pull the masks and hats off hostages. Something wasn't right, it was too easy. Mad Hatter wasn't known to team up with other rogues often, but it was still a possibility.

“You are interrupting,” a familiar monotone voice appeared behind Signal. He turned to find Scraps, standing behind him.

“We can't let Hatter kidnap people and force them to do his bidding. How about you let me free you,” Signal tried again to grab the wig only for the shadow to be grabbed, frozen in a layer of ice and, shattered with only one hand, “Okay, didn't know you could do that.”

“Scraps is outside and engaging with Signal,” Oracle announced to the others.

“The tea party is tomorrow, please wait until then,” Scraps’ aura flared and began gathering in their chest and hands. Eyes completely ice blue and glowing, “You will only get one warning.”

“Sorry, but we have to crash the party. You need a hospital like yesterday,” Signal turned his vitals scanner on to check. Scraps’ vitals hadn't gotten better, but they weren't lower so they still had time. But their temperature was dropping even lower.

It took only a second but Signal was a distraction as Batman approached from behind with a meta suppression collar. Before he could put it around Danny's neck, he received a swift kick to his arm sending the collar flying and Batman back onto the asphalt.

“Scraps is getting aggressive,” Signal blocked, but was still sent back when a punch was aimed his way, “Add enhanced strength to the list.”

“Why the hell does this kid have so many powers?” Nightwing responded.

“Ice manipulation, floating, invisibility, density shifting, and enhanced strength? We need to keep this kid on our side,” Red Robin commented as he hacked into all the security cameras of the hotel, “Eyes on Hatter, he's in the basement.”

“Dibs!” Red Hood began racing Orphan down to the basement, leaving Red Robin and the distraction team to deal with the hostages' release to the police. Most were still in their civilian clothes, it was a good sign, they had acted early into Hatter's plan.

Outside, Batman's cape was frozen to the street, the collar which had been discarded was picked up by Alice and examined. It was only for a second, but their normally blue eyes flashed green. The collar was snapped in half at the hinge and frozen into a block of ice before it was tossed aside. Vibrant blue eyes turned to Batman who had unclasped his cape to continue the fight. Spears of ice were fired his way, each one missed would either penetrate the ground or dissolve before hitting a civilian. One lucky shot struck Batman's side as a civilian prevented him from fully dodging.

“So, that meta collar just pissed off Scraps,” Signal announced, noticing the kid had just gotten way more aggressive than they were before. Still, not once did they hit another civilian. They had such control over their power to only target Signal and Batman. They somehow managed to keep surrounding destruction from their ice attacks to a minimum.

“They've clearly had experience fighting,” Batman didn't even need to bandage the wound. There was a layer of frost keeping him from bleeding out, “Not a single casualty has been caused by Scraps.”

“That's odd. Hatter has never cared about casualties unless it involved a particularly favorable hostage. This could mean the mind control isn't as complete as we thought. Tetch is known for killing his Alices’ yet he's kept Scraps much longer than usual, probably because of their meta abilities,” Oracle reviewed the information they had gathered, “Batman you were hit by a spear and that section of your suit reads its colder.”

“Hm. They covered the wound with frost at the moment of impact. Not as cold as other ice samples Red Robin has observed but enough to keep the pain and bleeding at bay. They don't want to hurt us, even if Hatter is forcing them to attack,” Batman responded, “Your theory seems accurate Oracle, Mad Hatter doesn't have full control over them.”

Signal was off catching the last of the mind controlled civilians outside while Batman continued to try and catch Scraps. He wasn't slowed down much with his injury thanks to the frost. It was when they had backed up, closer to the hotel that the fight became more challenging. Signal rejoined the fight to weaken Alice in order to get the wig off them. Scraps startled by a mist of blue escaping their lips before looking around, then down. It was faint in his mind controlled state but Danny felt it. Rage- protect- children in danger- protect- angry! It stirred a part of him as his core wanted to respond to the undead it felt nearby.

  Using the distraction Signal caught Scraps in his shadows, Batman attempted to cuff Scraps only to find the kid had slipped out of their grasp again and gotten behind him and struck hard enough to knock Batman unconscious. Though it would only be temporary.

“Enough,” Scraps encased Duke’s arms in frost and grabbed the same cuffs Batman was attempting to put on them before. With Duke handcuffed, the fight was over. Grabbing both vigilantes by their suits, Scraps dragged them both back into the hotel before sinking them into the basement where they were met with another battle. One Mad Hatter was losing, and becoming desperate. The last of his goons and about 5 other Alice hostages were in the fight. Hatter had a busted lip and his buck teeth were now one broken tooth and a gap, courtesy of Red Hood.

  No one noticed their sudden appearance in a secluded area. Nightwing lead the freed hostages out towards the main floor. Red Hood and Robin were focused on disarming the goons. Spoiler and Red Robin focused on the hostages. Where was Orphan?

“Remain quiet and I won't have to tape your mouth shut,” Scraps whispered, too low for Duke’s active com to pick up. 

  Signal nodded, he needed to focus on picking the lock on the cuffs and freeing himself from the ice. He would only distract the others if he called out now. He observed instead. Scraps didn't behave like a mindless zombie anymore. Not to mention their aura was starting to flicker brighter than before. It had happened so suddenly outside. That blue mist caused their entire aura to flare bright enough to temporarily blind him. Signal’s eyes were still recovering, but he could tell it was flickering. Something was going on, and their behavior was changing. Scraps reached… into their chest?! -And pulled out a metal tool box with a green cross on it. It read first-aid underneath. They opened it and pulled out latex gloves after removing the ones they were wearing before. There were some odd silver bracelets with a green stripe on each wrist below the white gloves. Where they a part of the mind control tech? Did those need tk be removed? Scraps sterilized their hands, a needle, and Batman’s wound after removing the frost. It was slow to bleed, the frost had been helping it clot and prevented swelling.

“What are you doing?” Signal asked quietly, observing as Scraps thread the needle and began stitching Batman’s wound without any form of anesthetic.

“Batman requires first aid. I am providing it,” they answered, already half way done. Their stitches were neat, and the wound was hardly bleeding. Not to mention they worked almost as fast as Alfred! Batman wasn't responding to the feeling. The cold must have completely numbed the area or he was out colder than Signal thought he was.

“Why?” Signal began an interrogation as quietly as he could with the fighting on the other side. Still, they spoke loud enough that his com was picking it up.

“I know how. And I had supplies,” Scraps was answering questions. That wasn't something they'd ever done before. The control was slipping.

“Why do you know how?” Duke knew Scraps was too young to have ever studied medicine. They only looked 13 at the oldest, but they also looked malnourished. These stitches were done perfectly, something from lots of practice.

“I have to.”

“Scraps,” he was free from the hand cuffs and caught a glimpse of movement in the shadows, “Why do you have to know?”

“...” They stopped responding and simply packed away the first aid supplies after wiping the blood off their gloves on the apron and setting the bloodied gloves into a pocket. Now that he caught a glimpse inside, there were way too many glowing materials and tools in that first aid kit. Scraps shoved the kit back into their chest and stood.

“Noo!” Mad Hatter shouted, “You're ruining everything!”

“You're mind controlling innocent civilians for your own enjoyment. As if we would agree to allow that to continue,” Robin snarled as  he captured Hatter and cuffed him.

“No, where is she? Where is she? Alice!” Hatter called, Scraps followed the shout quickly, leaving Signal and Batman behind. Hatter gave a nasty grin as his perfect Alice approached with red blood on her apron. That put everyone on edge except Hatter, “Alice, stop them! They'll destroy our tea party. We need them alive to celebrate.”

“Leave the civilians out of this,” Robin growled as he secured Hatter in favor of rejoining the fight.

 Duke was the only one to notice the snowball appear in Danny’s hand. It had an eerie green light inside it. He was still stuck in ice but he could look a few seconds into the future. He was struck with a migraine as a bright light burst into view. 

  The snowball was tossed in the air, it drew everyone's attention. An innocent snowball tossed up carelessly. The snow sparkling in the basement lights as it reached the center of the room.

“GET DOWN!” is shouted just as a green light bursts through the snow and shards of ice scattered across the entire room. The shards shattered on impact, only leaving a small scratch, the problem was the frost growing from each hit. It left a 5in area on the body or surface stiff and immobile. The frost covering the hostages quickly melted as the explosion came to an end. They were completely unharmed. Hatter, oddly, wasn't untouched like the hostages. Hatter’s legs were frozen and stuck to the gound, he'd been hit with the most frost out of everyone.

“Was that a fucking ice grenade?!” Red Hood was both amazed at that and also hated that he was on the other end of it.

  Ice was coating the floor in patches. The inconsistent surface would make fighting more difficult. Duke and Batman were covered in snow instead of frost. The automatic heaters regulating their temperature noticed the cold and turned on. Duke was having no luck escaping the ice, even in his shadows.

“Signal, report,” Red Robin ordered as he noticed Signal and Batman had been captured.

“Scraps got fed up in the fight and took Batman in a single blow. Then provided him with first aid. Something drew their attention in the fight. A blue mist came out of their mouth and it caused their aura to flare. It started glitching after that. I think the mind control device is starting to fail. They'll answer some questions but not all of them. Scraps is becoming more independent. You might be able to talk them down at some point,” Signal reported, still focusing on getting out of the ice. The repeated flashes from looking at Scraps was giving him an unbearable migraine. He couldn't help much like this, so he's guarding B instead.

“I hope that wig is malfunctioning. This has been one of the most annoying cases with Hatter because of Scraps’ powers,” Red Robin sighed, “I'm going to try remotely hacking into the device. You guys keep Scraps from disrupting me and try and get either a collar or cuff on them to try and grab the wig anyway.”

“If we can even get fucking close,” Red Hood growled through his modulator, something about the pit felt weird. It was making him angry, but when kids were being taken hostages any one of the Bats would be angry. What was weird was the pit was also yelling at him to keep Scraps close, they were needing protection. They were a baby- Why a baby? They're at least like 13? Why do they feel baby?

  It happened again. As Red Hood approached while the others continued to deal with the hostages. Alice hadn't really moved after the snowball grenade. A blue mist escaped their lips and they turned to see Red Hood, who's eyes were green but not hostile. Scraps tilted their head, it was less subtle than it was before.

“Undead?” That caught everyone's attention, Scraps had just called out Red Hood's undead status.

“How do you know that?” Red Hood growled again, noticing the green in his vision.

“Littlewing,” Nightwing jumped between them, “Deep breaths, you're looking kinda green. We don't know anything about Scraps, we don't know specifically what that means for them.”

“I know that,” Hood snapped, backing up from Scraps a bit and taking some breaths to calm down.

“Hey now, how about we get that wig off of you, Scraps? Blonde is not really for you,” Nightwing reached out but didn't step closer.

“Alice what are you doing, fight the-mph!” Orphan had gagged Hatter and gave a thumbs up to Red Hood and Nightwing.

“Understood,” Scraps took an offensive pose. Their eyes kept glancing towards the escrima sticks on Nightwing’s back. Their scarred left hand trembled slightly. It was then that Red Hood, Orphan, and Robin felt a sensation of awake?- Where?- scared! 

“Empath?” Orphan called out, missing the wig as Scraps turned intangible.

“Feels like it,” Red Hood responded.

“I don't feel whatever you guys are feeling,” Nightwing dodged a punch and tried grabbing Scraps only for them to dodge again, “The density shifting is a real pain-Agh!”

 Scraps knocked back Nightwing and Red Hood into creates nearby. A sheet of ice suddenly appearing on Hood's back kept them from being seriously hurt. It disappeared just as quickly. Robin was next to go after Scraps. They exchange blows, dodging each other mostly. It was then that Robin decided using his sword may be the best choice when Scraps started using small arrows of ice against him and other Bats within range. The ice only left small cuts in their armor but it continued to spread frost on contact. Watching as Robin deflected arrows with his sword, Scraps took a different stance. A sword of ice appearing in their right hand, and a smaller shield in their left.

“No fucking way,” Red Hood would recognize that fighting stance of his favorite Justice League Member anywhere.

“Finally, someone who can go against my blade,” Robin smirked and their swords wasted no time colliding.

“Are we seriously fighting a meta Amazonian right now?!” Nightwing groaned, pushing broken wood of the crates off him and Red Hood, “Great, we're fighting someone with no convenient weakness.”

“Okay well we're not doing Batman's contingency plan for Wonder Woman, that would kill Scraps,” Oracle spoke up through coms, “We do have the possibility that she has a weakness to electricity if her reaction to Nightwing's weapons are anything to go off of.”

“I don't want to electrocute a kid,” Nightwing groaned as he got up with a wince. His ribs were bruised but not unbearable. Red Hood was in similar shape.

“Robin might be able to tire them out- Oracle did you switch to she/her for Scraps?” Red Hood watched as the sword fight continued and the last of the hostages were just about free.

They were sword fighting while Alice not only dodged Orphan’s grabs at them but also stray bullets being shot around the room. The fact that Alice was mostly unharmed aside from some tears in the dress’s frilly skirt only displayed what a good battle sense they had.

“I was thinking more she/they. Only women live on Themyscira and can learn the fighting style. Men are strictly forbidden. But it's weird, Wonder Woman said there are no children on Themyscira. So someone had to have trained Scraps outside of Themyscira or brought them in. It looks like she's been learning the fighting style for a long time If they're keeping up with Robin.”

“Red Robin, how's hacking going?” Nightwing moved to help keep stray ice shots and bullets off Red Robin. Spoiler needed to focus more on civilians.

“I've managed to sabotage all of the other wigs in this building except for 10 of them. They're signals are jammed so close together and something is keeping me from shutting them down the same way. I'm trying what I can, but I don't know which one of these is controlling Scraps,” Red Robin answered, angrily typing away at his wrist computer, “Oracle can you use my position to isolate the chip controlling Scraps?”

“Working on it now,” Oracle could be heard typing away in their coms as the fight between Robin and Scraps continued. So far, it seems Scraps was able to back Robin closer to an isolated spot. His beloved sword was half coated in frost along with a part of his torso. Spoiler only had 2 hostages left to free, both with guns. She threw 2 batarang to disarm them before grabbing the rabbit helmets off them.

It was only a second, the batarang flew towards the wall after disarming the hostage. It hit, at an -oh so convenient- ricochet. To hit Danny. A blonde chunk of hair was on the ground as the battle suddenly halted between him and Robin. It grazed his cheek and the blade was stopped by the diadem under the wig; it had only cut a third through the band. Just a little interference… A white gloved hand touched the cut to see green blood. It was corrosive and slowly eating at the cloth glove. He reached up and pulled the batarang out of the diadem with little effort and examined it. Danny could sense a familiar energy from it. 

  Robin had frozen. A stray batarang had just landed in the head of the hostage they had been trying to save. They were dead- or not? There was no more than a small smear of… blood? It was green, and glowed a little, and so did the cut on their skin. It was their blood. Scraps was not human… That didn't matter, Robin still needed to free Scraps and get them somewhere safe. Mad Hatter needed to be locked up in Arkham, though Robin always thought that was too light a punishment for him. 

  Robin was able to get closer while Scraps was focused on the batarang. Examining it with calculating eyes. The wig now had an uneven cut, but it revealed that the wig wasn't the problem. Getting close enough to grab them, Robin did so. Scraps’ eyes were flickering, bright blue, to dim blue, and an occasional flash of what had to be green. Lazarus pits… No, their blood was also green, do not draw conclusions without all the evidence. Robin could get a sample at least. He snuck a vial from his utility belt and touched it to the cut, getting a small gush of blood and seeing the metal band which had been cut partially. Scraps hadn't moved, frozen into a deep stare… Taking advantage, Robin used a solvent to melt the wig glue and remove it. Revealing the band to everyone along with fluffy and matted black hair. Then the band sparked from the cut.

That seemed to have snapped Scraps out of their daze as they grabbed Robin’s arm and covered him in a net of ice that kept him from moving again before jumping back. 

“RR, I don't think you'll like this,” Oracle spoke up, “Three of the chips are flickering in and out of function but it looks like all ten of them are on Scraps.”

“Fuck,” Red Robin cursed as he was having the same result on his screen, “It must all be in that band around their head. Nightwing-”

“Yeah, I know,” Nightwing took a breath before splitting off from Red Robin.

  Spoiler had tried approaching Scraps in the meantime. The ice sword had disappeared along with the shield. It was a short fight, one where Scraps was clearly distracted, and still, it ended with Spoiler frozen in an ice net, much like Robin. Red Robin would have jumped into the fight next, but found he'd been frozen to the beam he was perched on. Red Hood found his boots had been frozen to the ground. It was up to Nightwing and Orphan.

Scraps jumped away as Nightwing got close again, it was obvious they were avoiding fighting them. Red Hood, Robin, and Orphan felt it again can't stop- don't fight- help- hurts- hurts- please…

“Tsk!” Scraps flinched as the diadem sparked.

“Four chips are offline,” Oracle reported, “A fifth started flickering.”

“Come on , Scraps. Lets get that off you,” Nightwing slowly approached, “You don't want to fight, right?”

“... … no…” their voice was just above a whisper. Their real voice, with that slight midwestern accent. Another spark made them flinch.

“Right,” Nightwing gave a soft smile as he reached out a hand.

  Scraps eyes still flickering between blue and green. They moved quickly, past Nightwings hand and grabbed one of the escrima sticks. Jumping back again, Scraps stood on a defensive stance, trembling left hand holding onto the taser end. Red Hood couldn't focus as all he felt from Scraps was scared-hurt-stop-resistresistresist! 

“Nightwing,” Red Hood spoke up, the feelings from Scraps were starting to become overwhelming. Stop me- please- gonna hurt- hurting- please… “They want you to do it…”

“It's gonna kill them…”

“... Sh… ort… cir-cuit… please…” Scraps was flickering, internally fighting between avoiding the pain and being intangible and being solid to take the shock, “...I’ll… be… … o…kay… …”

With a shaky breath Nightwing leapt forward and activated the stick before Scraps could shift away. It was the worst scream that had erupted from them. A wave of pain!- painpain! - dying- hit every one of the bats. The windows cracked and the lights flickered out, a few bursting sending sparks and hot glass over them.

It went on, mostly because Scraps refused to let go. It was a full minute before the lock on the band shorted out and it slipped off. Hitting the ground as Scraps fell. Orphan was quick to catch them, they were unconscious now.

“That was terrible,” Nightwing sighed. He had just zapped the kid they were trying to save. The kid who already had dangerously low vitals.

“The frost is weaker now,” Robin had finally broken himself free from the cold prison.

“My head is killing me,” Signal, free from the ice and snow, managed to get Batman to wake up.

“Batman, Mad Hatter has been apprehended and the hostages have all been freed. Scraps still needs medical attention,” Nightwing was the quickest to recover, but that scream was still haunting him. His focus now was making sure Scraps didn't die.

“What was that?” Red Robin rubbed the sides of his head as he was freed from the beam. Ice all around the room was defrosting. Slippery surfaces were disappearing, not even puddles of water left behind.

“Empath,” Orphan answered, running her fingers through Scraps's hair, “Felt their pain.”

“Let's just get the kid some medical attention,” Red Hood stood closer to Scraps. He couldn't feel anything apart from the quiet humming of hurts- in pain- free- comfort… as Orphan continued to gently pet Scraps. They seemed comfortable with the touch, for now.

“I'll grab a spare outfit for them,” Spoiler left, she had a less bubbly mood than usual.

“Hm,” Batman grunted, as the team started to split up again. His head was still throbbing, he likely had a concussion. Signal and Red Robin left to fill in with the police, but not before grabbing the diadem for examination later.

  For now, the fight was over and all that was left was the clean up here and at the Botanical Gardens.

~~~

Master List

Part 2

Part 4

[strawb3rryg2l]

How to Lose 'Bob' in 10 Days

Characters: Bob x Y/N, Robert Reynolds x Y/N, Sentry x Y/N, The Void x Y/N

Summary: You thought you'd lost, your husband, Robert Reynolds forever. Consumed by the Void and the chaos it left behind. But then you woke up in a world not your own. One where he's alive. Where he goes by Bob. Where he doesn't know you. To him, you’re a stranger. You have 10 days to lose him, before everything falls apart. But the cracks are already forming. Time stutters. Reality bends. And something followed you here, something made of grief, memory, and everything you refused to let die. As you try to lose Bob in 10 days, the world unravels with every lie you tell yourself. You’ll have to make an impossible choice: hold on to the man you love, or face the truth and finally let him go. Because if you don’t... this world won’t just end. You might go with it.

Word Count: 2081

Warnings: Mentions of grief, Violent/Graphic, A dark twisted version of How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, Spoilers maybe? (Please let me know if I should add anymore.)

Note from the author: This is my work, and I will be posting on here and @ strawb3rrygal on Archivesofourown. Keep in mind these are my ONLY TWO accounts. Please feel free to reblog if you like it! I've been working on this one as I write my other fic 'The Temp' which you can also check out if you'd like.

Done reading? Here is the continuation -> Part 2 , Part 3

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Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that something was… wrong.

It started with the silence. The usual commotion outside her apartment — shouting neighbors, honking cars, the occasional bark of that yappy Pomeranian two floors down—had dulled into a hushed, almost reverent quiet. It wasn’t the peaceful kind. It was the kind that felt staged. Like the city had paused to see if she’d notice.

Even the air in the apartment felt heavier, colder. Like it had forgotten how to move.

She sat up in bed, slowly, rubbing her face with both hands. Her skin was clammy. Her breath fogged slightly in the air. She hadn't been sleeping well lately. Her dreams always ended with the same sensation, falling through a place she’d never seen, toward something that knew her name.

Y/N glanced around the room, but it felt… distant. The walls looked just a little too clean. Her furniture, though familiar, felt arranged by someone else. Her plants sat perfectly healthy on the windowsill, but she couldn’t remember the last time she watered them. Did I do that?

She moved to her cabinet, rifling through underwear with robotic purpose. Sometimes, she found comfort in small rituals wearing something pretty, layering clothes like armor. She settled on a violet lace set that used to make her feel soft and strong at the same time. She tugged on thick leg warmers, worn jeans, and her favorite winter boots. The white fuzzy sweater she pulled over her head enveloped her in warmth, but even its softness felt muted. Almost unfamiliar.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she padded into the kitchen or what passed as one. After Robert’s death, she’d left behind the bigger apartment, moved closer to her office, to the city, to noise. To distraction. Now, the noise was gone. The distractions had turned their backs.

She poured herself cereal, sliced up a banana, and scattered some chia seeds across the top like she always did. She chewed slowly, eyes drifting out the window and froze.

A billboard stood across the street. Large. White background. Red letters. It wasn’t there yesterday.

Y/N narrowed her eyes. The ad was for a new Broadway show she didn’t recognize. The slogan beneath it read: “It’s not too late to come home.”

She blinked.

Was it a coincidence? A strange marketing ploy? She tilted her head, as though looking at it from a different angle would explain away the chill creeping up her spine.

She shrugged, more to herself than to anyone, and looked away. But the sensation didn’t leave.

Finished with her breakfast, she slipped on her jacket, slung her bag over her shoulder, and stepped outside. The air bit at her cheeks. Pedestrians passed her with heads bowed, not making eye contact. No one bumped into her. No one spoke. The street was the same—and yet it wasn’t.

Her building’s bricks looked darker. The corner coffee shop had changed names. The newspaper vendor on 42nd street was missing. She told herself she must’ve overlooked it. Told herself she was tired. Still healing. 

But healing didn’t feel like this.

At work, everything looked normal. Her coworkers greeted her with practiced smiles. She smiled back. She said good morning. She walked to her desk and turned on her screen.

Y/N was a writer for the nation’s most beloved women’s magazine, a voice of modern relationships and hope-filled advice columns. She had a dedicated readership. A strong social media presence. A decent salary. On paper, she had everything.

But every word she wrote about love felt like a betrayal.

She wanted more. Real stories. Stories about people who were never offered the soft landings she described in her columns. She wanted to write about the cracks in the justice system, about prisons dressed as reform. About things that mattered. Things her boss didn’t care for.

In the beginning, she made it work. Being married to Robert Reynolds had made her an expert in the language of love. In heartbreak. In grief. But then… the Void. Then Thor. And then silence.

Y/N blinked at her computer screen. Her reflection stared back, faint in the black glass. She looked… slightly off. Like the reflection was lagging. Or waiting.

She reached out to shake the mouse and for a moment, just a moment, her reflection didn’t follow. She paused. A strange pressure built behind her eyes. Then the screen flickered on. Her inbox loaded. The moment passed. She swallowed hard and forced herself to breathe.

Maybe she was still dreaming. Maybe it was just grief. Maybe she was just tired.

But somewhere deep inside, something whispered You’re not supposed to be here.

A sharp tap on her monitor startled her. Y/N’s eyes snapped upward.

Tara stood there, grinning wide, her hair sleek and pin-straight completely different from her usual crown of soft, carefree curls. It made her look polished. Almost artificial. Like someone had run her through a filter.

“Morning, sunshine,” Tara chirped.

Y/N blinked. “Morning…”

“You ready for the meeting?”

“Which meeting?”

Tara laughed shaking her head. “The pitch meeting. Elise wants something viral. Fresh blood. She's been in a mood all morning, so bring the juice.”

Y/N nodded, but her mind was still half-submerged in static. The pitch meeting. Right. She’d forgotten. That strange fog hadn’t lifted since she woke up. She couldn’t tell if it was stress… or something more invasive. Something crawling just beneath the skin of the world. She rose from her chair, pushing aside the low thrum in her head, and followed Tara toward the glass conference room.

Then stopped. Her breath caught in her throat. Inside, surrounded by laughter and coffee cups, sat Marlene. Marlene who had spent last night on Y/N’s couch, red-eyed and blotchy, sniffling into a wine-stained hoodie. Marlene, who had sworn off men forever after the barista she’d been seeing ghosted her for not owning a French press.

And yet here she was. Early. Polished. Smiling. Her posture crisp, her lipstick perfect, not a tear-streak in sight.

Had she imagined it? The crying? The whole night?

Y/N sat beside Tara and forced herself to breathe, ignoring the pressure clamping down on her chest.

“All right,” Elise snapped, breezing in with the presence of someone who lived off cortisol and sugarless espresso. She clapped once. “Let’s talk ideas. Love, lust, the dopamine dance—whatever keeps readers clicking even when their rent’s overdue.”

Stella, their photographer, raised a hand like a schoolgirl on fire. “I got Sam Wilson to agree to a spread. Flight to New York is booked. We’ll shoot by Sunday.”

“Beautiful,” Elise said with a tight smile. “Next?”

Her eyes slid to Marlene.

Y/N braced herself.

Marlene blinked. For a second, her expression went blank like someone had unplugged her.

“Uhh…” she started, stalling. “I was thinking… maybe…”

Tara jumped in, her voice a little too bright. “We were discussing the new Avengers this morning.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. The new Avengers? That was the first she’d heard of it.

Elise tilted her head. “Go on.”

Tara nudged Y/N with her elbow.

Y/N cleared her throat, racking her brain. She couldn’t think of anything New Avengers related so instead she said: “Maybe we flip the usual love column. Instead of giving advice on what to do… we show readers what not to do. Like…” She looked at Marlene and felt a little pang of guilt at her next words. “Sabotage a relationship on purpose.”

Elise raised a brow. “Intentionally?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah…” She thought for a moment. “You know… every red flag. Clingy texts. Sudden jealousy. Oversharing childhood trauma on the first date. Show readers what bad behavior looks like in real time.”

A slow grin crept across Elise’s face. “Interesting. And what’s the hook?”

Y/N hesitated. She felt the weight of Marlene’s eyes. The clock ticked too loudly.

“How to… lose a guy?” she offered weakly.

Elise laughed, the sound sharp and amused. “How to Lose a Guy… in 10 Days. I like it.”

“Why ten?” Tara asked, leaning forward.

“Seven’s too short, and we go to press in twelve,” Elise said with a shrug.

The room buzzed with excitement. Everyone nodded. Marlene even clapped.

But Y/N felt nothing. Not pride. Not relief. Just hollowness.

Because in her world she hadn’t needed ten days to lose the love of her life.

Just one.

One catastrophic day when the sky cracked like glass. One moment when Thor’s lightning lit up the battlefield and left smoke and silence in its place. One breath held tight in her throat, when Robert, the Sentry, turned to her with eyes rimmed in black and begged her to forgive him. Forgive the thing he’d become.

Her smile stretched across her face like cellophane. Tight. Fragile.

Her fingers trembled.

“And… one more thing,” Elise said, voice slicing through the buzz. The room stilled. Every eye snapped to her. Even the air seemed to lean in.

“About the new Avengers,” she continued. “The column would really pop if the guy you lose was one of them.”

A collective gasp rippled across the table like a wave. Y/N blinked; a beat too slow. The thought hadn’t occurred to her before she’d have to actually date someone. Not theoretically. Not hypothetically. Actually. She hadn’t done that, not since Robert.

Her stomach dropped.

“I’m sorry,” she said, voice hollow. “The new Avengers?”

Marlene let out a laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Have you been living under a rock?”

“There’s a whole new lineup,” Marlene went on. “Less Iron Man, more... walking HR violations.”

Tara snorted. “God. Remember John Walker? He’s newly divorced, right?”

“Ugh, please don’t,” Marlene shuddered. “He smells like Axe body spray and bad decisions. Maybe she could go for someone less... sociopathic?”

Tara leaned forward, practically swooning. “What about Bucky? He’s handsome. Mysterious. That arm?”

Y/N didn’t respond. Her pulse had started to climb, a steady drumbeat of panic behind her ribs.

Elise tapped a pen against the table, calm as ever. “Maybe we should push for a deeper angle someone off-grid. The one no one’s cracked yet.”

Y/N glanced up. Something in Elise’s tone had changed. 

“There’s a mystery man in the files,” Elise continued. “Operates alone. They’ve been calling him Bob.”

The name landed like a grenade in her chest.

Y/N’s breath caught. “Bob?”

Elise flipped through her notes, reading aloud without a shred of awareness for the horror she was conjuring. “Yeah. Real name might be Robert Reynolds. He’s not officially affiliated, but our contacts say he’s powered. Dangerous. Probably not even registered. The government’s been hush-hush. Some kind of asset gone rogue.”

Y/N stopped breathing. Her heart pounded like fists against a locked door. That name. That name.

Robert Reynolds.

Her Robert. Her husband. Dead. Dead. Burned to nothing but a shadow at the edge of a battlefield. She had watched the light leave him, seen his eyes turn black, his voice split by the Void inside him. She held his body when it cooled. He was gone. Gone.

And yet…

Tara’s hand brushed hers. “Hey,” she whispered. “You okay?”

Y/N didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her lungs had turned to glass. Her throat closed tight. This isn’t real. It can’t be real. Because nothing about her life since waking up had made sense. Her bedroom drawers had clothes she didn’t remember buying. The skyline was off, wrong buildings in the wrong places. Little things, piling up.

And now this.

Robert. Bob. Alive?

Elise looked up; one brow arched like a blade. “Is there an issue?”

Y/N stared at her, the world trembling at the edges. Like it might peel back and show her something too big to survive. Her mouth opened. Words didn’t come. But she forced herself to breathe. She had to. She had to play along. Had to get close. Had to see this man whoever he was. If it was really him. If it was a dream. If it was a lie.

“No,” she said finally, her voice hoarse and splintering.

She curled her fingers into a fist under the table, nails digging into her palm like a tether to her reality.

“I’ll do it,” she said.

And just like that, it was done. She had been assigned to destroy a man who wore the name and possibly the face of her dead husband.

And no one in the room even noticed the crack in her voice. Or the scream trying to claw its way out of her throat.

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Author Post Note: mueheh :)

[midnightdahlias]

Lone Wolf

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summery - Bobby calls you when two hunters seem to need a rescue word count - 2.8k cws - gn!reader, kinda fluff (ig), typical supernatural hunt violence, mentions of weapons, mild language, mentions of injury, lmk if i missed anything a/n - the amount of times i've rewritten this fic-, i do hope you like it though, and as always rebloggs and comments are appreciated. happy reading !

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Driving was the calm between the chaos.

For hunters like you, it was the only time life didn’t feel like one giant nightmare. No claws, no teeth, no windows to get thrown through. Just the hum of the engine, the occasional song on the radio, and miles of open road.

Being a solo hunter? Even better. No one to babysit, no one to lose. It was just you and your thoughts. Peaceful.

...Well. Mostly.

Because, let’s face it, solitude had its downsides. You weren’t a robot. Sometimes, you wanted someone to talk to who wasn’t a bartender or Bobby Singer on the other end of the line. But people were a luxury you couldn’t afford—not when you knew what this life would do to them. You’d already learned that lesson the hard way, thank you very much.

But somedays you’d find yourself working with others, and today was one of those days.

“Hey, Bobby, got a case for me?” you asked, cradling the phone against your shoulder while you tightened the strap on your duffel bag.

“Not a case so much as a rescue mission,” Bobby said, and you could practically hear the grimace in his voice.

“Rescue?”

“Couple of knuckleheads went dark in Chicago. I sent ’em a case, and now I can’t get ahold of ’em. Might be nothin’, but…”

“Better safe than sorry,” you finished for him.

“Exactly.” He sighed, and you could hear the faint clink of a whiskey glass on his end.

“Why me? Don’t tell me I’m your only option.”

“You’re the best shot I’ve got, and you know it,” Bobby said gruffly. “Now, are you gonna help or stand there flappin’ your gums?”

You chuckled. “Yeah, I’m on it. Send me the details.”

The drive to Chicago was quiet, a welcome break from the chaos that usually followed you around. It gave you time to think: about Bobby’s call, about the hunters who’d gone dark, and about how you were the one he trusted to find them. You didn’t mind the weight of that responsibility. If they were still alive, you’d get them out. If not… you’d make sure the job was done. Either way, it was your mess to clean up.

Your first stop was the police station, where the missing hunters were last seen.

Flashing your fake FBI badge, you approached the front desk. “Couple of angets were here investigating some strange deaths. I’m their superior. Mind telling me what they found?”

The officer barely looked up. “You’ll want Detective Hayes. Down the hall.”

Hayes didn’t waste time. “They were looking into some deaths. Real messy ones. Claw marks, missing hearts, looks like a wild animal got to them. Weirdest damn thing.”

Missing hearts. Yep. Definitely your kinda thing.

He handed you the case file. You didn’t miss the way he watched you, like he was waiting for you to explain it all away. Instead, you nodded, thanked him, and left. The morgue confirmed what you already knew—this wasn’t some rogue animal. This was werewolves.

The victims were last seen at a seedy little bar on the edge of town. Sounded like your next stop.

The bar smelled like beer and poor life choices. You grabbed a seat at the far end, where you could see the whole room without sticking out too much. Years of hunting had taught you to trust your instincts, and right now, they were screaming something’s off.

Hours passed without incident. You were just about to call it a night when a hooded figure walked in, immediately drawing your attention. He moved with purpose, scanning the crowd before slipping a small envelope to a woman sitting alone, and walked out without a word.

Because that’s definitely not suspicious at all.

The woman opened the envelope, scanned its contents, then locked eyes with you.

You froze and your pulse quickening. Was it obvious you were watching her? Maybe. Did she seem like the type to care? Also maybe.

Just when you thought she might try and approach you or something, she stood and left without a word.

Again definitely not suspicious…

You waited a beat, and against every bit of common sense you had, you followed her out into the night.

You knew fully well that this could be a trap, but you also knew that this might be the only chance you’d get. You tailed her car at a cautious distance until she turned into an alleyway. Parking just past it, you got out and crept closer on foot.

The alley was dark and silent, save for the faint hum of a streetlamp. You kept your distance as she climbed out of her car, a sleek white sedan.

That’s when you saw it. A black ‘67 Chevrolet Impala parked behind her car.

Your heart stopped. No. Fucking. Way.

Everyone in the hunting community knew that car. It belonged to the Winchester brothers and if it was here, so were they.

Heart pounding, you crept closer to what looked to be an old theater near the alley. The door was left slightly ajar. Definitely a trap, but again what choices did you have other than to follow.

Knife in hand, you slipped inside.

The old theater was in disrepair. Dust covered the seats, and the air smelled of mildew. Yet the stage area seemed oddly intact, as though it were still in use. Before you could explore further, a low growl stopped you in your tracks.

Out of the shadows stepped a werewolf, its eyes glowing an unnatural yellow. You barely had time to react as it lunged at you.

“Of course,” you muttered, diving to the side. Your silver knife caught its flank, but the thing was fast. Claws swiped, catching your arm, but you kept moving, twisting the blade into its chest until it dropped.

Before you could catch your breath, a second growl echoed through the room.

“Oh, come on,” you groaned.

The woman from the bar stepped into the dim light, her face twisted, fangs bared.

“I knew you’d be trouble. You just had to poke your nose where it didn’t belong” she snarled, lunging at you.

You fought with everything you had. Her speed and strength outmatched the first werewolf by a mile. Claw marks tore through your jacket, and pain flared in your ribs, but you pressed on, besides you’d been through worse. Finally, a lucky strike drove your blade into her heart with every ounce of frustration you’d built up in the last 24 hours.. She crumpled to the floor, lifeless.

Panting, you staggered to your feet, surveying the room as you did so and spotted a faint light coming from backstage. You followed it and found the Winchesters tied up and unconscious but thankfully alive. Working quickly, you untied Sam, and began your attempts at waking the younger of the two brothers up.

“Come on Sam, wake up!” you whispered-yelled, shaking him furiously. His eyes fluttered open, and he blinked at you in confusion.

“Who—”

“Hunter. Bobby sent me. We can swap stories later.”

Before you could untie Dean, another werewolf burst through the door.

“Son of a—” you curesed under your breath, turning back to Sam “You handle your brother. I’ll handle him.”

The fight was grueling. This werewolf was stronger and faster than the others. It pressed you relentlessly, forcing you to dodge and counter with every ounce of skill you had. At one point, it pinned you, its jaws snapping inches from your face. Desperately, you reached for your knife, plunging it into its side. The creature howled in pain but didn’t relent.

You tried to reach for your blade again, but the creature had beat you to it and thrown it far out of your reach.

Just when you thought you were screwed, a gunshot rang out. The werewolf collapsed right on top of you.

‘’Ugh, seriously’’ you muttered, annoyed, even though someone had just saved your life.

You pushed away the werewolf, revealing Dean Winchester, awake and armed, smirking like he’d just saved the day.

“I had him,” you panted, brushing dust from your jacket.

Dean grinned, holstering his gun. “I think you mean, thank you.”

You rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t suppress a smile. “I didn’t need saving, but appreciate it anyway.”

You sat up, your body aching more now that the adrenaline was wearing off. Your hands were shaking, but you steadied them, trying not to show how badly you hurt.

You glanced over at Sam, who had just come into the room, taking in the full scene in front of him, his gaze flicking from you to the wolves you had ganked before even getting to the boys. "Did you—?"

You nodded, your muscles protesting as you stood. The reality of your injuries hit you all at once—scrapes, bruises, and a deep ache in your ribs. It wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle, but the exhaustion was creeping in. You’d deal with it later, when you had the space to breathe.

"Yeah, well, Bobby sent me to save your asses," you joked, trying to lighten the mood. "Would’ve been pretty embarrassing if I’d gotten myself ganked in the process.”

Sam didn’t laugh. His gaze was fixed on you, scanning your face, the bloodied scratches on your arm. He was looking at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

"You’re hurt," Sam murmured, his voice softer than you expected.

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, brushing him off with a wave. “Just a few scratches. Nothing I can’t handle.”

But Sam didn’t look convinced. His jaw clenched, and he took a step toward you. “You sure about that?”

You laughed, a little too sharply. "Mhm. Besides, you should be worried about yourself. Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

You were used to being the tough one, the one who didn’t show weakness. But there was something about the way Sam was looking at you, his eyes filled with concern, that made it harder to pretend you were unaffected. It was sweet, but you weren't ready to let him in on just how much it affected you.

He didn’t answer, just kept looking at you like he was seeing you for the first time. Your heart fluttered, but you shook it off. “Seriously. I’m fine,” you said gently. “We should get out of here. Let Bobby know you two are alright.”

He didn’t answer, just kept looking at you like he was seeing you for the first time. Your heart fluttered, but you shook it off. “Seriously. I’m fine,” you said gently. “We should get out of here. Let Bobby know you two are alright.”

“Wait! I didn’t get your name,” he called out.

You smirked, turning to face him. “That’s because I didn’t give it.”

Sam frowned, but there was a playful glint in his eyes. “Guess I’ll just have to track you down next time.”

“Good luck with that,” you teased, climbing into your car.

As you drove away, the open road stretched ahead of you, peaceful as ever. But this time, you couldn’t shake the thought of a certain tall, hazel-eyed hunter. Maybe working alone wasn’t as perfect as you’d always believed. And as much as you hated to admit it, the idea of a little chaos... didn’t seem so bad.

The hum of the engine mixed with the music on the radio filled the car as you drove into the night, your mind still running a few steps behind, tangled in thoughts of Sam, of Dean, and what came next.

You couldn't help but wonder—was this the last time you'd cross paths with the Winchesters? Somehow, you doubted it.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

masterlist

[em1989ts]

𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭

five hargreeves x reader

part one. part two. main masterlist.

word count: 2.2k

summary: you wake up in the apocalypse, with no memory of what life was like before. five years later, you meet another survivor. what happens when the two of you reluctantly decide to work together?

author's note: sorry i took a little break lol, now that school is starting again i have motivation to write so i'm continuing this story that i forgot about. part two is gonna have all the good stuff: enemies, tension, smut, so hopefully i can finish that this week ;) enjoy!

not proofread!

You were on fire. 

The skin on your arm felt as if it were melting off as you sat up quickly, patting your opposite hand against the flame to put it out. A large hole was fringed into the sleeve of your shirt, framing the bubbling pink flesh of the burn on the outside of your arm. You grimaced as you stared at it, the pain remarkable and all you could think of before you fully registered where you were. 

The sky was a dimming blue, telling you the sun had set not long ago. You would soon be in pitch darkness if it weren’t for the hundreds of glowing fires surrounding you. 

Looking around, you couldn’t find anything familiar. Nothing to recognize. Nothing that would give you a hint as to where you were or how you got there. 

You racked through your brain for anything that would tell you what caused this.

Climbing off the pile of rubble, you carefully walked through the bricks and glass to find flat ground, gagging as you saw the state of the main road. 

There were bodies. People were burnt. People were in pieces. 

Turning around, you noticed limbs sticking out from the piles and piles of concrete. People were crushed. 

You yelled and screamed, running around pleading for someone to hear you, to call out to you. 

You wished there was another survivor but there wasn’t. 

Something bad had happened here. 

And you were the last one standing. 

~~ 

It had been five years since that night. The first night of your new life in the apocalypse.

As an eighteen year old, you have become adjusted to living on your own, surviving however you can, even if it means eating cockroaches for dinner. You still couldn’t remember what caused the end of the world, or how you even survived, but after years of searching, you’ve come to the conclusion that you’re the sole survivor. 

The only reason you could come up with to explain your survival was a glitch in the matrix. After years of brainstorming through the little memories you had, only bits and pieces made sense. Of course you knew your name, you knew you lived in New York City because that’s where you woke up, you knew you were thirteen when it all started, but that was pretty much it. A newspaper you found during one of your first few days in the apocalypse told you the date of which it happened: April 1st, 2019. This never made sense to you, due to the fact that you were born in 1989. How could you have possibly woken up in the future?

At first, you were extremely cautious. Examining bodies that lay in the street, making sure there were no bites taken out of them, in fear of the possibility that zombies were somehow the end of the world. But no, no zombies. Not even killer robots. The most logical explanation you could think of was a natural disaster. Possibly an asteroid impact that shattered the globe and scorched its people, but who knows. 

The apocalypse was hard to adjust to, having to teach yourself a lot in order to survive, but soon enough you knew how to live a stable life on your own. 

You learned to wield weapons, always having a loaded gun or sharpened knife with you, just in case you ever found someone alive who would try to fight you for your supplies, yet no one ever did. 

Until today.

You had been walking down the highway for a few days now, heading south for the winter to escape the cold. Dragging your wagon behind you, which carried all your necessities, you noticed a gas station on the side of the road in the distance. Your food rations had been running low, so you were thrilled to be able to stock up before continuing your travels. 

Swerving through the abandoned cars that were left on the road, full of bones, you quickly walked to the rest stop. You would’ve opted for running but you did your best to preserve your energy for when it was needed most. 

Like always, there were no footprints indicating there were others present. No signs of survivors, just the occasional pile of bones. 

Before you brought the entirety of your belongings inside, you went through your backpack for a small pistol and quickly loaded it before shoving it in your pocket. A knife was snug in your sock for easy access as well. Your wagon was left just outside the door for a moment as you went up to the glass and scanned the interior of the gas station. Nothing looked suspicious so you grabbed your wagon and made your way inside. It was difficult to maneuver the metal cart through the door but once it passed through, you hurried over to the closest aisle and started examining its contents. 

You were thrilled to find pads that hadn’t been entirely burned up, stuffing a good amount of those into your backpack. There was a good amount of medicine and health supplies still intact but you didn’t entirely trust the expired medication. The wall was lined with shelves of unrefrigerated drinks which you were about to stand up and look through when you heard something. It almost sounded like a shoe squeaking against the smooth floor. 

You froze. You mustn’t have heard that correctly. 

There were often times where you hallucinated people. Just simple people, families living their normal lives in a normal world like it hadn’t burned to the ground. Noises that you knew weren’t real played in your head. But this made every alarm ring in your brain 

Survival kicked in as you remained low, your shoes were scuffed up and you were careful and light on your feet. It couldn’t have been you that made that sound. 

You slowly crawled to the edge of the aisle, lifting each foot as quietly as possible until you made it to the corner. 

Instead of sticking your head out of the aisle to look, in fear of a headshot, you looked for a reflection that could tell you if anything or anyone else was in the store. 

In the corner above your head, there was a circle reflective mirror that allowed you to see the entire store, but as you noticed it, you weren’t fast enough to dodge the figure around the corner that lunged at you as soon as your eyes saw its reflection. 

The figure covered most of their face with a cloth mask and a hat with goggles that covered their eyes. They pinned you down onto the hard floor by your shoulders and it knocked the breath out of you initially but you quickly stabilized and kicked your knees up into them to shove them off. Neither of you had gotten up onto your feet yet, both brawling, almost forgetting how to fight after only imagining it for so long. The two of you quickly stood up to continue the fight and before they could lunge at you once again, you drew the pistol from your pocket and aimed it straight for their head. You didn’t want to shoot the only other living person in the world, yet you would if you had to. 

You couldn’t make out their eyes through the goggles but you could see them freeze at the sight of the barrel pointing at them. 

The gun was as steady as your stance. They slowly raised their hands as they reached for the hat. You cocked the gun, warning them not to dare to reach for anything. They raised one hand in reassurance as they pulled off the hat, the goggles coming off with it. 

A boy. 

His hair was shaggy, dark brown and awkwardly grown out. His eyes were a piercing green, brightly contrasting from the dust and dirt on his forehead. 

As he pulled his bandana from the bridge of his nose, he revealed the rest of his face to you. 

Damn. 

You cursed your initial thoughts, yet they only made sense.

Stuck in the end of the world with a boy your age, what was the universe trying to insinuate? 

He could tell you were caught off guard as your eyes were caught on his face. Noticing your faltering hands, he quickly twisted the pistol out of your hands, kicking it away as it fell to your feet, and twisted you around until your back was firmly pressed against his chest. He had your arms pressed down to your side as his wrapped around you and held you down. You tried to shake him off but his voice in your ear made you freeze. The warm breath on your cheek soothed you, even with his threatening demeanor. 

“How are you alive?” 

Your chest rose and fell as you tried to stabilize your breathing in his hold. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” 

How was it possible that there was another survivor, coincidently your age, who you just happened to avoid for the past five years? It made you question how many others were out there, or if it was only the two of you left on the planet.

He squeezed you harder in his hold, an uncomfortable tightness in your sides, as he demanded into your ear, “Answer the question.”

There was no point in struggling further, “I don’t know, okay? I woke up one day and the world was destroyed,” you gasped. 

He loosed his hold and turned you around, eyes frantically searching over you, searching for a sign you might continue to fight him. 

You stood still, staring at him in return, not sure what to do. He seemed deep in contemplation, but that’s what happens when you’ve spent years living in your own head. 

“I don’t remember anything from before,” you elaborated, “I just remember waking up in a pile of rubble, surrounded by fire and bodies.” 

You analyzed his face as he took in your story, imaging if the same thing happened to him. Does he remember anything from before? Could he tell you what happened? 

When he made no move to verbalize his thoughts, you said one last thing on your mind. 

“I didn’t think anyone else survived.” 

With this, he looked up at you with a furrow in his brow. 

“Well great, as if there weren't enough resources to begin with.”

He bumped your shoulder as he made his way back to the aisle he was originally in, kneeling next to a backpack as he resumed filling it with whatever he found necessary. 

You were shocked to say the least. How could he be so indifferent to find out someone else survived? Did he want the whole fucking world to himself? 

As he paid no further attention to you, you decided to grab your own bag and continue filling it with as much goods as possible, concerned he would selfishly take everything good. 

You hopped over the counter to grab the entire supply of lighters, lighter fluid, and batteries. When you looked up, the boy was standing in front of the counter with a pissed off look on his face. 

“Did you take everything?” 

You shrugged, “Maybe.” 

This time, you actually walked around the counter instead of hopping over, and as you were doing so, you noticed a case of water bottles. Clean drinking water was unfortunately hard to come by, so this was a good score. You picked up the case with a smug grin and walked by him out the door. 

He followed right behind you, “Oh come on, you have to share that,” he pleaded. 

“Oh I have to? I don’t think so, I don’t owe you anything,” you said as you plopped the case onto your wagon. 

As you walked off, you could tell he was in a bit of a mental dilemma, yet you were also in the same boat. 

Should you turn around and work together with him? Combine resources and stop the other from going mad in isolation? Or should you go your separate ways? Stay on your own, only focusing on keeping one person alive. 

You came to a stop, deciding it might be better to stick with him. If he threatened you or if he was too much of an asshole, you could just kill him. 

When you turned around you jumped, not realizing he had walked up to you. 

“I have a base, not too far down the road,” he said to you, “We could work together.” 

You signed, contemplating one last time. You only made a base once, but it didn’t hold up well and you ran out of supplies quickly. It was easier to be on the road and travel for food and make temporary stops. However, something told you to go with him. Call it instinct if you will, but you stuck your hand out. He immediately took your palm in his and gave it a firm shake. 

If only you knew what you were getting into.

~~~

part two.

[metal-organic-au]

Naukowiec Boss Neo (Hyper Metal Sonic) | Metal Archie ⚔️

Parallel version of Lord Neo being from a parallel universe where the events of Metal Organic occur in the world of Archie comics called Metal Archie.

Brief Synopsis 🥼

He became a deserter when he quickly realized that he was beginning to hate the rules and restrictions imposed on him by his creator. In an attempt to rebel, he "lost both arms," ​​failing and fleeing like an apparent coward when in reality he had other plans. Together with a partner with whom he had started a relationship, they joined together sharing the same purpose: "To be greaters than Lord Eggman himself."

Additional information 📜

It is the result of an apparent error of the Project Metal, which consisted of creating a perfect soldier to serve to Lord Eggman, said project was sabotaged by The Freedom Fighters who altered the machine where Metal Sonic was and from which he emerged being organic.

When he served Lord Eggman he was quite stoic, with a 100% robotic attitude, apparently he didn't feel anything until he started to question himself, starting to surface a feeling of annoyance and irritability due to the rules imposed by his creator. Anger was the first emotion he felt. The moment he deserted his attitude changed, becoming someone more cynical, calculating and somewhat obsessive, reaching the point of using himself as a test subject to "improve" others in exchange for them serving him. There is no clear reason why he changed so drastically, there is a theory that it was by his own will that he managed to evolve in an attempt to improve himself.

Considering himself as "the next glorious evolution" he knew he had to make contingency plans to preserve his lineage, so he made a deal with Breezie to have an heir and in exchange he would give her high quality upgrades to the machines in her casino among other things she wanted.

He finally managed to have the heir he so desired but he didn't expect two drawbacks.

1- They were twins 2- He will end up genuinely loving the little ones, being the only ones that keep him lucid and sane

He knows they are his GREATEST weakness, but he is willing to pay the price to have something that makes him feel alive and real.

He is a mad scientist through and through, as he not only makes others "evolve", but he also pushes himself to the limit to see how far his body can go, thus managing to evolve it even further.

The most drastic thing he has done to himself has been to remove one of his eyes, replacing it with an artificial one, as well as build himself robotic prosthetics (even though he can completely regenerate his arms) in order to not forget why he hates his creator like the rules.

The relationship he has with Breezie is what he calls "Partners with benefits", they don't have a formal relationship since they both agreed not to get in the way of each other's plans so they will never have anything serious (their ambition is bigger than what they feel for each other).

[blepbrain]

Avatars of the extinction could be so interesting. I did not care for the extinction when I first was listening to TMA but I’ve realized the potential and I’m a little obsessed

Like imagine, it could be a really calm person. Y’know those depictions of death where they’re super nice and calm because they know everyone dies eventually? that kind of personality except they’re actively looking forward to the end of all life.

It could be one of those doomsday prepper, bunker people. They don’t know they’re an avatar of the extinction, in fact if they knew what it was they’d think they hate it. But deep down they get immense joy from the idea of not only being proven right but being the last person alive and thats why they’re an avatar of the extinction.

Maybe a really discreet avatar of the extinction who seems lovely and relatively normal, maybe a little obsessed with apocalypse stories but nothing more! The reality though is they have romanticized the concepts of society falling, humanity dying, and the world ending to a horrifying degree. You don’t realize how truly in love with these concepts they are until something catastrophic happens and they watch with a look of pure glee.

It could be a poison ivy type person who think plants should grow over all of society. A sentiant A.I! More so a monster made by the extinction, it’s creation stemming from peoples fear of A.I taking over. Or a technology enthusiast who loves the idea of robots taking over the world. There’s just so many fun possibilities and I love it and they could be so insane and cool and I really like the idea of someone being dedicated to the end of everything and just AAHHHH gimme extinction avatars…

[cupcakefactory]

Title: Calebs Family

Pairings: Caleb x Reader, Zayne x MC

(Reader is not MC)

Hurt/Comfort. Angsty at the start, fluffy at end.

Calebs' Adjutant: @hiqhkey (tag list at the end!)

🍎 When Caleb found her again, he knew there was a chance things would be different, that she would have moved on in her life and found a new normal. Of course she would have, he had been dead for over a year

🍎 Caleb didn't expect however for her new normal to be Zayne. The man he had once confessed his crush too, both of their childhood friend. Someone who once Caleb saw as a brother.

🍎 It broke him inside, seeing them happy together, seeing Zayne make her laugh in the way he once did. It was worse once his chip was removed because Caleb was now forced to confront his emotions head on - he no longer felt like an emotionless robot.

🍎 Caleb cried when she told him she was pregnant, she and Zayne both assumed it was of joy - he was going to be an uncle! Caleb let them live with that fantasy, not telling them that inside his heart was shattered.

🍎 Caleb watched their little boy grow through the screen, video calls and photos became the norm - he watched a child with the eyes of the girl he loved be raised by another man.

🍎 That was when you meet him, you accidently walked into his office to hand him some paperwork after one such difficult phone call. He looked close to tears, the powerful colonel that was still feared by many.

🍎 You offered him a smile, but he wouldn't talk. He just signed the paperwork you brought him and dismissed you. Maybe you should have been offended - but seeing the tears in his eyes worried you more than anything.

🍎 the next say you brought him lunch, leaving it on his desk before he had arrived. You managed to catch a glimpse of him eating it on a patrol - his eyes meet yours and for the first time in a while he smiled a real smile as he mouted a thank you.

🍏 that was how you both grew closer, you started making lunches for each other. The colonel amazing you with his cooking skills day after day - he just shrugged it off.

"If your going to gift me your cooking, I'm going to gift mine back."

🍏 Caleb wasn't sure when he fell for you, he wasn't sure when the butterflies started, when he started to laugh at every joke you told no matter how corny they were.

🍏 Caleb only noticed the change when he came to not dread the photos and videos from her, when instead of feeling jealous he smiled at his nephews milestones

🍏 When Caleb finally confessed to you and you told him you felt the same way? He felt like the luckiest man alive - holding onto you for dear life. It had been years since anyone had hugged him and meant it, and now you were, and it felt so right.

🍏 When Caleb takes you to meet the girl he was raised with, as well as her husband and child, he introduces you to the young boy as his auntie. He almost kicked himself for becoming emotional when you wrapped your arms around the toddler.

🍏 It was at the dinner table that night Caleb finally felt peace, watching you laugh and chat with her as he discussed his mechanical arm with Zayne. His nephew sleeping in the highchair.

🍏 Caleb finally had a family, and it wasn't giving it up for anyone.

♡🍎♡🍏♡🍎♡🍏♡🍎♡🍏♡

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